#that i’ve been living with my mind isn’t worth it and i should kill it

[stfumons]

i wake up and you’re not here anymore , you’ve been gone for months but i when i woke up today and breathed into the sheets that we spent our nights in, smelt like last weeks fresh laundry and not you — i guess that’s when i realised you’re not here anymore.

you walk , you come home , you stay , you leave — it’s a turmoil that you don’t stop and i haven’t been able to escape.

the colours on the walls have started to fade , now when i scab the parts which we left to dry — all that pours out is the blood from my fingertips.

so should i paint these walls with the blood on my hands or should i burn the sheets and spread the ashes over the walls.

it’s black , white & grey — because once you left , the colours never meant to stay.

[daistea]

I started writing an imagine request but got distracted and produced This Thing. I’ve been wanting to write out my thoughts and my analysis on Mithrun’s state of mind for a while, actually

tw suicide, depression, discussions of mental health and self worth

Dungeon Meshi Spoilers ahead ‼️❗️

Sooo despite a lack of desires, Mithrun lives by habit.

These habits aren’t driven by preference, likes or dislikes. They’re still culturally acceptable though, mainly because Milsiril and his brother were the ones that instilled these habits in him(Mithrun doesn’t care what’s acceptable if it has nothing to do with the demon.) And there are still a few quirks leftover from his old self, things he never had a stark desire or choice to do but still did simply because he was used to them. Even after 40 years, the ins and outs of what the demon did to him remain still so complex.

Mithrun doesn’t really care about the details all that much. I like to think that outside of the dungeon, he has a regular bathroom schedule. He bathes every day when possible. He brushes his teeth for exactly two minutes, twice a day. It isn’t that he desires to not stink, it’s that he has to do these to keep his team willing to be around him so he’d have a better chance at finding the demon again and finishing the job.

In my headcanon, there are a few small habits he hasn’t quite picked up yet. He often doesn’t bother to brush his hair— the thought doesn’t even enter his mind. It gets stringy, something his old self never would’ve allowed. Its only when he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror— a very rare occurrence, since mirrors remind him of the demon and the demon makes him want to shatter things— that he realizes that he should probably brush it for the sake of functionality.

Taking care of his skin is yet another habit he’d never really formed. Elves have naturally perfect skin anyway, so there’s no use. But they could still be scarred, and marred, and reflect physical neglect. Like with dark eye bags, a lack of sunlight, and dehydration.

Mithrun is incredibly dehydrated.

He doesn’t realize that, of course. While his body would feel the neglect, it doesn’t send those signals to his brain. With things like peeing, he only realizes that he needs to go to the bathroom because he recognizes the physical feeling, not because his brain says ‘got to pee now.’

With hunger, he feels pangs, but those pangs dont translate into appetite or a desire to eat. He only eats because it would keep him alive long enough to encounter the demon again.

Dehydration is also slightly physical, in that his throat will sometimes feel dry or his lips will chap, but he has not a single thought of ‘I’m craving water,’ Plus, what does that have to do with defeating the demon? Applying burts bees watermelon flavored lip balm ain’t getting him nowhere.

Everything goes back to the demon. Every move he makes is either because it’s a necessity of staying alive(to kill the demon) or because it’s part of the intricate web that will eventually lead him to the demon.

Mithrun gets hurt, he feels the physical pain, but his only desire is to patch it up quickly and keep moving to get to the demon. Healing himself for the sake of relief doesn't matter. Demon comes first. The demon is everything. It’s in the air he breathes, it’s in his bloodstream.

He doesn’t realize that he’s still Mithrun. He doesn’t consider himself as Mithrun anymore, that’s just his name. He lives for revenge(so he says) He Is An Instrument, a weapon that exists and is only maintained for the sole purpose of Revenge

A common misconception is that he has no emotion. Not true, he just doesn’t desire to fake a smile or joy or laughter for the sake of making someone feel comfortable. He can still smile quite naturally when he’s, ya know, getting closer to the goddamn demon. He can still be surprised and feel adrenaline and be angry at the things that happen in life. He can still get irritated or annoyed at his companions. He still has opinions, thoughts, feelings. He’s himself.

Idk. It’s incomprehensible almost, not having desires. It brings up so many variables. It’s not something you can be very literal or cut-and-dry about. My most effective way of connecting with his character is applying my experience with depression and the lack of desire I feel for doing certain things, and how I only do them for the sake of my family and friends. I think that’s considered relatively functioning. And I think honestly Mithrun would be considered high-functioning. But it’s not that he wants to do those things, he does them because he’s supposed to, because it all leads back to the stupid bitch face demon.

Mithrun tells himself he wants it dead. That’s his desire. But he knows if he ever succeeded in getting rid of it, he would have nothing. He’s okay with that. He’s going to die anyway, no matter if it’s by passively wasting away or by the mouth of the lion. He’s prepared for death, it’s inevitable. He’s not scared.

But once he decides to live again, he still functions mainly by habit. Except he starts to apply himself a little more.

“I’m going to wash myself today because my companions would appreciate that” and not “I need to stay clean to keep the team around to lead me to the demon”

And “I’m going to make noodles today to keep me busy.”

“I’m going to get a dog so I’ll have an obligation to go outside every day to walk it, because it’s good for me to do that.”

They’re still conscious choices, and sometimes he falters, he doesn’t register that he should do something. But he’s chosen to live and he’s trying to function not for the sake of his one goal, but for the sake of the gift that is existence.

He’ll learn to love, to have genuine friendships. On good days, he’ll appreciate a warm meal, the feeling of relief when drinking water, the soft touch of someone close to him. And he’ll experience these things because that’s what living people do. They’re nice things. He doesn’t do things anymore simply because they’ll take him closer to the demon.

It’s freeing, in a way. It’s scary, in another way. Imagine you’ve lost your one purpose in life, the one thing that keeps you on your feet, how would you react? Terrifying.

Mithrun is incredibly brave and strong for making the choice to find a new purpose, to exist, to eat.

[vamossainz55]

If you’re taking request, I’ve had this thought in my mind since I saw the language challenge where Charles is so good at Spanish that Carlos is surprised! Can I request something about Charles dating a native spanish speaker reader?

de nosotros quien va hablar? - charles leclerc x sainz!reader

charles starts learning spanish. nobody exactly knows why. rlly short drabble, tw: mentions of sex 18+

“Shhh, cállate,” shhh be quiet. Charles feels your hand envelope his mouth as you press up against him in the tiny closet space. The space is cramped, reminding him of the time he hid to wish Carlos happy birthday. It was barely worth it last time as he could barely feel his legs that time, but now, it feels like it’s a matter of life or death. So he doesn’t care that his back is killing him as he stays slightly crouched down to fit inside with you, or the fact that his neck is probably going to hurt a bit more during the next stint. 

He wasn’t ready yet for Carlos to find out he was dating his little sister. Nope. No fucking way. 

So the closet it is, and he’s grateful that you were quick to recognize Carlos’ footsteps because just as the closet’s doors gently shut, his driver room door was opening. Carlos had never been the type to knock, no matter how often both of you insisted for him to do so. 

If hiding in closets is a thing now- we need to get bigger closets he finds himself thinking. 

“Charles?” Carlos asks, and he can hear Carlos’ footsteps come closer and he can only assume he’s circling around the room. “Joder, donde esta la gente?” He murmurs and Charles shuts his eyes, rests his head to feel the cool wood press against his forehead. He can’t help but think about how fucked it would be if Carlos were to catch him.He’d probably not live to see the next day.

Charles opens his eyes when you move closer, body pressing against his and he has to hold back a groan. It doesn’t help that you’re both barely clothed, Charles only in his briefs and you in lingerie. 

If this had happened to anybody but him he would’ve found it hilarious. It’s terrifying when it’s him though.

Despite the room being silent, Carlos is still in there, and Charles wonders what he’s doing to just stand in his driver’s room when Carlos clearly has his own. His confusion is solved though as soon as he hears Carlos clear his throat. 

The phone ringing is almost what gets you caught because the moment the phone rings Charles can feel your body move but his grip on your waist tightens and this time it’s his turn to cover your mouth. You stare at him with wide eyes and all Charles can do is to shake his head and pray that Carlos finds his own reasoning as to why your phone was ringing.

Carlos only lets it ring once before he hangs up. Charles can hear him walk, probably towards your phone. “Se le olvida todo,” She forgets everything. Carlos mutters under his breath before he turns back around, stepping towards the door. 

You both let out an exhale once the door shuts and you’re first to leave the cramped space, instantly going to the couch. “That was close,” Charles mutters as he follows suit, brows furrowed when he sees you searching around for something. 

Before he can ask though he hears your cry of relief, reaching under the table to grab your dress from the ground, It had been sitting next to your phone on the armrest, probably having fallen when you both were rushing to hide.

“Very,” You say and Charles shivers at the thought of what could have happened. 

____

At first, Charles had agreed to learn Spanish for two reasons: one was because you had agreed to learn French in exchange, and two it was a nice language, so why not? 

He figures it’s not too hard, especially when he’s constantly surrounded by so many Spanish speakers. And honestly, it isn’t too bad. He picks up on words fairly quickly (although the credit should be going to Italian), and he finds the owl on duolingo to be a cool dude. 

He learns of his third reason today though, and it’s not something that he’s the most proud of. 

You’re on Carlos’ side of the garage, wearing a cute floral skirt with a simple white top. There’s a smile on your face, the type of smile that gets your eyes to crinkle.

No matter how much he loves your smile, it’s not the reason why he realizes he wants to learn Spanish, no. The reason is very much looming at the other side of the garage with you, hand on your shoulder and getting you to throw your head back just for a laugh to shake your body. He- being Carlos’ friend was visiting over the weekend, and Charles would be lying if he said he didn’t notice the way he was eyeing you. 

Even with his broken Spanish he understood him when he had greeted you earlier that week, saying you looked hermosa (beautiful) and that te echaba mucho de menos (he missed you so much). He’s learned enough, thank you very much. 

Charles isn’t ashamed for walking towards you at all, the jealousy that is radiating off of him is strong and your eyes instantly meet when you feel it. You smile at him, take a step back and allow Carlos’ friend’s hand to fall off your shoulder. 

“What are you guys laughing about?” He asks, slapping on a smile for good measure, and if he wasn’t jealous before, the feeling almost grows tenfold right then and there. 

“Ah, it was a joke in Spanish, you wouldn’t understand it.” Carlos laughs at his friend's remark, completely missing the way Charles’ smile discreetly fades. You reassure Charles it isn’t that funny, but that unfortunately the joke wouldn’t make sense in English and the topic is let go of but only until after the race.

Charles takes you to his driver’s room and doesn’t even wait for you to take the skirt off and beinding you over the table, he doesn't care that he's still sticky with champagne. 

He also makes sure he doesn’t lose his duolingo streak after that eiher. 

____

“You knew the challenge was going to happen!” Carlos says in disbelief, holding a deck of cards that are in french. He eyes Charles’ cards, sees a much more familiar word. The cameras are on them both, and one of their social media managers lets out a laugh before saying Carlos we didn’t tell any of you. Of course Carlos ignores them and continues talking. “That’s why you were playing duolingo. You’re cheating, that’s cheating!” 

Charles rolls his eyes at Carlos’ words, taps his fingers with the cards as he lets Carlos go on. “Mate, I just wanted to learn!” He defends himself.

Carlos doesn’t believe him and to be frankly honest Charles cannot blame him either. “Sure, spanish is nice or whatever but you never wanted to learn before.” He huffs, looking over his cards as he furrows his brows together, already trying to pronounce the first word on the card. “I’m going to beat you anyways.” He misses the way Charles’ eyes land on you, how his gaze softens before giving you a smile. 

You smile back of course, giving him a discrete wink and a quick thumbs up. 

Carlos loses by five points. He's usually a sore loser, but he's left wordless when you speak up (in french nonetheless) when Charles complains about not winning a prize.

"Ne t'inquiète pas. Je te donnerai ton prix plus tard" Don't worry. I'll give you your prize later.

His french was clearly not the best but he did know enough, thank you very much.

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Even Serial Killers Sleep

Mickey Altieri x Reader

Words: 805

Summary: Being the only solace for a man with murderous tendencies isn’t alway easy, but for you, it’s worth it. 

Notes: Nothing to see here. *cough* Just move along. (Look, I’ve accepted my obsession with him at this point. Let me write my little psycho fluff pieces.)

More 80s/90s movie imagines: HERE

-

Okay, maybe you should have been asleep. 

No, you definitely should have been asleep. It was almost four in the morning and you had class in just a few hours. 

You had tried, of course. But no matter how long you laid in your bed, staring up at the ceiling, the streetlights outside casting shadows off your blinds like the cucoloris of old noir films, you just couldn’t get your brain to shut the fuck up and turn off. 

When you heard the quiet click of your apartment door open and close, any drowsiness that might have crept into your wired mind dissipated with a shot of adrenaline. 

You lived alone. 

Your hand reached for the kitchen knife your boyfriend told you to keep by your bed, knocking your alarm clock off the nightstand in the process. The plastic device clattered to the floor, a chunk of the corner cracking off and spitting across the room. 

“Shit,” you winced. 

Footsteps creaked just outside your door. Your heart pounded in your chest. The doorknob turned slowly. You held the knife out in front of you with a trembling hand, ready to cut down whatever psycho was on the other side. 

The door swung open, revealing black boots, dark-wash jeans, and a t-shirt covered in blood. 

You let the knife fall to your side with a sigh of relief. 

“Oh, it’s just you.”

Mickey’s shoulders fell. “Just you? I just killed two co-eds and all you have to say is it’s just you? What the fuck, babe?”

“Sorry,” you giggled, standing on your toes to kiss him on the cheek, “I just thought you were, well, a serial killer.” 

“Honey,” his Cheshire cat grin made your stomach flutter, “I am a serial killer.” 

You put your hands on your hips. “Well, are you here to kill me or  go to sleep?”

He frowned, kissed your forehead, and slipped past you into the bedroom. He took off his boots and looked ready to climb under the covers. 

“Ah ah,” you exclaimed with a scolding glare. You pointed to his bloodstained t-shirt. “Not on the bed, please, baby.” 

Mickey grabbed onto the back collar and pulled it over his head. He tossed it into the trash to be burned later. He stripped to his boxers and fell back onto the bed. 

“Happy?” He snarked. 

“Thank you.” You smiled and jumped in beside him.

Mickey pulled you up against his bare chest, arms locking around you like he didn’t want to let go. You pressed your lips to his collarbone. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

He shrugged. “Eh. It was kinda boring. Too easy. When the one went to get beer, she even said ‘I’ll be right back.’ I mean, that’s breaking the biggest rule of all horror movies.” 

“I’m sure that’s what she was thinking when you stabbed her.” 

He craned his neck to look at you. “Are you making fun of me?” 

“...” You walked your fingers up his sternum. “No.” 

Hands gripped your hips and in one swift motion, you were on your pack with a pair of dark, menacing eyes hovering over yours while his body pinned you down. 

You probably should have been scared, with images of his hand, which now gripped your wrist, taking a blade and killing your classmates. But you just weren’t. Craziness and all, he was your Mickey. And he knew that better than anyone. 

His lips crashed into yours, fueled by frustration at first, but then morphing into something sweeter. Soft. He wasn’t that way with anyone but you. When he pulled away, you tried to hold back a yawn. Unfortunately, it didn’t work. 

“Maybe we should-” Yawn. “Get some sleep,” you said. 

Mickey curled up beside you with his head on your stomach, tracing lines over the fabric of your nightshirt- which was one of his stolen t-shirts. 

“Why aren’t you afraid of me?” He asked. 

You ruffled his brown hair and smirked. “Because if you were going to kill me, you would have by now.” 

He pouted his lips, crawling his way back to yours. He nipped at your neck and spoke with that slight whine you couldn't help but smile at. 

“Maybe I’m building up to it.” 

You tugged on his hair slightly, making him bite a little bit harder. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” 

Mickey looked up at you, his usual goofy grin returning. “When you least expect it.” He jabbed his fingers into your sides, making you squeak. 

“Mickey!” You squealed. 

He switched off the light with his best mock-evil laugh. You rolled on top of him, legs on either side of his hips. 

“Who’s the helpless victim now?” You challenged. 

He sat up, flipping you onto your back once again with impressive speed. “Try again?” 

“Please don’t kill me, mister Ghostface,” you teased. 

“That’s what I thought,” he smirked. 

So much for getting some sleep. 

[andreafmn]

Collision | Chapter 28

Word Count: 3.0K

Story Description: (Y/N) Uley is back home after being away for four years. Her life is at its first standstill and she is taking this time to find out who she is without school. But she never thought that coming back to the reservation would turn her whole life around. In the midst of secrets and mystery, a man crashes into (Y/N)’s and her life will never be the same.

A/N: okay so i fell in love with the house I used to base the cullen home in Ithaca... all i need is $3 million 😅

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The time that had passed between (Y/N) debating speaking with Esme and getting on a plane with her and Theo had been less than half a day, and yet it had felt like a week had already gone by. Her energy had been completely drained from both confrontations she’d had that afternoon.

She had learned betrayal from every person she loved and trusted, all at various degrees of hurt. Granted, she should have been used to it. After her own father had disappeared from her life, it seemed everyone else had decided that hurting her would be the norm, and they all had taken perfectly to their task.

The second (Y/N) finally sat on her plane seat realization dawned upon her. She was crossing the country to save the man who had decided her heart wasn’t worth love and care. All because she knew she would never be able to live with herself if she ever treated Carlisle like he had treated her.

The girl wanted to burst out laughing, for fear that if she started crying again, she wouldn’t stop. Well, if she thought much about the situation she was in, she knew she would cry. Instead, she turned her attention to anything but that.

“So, you and Esme, huh,” she whispered toward Theo, nudging her softly with her elbow. “You two seem to have been getting close.”

“Oh, um, w-well, we’ve just been working together,” Theo stammered. “For Carlisle, you know?”

“Right,” (Y/N) grinned. “So, that means that those googly eyes and lingering touches are all part of the plan, right? Good to know. Will I be getting any of that treatment?”

“So, you saw that, huh?”

“It’s not like you were very discreet about it,” she teased. “I’ve also grown to know that look very well.”

(Y/N) knew if Theo could, her face would have grown red already. Although Esme was a few rows in front, there was no doubt she could hear them had they spoken just a decibel higher than they were.

“God, I can’t really lie about that,” the vampire sighed, rubbing her eyes in frustration. “I do. I like her. A lot. Way more than I’ve ever liked someone before.”

“Then why don’t you tell her? It’s not like you have anything to lose.”

“Come on,” she chuckled. “Why would she ever be interested in someone like me? I’m nothing special.”

“Seriously, Theo? You cannot believe that,” (Y/N) said. “Just the fact that you’re an immortal being with powers makes you special enough. And that’s the least interesting thing about you. You’re extremely intelligent, you’re funny, you’re caring—you’re honestly a great catch.”

“Yeah, but so is she. So, what am I bringing to the table?”

“Love, respect, loyalty, kindness… I mean, what else can you ask for, really. It’s not a pageant, Theo. There are no shoes to fill here.”

Only silence came from the vampire as she thought over her friend’s words. Her eyes darted to the pale woman three rows in front of them whose nose was stuck in a book, headphones over her ears. For someone so fearless, who had lived a century and some change, and had faced a multitude of obstacles and dangers, confessing her feelings to someone was the scariest thing she had come across.

“When did you know?” (Y/N) broke Theo out of her thoughts. “That you, uh, well, that you liked girls.”

“Question for the ages, isn’t it?” Theo chuckled softly, thankful to drift her mind away from the brunette a few rows down. “Is it too cliché if I said I always knew?”

“Of course not.”

“Back in my time—and many years after that too— I would have been killed just for looking at a woman for too long,” she said. “After, I would have been locked in a mental asylum and left to rot. If I had not been a vampire, I would have been dead for who I loved a long time ago. “Restricting myself for years made it hard for me to allow myself to feel for another woman,” Theo continued. “Not only did I have to hide the fact that I was a vampire, but I had to deny the most human of feelings. Then again, I haven’t been a human longer than everyone on this plane has been alive. So, yeah, I have always known the kind of person I can love, but I’ve never been allowed the right to.”

A small trickle of tears had started falling down (Y/N)’s right eye, warming her cheek as it did. The only reason she had been judged and chastised over who she loved was because he was a vampire, which had nothing to do with the fact he was a man. She couldn’t fathom having to live avoiding love all out of fear someone who couldn’t stand the sight of it would react.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to make you cry, (Y/N),” Theodora cooed, wiping away the tears with her cold hand. “It’s just how things are. I’m used to it.”

“You shouldn’t be,” (Y/N) sniffled. “How could loving someone be a bad thing? I mean, even Christians should understand that—the bible tells as much. “Beloved, let us love one another, for love is of God; and everyone who loves is born of God and knows God.” I just can’t understand why others seem so concerned about everyone’s life but their own.”

“I’m guessing there’s more to the story here than just gay rights, (Y/N),” Theo inquired. “What’s going on?”

“I veered off topic there at the end, didn’t I?” the girl sighed. “Sam and Paul admitted to throwing away your letters. They say it was to protect me, but they just didn’t want me to have any relation to your kind.”

“What?” Theo mused. “Lesbians?”

“Come on,” (Y/N) laughed. “You know what I mean.”

“Your brother was probably doing what he thought was best. It’s his job to protect humans from people like me,” the vampire reasoned. “I’m not saying it was right, nor that you shouldn’t be angry. But it must be hard juggling his sister being around his mortal enemy and being your brother.”

(Y/N) threw her head back in frustration, knowing the viridity of her friend’s words. There wasn’t a right or wrong way to handle things—if there was, she hadn’t read those rules yet. Everyone was simply going around, hoping the decisions they make don’t affect those around them. And if they did, that the damage wasn’t permanent.

Yet, it didn’t alleviate the anger that had built inside her. (Y/N) felt no one trusted her judgment. Even worse, that they didn’t believe her to be capable of making good decisions. It seemed everyone had written her off as a secondary character in her own story—nothing she wanted was the right thing. She hadn’t even been given the choice to be with the man she had grown to love.

Somewhere along the five and a half hours it took to cross the country, (Y/N)’s eyes had drifted shit. When she woke, the plane was landing on the tarmac, and the pilot was welcoming his passengers to Ithaca, New York. From there, it would be a three-hour ride to where Theo believed Carlisle had gone. But Esme thought it would be best to stop by their residence so (Y/N) could have a little rest.

It was the first time (Y/N) had been on that side of the country, and for the first time, she understood the allure of the east coast. Of course, they weren’t exactly situated in the center of New York City. There weren’t the bright lights and grandeur of the big city, but there was a stark contrast to the town she was born and raised in.

As they drove down the streets of Ithaca, (Y/N)’s chest started to wrench. That was the place she would have moved to had Carlisle given her the choice to. She could see herself walking down through the town, she could pinpoint the coffee shop she would frequent before or after work, she could imagine herself taking a weekend stroll through the shops or even the farmer’s market that happened every two Sundays. She could see the life she might’ve had. The life she never would—at least not with him.

The Cullen house in Ithaca was nothing short of magnificent, not that she expected anything less. The first thing she was met with was a big gate leading to an even bigger driveway. Unlike their home in Forks, this one felt like an estate. It truly was an architectural wonder. From the front garden to the stone walls and opulent height, the house was a sight to behold—a four-floor wonder hidden by the trees of Ithaca.

“Carlisle had this built back in the 20s,” Esme commented as she unloaded their bags from the car. “I think it was a year or two after I was turned. But we didn’t live here until after we left Forks for the first time. I think it’s my favorite of all the houses.”

“It’s beautiful,” (Y/N) muttered. “Very different to the house in Forks.”

“Well, it’s kept its old-timey charm,” she chuckled. “There’s a little over seven acres of land, which helps with maintaining the privacy the family needs. I wish we were here in different circumstances. I really think you would like this place.”

As though she could read her mind, Theo was quick to change the topic. “Why don’t you go in and freshen up?” she told (Y/N). “We’ll go and get you some food in the meantime. Still a fan of burgers?”

“Yeah,” the girl smiled weakly. “No onions…”

“And no pickles,” Theo added. “We’ll be right back.”

(Y/N) was left by herself in the house, and she couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed. Everywhere she turned, there was a picture of the family or an award one of them had won at a given point in their lives. There was nowhere she could go where she wouldn’t be reminded of who the house belonged to.

Instead of choosing a room to lie down in, the girl decided to explore. She opened door after door, her eyes running through every surface she could find. Ever room was different, but a perfect example of every single of the Cullens that normally inhabited the house. There was a clear distinction behind every door she opened, there was no way she could mistake who the area belonged to.

But it was the last door she opened that took her aback.

It wasn’t a bedroom, unlike the other ones she’d opened. That one was an office filled from floor to ceiling with books. A beautiful oak desk lived in the middle of the room paired with a black leather office chair. It was undoubtedly Carlisle’s room.

And if there was any doubt that it was the older vampire’s office, a particular picture on the desk only cemented the premise.

She could remember the exact moment the picture had been taken. Three days before her entire life changed. Alice had made sure to document everything about Bella’s birthday, taking picture after picture of anything she could think of. It seemed one of those things had been a moment (Y/N) and Carlisle spent apart from the family. They had only been talking, but that wasn’t what the picture captured. It was the absolute look of love in their shared gaze that stood out from the image. A radiant gleam that had washed over them and seemed to radiate from the still. A beautiful moment frozen in time that seemed like a lifetime ago.

(Y/N) took the frame in her hands as she sat on the floor, running her fingers across the glass as though she could relive that moment with just a single touch. Every emotion surged from deep inside her and erupted in another stream of tears she didn’t want to fall. She had cried more in those last six months than she’d had her entire life. And though she was tired of it, she couldn’t seem to stop.

She wanted the feeling in that photo back. The smile she wore and the glint in her eyes, the glow of being in love and being loved. She wanted to be that happy once more. A part of her would always want that with Carlisle. But there was another side, albeit a small one, that told her life went on and she could have that with someone else.

Suddenly, the ringing of her phone made the frame in her hands stumble to the ground. After seeing that the glass was unharmed, she pulled the device out of her pocket and clicked the green button.

“Hey, you get there okay?”

“Hi, Eden,” she said as she let out a breath of relief. “Yeah. We got here about an hour ago. Just settled into the house. We still have a bit more traveling to do tomorrow.”

“You must be exhausted,” he said. “Have you eaten yet?”

“Uh, my friends went out to get some food, but I’m honestly not that hungry. I’m just tired, you know? And it’s not sleep I need,” the girl sighed. “I just want this to be over with already.”

“Think of it this way: it will only take a couple of days before you can pass the page and get on for the rest of your life. You can do a couple of days, right?”

“I have to,” she chuckled. “I’m already here.”

“You’re stronger than most, (Y/N),” Eden muttered. “You’ll come out of this better than ever.”

“I wish I had your conviction, but I can’t help but wonder if I’m still doing the right thing.”

“Wanna know what I think?”

“More than anything.”

“I think you know you’re doing the right thing, but you’re looking for an excuse to think it isn’t,” he said. “I think you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you didn’t help this guy, regardless of what he did to you. Because that’s who you are, and there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s what makes you a great person.”

(Y/N) pulled her knees to her chest as she listened to Arden’s words. He spoke so surely it was as though he had known her all her life. He’d told her what she needed to hear and more. She had shown her there was someone else who had been able to look into her soul. “Thanks, Eden,” she smiled. “You have no idea how much those words mean to me.”

“I’m only saying what I believe,” he said. “I know it might be surprising given how I acted those first couple of months, but after giving myself the chance to get to know you, I can tell you’re an incredible person.”

“You sound so sure,” she chuckled. “We’ve only been properly acquainted for almost a month.”

“Doesn’t take much time to be impressed by you,” Eden admitted. “And I can honestly say that. You’re amazing, (Y/N).”

(Y/N) found it hard to accept the compliment, especially coming from him. His words made her heart hammer against her chest, and her cheeks grew red and warm. She took a moment to think of her next words, thankful that he wasn’t standing before her. And as if by divine intervention, from a distance, she heard the front door open and two voices following behind. “Uh, so, my friends just came back.”

“Oh, yeah, of course. I’ll let you go.”

“Thanks for calling, Eden,” (Y/N) smiled. “I’ll let you know when I get back home.”

“Alright, sounds like a plan,” he said. “Be safe, (Y/N).”

“I will. Bye, Eden.”

With a reciprocated goodbye, (Y/N) put her phone back into her pocket. She wiped away her tears and placed the photo frame back on the desk, making sure nothing looked amiss. Just as she had entered, the girl left the office to join the vampires in the kitchen.

“So, we got you a burger and fries,” Theo said as she pulled the items from the bag onto the kitchen counter. “We also got you some drinks and snacks in case you get hungry during the night.”

“We want to try and be out of here as early as possible tomorrow morning,” Esme added. “But no pressure. You can sleep for as long as you need.”

“Thanks, guys,” (Y/N) smiled. “You didn’t have to do all this. I would have been fine with just the burger.”

“Well, it’s mostly for us,” Theo shrugged. “Made me feel human for a second to go around buying food. Makes me want to go grocery shopping just for fun.”

“It is fun,” Esme chimed. “Granted, we’re not limited to allergies, diets, or money. Could not imagine being a human again and being betrayed by your stomach.”

“Well, as a human that is not betrayed by my stomach, I will agree it can be fun,” the girl chuckled softly. “What’s not as fun is having to feed yourself every day and cook most days.”

“That’s true, I guess,” Theo agreed. “It’s easier when your choices are just whatever wildlife you encounter, and we don’t even have to cook it.”

If either of them noticed that (Y/N) had been crying, they didn’t make any mention of it. Instead, they asked if the burger was good and if she had found a room to rest in for the night. For a moment, the three women weren’t on a stop to save Carlisle. For a split second, it felt like three friends who had decided to take a weekend trip to New York. They were able to talk and laugh about nothing and everything.

They spent the rest of the night in front of the fireplace, dancing around what they would have to do the following day, instead preferring the normalcy of their encounter. Even though Carlisle was still very present in the back of their minds, they allowed themselves that one night just to be friends. They all knew it would most likely be the last time they would be able to be that close.

Next ->

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[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

hi! i have a question i’m directing at you bc i’ve seen the idea going around tumblr but most recently on your post — if a student is caught using ai to cheat do you think that’s worth expulsion? should that be the best case scenario punishment? while i understand the importance of making it known to students the severity of using chatgp, at the same time i feel like that’s a very harsh punishment for being caught cheating. but then also at the same time! i’m not a teacher and i don’t know if it’s possible to teach a student to value their education and the opportunity they have for high learning if they don’t already personally believe that the opportunity is a gift. idk! this isn’t really a structured question but i guess i’m curious about how you (or in general, how professors) feel about expulsion for chatgp (i know you’re just one person and don’t speak on behalf of all educators lol but it’s just something i’ve been curious about)

Expulsion as in, ejected wholesale from the entire university, Do Not Darken Our Door Again? No, I don't.

I think what outsiders tend to miss is that students who do this, 99% of the time, are desperate. Something has gone terribly wrong, they're desperate to meet those deadlines and get that work done, and in my experience it's almost always wrapped up in neurodivergence (usually undiagnosed) and frequently a home situation that's made their lives a shit show and pushed academia to a back burner.

But, it's a more serious issue than high school cheating on a multiple choice quiz. Degrees are crafted to have quality assurance built in, and with good reason. The whole point of a degree is that it's proof of higher learning, and specialist knowledge - you get a higher salary (in theory lol) because your employer is paying for the very expensive training you've undergone. This is particularly important in something like medicine or construction, because if you haven't actually completed all parts of that degree you could kill someone; but even in my own field, if you fundamentally don't understand the physical processes of a sand dune as well as its ecology, and someone hires you to manage that sand dune... well, it's going to be an over-stabilised mess in about five years' time and you've killed the rare sand lizards and mining bees that were living there. And if your degree is a course in an institution who is famous for producing top quality environmental workers who know this stuff... well, you've just made your uni course look very, very bad in industry.

So unis are protective of their quality assurance, and that means they do not like cheaters. And I do agree with that, that's fair enough.

For me, though, I think the answer is not full expulsion. I would run it like this:

Confirm beyond a shadow of a doubt that the student has indeed cheated. This must be confirmed.

IF NOT CONFIRMED: Mark the work strictly. Pair this with a viva - the student must be able to answer questions about the work from two lecturers with subject expertise, plus someone from the Academic Office (although that latter person can just observe only). This will determine how deep their knowledge is vs what they submitted, and should be factored into the overall mark.

IF CONFIRMED: Module fail, all marks for those credits set to zero, and the information included on transcripts (not why they failed, just that they attempted the module and got zero.) HOWEVER, the student is allowed one resit attempt; this might mean having to redo the year as a part-time student just to get that module, depending on how it's taught and how important it is.

All of the above with the understanding that their work is going to now be checked very closely going forward for repeat issues. In confirmed cases, a viva is now a required part of future work.

To be fair, mind, proving cheating is genuinely very hard, so depending on how strict the uni is, that's roughly the system that gets used anyway. Your work is very strictly marked, you get viva'd, and you usually fail on quality anyway (especially if your flavour of cheating was ChatGPT, because what it produces is shit.) After you've failed, gone through a resit period, and been capped at a pass mark for the fail, you realise pretty quickly that it would have been less stress and effort for a higher mark to just do the work yourself. And that's a learning curve everyone should be allowed, I think.

[xx-slug-xx]

(Sorry, brain dump ahead)

I need to tell y’all something, but I feel like only my older followers will understand what I’m talking about

When I was writing my informative paper on proshipping and anti shipping, including all the arguments for and against each side, I realized something very important.

I have family that I live with. I have friends with their own families. I have pets. I have a job now with coworkers who I care about. And while none of these things give a shit about fiction and internet morals (hell, I’ve had conversations with just about everyone I know about this stuff, and we all agree for the most part), I would give a shit if I was doxxed and put the people in my life in danger. I realized that if I post that document, and the right people saw it, I would put them in danger. I’m not willing to be a martyr for fandom drama. I’ve seen what antis are capable of doing, I’ve seen how they’ve indirectly killed people and how they’ve directly ruined lives. I don’t want that. I care about, not only my own well being, but also the people who I care most about. That’s not to say that anti harassment and anti censorship aren’t important to me, by any means. But my real life takes precedence over my internet life.

If there’s one thing I learned from that paper I wrote (but didn’t post), it’s that the internet is cruel and unjust. It’s that I could never feel comfortable with myself if I labeled myself as an anti. I made it clear that I’m proship, and that paper I wrote is the reason I’ve come to this conclusion. I did my own reaserch, form an unbiased standpoint, while choosing to side more with antis, and I came out of it as proship. My tastes in fiction have not changed. But my understanding of the topic did change. That paper has nearly a year’s worth of research put into it, and it would piss people off. It would, more importantly, piss off antis. I’ve seen what happens when antis get pissed, and I’ve been on the receiving end of the mild version of it. Many times. I’m not willing to go through the version where they don’t hold back. My paper included many documented examples of it, and since the time of writhing it, there have been so many more. I’m not going to be another one of those people who have their lives ruined over stupid fandom discourse.

It’s more than just internet drama to me though, regardless. I know that this is more than just fandom. At its core, it’s all forms of fiction and what is and is not acceptable. It’s about bullying and harassment, and how it keeps getting worse as time goes on. Not just internet harassment either. It’s happening in the American school system every day, people I knew when I was in high school were forced to drop out, get their ged, or do online schooling because of the real world harassment they were receiving. The way that my generation, and the generation bellow me, views other people is appalling. Bullying is just “funny”, and I can’t stand it. The internet is at the core of this issue, of course. It’s taught impressionable minds that other people are like npcs. Cancel culture has taught us that if you step out of line, even for non-issues, then you are the scum of the earth and deserve what’s coming to you. And if you see someone who steps out of line, you need to be ruthless. It’s better to attack other people, so long as the negative attention isn’t on you. Even the older generations are affected. This isn’t something we should be ignoring, but we are. Antis in fandom spaces might seem like it’s not a big deal, but it’s a rabbit hole that runs deeper than people realize.

My paper made me realize this, it made me realize that society sucks, the government sucks, the internet sucks, and I’m pro-freedom to do whatever you want so long as it doesn’t hurt real people. At the end of the day, I’m not going to be a martyr. I refuse that role. You shouldn’t want to be a martyr either. Be kind to people, that’s what’s important. Create spaces where people know they are safe to do whatever the hell they want so long as it doesn’t hurt real people. Stand up for real people who are being hurt by others. Stop harassment, stop hate. I’m tired of seeing people hurt each other over fictional characters who don’t exist. Don’t put yourself or others in danger. Block people who spread hate, and don’t give them a platform to be hateful.

I’m rambling, but for me, there’s no real good outcome unless people suddenly realize that being hateful because of fiction is dumb. I’ve become tired of trying to explain to antis why it’s dumb, there’s no way to talk to many of them. I also can’t risk the safety of others for an issue that only I’m focusing on. There’s other problems in the world, and in my personal life. I just want to be kind, at the end of it all. And I want others to feel the same. But then again, just being kind to others would solve a lot of the worlds problems if everyone followed that rule.

I need to shut up now though, sorry for the dump lol

[purplink8]

Ok so

Light after killing his second victim: Manga: “That wasn’t worth the death penalty, what he did” “But what about the second guy..?” “I was actually doing a service killing him..” “This is what I’ve been thinking all along.” “No wait. IT REALLY NEEDS TO BE CLEANED UP. THIS WORLD IS A ROTTEN MESS.”

See, Light had been thinking about inflicting the death penalty upon criminals for a longgg time.. This is why killing came so easy to him, when he found godlike powers to kill criminals at a distance with…

There isn’t much “coping”. Light was literally mentally prepared ahead of time. In the manga.

Light all along thought that the world needed to be “cleaned up”, and that he sees people the world would be better without.

His only concern in the beginning was, could he emotionally actually carry out, what he was fantasising about the same day. ————————— Light (thought): “Well, it’s only natural. They’re human lives. Of course it isn’t easy.”

Light (thought): “Can I take it? …Maybe not.”

Light(thought): “But come on, I can’t quit. So I lose my peace of mind. So I sacrifice people’s lives…”

Light (thought): “The world needs to be cleaned up. Somebody has to do this!!” —————- So you have an analytic, idealistic, statistical, greater good focused teenager, and are you also confused by his, (what you imply to be “sudden”) shift to magically kill criminals from a distance?  Didn’t you get any clues from his eagerness to “test” the notebook on “people who deserve it”. He’s the judge? Yea, Light believes it

I think you're confusing the timeline a little bit and also buying Light's change in thinking (*because* of the first 2 kills) at its face value. I'll explain my reasoning once more by following manga!Light's thought process from before finding the Death Note, after killing 1 person , after killing a grand total of 2 people which prove that it isn't a coincidence and so on. (also linking this awesome post again).

We can't just ignore pre-Kira!Light's thoughts. Let's go~

Light, before finding the notebook, thinks 'This world is a rotten mess...' Observe closely that his thoughts do NOT go to the direction of 'the rotten people aka criminals are better off dead' OR that 'they ought to die' or whatever. He aspires to become the director of the NPA so that he can bring about a societal change.

Still, he knows that he's not that powerful to make a lasting positive change in this world. He has, afterall, seen his father doing his job for long hours with little result. In other words, Light thinks it all is futile as he's more or less powerless to change the state of the world in a way that matters in the long run. In other words, he is deeply unhappy with the current state of the world.

I'm not knowledgeable about Japan's legal system so take what I say with a grain of salt:

I'm not saying that Light is against the death penalty, just that he isn't that concerned with taking the lives of the criminals (since there's no way he, without the killer notebook, an NPA director in the future (no Kira AU), can enforce the death penalty by himself) before he found the Death Note.

He picks up the notebook -> tries it without thinking it'd actually work

He internally chides himself 'Geez, I'm getting too serious about this...' when he's trying out the Note. Light's an overthinker, that is why he went so far in thinking if he were to hypothetically kill a person- it should be a criminal (that's the result you get from an idealistic, sheltered, a bit naive teenager who hasn't quite matured past his black & white thinking, and whose role model is Soichiro who is strictly against evil).

It's not him trying to Actually kill Otoharada. I would like you to remember that Light is very skilled at rationalizing and manipulating his own thoughts. Which is why we get this, right after Light has gotten over the shock of killing Otoharada:

He's started thinking that it must be a coincidence and is preparing himself to test the Note once again to confirm it.

But just as a safety measure, y'know if the 2nd test does turn out to be awry, he has already begun thinking that maybe he was onto something when he killed Otoharada. Afterall, look at the people around you and you start to wonder that 'all you see are people the world would be better off without.'

This is an extension of the world being rotten thinking. He hasn't yet reached the thinking that 'the rotten people should die.' and that's because Light adapts his thinking according to the situation at hand for maintaining his belief that he's Righteous at all costs.

And who knows? Maybe this time, nobody will die which would mean it's a coincidence and Light isn't a murderer at all so why start thinking that they should die. He's in hypothetical realm and thus he uses the word 'would' NOT 'should'.

The thoughts of Light that you mention come later when he's already fucked up (i.e. killed 2 people and confirmed his worst fears that it wasn't a coincidence).

Light is desperate here. He cannot be evil like those murderers he killed. Remember, Light Yagami cannot make mistakes (in his eyes, at least). Which is why he attempts convincing himself that it wasn't a mistake. It was all deliberate actually.

So! The actual timeline of his thoughts goes as follows:-

'This world is a rotten mess.' (prior to finding the Note) -> 'Start looking around you...and all you see are people the world would be better off without.' (after his 1st kill(? or coincidence? from Light's POV)) -> 'This world is a rotten mess. It really needs to be cleaned up.' (after the terrible realization that he's accidentally murdered 2 people- one of which who didn't deserve the death penalty, strictly speaking.)

Notice how he goes from 'the world being rotten as a whole' (opinion) to 'the world being better off without certain people' (thinking hypothetically) to 'certain people should die' (utmost conviction).

See, Light had been thinking about inflicting the death penalty upon criminals for a longgg time.. This is why killing came so easy to him, when he found godlike powers to kill criminals at a distance with… There isn’t much “coping”. Light was literally mentally prepared ahead of time. In the manga. Light all along thought that the world needed to be “cleaned up”, and that he sees people the world would be better without.

I agree with you that Light is certainly not anti-death penalty haha

But no killing doesn't come as naturally as you might think to Light- he loses sleep due to nightmares, loses weight, the guilt being heavy on him. Also to this, I call the defendant himself to the stand (jk jk)

Yotsuba!Light in the privacy of his own mind, thinks: 'What if, hypothetically, I had the power to kill using only a person's face and name...would I use the power to punish criminals? Certainly the world would be better without certain people. But I don't think I would go so far as to become a murderer myself to improve the world.'

If killing was that natural to Light, you'd think he'd admit it to himself (at least) the fact, no?

Going back to the previous point, Light did not think the world needed to be “cleaned up” in the beginning of the story. He just thinks the world is rotten. He makes revision/alterations in his thought process to reach the final state of thinking that certain people ought to die & he needs to clean up the world. These modifications in his thought process are done to hold the belief that he's righteous, whatever it takes.

So you have an analytic, idealistic, statistical, greater good focused teenager, and are you also confused by his, (what you imply to be “sudden”) shift to magically kill criminals from a distance?  Didn’t you get any clues from his eagerness to “test” the notebook on “people who deserve it”. He’s the judge? Yea, Light believes it

It was sudden imo. Imagine all the things you believed in, including that you're a morally good person, are suddenly uprooted from your life just because you tried out a 'prank' and it comes horribly true. He wasn't eager to 'test' the notebook. He was bored + curious and did not think that this harmless prank would lead to anything worthwhile.

I admit that Light initially choosing someone who's okay to kill (namely, Otoharada) is sketchy as hell. But I also believe that he'd have grown past this mentality, that criminals are all evil and deserve to die, had he not found the notebook. He becomes the judge coz otherwise he'd be forced to admit that he made a terrible mistake.

That's all there it is to it. Light did NOT believe the Note would work. And he was wrong -> so he tries to make it better by thinking 'you know what? I was right! This is what I've been thinking all along.' like this is inconsistent with what Light initially thought. Just because Light's convinced himself of this lie, doesn't mean we have to too.

[vinff7]

This update got me looking at and editing some of my Head canons, so posting those here. HC for how Gortash started worshiping Bane. And other ‘young Gortash’ HC

The game gives us very little hints about how and when Gortash started worshiping Bane. (Except for that one draft of a biography that seemed to place it in his adulthood, but doesn’t mention Hell? I think that might have just been when his Bane worship got more pronounced and noticed by that author not when it really started)

So I’ve made my own headcanon as I’ve seen multiple different versions around.

For me I think he started worshiping Bane in the House of Hope. Not right off the bat. I HC that Gortash likely was enslaved down there around the age of 10. Obviously a very difficult transition for a child to start living in Hell. But I think he eventually got to a point where he was aloud to wander somewhat and read in the library to educate himself. But was also taught by the Walock that brought him there to start (In-between him getting tortured and abused because I love whump to much to not imagine that there were horendious things done to him)

During this time around age 11 I like to think that he caught the attention of an awful demon/devil that would take torturing him really far, citing how amusing it was to get Enver to cry.

I also like to HC that young Enver had really bad anxiety and fear around crying. Like when he was in baulders gate his parents would get furious and yell at him to shut up. So if he noticed he was getting close to crying he would panic, which would pretty much ensure he would cry. And it would be a fun awful spiral of self hate thoughts at himself to be quiet and stop crying making his crying worse.

Anyway, awful torture keeps happening to the kid in between him needing to work and learn. And then Enver’s warlock teacher misses his lesson, and the next one. So Enver is hiding out trying to avoid the houses inhabitants when he finally spots his Walrock teacher and approaches them. Tries to figure out when his next lesson would be. Only to get dismissed with a wave. His mentor tells him The devil that had taken an interest in him has a habit of killing and breaking prisoners and he out ranks the Warlock, so the Warlock is giving up teaching Enver since trying to argue that he should be left alone would be more trouble then it’s worth.

Outright tells an 11 year old “Yeah, maybe not today, but I bet by the time 6 months has passed he’ll have tortured you to death. So there’s not really a point in teaching you anything anymore. No matter what you or I do you’ll end up the like mindless tormented souls soon.“ seeing how terrified Enver looked he says “Best you can do is try convince a god to fish your soul out of here after that devil gets bored or reckless enough to torture you to death.”

Which uh, def fucks with Enver’s head. So he does start deep diving into the Gods and trying to figure out if he can find any he aligns with enough that they would take him. And during this search he finds books about Bane and I fee like Bane’s philosophies is something he would immediatly relate and cling too.

Bane started as a slave and became a God. Bane teaches that the world is truely an Evil place by default, and pretending it isn’t is a lie. Someone who has only seen the worst the worlds have to offer must feel so validated reading that. To me Bane teaches so much about Self Disciple and self Control that some of his books written by worshipers must go into methods of self control. I can see young Enver finding a book of Worship with mantras to repeat when feeling weak or when needing to focus and clinging to those like a life raft.

Repeating phrases like mantras over and over in real life can have mind altering properties. Add a religious one to a word with magic and maybe there is an added Boost that actually works for getting in the zone via worship.

I don’t think Bane answered or noticed Enver at first, at all. I don’t think this discouraged Enver at all, the mantras helped and he figured he needed to do more to earn his gods favor so he worked at it. The focus on his self control helped. He could endure toruture quietly more and some of his tormentors lost interest in the now more stoic boy. Learning to master himself became a thing he could control to keep himself sane in Hell through the torment.

Obviously things didn’t ever get kind in Hell. But I also imagine after a few years of contactless worship Bane does notice Enver since getting prayer pings from Hell is not the most common. I doubt he would often interveen. Enduring torture is good training for a Banite.

I do think the first time they speak is an intervension though. Gods are able to see the future when it comes to things under their portfolio and so I imagine he could see that Enver has a LOT of potential. But he notices that the potential vanishes if all is left with nothing changing which gets him to interveen.

In my head the violent devil that started all of this does decide he want’s to break Enver during a point where Raphael might have been out of the house. Bane notices looking into the future that the torture they have planned for Enver would shatter him, and while Bane approved of discipline, he knows the difference between being weak and being put through so much agony that it’s unreasonable to expect discipline to cary someone through.

So I imagine Enver getting dragged from his cell, trying to fight down panic and start praying as a devil taunts him about his up coming torutre then, vision starts getting very dark and far away as Bane reaches in and just puuuulls his soul away. Bane is able to posses his followers so in my mind he does that for Gortash and pulls him away for a private chat.

I imagine being possesed by Bane is a bit like The Sunken Place from Get out. There is a viewing window you can look out to see what you body is doing, and otherwise Bane sponsored darkness. I feel like they had a short chat, nothing huge for Bane but life altering for a kid, someone actually caring for him enough to help. I feel like Bane would make an agreement with Enver that he will make sure Enver will never have to go through anything so bad that he would not be able to overcome it, which is a huge boost of self confidence for Enver. Now anytime he’s getting tortured in the future he has the promise of ‘My God knows this won’t break me’ going off in the back of his mind.

Bane also tells Enver that he won’t step in to free Enver, Enver needs to free himself, but he will grant him power if needed so that Enver can rise up as long as Enver loyaly serves him.

And so that is how they meet and Enver becomes even more loyally tied to Bane in my HC! I also have a couple ideas I’ll toss here at the end about him escaping since I’m already rambling.

I like to think that once he was older Enver was able to escape by using the Helldusk boots since he has those in game. My though was somehow the boots magic was used almost like a magic key? So he stole those, wards noticed the boots and figured whoever had them must be aloud to be there else why would they have them, so they helped him get past some magic locks and escape.

I did see in a fic about Enver leaping through those portals that could cause insanity and just giving a ‘hey help me out’ prayer to Bane to help him survive which worked and I always liked that idea.

Last Gortash ~ Bane idea that I like is that once Gortash escaped from the House of Hope Bane gave him his approval and told him like “You’re a Watchful Brother in Bane’s church, now you’ll never be called a Slave again.” And got to skip that ‘rank’ in normal Baneite hierarchy.

[witchersmistress]

Library Aftermath

Hello my darlings!! as promised to @livesinfantasyland here is how he reacted.. i do not plan on adding this to an on going series list at this moment

Trigger warnings: None, fluff

Word count:1.4K

It’s been a few days since Evelyn came home in the middle of the night, practically morning, smiling with triumph and saying she had a plan. There was something haunted in her eyes that night, like whatever she had to do to get this plan in place cost her something, but apparently it was worth it. I asked her then what the plan was, but she told me she’d tell us in the morning, making me wait and grinning when I seemed pissed off about it. I watched her go up the stairs to her room with a bad feeling in my chest. She laid it all out for us the next day.

How she met one of the hookers from the red light district and talked to her. How Charles  has a fucking assault fetish and likes to make the girls he hires act it out. Just when I thought it wasn’t possible for me to hate that piece of shit more. It all comes together when Evelyn explains it. All she has to do is wait for this girl to call her, and then she’ll move in and do what she does best. What she’s been working toward all this time. She’ll take out the last fucker on the list. But this isn’t like before, when she was going to shoot Charles  from across the street and be gone before anyone realized what happened. 

This is different. She’ll be in the middle of it all. Right there, pretending to be some fucking helpless hooker for him to take advantage of. It’s sick, just like Charles  himself, and just thinking about it makes me grind my teeth in irritation. But of course, Evelyn doesn’t give a shit. She’s focused on the fact that this plan will work, and it’s the best shot she has. I know she wants him dead, more than she wants anything else, apparently, but it’s still a bad plan. I didn’t like her plan when she first told it to us, and I don’t like it now. In fact, I fucking hate it. I hate pretty much everything about this, starting with the night she killed someone outside our club. She’s in our lives now. Deep in. Way too deep for only having been here a short while. Little signs of her are everywhere in the house. A bra slung over the back of a chair, a bottle of nail polish on the table, her brand of cigarettes on the counter.

 I can’t help but think about Walter’s warnings that first night, how we should just kill her and be done with it because she’s only going to bring trouble. He wasn’t wrong. She’s wormed her way into our lives and our home and our routines. At some point, I stopped thinking of the room she sleeps in as the guest room and started calling it her room. Like she lives here and isn’t just staying so we can keep an eye on her. Syverson and Napoleon both pant after her like horny dogs, even Walter seems to have made some kind of peace with her, and I… I wander into the library, unable to forget fucking Evelyn in here. I think about how she worked herself back, taking every violent thrust with pleasure, demanding more all at the same time. She riled me up to a breaking point and then handled it completely when I unleashed on her. I’m sure a lot of people would think it’s weird for there to be a full library in a house like this. They’d probably think the same thing about Walter’s piano.

 But this is where I come to settle my mind when my demons scream too loudly. It’s peaceful and it’s mine. My father was a piece of shit who mocked me for not learning how to read for a long time, so I’ve made it a point to read everything I can since I learned. I find old books, the classics that all the stuffy intellectuals say you have to read if you want to be anybody, and I read them. I keep them, along with the notes I make in the margins. Like proof that I can do whatever the fuck I set my mind to without approval from anyone else. Nothing can hold me back. I walk along the shelves, trailing my fingers over the place where Evelyn had her hands while I fucked her from behind. She wanted to touch herself, but I wouldn’t let her, keeping her hands right there, making her take it at my pace. Just thinking about it makes my cock perk up, and I can feel myself getting hard. I pick up one of the books from the shelf. Heart of Darkness. Appropriate. I open it and go to flip through it, but the pages don’t fan open the way they should. A bunch of them are stuck together, hard at the edges and unable to be pulled apart. I narrow my eyes and put it back, picking up another one. It has the same issue. My jaw clenches with anger. Evelyn is in the living room, watching Napoleon and Syverson beat the shit out of each other in a video game, and I march in, holding the book in my hand. “What the fuck happened?” I snap, my voice cutting through the sound of video game violence and Syverson laughing. Evelyn looks up, confused at first, but then she sees the book in my hand and bursts out laughing. Her blue eyes are bright, and she runs fingers through her shiny silver hair like she couldn’t give less of a shit. “I don’t know, Gus,” she says, shrugging. “But it really isn’t a good idea to smear cum all over the pages of books. They’ll just stick together. Didn’t you learn that lesson with porno magazines when you were younger?” I see red at her nonchalant expression. “I didn’t fucking smear cum on them,” I growl. Napoleon and Syverson are still in the middle of their game, but I can tell they’re listening. Syverson’s laughter might be about how his character just ripped the spine out of Napoleon’s character and beat him half to death with it or because of me talking about jizz on the pages of my books. Either way, it just pisses me off more. It’s like it’s a game to them.

 Like this isn’t our lives this woman has marched herself into and started fucking with. She’s here, like she owns the place, making herself at home and fucking things up. Of course they both love it. Syverson is a sucker for chaos. Anything new and different and exciting. Plus, Evelyn seems to understand him in a fucked up way. He wouldn’t spend so much time around her if she didn’t. Napoleon just wants to fuck her, and he probably has already. She’s the type to get him excited, and he also likes when things are happening. Especially things that involve a pretty girl. Both of them are missing the point—that she’ll be gone soon enough, and all the shit she fucked up will have to try to get back to normal. If that’s even possible.

I stand in the middle of the living room glaring at her, feeling like I’m the only one who gets it. Mad at her for fucking with my shit, for being so damn compelling. I want her to kill Charles  so she can get the fuck out of our lives already, even though I know it won’t be that easy. Nothing’s ever that fucking easy. Her grin just goes wider as she glances down at the book in my hand. “Oh, yeah. That was me.” Anger rises in me. I’m pissed as fuck. She’s grinning like she doesn’t have a care in the world, like it doesn’t faze her that she fucked with my stuff. I stride toward her, prepared to yank her up, bend her over my knee and punish her if I have to, but her phone rings before I reach her. She rolls her eyes at me and pulls it out of her pocket, answering it as soon as she sees the name on the screen. Her face goes serious in an instant, all traces of humor falling away. She gets up from the couch, moving over to a corner to talk in a hushed conversation.

I hear her say “Are you sure?” and “Okay,” and “Don’t worry. I’ll be there.” Everyone in the room stops, looking at her while she talks. Syverson has stopped laughing, and Napoleon isn’t grinning anymore. The atmosphere in the room has completely changed. I forget all about the books, waiting to hear the verdict. Finally, she hangs up and turns to look at all of us. “That was Avalon,” she says. “Charles  put in a request for a girl, and Avalon volunteered to do it for the night. It's time to go.”

[ek-atherine]

Ink Manifestation (Satoru Gojo x Reader): Chapter 5

Word Count: 1513

After finding out about Suguru’s crimes, I found myself wandering through the city streets. I needed to clear my head, so I decided to get some food. As I walked past a small ramen shop, I saw Suguru sitting alone at an outdoor table, seemingly lost in thought. I hesitated for a moment, remembering what Yaga had told me about the massacre. But I needed to understand why he did it. Taking a deep breath, I approached him and sat down across from him without a word.

Suguru looked up, not really too surprised to see me. “(Y/n),” he said, a faint smile on his lips. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I needed some air,” I replied. “And some answers.”

He raised an eyebrow but still smiled. “About?” He asked knowingly.

“You know what, don’t be like that,” I said, leaning forward. “I’m sure you know that I was told about what you did.”

He sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah, I figured you’d be one of the first to be told.”

“Why, Suguru? I don’t understand.” I asked, looking for any trace of my friend in his eyes. “All those people…”

“They weren’t just people, (Y/n). They were a threat,” he answered, his tone calm and measured.

“A threat? What kind of threat do nonsorcerers pose?” I countered, trying to compose my frustration.

“They were the reason curses exist,” he explained, his eyes darkening. “Their negative emotions, their ignorance. They’re the ones who create the monsters we fight.”

I scoffed as I shook my head, trying to comprehend his twisted logic. “That doesn’t justify slaughtering them. You’ve gone completely 180, you’ve always been the one to say we should protect and save lives.”

“Well maybe I’ve realized some lives aren’t worth saving,” he said coldly.

I felt a pang of sorrow at his words. This wasn’t my friend anymore. “I don’t know what happened, this isn’t you, Suguru. You’re my best friend. I know this isn’t you”

I could see his expression soften ever so slightly. “I’m doing what I believe is right. Sorcerers shouldn’t have to suffer because of nonsorcerers. We should be the ones in control. Don’t you want to be able to sleep soundly again?”

“By killing innocent people?” I ask him.

“I’m trying to create a world where sorcerers don’t have to live in fear,” he insisted. “A world where we’re not constantly fighting curses born from human negativity.”

“There has to be another way,” I pleaded. “We can work together to find a solution that doesn’t involve more death.”

He sighed, looking away. “I wish it were that simple, (Y/n).”

I reached across the table, placing my hand on his. “Suguru, please. Don’t go down this path. It’s not too late to turn back.”

He looked at our hands for a moment before gently pulling away. “I’ve made my decision,” he said quietly. “This is the path I’ve chosen.”

I felt tears welling up in my eyes as I realized how far gone he was. “Suguru...”

He stood up, his expression a mix of sadness and determination. “Take care of yourself, (Y/n). And Satoru.”

As he walked away, I watched him go, my heart heavy with sorrow. The friend I once knew was slipping away, consumed by his newfound hatred.

I could’ve chased after him and brought him back to the school so he could be dealt with, but I just couldn’t. Maybe another day Satoru or I will, but not now.

I sat on the edge of the rooftop back at the school, staring out. The sun was setting, casting long shadows over the trees. My mind was a whirlwind of emotions—anger, sadness, confusion. Suguru was slipping away from us, and there seemed to be nothing we could do to stop it.

The door to the rooftop creaked open, and I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Satoru’s presence was unmistakable.

“You talked to him too, didn’t you?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Satoru walked over and sat down next to me, his usual playful demeanor absent. He nodded, staring out at the horizon. “Yeah. It was like talking to a stranger.”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “I don’t understand, Satoru. How did it come to this? We were all so close, and now...”

He looked down, his expression somber. “He’s lost in his own darkness. The things he’s seen, the things we’ve been through... I guess it broke something inside him.”

“I tried to reach him,” I said, my voice trembling. “I told him we’re still his friends. But he just... shut me out. Like I was the enemy.”

Satoru’s jaw tightened. “He said the same to me. Called me naive, said I didn’t understand the true nature of this world. He’s convinced that what he’s doing is right.”

Tears welled up in my eyes as I looked at Satoru. “What are we going to do, Satoru? How can we bring him back?”

He shook his head, his expression pained. “I don’t know if we can. He’s made his choice. But we can’t give up on him. Not yet.”

I leaned into Satoru, seeking comfort in his presence. He wrapped an arm around me, pulling me close. “It’s just... so hard,” I whispered. “I miss the way things were.”

“I know,” he replied softly. “I miss it too. Maybe someday he’ll see the light again.”

We sat in silence for a while, watching the sun dip below the horizon.

Finally, I pulled away slightly, looking up at Satoru. “Promise me we won’t give up on him, no matter what.”

He met my gaze, his blue eyes filled with determination. “I promise. We’ll keep fighting for him, for as long as it takes.”

As the night enveloped us, we stayed on the rooftop, drawing strength from each other.

The next morning, Satoru approached me with an unexpected proposition. He had learned about Toji Fushiguro's son, Megumi, who was destined to be sold off to the Zen'in clan. We found him walking down an alley, alone and seemingly unaware of the looming fate that awaited him. My heart sank at the sight of him—Megumi looked so much like his father, it was uncanny.

“You’re Megumi Fushiguro, right?” Satoru asked.

The boy turned around to face us, his expression curious. “Who are you? And what’s with that weird face?”

I stifled a groan, shooting a glance at Satoru who was clearly taken aback by the resemblance. “You look just like him, is all. My own issue.”

“You could’ve hidden it better at least,” I muttered to Satoru under my breath.

Ignoring my comment, Satoru continued speaking to Megumi. “So listen. About your dad…He’s from this big-shot jujutsu sorcerer family called the Zen’in, but they’re such scumbags they make even me sick, and that’s why your dad left the family and had you. Now, you’re one of the ones who can see things, so you’re privileged there, right? You’ve noticed the power within yourself, too, yeah? The Zen’in clan just loves strong powers. Most become aware of their cursed techniques around 4-6 years old. So it's the perfect timing to sell a kid off. So, Megumi, you were the ultimate card that your dad kept on hand against the Zen’in clan. Pisses you off, doesn’t it?”

“Have you ever spoken to a kid before?” I interjected, cringing inwardly.

Undeterred, Satoru knelt down to Megumi’s eye level. “So, about that dad of yours. I ki–”

“I don’t care,” Megumi interrupted bluntly. My eyes widened at his unexpected response.“I have no interest in where he is or what he’s doing. I haven’t even seen him in years, so I don’t remember what he looks like. Though I get the general idea from what you just said.”

Satoru and I exchanged surprised glances before turning our attention back to Megumi.

“Tsumiki’s mother hasn’t come home for a while now, either. That means they’re finished with us, and they’re off enjoying themselves elsewhere, right?”

Megumi turns around and looks up at a window his sister was looking out of to wave at him.“Didn’t you say this kid was a first grader?” I whispered to Satoru, bewildered by Megumi's maturity and nonchalance.

“Well, whatever, if you ever want to know about your father, you can ask me,” Satoru offered as he stood back up. “I think it’ll be pretty interesting to hear. Now, on to the main point. What do you want to do? Do you want to go to the Zen’in clan?”

“What will happen to Tsumiki?” Megumi asked, his concern evident. “If I go there, will Tsumiki be able to find happiness? It all depends on that.”

“No. A hundred percent no.” Satoru and I replied simultaneously.

“We can say that with certainty,” I assured Megumi.

Satoru chuckled and tousled Megumi’s hair gently.“Okay. Leave the rest to us, then. I might need you to push yourself a bit, though. So do your best. Get stronger. So you can keep up with us.”

[depressedhouseplant]

Just Fucking Write - Day 54

Prompt: Minkev for Kevin Day!

Tags: Mentions of gun violence, grief & the grieving process

A/N: Happy birthday to our Moonlight Boy. Connected to Day 18 & Cops & Robbers

“Thank you for the flowers,” Kevin said.

“Thank you for making sure I didn’t die in my sleep. And thank you for accepting my dinner invitation,” Mingi smiled a little in return. Kevin shifted in his seat.

“I’ll be honest, I’m really not sure what to do. If you’re looking for a relationship or a boyfriend or something more than just whatever this is, I don’t know if I can give it to you,” Kevin blurted out.

“I’m not sure what I’m looking for either. Mafia trained snipers don’t really have time to date,” Mingi replied.

“And somehow I ended up married to one,” Kevin huffed a laugh.

“I didn’t know him personally, but he seemed like a good guy. At least, as good as guys like us can be,” Mingi reached over and put his hand on top of Kevin’s.

“I miss him every day,” Kevin felt his eyes welling up. Not in public. He couldn’t start crying in public.

“I would too,” Mingi squeezed his hand. “Should I get dinner to go?”

“Please,” Kevin looked down so Mingi couldn’t see his tears. He held Kevin’s hand the entire time getting the food packaged and paying the bill.

“I don’t want to impose, but I also don’t want to just leave you. Would you mind if I came home with you?” Mingi suggested.

“No, that would be nice. I’d like that,” Kevin finally looked up.

”I won’t judge you for crying, you know. Just throwing that out there,” Mingi said when they got outside.

”I really don’t want to cry,” Kevin sniffed. Mingi put his arm around him which is when Kevin realized just how tall and long the other man was.

”Well, I won’t judge you regardless,” he said.

“Thank you,” Kevin tried to smile. He liked the feeling of Mingi’s arm around him. They didn’t say much on the ride back to Kevin’s apartment.

“For later,” Mingi said as he put the food in the fridge. Kevin was slightly embarrassed since he hadn’t cleaned out the fridge of old takeout boxes yet. Looking around all he could see were undone chores because if he wasn’t at the hospital, he was dealing with one of Juyeon’s men getting himself injured. Jacob had been the one to do the chores.

”Sorry for the mess,” Kevin said.

”You’re busy. It happens,” Mingi shrugged. “So how can I help?”

”Help?” Kevin cocked his head.

”Do you need a hug? Someone to just sit with? I don’t really have a huge amount to talk about since I live by myself and don’t really have friends, but I’d like to think I’m a decent listener if you want to vent,” Mingi told him. Kevin considered the other man’s suggestions.

”I think I’d like a hug,” he decided.

”Then a hug it is,” Mingi smiled and wrapped his arms around Kevin. He rested his chin on Kevin’s head as he held him. Of all the things that finally broke him, a hug from almost a total stranger after a failed attempt at a date was not what Kevin would’ve predicted.

”Why? Why did they have to kill him? He didn’t know anything and they did it anyway,” he sobbed.

”Because bad people do bad things because they’re told to. At least, that’s what I’ve seen,” Mingi replied. He carefully steered them to the couch and lied down, holding Kevin on top of him.

”Would you have done it?” Kevin asked.

”Killed someone who didn’t know anything? No,” Mingi replied.

”Even if you were told to?” Kevin continued.

”I know you said you don’t care who I work for, but I work for a man who has no issues killing his own employees for no reason. He lost his moral compass about 30 years ago and a lot of people are rightfully afraid of him. Ignoring the fact entirely I’m worth more alive than dead, I also know better than to kill someone who isn’t a threat. Sometimes that’s hard to tell from the top of a building through a rifle scope, but not always. I’m not a good person, but I’m also not a totally bad one either,” Mingi explained.

”No, you’re not,” Kevin agreed.

”You never really got to mourn him, did you?” Mingi asked.

”No,” Kevin shook his head, successfully smearing snot on Mingi’s shirt.

”How long has it been?” Mingi massaged the back of Kevin’s head. His long fingers felt soothing against his scalp.

”Two years, almost two and a half,” Kevin replied.

”I think it might be time to start. It’ll suck at first, letting yourself feel the hurt and the anger and the pain, but once you get through it then it won’t be so bad. At least, that’s my experience,” Mingi suggested.

“You lost someone?” Kevin propped his chin on Mingi’s chest.

“I did. Someone I loved very much. I did the same thing you did. I didn’t let myself mourn her loss for years. It sucked ass when I finally did. Hell, one morning I woke up feeling like I’d lost a fight because my body was experiencing the emotional pain. It ended up okay, though. It still hurts and always will, but at least now I can handle days like her birthday, our anniversary, or her death day without drinking for three days straight before and after. I visit her, bring her flowers, tell her about the parts of my life that don’t involve felonies, and promise to see her again on the next anniversary,” Mingi told him. His smile was a little sadder now.

”You said anniversary. Who was she?” Kevin asked.

”My wife,” Mingi replied.

[tameodesza]

Bittersweet

₊˚⊹♡ Prince!Shawn Michaels x Commoner!Bret Hart ♡⊹˚₊

masterlist | AO3 link

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Summary: Prince Shawn informs his parents of his decision to marry Bret, but when their disapproval threatens to tear the pair apart, a plan is concocted to unite the lovers once again.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ a/n: promise I’m working on a oneshot where bretshawn gets together, but I couldn’t help but write some angst for this au!

Silver utensils clinked softly against porcelain plates as the royal family finished their dinner. The king and queen spoke in hushed conversations, Shawn barely engaging as he didn’t have much interest in the topic of trade negotiations. His mind was rather occupied with thoughts of Bret, anticipating the discussion he needed to have with his parents that would ultimately seal his fate.

Shawn finished off his glass of wine, gathering courage as he set his fork down onto his plate. He let out a breath, saying plainly, “Mother. Father. You should be happy to know that I’ve made a decision regarding my suitors.”

The king turned to Shawn quizzically, the queen matching his curious expression. “Oh, is that so?”

“Yes. I know it’s quite soon, but I’m confident in my choice. I…I choose Bret.”

Those words seemed to echo throughout the dining hall as the king and queen went eerily quiet. The two glanced at each other with stone-faced expressions before looking back at Shawn.

Shawn furrowed his brows, greatly confused by their reaction. He assumed his parents would have been overjoyed at the news. He was following through with his betrothal, was a step closer to appeasing the royal council, and he’d finally agreed to commit to someone for once in his life for the sake of carrying out his royal duty.

Yet, all he received was the king’s disapproving grunt as he expressed, “We were afraid you’d do so.” Shawn’s blood ran cold, not liking the ominous undertone. “Son, I need to make you aware of something. Following your suitor selection, multiple concerns were raised by the council concerning your suitors. Well, more specifically, the commoner.”

Shawn frowned, “Concerns? I don’t understand. Isn’t this what everyone wanted? For me to find a partner before years end? That’s what I’ve done.”

“Be that as it may, the council has taken issue with the commoner’s social status, and it was discussed that in the event that you made the wrong choice, the betrothal would be null and void.”

Shawn felt as if the rug had been pulled from under him, anger immediately taking the forefront as he fiercely said, “Wrong choice? How could my choice ever be wrong if it’s supposed to be my fucking decision?”

“Hey, watch your tongue,” the queen scolded. “You cannot marry some measly commoner, Shawn. It would bring great shame to the family. That commoner and his family cannot offer anything of value to us. Your father and I are considering what’s best for the monarchy.”

Angry tears pricked at Shawn’s eyes as he exclaimed, “What about what’s best for me?! If you’ve felt this way about him this entire time, why allow him to court me?! Why allow me to fall for him?! Why wait months after suitor selection to tell me I never even had a choice?!”

The king answered boisterously, “Because we never thought you’d actually pick him! No royal in their right mind would do so. But leave it to you to always go against the status quo. Think about it, Shawn. He can’t take care of you. Do you really think he can afford your expensive lifestyle with him living in a shack?”

“He doesn’t live in a shack,” Shawn scoffed, feeling the need to defend Bret’s honor. “Even if so, I would happily live in a shack if it meant I didn’t have to deal with this royal bullshit!”

“How dare you speak ill of the very establishment that’s raised you, you ungrateful petulant child! Do you know how many people would kill to have a life like this?”

“Then let them have it, because a life without Bret isn’t a life worth living.”

That seemed to stun his parents, the queen saying lowly, “Surely, you don’t mean that. You’re too young to understand-”

“Do not speak as if I’m uneducated. I understand that this isn’t right. Father, please. You can’t let them do this! You’re the king. Your decision overrules anything the council decides.”

“Son, l have a duty to fulfill and a reputation to uphold. And quite frankly, your actions have caused much distress to this family for quite some time. I cannot go against the council on this ruling seeing as your previous unruly behavior has already damaged our family’s name.”

Shawn thought that was a bunch of bullshit. Regardless of how strongly the council felt, Vince had the majority vote. If he wanted to, he could have easily shut down the council’s bogus suggestion.

“What if I refuse,” Shawn asked indignantly. “You cannot force me to marry.”

Done with Shawn’s backtalk, Vince venomously spewed, “If you plan to stay in this family, to see your siblings again, to continue having your riches and security, then you shall! Otherwise, your refusal to marry will be seen as a treasonous act and you’ll be exiled from the family. And as long as you are living under this roof and tied to the McMahon name, your opinion on the subject doesn’t matter. Forget about that commoner. You are to marry a suitor of our choosing and that’s final!”

Shawn left the table in a tearful retreat. He was shocked beyond disbelief, feeling completely blindsided by what had taken place. He refused to believe this was reality, but the conviction in his parents’ voice told him otherwise.

He ran towards the palace doors desperately needing to get away. As he approached the foyer, he ran into Sebastian, begging the man, “Take me back, Sebastian. Please. I am begging you. Please take me back to Bret.”

Sebastian was alarmed by Shawn’s desperate plea. He hadn’t been near the dining room during the argument, but he heard bits and pieces of it as the angry voices carried down the palace halls. He was just as appalled as the prince in the king and queen’s actions. But even with his sympathy, he had his own duties to uphold.

“My Lord, it is after hours. I am not permitted to-”

“If you will not take me, I shall find a way myself!”

Sebastian stood perplexed as the prince looked at him with a determined gaze. It would be a breach of policy to allow Shawn out of the palace past curfew, let alone take him to the home of the man he’d just been forbidden from seeing.

However, Sebastian also cared about Shawn’s wellbeing, and knew the blond would likely get lost if he attempted to head to Beauville alone. That and the danger Shawn would be putting himself in by wandering aimlessly throughout the night was enough for Sebastian to reluctantly agree.

-

Bret’s slumber was abruptly interrupted as he felt a hand tapping frantically on his shoulder, Owen’s voice following, “Bret. Bret, wake up!”

“What is it,” Bret groaned.

“It’s the prince. He’s outside.”

Bret was up before Owen could even finish his sentence, throwing on a pair of shoes before hastily making his way to the front door. He opened it to reveal a teary-eyed Shawn, the blond looking as beautiful as he remembered even under his duress.

Upon seeing Bret, Shawn immediately threw himself into the man, his tears unleashing as soon as he felt Bret’s comforting arms wrap around him.

“Shawn. What’s the matter,” Bret worriedly whispered into Shawn’s ear only to receive another sob from the blond.

Bret’s heart clenched tightly at hearing the prince’s cries of sorrow. He had no idea why Shawn was so upset, but knew it had to be serious for the young man to travel all this way.

Bret shushed the blond, lightly caressing the back of his head as he said gently, “I’m here, Shawn. I’m here. Please try to breathe for me, ok?”

As Shawn tried to control his breathing, Bret’s attention was drawn to the crowd that had formed consisting of his nosy siblings and concerned parents. He waved them off, but they refused to leave. Bret then shifted himself and Shawn outside and closed the door behind them for privacy.

After realizing they were outside, Shawn tightened his arms around Bret, not wanting to be separated from the man.

“I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere,” Bret whispered, lightly running a hand across Shawn’s back. Over Shawn’s shoulder, Bret spotted Sebastian standing nervously by the carriage, glancing ever so often down the road as if anxiously awaiting someone’s arrival.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

Needing answers, Bret pulled away slightly to rest his hands on Shawn’s cheeks, wiping away at the streaks, asking delicately, “Tell me what’s wrong.”

The question only seemed to make Shawn cry more as he blubbered out unintelligible sentences. Bret was eventually able to make out the words, “I told my parents that I want to be with you.”

Bret’s heart leapt at the confession. Shawn wanted to be with him. He told the king and queen. It’s official. But as happy as Bret wanted to be, he couldn’t wrap his head around Shawn’s reaction.

Bret smiled softly, wiping away at Shawn’s eyes as he expressed, “That’s wonderful, Shawn. You have no idea how ecstatic I am to know you want this just as much as I do. But I don’t understand. Why are you crying?”

Shawn lowered his head to Bret’s chest, mumbling, “They won’t allow it. The marriage cannot take place without their blessing.”

Bret stiffened at the revelation, feeling as if a joke were being pulled on him. He gently lifted Shawn’s head from his chest, asking, “Why?” The blond averted his eyes, causing Bret to plead, “Shawn, please tell me why. Did I do something wrong? Is there a way I can fix it? There must be something I can do-”

“You can’t,” Shawn whispered, stepping away from the man hanging his head in shame. “It’s because you’re a commoner that they will not carry on with the betrothal. I’m so sorry, Bret.”

Bret didn’t know how to feel. There were so many emotions rushing through him at once – confusion, anger, embarrassment, betrayal, heartbreak, love for a man he couldn’t have. All because of what? His social status? A class he was born into, just as the prince was born into his?

It was then that Bret understood Shawn’s contempt for the monarchy, the older man growing resentful himself. His love for Shawn only grew as he realized that the blond hadn’t let his family’s prejudice against commoners cloud his ability to fall for one.

Bret let out a sigh, running a frustrated hand across his face before pulling Shawn back into his arms. Shawn seemed surprised by this, assuming that Bret wouldn’t want anything to do with him after the revelation. But he melted into the warm embrace, wrapping his arms around Bret’s neck to hold him closer. They stayed like that for some time, words unable to express their anguish.

Sebastian was conflicted as he watched, for once in his life questioning the decisions of the monarchy. He’d been with Shawn on every outing with each of his suitors, and although it was his duty to remain impartial, he couldn’t ignore the chemistry he witnessed with Shawn and Bret. Sebastian was actually put at ease knowing that someone with such a humble background had captured the prince’s eye. Unfortunately, the monarchy hadn’t felt the same way.

Bret eventually broke the silence when he asked, “What now? What do you want to do?”

“I wish to be with you. Only you,” Shawn whispered into Bret’s neck.

Bret smiled into Shawn’s hair whispering back, “I wish to be with you, too.” A smile also made its way onto Shawn’s lips, but was short-lived when Bret said, “But you must go back.”

Shawn’s head sprung up from Bret with knitted eyebrows, saying, “What? No-”

“I don’t want to make you choose between me and your family.”

“They’re the ones making me choose, not you,” Shawn shouted, no longer able to contain his anger. “You mean so much to me, Bret. What am I supposed to do without you after you’ve claimed my heart?”

Bret felt his throat tighten, clearing it in his best effort not to cry. “But they’re your family, Shawn-”

“I don’t care! That’s how much you mean to me. That’s how much I want to be with you. Do you not feel the same?”

“I do, Shawn,” Bret said softly, shushing Shawn as he pulled him back to his chest. “I do. Please don’t doubt it.”

“It’s not fair,” Shawn sobbed.

“I know it’s not. It’s just…this is so damn hard. I wish I knew what to do to make this right.”

Noting how late it was getting, Sebastian slowly approached the lovers, saying reluctantly, “My Lord, I must inform you that you are expected to return to the palace tonight. It is without a doubt that a search has been issued-”

“No,” Shawn said over his shoulder, refusing to separate from Bret. “I’m not leaving him, so you may as well head back to the palace without me.”

“I- you know I can’t do that, young prince.”

There wasn’t much room left for arguing as the trio heard the rapidly approaching sound of hooves galloping against the dirt road. Knowing who it could be, Shawn pulled Bret into a short kiss, pouring every emotion into it, unknowing if he’d ever have the opportunity again.

“I love you,” he whispered against Bret’s lips, the older man’s eyes watering at the confession as he returned the same phrase.

Just then, multiple white and gold carriages pulled up the house, the largest being the center carriage that housed Shawn’s parents. Several guards exited the other carriages as a coachman opened the door for the king and queen.

Queen Linda was first to step out followed by King Vince, both tooting up their noses in disgust as they took in their surroundings. A desolate neighborhood, dirt roads, tiny homes. This is what their son was drawn to? Ridiculous.

Unbeknownst to them, Bret’s family was watching anxiously from the inside, trying their best not to be seen as they crowded by an open window.

“We’ve got to go out there,” Owen said as he tried to walk to the door, but was pulled back by his dad, Stu.

“Let them handle it,” said the elder man. “If it looks like Bret needs our help, then we’ll head out.”

Owen relented, sitting next to his brother, Bruce, who was just as antsy.

Linda remained standing beside the carriage as Vince slowly approached his son. His eyes immediately went to Bret’s hand that was interlocked with Shawn’s, directing a disapproving glance to his son. He stopped shortly in front of the two, saying, “Ok, Shawn. You’ve made your point known. It’s time to stop playing games and come home.”

“This is not a game, father. If I am not allowed to be with him, then I’m not going anywhere. I love him.”

“Love,” Vince tsked. “That’s outlandish. You barely know the fellow.”

“Yeah, almost as outlandish as marrying a stranger for status,” Shawn smartly replied. “I told you, I’m not coming.”

That seemed to wipe the smugness off the king’s face as he said menacingly, “I wasn’t asking.”

At the flick of his hand, a group of guards rushed towards the lovers, ripping Bret away from Shawn as the blond shouted, “Bret!”

A rush of events took place after that - Bret’s brothers running out of the house in his defense, guards forcefully holding them down as their parents and sisters watched angrily from the doorstep, Shawn breaking away in an effort to get to Bret only to be withheld by Sebastian.

The commotion ceased as Vince’s voice boomed, “If you do not come willingly, these people will be arrested for resisting authority and disobeying royal orders! Is that what you want, Shawn?!”

Shawn struggled to get out of Sebastian’s hold, shouting, “No, you can’t do that! They have nothing to do with this!”

“I can and I will. It’s up to you how this goes.”

Shawn’s eyes frantically darted across the yard, taking in the sight of Bret’s brothers kneeling on the ground under the guards’ force. Then his eyes landed on Bret’s who, even under the painful grasp of a guard, kept his face neutral in an effort to calm Shawn.

Shawn helplessly looked to his mother, saying with a crack in his voice, “Mom?”

The queen was seemingly affected by her son’s plea, but after taking a breath, she said flatly, “Listen to your father. Do not make this any harder than this has to be.”

Shawn lips trembled, feeling an ultimate sense of betrayal. Although his relationship had been rocky with both of his parents, he got along better with his mother. If there were one person he thought could fix this, it would be her. But seeing that she took Vince’s side, Shawn felt hopeless.

The blond’s shattered expression hit Bret hard with emotion. Against his better judgment, he spoke, “It’s ok, Shawn,” which earned him a hard knee to the gut.

Shawn lurched forward but was held back as he watched Bret grunt in pain struggling to catch his breath. “Shawn,” Bret said in a strained voice.

The guard then unsheathed his sword, pointing it at Bret’s neck which caused Shawn to say in a panic, “Ok! I-I’ll go! Just…please don’t hurt him.”

Owen gasped, “No, Prince,” but he was met with the same fate, getting a knee to his side.

“Stop hurting them! I said I’ll go,” Shawn said in distress. Before being led away, he said to Bret, “I’ll never forget you. I’m so sorry this has happened, but never forget that I love you.”

“I love you, too, Shawn,” Bret whispered with a quiver in his voice.

Shawn was led to his parents’ carriage, the blond shrugging off Sebastian’s grasp once he made it to the doors. The king and queen followed behind, the door slamming shut before the curtain on the window was quickly closed.

With the royals out of sight, the guards finally let up on the family before heading to their own carriages. After the loud whinny of a horse, the line of carriages left the home with no intention of ever returning.

Bret sat on his knees a broken man, staring down the dirt path as silent tears streamed down his cheeks. He felt numb as his family crowded around him, tugging and pulling him different directions in concern. With the help of his brothers, he eventually got up and was led inside of the house.

After finding his voice to tell his family he was ok, Bret headed to the stables to get away from everyone. When he was finally alone to his thoughts, Bret cried his eyes out, mourning the loss of a love he only had the privilege to briefly experience.

Shawn found himself in the same position, the blond balled up in the corner of the carriage as endless tears poured from his eyes, not even daring to look at his parents.

The king and queen sat clueless, not knowing what to make of their son. Vince had never been good at comforting his kids, and Linda didn’t know how to fix the situation without giving Shawn what he wanted, an offer that wasn’t on the table.

After another squeak in Shawn’s voice, Linda tried, “You’ll find someone better, I promise. Someone more worthy of the royal-”

“I will never find anyone like him! You’ve ruined everything! I hate you!”

His parents were stunned into silence and nothing else was said for the rest of the ride. After arriving at the palace, Shawn rushed to his room, bypassing the concerned looks of his staff. He cried throughout the night, his sobs not going unheard as Sebastian stood guard outside of his door overtaken with guilt.

-

There was a light knock at Shawn’s bedroom door, followed by Sebastian’s muffled voice, “Your daily news, my Lord.”

Shawn groaned as he rolled his eyes and threw off his heavy comforter, sluggishly making his way out of his bed towards the door. He’d been camped to his room for over a week, refusing to interact with anyone in the palace. His parents initially thought it was a phase. Surely, Shawn was just acting out and would get over it in a couple of days.

But when the days stretched on and Shawn began requesting to have his meals sent to his room, they soon realized Shawn’s tantrum wasn’t as simple as they thought. But that didn’t change the fact that they were still adamant about Shawn finding an appropriate suitor.

Shawn opened his bedroom door and grabbed the paper from Sebastian’s outstretched hand. He unfolded it, lazily glancing it over in disinterest until he froze after catching sight of a bold headline:  

The Search Continues: Prince Shawn Remains on the Quest for Happy Ever After His Majesty, King Vince II, has issued a statement that has shocked the kingdom. His son, Prince Shawn, is still hoping to find Prince Charming. The King states, “Queen Linda and I are very grateful and thankful to the multitude of suitors who expressed interest in our son, Prince Shawn, months ago. But as a result of his courtship, we’re afraid we’ve not yet found a match. We’re announcing that the palace will be hosting another suitor ball, this one not as open as the last. Potential suitors will need to be of royal blood, come from a long line of wealth, and meet various royal standards that the royal council and I deem fit. More details will be released in the following-”

Shawn couldn’t even finish the article, his blood boiling as he pushed past Sebastian to rush towards Vince’s office. The door was heavily guarded, a guard blocking Shawn from entering as he said, “Forgive us, Prince Shawn, but the king-”

“I don’t give a shit what he’s doing. I need to talk to him now.”

As one could assume, the conversation wasn’t productive, it consisting of various obscenities and insults hurled each other’s way.

The screaming match ended when Vince proclaimed, “You’ve embarrassed this family long enough! We’ve accepted your unconventional lifestyle. We’ve swept away your scandals. We’ve even let you relinquish your title. The one thing we ask of you is to marry of the same class! Think of Shane and Stephanie, and how brokenhearted they’d be knowing their older brother chose a mere commoner over his own blood. I’m not going to let your selfishness tear this family apart, so this is happening whether you like it or not!”

-

Bret nearly crumbled after reading the article. He was still in shock at how someone he loved could be ripped away from him so easily. Shocked at how the royals’ privilege allowed them to not only mistreat his family but mistreat their own son as well. He was still haunted by the anguished screams Shawn let out that night, frustrated that he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

For a week, Bret shut himself out from the world, remaining in his room except to tend to the horses and crops. His absence was felt in the market as he refused to work, wanting to avoid the villagers’ pitying glances. Word had traveled fast after his family’s encounter with the royals. Many villagers had visited the Harts to express their condolences, wishing the young couple could experience a happy ending.

But there was also a subset of villagers who were jealous of Bret’s opportunity to court the prince, a few even spreading absurd rumors such as Bret attempted to hold the prince hostage. Fortunately, many of the villagers came to Bret’s defense – a true testament of his good character and positive impact he’d made on the community.  

“Hey, man. How you holding up,” Owen asked after entering Bret’s room to find him sitting on the edge of his bed with the news article in hand.

Bret answered blankly, “I can’t believe they’re forcing him to do this. I know this is not what he wanted.”

“What can we do?” Owen was just as affected over the situation as Bret, offended that the royals would cause such a raucous at their home. And over what? Their son falling in love with his brother? It was outrageous and Owen was fully prepared to do whatever it would take to reunite his brother and the prince.

But his bravado diminished as Bret answered glumly, “There’s nothing we can do. We’re not royalty. We don’t come from wealth. And the palace sure as hell isn’t going to welcome me as a suitor again. It’s a lost cause.”

That saddened Owen immensely. His brother was a hardworking man who always put the family and the village first. Because of this, Owen always worried that his brother would be destined to a lonely life. The prince was the one person that gave Owen hope that his brother had found his better half. But life always seemed to be the cruelest to those least deserving.

With the recent news, the last thing Owen wanted was for Bret to be alone. He gave Bret a light pat on the shoulder, saying, “Come one, man. Let’s go to the market. Work should be a good distraction from all of this.”

Except it wasn’t.

Between the villagers staring at him as they walked past his stall to others shamelessly asking him about the prince, Bret soon regretted his decision, wishing he’d listened to his gut and stayed home. He was constantly reminded of Shawn throughout his shift, especially after a patron asked for a bag of strawberries.

Bret searched throughout their stall double-checking their inventory but was confused to find no strawberries in stock. After excusing himself from the customer, he asked his mom, “I can’t seem to find any strawberries. Are we out?”

“Oh, yes. Sorry, I forgot to tell you, dear. A purchaser from the palace bought everything we had this morning. They even placed an order for a batch of strawberries that are ready for picking in the fields.” Well, it’s not that she forgot to tell him. More so, she wanted to keep anything palace-related from her son, fearing it would only cause Bret more pain.

Bret curled a brow in question. “That’s odd. Why would they order so much?”

“Well, the gentleman didn’t say much. Only that it was requested by someone within the royal family. Any idea who it could be?”

Bret’s heart swelled as he thought of only one man with a strawberry addiction. 

-

Back at the palace, Shawn hadn’t been doing any better.

“Forgive me for speaking out of turn, my Lord, but I don’t think you can survive only off of strawberries.” 

Shawn was in the middle of finishing his third bowl of the day as he sat at his vanity table, opting out of breakfast that morning for the delicious fruit. Normally, he would still be hungry, but his appetite had been lacking ever since being literally ripped away from Bret.

Shawn moped, “If they won’t allow me to be with him, I can at least enjoy his product.” He popped another strawberry into his mouth, relishing at how delicious it was. Yet, he wasn’t able to fully enjoy it as memories of Bret flashed through his mind. 

Sebastian stood by silently, his concern for Shawn only growing in the passing weeks. On multiple occasions, he’d almost crossed the line of professionalism in his worry for the prince. He tried to hint to the king and queen about Shawn’s declining mental state, but he was often ignored as the royals brushed it off as an act for attention.

Their nonchalant approach was unsettling, and it was moments like this one where the prince stared absentmindedly into his bowl that Sebastian knew he had to step in. Royalty or not, everyone reached a breaking point, and Sebastian’s sympathy for the man outweighed his obligations to the monarchy.

Sebastian slowly approached Shawn, pointing to the empty spot on the bench, asking, “May I?”

Shawn looked up, blinking in surprise. His guards usually avoided getting anywhere near him out of formalities, but also out of fear of being accused of doing something indecent with him.

“Sure,” Shawn nodded as he scooted over to make more room for Sebastian. 

After taking a seat on the opposite end of the bench, Sebastian said, “My Lord. I’d first like to apologize for my behavior that night.”

Shawn didn’t need to ask which night Sebastian was referring to. He paused mid-bite into his strawberry, not expecting an apology. After placing the fruit back into the bowl, Shawn said tiredly, “You were just doing your job. I can’t blame you for following my parents’ foolish orders.”

Sebastian bit back the instinctive need to defend the king and queen, insisting, “Even so, my Lord, that night has caused you great pain. And I am ashamed to have ever been part of it. I’ve served your family for nearly 30 years. I’ve watched you grow from a young boy to a young man. In all my years of serving, I’ve never seen you as upset as you were that night. I hope someday you can find it within yourself to forgive me.”

Shawn observed Sebastian, his heart aching for the man as he saw the guilt pooling in his eyes. Shawn didn’t hold a grudge against any of the guards, understanding that they were just following orders. He knew how tyrannical his father could get when he didn’t get his way.

It only made Shawn grow more bitter towards his parents. So much pain had been caused just because of their obsession with appeasing the council rather than their own son.

Shawn gave a gentle smile, saying sincerely, “I accept your apology, Sebastian. No need to allow this to become a burden.”

“Thank you, my Lord. I am relieved to hear that. I also feel that it is my duty to try and right this wrong.”

A look of puzzlement crossed Shawn’s face as he asked, “Hm? What do you mean?”

Sebastian smiled softly as he relayed, “I’ve been with you on every courting, young prince. With Mr. Hart, you two seemed to be better suited for each other. You seemed happier in his presence, so happy that you ran off into the woods with him and left this poor old guard behind.”

Shawn said sheepishly, “Sorry about that.”

“It is fine. The point I am getting at is that a love like that, one naturally formed between two strangers, is hard to come by. I’ve seen so many royal pairings live a loveless marriage, one full of dread and sorrow knowing they’re destined to a life with someone out of duty. It is not for the faint-hearted, and I fear you may be destined for the same. You deserve better than that, and I have too much care for you to idly sit by as it happens.”

Shawn felt his eyes watering, touched to know that someone within the confines of the palace actually cared about his feelings. Sebastian’s kind words only reminded Shawn of Bret, of how the older man made him feel seen.

Sebastian handed Shawn a handkerchief, the blond taking in graciously before dabbing his eyes. “Thank you, Sebastian. Not just for the handkerchief,” he chuckled. “But for having my best interest at heart. I’d give anything to see Bret just one more time. I…I miss him dearly.”

“Worry not, my Lord. I have a plan.”

—

A month had passed since that fateful night and Bret attempted to move on. But that was easier said than done, and he was starting to believe that the phrase ‘time heals all wounds’ was a lie.

He sat on a stool next to his stall, his sore feet thankful for the short break. But his break was short-lived as an odd man in discrete clothing approached him, casting a shadow over him as he blocked the sun from Bret’s view.

Bret glanced up to tell the man that they were closed for lunch, but he was shocked to see that it was Sebastian standing before him in a dark, tattered cloak.

“Sebastian?” Bret asked before looking around eagerly hoping to find Shawn in tow.

But he was disappointed when Sebastian whispered, “He’s not here, Mr. Hart. I’m actually here on his behalf. Um, may we please go somewhere private? I would like to avoid being seen.”

“Yes, of course,” Bret said before hastily leading them around the corner to a dark alley. After ensuring no one was around, Bret urgently whispered, “How is he? Is he ok?”

“He’s,” Sebastian stalled, but decided to be transparent. “Honestly, he’s not doing well, sir. Your forceful departure has left him quite shaken. He wishes for me to tell you that he deeply regrets putting you and your family in the position you’re in.”

“He shouldn’t regret anything. None of this is his fault. He and I have been nothing but pawns in the hands of the monarchy, and it’s not fair to either of us. God, if only I could see him one more time. At least to tell him he doesn’t have to harbor any guilt over this. I-” Bret cut himself off in a grunt, deeply frustrated with the situation.

“Well, that’s exactly why I’m here. I’m sure you’re aware of the masquerade ball that is taking place next week at the palace.”

“How could I not be,” Bret muttered. The extravagant event had been the talk of the kingdom, only the most elite suitors being invited to the occasion.

“I hope you’d be pleased to know that my Lord has extended you an invitation.”

Bret was taken aback, unsure if he’d heard the man correctly. “An invitation? Me? At a ball? At the palace?”

“I know it is a risk, but it is something I am fully prepared to help you with if you so choose to attend.”

“I don’t understand. How would I even get in unnoticed, especially with my dingy attire?”

“A valid question, Mr. Hart, but worry not. We’ve got it all planned out. If I can get your measurements today, I can have a tailored suit delivered to you by the end of the week. Since it’s a masquerade ball, you will not be expected to show your face. When arriving at the palace, you shall identify yourself as the Duke of Cardonia, Lord Jericho. He’s a close friend of the prince and has been made aware of this plan. I’ve done all I can up to this point, but it is up to you to take hold of the opportunity.”

Bret felt a bit overwhelmed, Sebastian’s information coming at him a mile a minute. It was a risk, a huge risk, to sneak into the event, and if it didn’t go well, Bret didn’t even want to think of the repercussions. But then he thought of Shawn and how miserable he’d been ever since they were separated from each other, knowing he wouldn’t rest easy if he let this opportunity slip by.

So Bret agreed to the plan, allowing Sebastian to quickly measure him to get the proper dimensions for his suit. As he finished up, Sebastian said, “Oh, before I forget.” He dug around under his cloak before pulling out a sealed envelope stating, “It’s a personal letter from the prince. I’ll leave you to it. Fair well, Mr. Hart.”

Bret held the envelope with shaky hands, heart pounding as he caught a whiff of the light cologne Shawn had spritzed on the paper. It was the same sweet cologne he wore on their courtship, the smell immediately taking Bret back to that day.

He opened the envelope, pulling out a folded piece of paper before opening it to reveal Shawn’s neat handwriting:

To my dearest Bret, Words cannot express how much I cherished our time together and loathe our time apart. Every day without you feels like a cruel punishment from the gods, and I grow resentful every second of my life that you are not in my presence. Though it is a risk, I hope that you’ll accept this invitation to the masquerade ball for I wish to see you once more. I miss you. And I hope to see you soon.  I love you, Shawn

Bret was misty-eyed after reading the short letter, no doubt in his mind that he was going through with the plan.

[livin-like-larry413]

hey there!! just regarding the state of the cod fandom: things really seem to be spiralling out of control based on some recent posts i've seen, and it just reinforces my decision to never get involved with the fandom at all.

and in a way there's a bitter irony to this all because people who adore and fawn over fictional men who are military can't even show a shred of decency or kindness to an actual veteran suffering from PTSD. and if they're incapable of doing so, then what is the point of engaging with a fandom that'll devolve into vitriol so caustic that they'll gloat over someone's passing?

obviously it's not that we should take everything as truth - things should be taken with a grain of salt as this is the internet. you never know that people will peddle. but if a post like that can already lead to someone actually dying over a horny shitpost, then there's no way to salvage this fandom.

sorry if this is a bothersome rant, i just feel like i really wanted to get involved with fandom and fanfiction at last after so long, especially because there's so many ways you can explore these characters. but this incident has really deterred me from it. and i suppose i just wanted to let it out somewhere.

i hope you're looking after yourself regardless and taking care, stranger! this is a heavy, taxing topic, and in times like this, kindness is worth more than its weight in gold.

Honestly, bestie, it’s understandable wanting to remain detached from the cod fandom even before all of this discourse—it’s what’s kept me from getting into cod at all from the get go because all I’ve ever seen from the fandom was just banana boat bonkers 100% of the time. It’s never bothersome to rant and express how everything’s impacting you as a bystander, and as someone who wanted to participate and have fun with something.

There’s plenty of other fandoms that are much less toxic than cod (not completely un-toxic, that’s unfortunate not possible) but don’t let this one instance deter you from having fun for your own sake. Even if it takes you time to share it publicly, it’s still possible to create and have fun with fandoms and fanfiction while anonymous or just keeping it between a friend group: it’s what I’ve ended up doing at this point, because open online fandom has just devolved so much over the years. Cod is still an available game and story to have fun with, even if you just want to do it on your own for now.

I’m just tired and disappointed at this point. What’s even worse is this isn’t the first instance of someone committing because of how vitriolic this fandom is to people—two cosplayers that ended their lives not too long ago are constantly on my mind and it’s—I’m really shocked at how easily and quickly it seems the rest of the fandom seems to have moved on, besides a few chance people, that is.

No matter what, there’s just no excuse for how spectacularly this has all spiraled out of control and into something that is completely irrelevant to what caused the issue to begin with—which was the toxic fanbase being vengeful and vitriolic to people who don’t deserve it: codslut and Soapskneebrace both. Everyone has lost the plot, it seems, and are focusing on everything other than “This person very likely killed herself because unknown individuals ran with a stupid comment made by someone else on a horny shitpost”.

I’m doing fine, thank you for taking the time to check in and give kindness, it absolutely is a fleeting online curtesy at the moment. It’s appreciated, and I’m sorry you’ve been deterred from joining much of any fandom for now. I hope you find people that you can vibe with about your interests and who you enjoy spending time with.

[ssplague]

Announcement 📢

Just in case you were worried… 

I have not jumped ship 🛳 and abandoned my stories!

Now let me explain:

So there will be only two more chapters left of Prized Posession (Which are COMPLETE & ready to upload)…That being said; THIS IS NOT THE END OF THE SERIES!

I just thought it would be a good idea to split the series into two pieces because some people get intimidated by a 40+ chapter story for some reason (I don’t understand it either, but 🤷🏼‍♀️)

So the second part of this story will focus on your life as Mrs.Bakugou, and it’s going to be absolutely fucking TOXIC, & so much more fucked up. The first part was all about luring you in, getting immersed in that false sense of security, getting used to the subject matter, now that you are good n’ locked 🔒 down…

Don’t say I didn’t warn you 🫥

The yandere and narcissistic family aspects of this story will be on full display throughout the entire second half.

The rest of this series is going to be so much darker, what you’ve read so far has been tame compared to what I have planned! You guys won’t have long to wait either, I’ve already got a fair amount written!As an added SURPRISE I’m including excerpts from the new story, check below the cut👇🏼

Please leave me at least a ❤️‍🔥 comment, if you want to be/remain on the TAG LIST

 

If Prized isn’t your cup of tea, don’t abandon me, I GOT YOU 😉 

I’m going to be updating older stories, posting the Re-write of Late Bloomer, and I also have some brand new stand alone pieces (just say one shots stupid 🙄) that I hope you will all enjoy!

Without further ado, I bring you

Prized Posession: Till death do us part ☠️

Love’s gonna get you killed

But prides gonna be the death

Of you &

you & me

Then you began to scream.

You howled with sorrow, desperate to release these all too painful feelings.

Who knows how long you did this, thin lines of blue light illuminated your curtains, the moon was high in the sky.

Choking on tears, snot, and the undeniable truth that you were a fucking fool; So easy to deceive, your whole life has been a lie…Only a weak person could be taken in by such pretty words, and calculated actions.

You had buried your memories in attempts to make life with him bearable easier, because you knew you wouldn’t be able to fight him off. You knew you could never truly escape or be free from him.

It was all just for the best…

The lunacy in his eyes that you too,  have now begun to mirror back at him during your intimate moments makes you I’ll. You made him into your savior, believed that he was to thank for your new chance at a life worth living.

A chance to be happy.

To really love and be loved.

Living proof that you were worth something.

It was you who allowed all of this.

So desperate to prove wrong the belief that you weren’t worthy of attention, affection, that you always have been and always will be nothing short of a disappointment.

Katsuki should be home by now…

He’ll pick up your broken pieces; Sand down the jagged edges, rebuild them over and over again, so you won’t have to.

This man is the one who destroyed you; He broke you open, and wore you down to the point you had no choice but death or accepting defeat. Defiance hardly ever crossed your mind these days.

Your soul was crying out in anguish, your spirit darkened and distorted.

❣️A/N❣️So what do you think? I couldn’t include everything and spoil the surprises I have for all of you. I low key feel this reads like an Ellen Hopkins book? I’m unsure why I tend to write yandere this way but I really like it.

[broken-clover]

So I hadn’t intended to take a break from writing, but apparently my job decided I’m doing a stupid amount of hours. So today’s is not only late but a little shorter. ‘Panic’ is an open-ended prompt, but I associated it with fears and went in that kind of a direction. This one’s also technically Sinbed but you could also read it as just a good friendship if you’re not especially into that.

Putting in a veeeery heavy warning for suicide discussion, again, it’s nothing graphic, but it is talked about openly, and I don’t want that to take anybody by surprise

-

The ability to read another’s mind is truly the cruelest gift one could be given.

Do you know what your mother is afraid of, Sin? More than anything in the world? Oh, of course, she has plenty of fears, plural, but do you know what tops them all? Being killed for what she is? Losing everything? Losing you?

She is afraid of watching your father die.

Even moreso, she’s terrified of watching him wither away. She’s happy he isn’t human anymore, and she feels guilty about it. But it’s a relief to her, in an odd way. The Gear cells will keep him young, keep him healthy, keep his mind intact. She doesn’t have to watch him succumb to dementia. She won’t have to look at him one day and have him wonder if she’s a niece or cousin whose name has slipped his mind, or a demon he should have killed if his elderly hand didn’t tremble from the weight of a sword. Every so often, the nightmare putters off to a corner of her mind, but something always makes it come back. I always know when it comes back.

I can hear them all. If I put all my strength into blocking them out, it’s enough, but it’s a constant, exhausting effort. Their thoughts bleed into mine. I’ve gotten better at pruning them apart. At first, I had a tendency to blur my world and theirs, until I realized I don’t have a boss that may secretly be planning on killing me, or a distant wife whom I fear will leave me for the handsome electrician who fixes my porch lamps. But their feelings are all the same. They whimper. They scream. It doesn’t matter how rational or irrational they may be, everyone has a little secret terror in the back of their mind that they just can’t ever seem to shoo away forever.

Some of them, I’ll admit, are somewhat ridiculous. Those Secret Service-types that have been coming by are riddled with them. Is it an American thing? A cultural divide? How shallow. The big one with the coffin is afraid of aliens. He thinks they’ll have laser weapons and use humans for gardening soil. The woman with the dog is afraid of having her vacation hours cut.

I don’t like your grandfather. If I tried to pity him, I know it would only make him despise me more. He cares about you, you know, in his own bizarre way. He’s afraid I’m going to do something bad to you, but doesn’t know how to make me go away without it upsetting you. He wants what’s best for you, but he knows that he has no idea what that is, or how to do it. That tends to be when he leaves. He can’t stand to look at you, can’t stand to acknowledge that he’s failing you, so he thinks everything will be better if he takes himself out of the equation altogether.

Ah. My mistake, I took a tangent. Your grandfather, your ‘Old Man.’ Flame of Corruption, God of War, Sol Badguy. What an ironic thing, that a nigh-invulnerable being is so terrified of living. He’s had nearly two centuries to think of ways to try and kill himself. You and your father and your mother frighten him, not because he doesn’t want the responsibility, but because he can’t convince himself that living is a choice. He makes excuses in weeks and months and on-a-dime promises- after this bounty, after he visits your mother one last time, when this beer is finished, maybe after one more drink, isn’t it going to be spring soon? He was always a fan of rhubarb, maybe it would be worth it to wait and see how it tastes this year.

Your father is afraid for you. It’s tacky, but it’s true. He has nightmares about things happening to you, actual nightmares. I told myself I wasn’t going to get involved with peoples’ dreams anymore, but sometimes I just can’t help myself. Nobody can convince him you’re ever completely safe. Someone wants his baby dead, but he doesn’t know who it is. That’s why he always sleeps better when you stay at the castle.

The second king, at least, is honest. There are many things I despise about that tacky, self-important blowhard, but he doesn’t pretend he isn’t exactly that. And he doesn’t pretend that the lives of others aren’t painfully, painfully important to him. You know he’s broken, don’t you? Anyone could see it. They just don’t want to look. Illyria wants a king. They don’t want a battered veteran who cries himself to sleep in his own grief. He still sends letters to the widows. The guilt never lessens.

The third. I hate him even more. And yet, I pity him. The walls he has put up work too well. How many know what the war took from him? Of course, everyone lost something in the crusades. But he has nothing. Any relatives that weren’t stabbed or maimed or slaughtered or eaten alive didn’t last long. They threw themselves off cliffs, or drank until their insides rotted, or flew headfirst into fights they couldn’t win and didn’t want to. The stony face protects him. Suicide runs in the family. He’s desperate to not take after his father.

Elphelt doesn’t want to be alone. She doesn’t want to disappear and have nobody notice.

Ramlethal wants things to make sense, to have a reason for it all, or else she’s going to drown in an endless series of choices that don’t even matter.

The pirate is just waiting for something to go wrong, because he has nine little girls, and he knows there’s one day he won’t be able to keep his eyes on all of them until it’s too late. The blood mage is waiting for the pirate to leave, because they’re convinced one day he’ll wake up and realize he could do better. The little girl in the orange hat doesn’t want anyone to know that she likes girls as much as she likes boys.

Sometimes I don’t like it when you hug me. You squeeze too hard, and it digs into my ribs. How often do I have to remind you how strong you are? But…other times, I let you do it anyway. I know you need the security. You need to feel like you aren’t a monster. And monsters don’t have friends, do they? They don’t have families or friends or loved ones. It’s a silly line of logic, I know you think that, but it’s enough for the time being. I can always hear the way your stormy thoughts quiet down and just focus on where we are. Just you and I, cozy and safe. A momentary peace of mind.

Sore ribs. It’s a cheap price to pay for that. I just wish it lasted longer.