#that was one of the kindest solutions he could come up with considering the countless trauma thawne caused him. i get it. i see the effort.

[tacagen]

can we talk about how wrong the finish line ending is. can we talk about how barry sees snapping thawne's neck as their point of no return when thawne directly expressed hope barry can still live up to his idealised expectations several times and even spoke of how exactly he can achieve that. can we talk about how barry while having the best intentions fucks with thawne's speed and timeline resetting him to a humble curator with no powers and makes their situation a THOUSAND times worse when thawne comes back as reverse-flash because that reset is a direct and ultimate confirmation of barry's desire to forget thawne and make it like he never existed (the very thing that motivates thawne to mess with barry at all, the very thing he went insane about and which led him to becoming reverse-flash) and how thats similar to creation of the flashpoint which was done with good intentions and changed the world forever even after being undone. can we talk about how it also resembles lobotomy as in permanently fucking up persons brain and its necessary functions to make them more calm and controllable in their mental illness instead of actually helping them which takes a lot more time thought and effort and how that was a quick and seemingly effective but inherently destructive solution. can we talk about how barry by taking away eobard's powers also takes his freedom from societal expectations and standards of his time he clearly didnt fit in and 25th century in general. can we talk about how barry also took the only good memories thawne ever had aka their moments together and especially their first meeting which thawne saw as perfect and held very dearly just like any other interaction with barry including the reverse era ones. can we talk about how fucking intrusive, invalidating and selfish is the whole concept of erasing any kind of memories from another persons brain, no matter how hurtful or bad or self-sabotaging those can be especially involuntarily and how only the said person should have control over that because that is their damn life. can we talk about what such betrayal will do to a man who previously became the reverse-flash just because of one single phrase that he thought was something special only between him and barry. can we talk about how this time thawne paradoxically didnt even do anything to deserve that because he never met barry and never had such possibility in the first place. can we t

[rayroute-clear-saeran-text-sound]

BRO ZEN X READER X SEVEN KINGDOM AU PLEASE!!!!!

Aaaa thank you for requesting this!!! I missed writing for our Kingdom Boys 💐 Context: An au made by us taking place in Europe. Seven is a jester, Zen is prince of France.

Silky fabric was in contact with almost every inch of your skin as you went farther into your dark closet, picking through the dresses you almost never wore. You never were a fan, and tried to get away with wearing anything else when you could.

"Too long...definitely not...too flashy...that color is not flattering one bit..." You murmured hundreds of absentminded critiques of everything within the confines of your closet, not happy with anything. It wasn't that you were stuck up or ungrateful, you just did not like wearing dresses. In fact, you would rather spend all day out in the woods getting dirty than inside doing princess things. Did that make you a disgrace as the heir to the L/n throne? You hoped not. You were always worried about being a disappointment to your parents who were counting on you, but you also wanted to be happy and not condemned to a life of being just a pretty face for a prince to use to gain more power. Now why were you picking out a dress in the first place? Your parents had decided to give you a little nudge to find a suitor by throwing a grand masquerade ball. The King and Queen had invited every family with an eligible bachelor they could think of. You, on the other hand, were not enthused. It was a combination of all the things you hated: suitors and formal functions. After sifting through your dresses for what seemed like the umpteenth time, you groaned into your hands. Well, you thought it was a groan, but it was more like a loud cry of frustration. Someone in the hallway seemed to take note, as they poked their head in.

“Everything alright, miss?" You looked up at the voice, and were very pleased to see a familiar mop of red curls that paired along nicely with a goofy, crooked grin.

"Evening, Seven." You motioned for him to come in, and at first he hesitated. "Oh come on, I know I'm royalty, but you don't have to avoid me like the plague." Out of everyone in the castle, including your own parents, Seven was probably the one you were closest to. "If anyone asks, just say that I was upset so you came in to make me laugh. It wouldn't even be too far from the truth." Seven shrugged and bounced into the room, his signature smile back on his face.

“Well, I guess that is my job as the royal fool. I can't deprive a lady in need of a good joke or two, now can I?" He shut the door behind him just in case, and came to take a seat on your mattress. "What seems to be the problem?" He asked you, but you knew he was already vaguely aware of the answer.

“You're going to laugh at me if I tell you."

“Awe, come on, no I won't." His golden eyes turned pleading, and you let out a relenting sigh.

“Well, you know that the masquerade ball is tomorrow night, and I can't find a dress that I like, but my parents are expecting me to look beautiful for all of the princes." There was a beat of silence, and then Seven broke out into a ruckus of laughter. "Hey, you said you wouldn't laugh!" Your face flushed, although it wasn't necessarily from embarrassment. You always had a similar response any time he laughed, it sounded so natural and musical, and you always became happy whenever it would ring in your ears.

"Sorry, sorry! It's just that it's such a princess problem that I can't help but laugh." You now instantly felt guilty, as you knew that he and the other servants had way more pressing challenges in their lives than worrying about what dress to wear. "Okay, no, I'm sorry. I swear it. What can I do to help?"

"I don't know." You sighed, slumping onto the bed next to him.

“What don't you like about them?" He questioned, hoping that if you talked it through with him he could come up with a solution that would make you feel confident in yourself. All he really wanted was for you to be happy.

“Is everything an option...?" You chuckled awkwardly, brushing stray locks of h/c hair behind your ear. "No...I guess the main problem is that they're all too flashy and sparkly. That's not me, you know? I'm not fancy."

“Oh believe me, I know." Seven chuckled, reminiscing on how many times he had seen you sneak in late at night, covered from head to toe in mud and grass stains. You broke him from his memories when you pointed to a f/c ballgown. It was nice and simple, not overly loud or sparkly.

"Well...I do like that one, the only problem is the length and the sleeves. Long ballgowns don't suit me." What Seven really wanted to tell you was that you would look stunning in anything, but he knew he had absolutely no place in saying that. So, instead, he opted for a crazy solution.

"The length is the issue? Then, let's just cut it!" Your eyes lit up, and you almost immediately hopped up to find scissors and retrieve the dress. "Okay, put it on and we can go for it." Seven turned his back to you, closing his eyes and placing his hands over them as an extra measure. Once you had slipped the ballgown on, you tapped his shoulder to alert him that you were done. He turned to you, and it took all of his self control to not react. However, he had no control over the blush that rose to his cheeks. "So, where do you want it cut?" His voice cracked on the first syllable and he cleared his throat. You didn't seem to notice, and for that he was thankful.

"Um, about here?" You put your hand a little under halfway up your thigh, a length considered to be a violation of one of the unspoken rules of social functions.

"T-There?"

“Yeah. They can call me a wench if they want, I just want to be comfortable." Seven nodded and began cutting, shaking his head as he did so to keep his thoughts straight. "And the sleeves off."

"You got it, miss." He was trying to keep everything as smooth as possible, without any of the edges looking jagged.

“I guess maybe a part of me is hoping everyone will be put off by this. I hate princes. They don't give me respect." You thought back to the countless suitors you've already had try to court you, and none of them saw you as a person, only as the key to potential property and wealth. "They expect me to apologize for everything when they're the ones who wronged me." You had even been hit by a bachelor before, and that was your final straw. You had vowed to be done with suitors, at least for a while, but your parents were pressuring you to find a prince.

“You deserve better, someone who will see you for who you are rather than just a kingdom. You should be owed at least that much, as you're one of the kindest people I've ever met. Who else would treat me so good?" No one of your status and social class had ever referred to you as kind; usually just strange or rude. But something about Seven's words hit you, and you smiled softly. The jester stood up, placing the scissors back in their original place. You looked at yourself in the mirror, and for the first time, you loved yourself in a dress.

“Thank you, it looks just like I wanted!" You wrapped him in a hug, tilting your chin up to place a chaste kiss on his jaw in thanks. His face darkened to a color that likened his hair as he smiled goofily.

“I-I'm glad you like it, miss!" He exclaimed through a stutter and bolted out of the room before he said something stupid that should never be said. You found yourself unable to fight off a grin, something that usually happened after spending time with Seven. You figured it was appropriate for him being a royal fool.

Next morning

Seven rubbed his eyes as he blearily stared off into space in the massive ballroom. He was dimly aware of both Saeran and Vanderwood grumbling about his uselessness as they continued to decorate the grand room for the soon-to-be-held masquerade ball.

“Can you just tell us what you're thinking so we can move on and get this done? Some of us have other tasks to do." Vanderwood huffed, smacking the redhead lightly. Instead of reacting and hopping right into his work like normal, Seven continued to stand tiredly.

“I just can't believe she's going to maybe find a fiancé tonight." He murmured softly, still somewhat lost in thought.

"You have got to be kidding me." Saeran shook his head, strands of hair that perfectly matched Seven's falling into his eyes. "I know you like her, but you have to understand that it will never happen. Your classes are just too different."

“Yes, but she doesn't even want to marry a prince!" Seven didn't need to have her, he knew that was impossible; but that didn't mean he was happy about someone else having her, either. Especially when she didn't want them in the first place.

"What, and you think she'll marry you?" Fantastic, exactly what he needed; another spat with his brother early in the morning.

"You know that she can't do that, she has to marry a prince." Vanderwood chimed in, hoping to end this discussion so the work could get done. "We can't exactly make you a prince." He muttered, and Saeran froze in his place.

“Or can we...?" Saeran had to admit, every time he witnessed the interactions between the princess and his twin, even he could feel the spark between them. Not only that, if his plan was successful, Seven would stop his incessant whining. Vanderwood exhaled deeply, knowing he would be sucked in to the twins' scheme whether he wanted to or not.

“I can probably dig up some spare ball clothes if you work on your character." The brown haired male rolled his eyes as Seven thanked him and Saeran countless times. Although he didn't expect much of that night, he knew he would at least get to dance with her, and that was enough for him.

Ball of a Lifetime

You were waiting anxiously in one of the empty corridors outside of the main ballroom, waiting on your cue for entry. You were wearing the custom dress that Seven had helped you with the night prior, and when your mother saw what you did to it she almost had a heart attack. Of course, you left Seven's involvement out for his sake. You were also wearing an intricate black mask with f/c accents and jewels to match your dress, only covering the top half of your face, e/c eyes shining through. Everything was rather quiet, and you were desperately wishing that Seven could be there to fill the silence with his horrendous so-bad-they're-good jokes.

“You look nervous, princess." The voice that called out to you made your shoulders tense, as you hadn't heard the individual approach you. The man chuckled at your expense. "I apologize, I didn't mean to scare you." The voice had an almost comically thick Scottish accent. You turned to face the mystery man, and came face to face with a rather charming male. His face was covered in a detailed black and red mask to compliment his ornate red, white, and black suit. His flaming red hair seemed somewhat familiar, but you assumed that it was only because you had just been thinking of Seven. Eyes of melted gold shined through the mask, and again, you concluded it to be the light playing tricks on you.

It couldn't be him, he's a fool for Christ's sake... You thought to yourself as the stranger stuck out a hand for you to shake, which you cautiously accepted.

“I am prince Luciel from Scotland. And you're the infamous princess Y/n, I presume?" You had never heard of a prince Luciel from Scotland in your life, but you were never all that interested in politics, so you supposed he could exist. That being said, he definitely wasn't well known. But, you couldn't seem to shake the feeling that he was reminiscent of someone. Just as you were about to respond, you were cut off.

"Now presenting, princess Y/n L/n!" Your father's booming voice recited, which was your cue to enter the ballroom with a flourish. You quickly and politely excused yourself, unsure if you were more grateful or disappointed. Something about him seemed off to you. You politely excused yourself and stepped into the ballroom, greeted by hundreds of pretty faces all flashing you smiles, most probably fake. You zoned out whatever speech your father made about the purpose of the ball, and were still staring into space when your first suitor came along. He was a tall and admittedly very handsome man with long silver hair tied back. You had never seen an albino in real life, except for a rabbit one time. His red eyes shimmered with positivity beneath a stunning silver and white mask, and you caught yourself blushing as he brought your hand up to his lips and kissed it lightly.

"Evening, princess. I'm Hyun Ryu, prince of France, but you can call me Zen." You quirked an eyebrow at his nickname for himself, but decided it was fairly accurate. You felt a wave of calm wash over you in his presence. "May I have this dance?" He inquired you as the musicians began playing their tune, the first of many that night.

“It would be my pleasure." He put his hands on your waist with much more confidence than your loose grip on his neck. There was quite a large height difference, and you had a hard time looking him in the eye.

"You're very gorgeous, do you know that?" You have heard that line countless times before, yet you still found yourself blushing at his words.

"What do you really want? My kingdom? My wealth?" You sighed, knowing that this would be a long night. However, Zen only laughed.

"No. I could care less about your wealth, and I'm fairly bad at managing my own kingdom." You narrowed your eyes, still skeptical. "Actually, when it was announced that you were having a courting masquerade ball, I was immediately excited. I'm, um, actually one of your fans." His cheeks were dusted in pink, the first time you had seen his confidence falter.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand. My fan...?"

“Yes. I watch you in press conferences, and I instantly fell in love. You're so independent, and you couldn't care less about what others think. You know what you want, you aren't afraid to stick up for yourself, and you don't need a man to come and save you. It's nice and refreshing from all of the other women who throw themselves at me." You chuckled nervously, the sudden compliments catching you off guard. You were thankful that he was acknowledging your need for autonomy, and that he was already aware that you would need to be your own woman in any relationship. You put him on your mental list for potential fiancés until he proved otherwise. For the rest of the song, the two of you danced in a comfortable and happy silence, the rhythm you two had going stopping as the music faded out in preparation for a new piece. "As much as I don't want to, I must let you go. I see how the other men are eyeing you." Zen leaned down to plant a kiss on the top of your head, winking to you. "Just remember, all men are beasts, so watch yourself." You rolled your eyes with a smile.

“Alright, Zen. Thank you."

“Anytime." And with that he stepped away, leaving you to your own devices with the other men. The rest of the suitors blurred together, as all of them were definite nos from you. All they were interested in were your looks, money, or kingdom.

“Sexist prick..." You muttered under your breath as the man you had just been dancing with strode away. There was a call made by your father that this would be the final dance of the night, and at the end would be the grand unmasking. Your father and mother took the opportunity to step onto the dance floor as the King and Queen, reliving the night they met with winsome smiles on their faces. Just as you were bitterly thinking how ironic it was that on the final dance of your ball you were left alone, you felt a finger tap your shoulder.

“Would you mind if I had this dance?" The humorously over the top Scottish accent rang pleasantly in your ears, and you once again turned to face the ginger who grinned at you devilishly.

“Not at all." You couldn't hold in your sigh of relief, as you got the feeling prince Luciel wouldn't be as bad as his predecessors. He placed his hands at your waist, definitely lacking the confidence that the other princes you had mingled with that night possessed. You placed your own hands on his neck, and he seemed to jump at the contact, but composed himself.

“Sorry, it's, ah, been a while since I've danced."

“I can tell." You chuckled, Luciel joining a split second later. The longer the dance went on, the more you were convinced that he flat out did not know how to dance, which seemed improbable. If you were royalty, dancing was drilled into your curriculum by the time you could walk. He kept stepping on your toes, profusely apologizing when he did. You smiled softly, and decided to do something you never had the chance to try; you began to lead the dance. He seemed to relax, now that some of the pressure was off. The tune you were dancing to was a familiar one, a classic Irish melody. You knew by the key ritardando that the song would be ending within the next minute. Luciel seemed to realize this as well, and stiffened once more.

"Okay, um, listen, Y/n. Don't freak out, please..." Confusion coursed through you, as he seemed all nervous again. Despite that, he leaned in as if to kiss you, but not just on the cheek; he was making for your lips. You had to say it was bold, as it was an unspoken rule that you never fully kissed someone on the first dance. However, you were all about breaking unspoken rules. You didn't move away as he pressed his lips to your own for a brief moment. He pulled away rather quickly, eyes darting to the exits as the song continued to draw to a close.

"You act as if you're saying goodbye." Luciel chuckled nervously, accent slipping for a moment.

“Yes, about that..." The accent had dropped completely, and you couldn't stop your eyes from widening. 'Luciel' got close to you again so that when he lifted his mask slightly, only you could see his face.

“Seven?!" You whisper-yelled, a million questions buzzing through your head. The song had finally faded, and the countdown for the unmasking had begun. Seven dashed away, muttering a thousand apologies under his breath as he went. He left you standing there with countless problems. No doubt about it, Zen was the best out of the qualified suitors. And yet...

Am I really in love with a fool...? You asked yourself as you stood there alone, your own mask still on as others cheered and tossed theirs haphazardly into the air.

[sayanythingshawn]

Herein lies my note of suicide, lol jk I tried to be serious and formal with it but that just isn't me and for whoever is gonna read this, if anyone ever reads this, I want them to get a semblance of who I really am. Idk if this is me marking my suicide or what because who knows if I'll even actually go through with it. I could be bluffing honestly I mean committing suicide is not easy AT ALL. In movies and shit it's done with such ease, some tormented character sees no purpose in living anymore and uses a conventional method of offing themselves. Or someone has to be the "noble" martyr and offer their life in exchange for countless innocents, it's all very technical. But when I think about it, do I really WANT to die? I've had a few moments where I COULD have died and I am terrified thinking of it. For example, looking both ways before crossing the street. I mean if I truly wanted to kill myself I could easily just walk across the street all the time without looking and increase my chances of being hit by a car. I COULD, but I DON'T. Little shit like that makes me wonder if I truly have given up all will to live. But then again it's any humans natural response to avoid death in situations like that so who the fuck knows. I've researched different ways to kill myself, shooting myself is out of the question considering I have no real access to a handgun anyway and there's a chance that if I don't do it correctly (and knowing me I wouldn't) I'll end up brain fucked. Hanging myself seems like a hassle, I'd probably break the rope and supports anyway. Drowning myself is also a no because I hate any type of water that is shared publicly and I'd instinctively try to save myself. Blowing myself up? no. Burning myself alive? Fuck no (even thought I'm most likely going to hell anyway so I'd need some practice right?). It's all just so complicated, I've given the higher power many chances to just do away with me, I've begged and pleaded with whoever controls our deaths to grant me mine yet here I am, wonder what that means. I have hopes and dreams, contrary to popular belief. I want to be an actor/singer/music producer/director/mom/wife/so much more sappy shit. Yes I have a heart and would like to bear at least 4 kids one day. That's one of the things that keeps me going, the fact that maybe one day I could achieve all of that and leave all of my personal demons behind. But there's a part of me that deems this impossible, I should just say sayonara and end my sufferring. I bet you're wondering, "So why do you wanna kill yourself?" That, is a question I'm not sure how to answer but let me just say this, it seems like the only solution. Some background to my...uh...just read and try to understand why. My parents divorced when I was really young, I don't even remember it for the most part. I just remember living a super privileged life in a Embassy-paid house with Embassy parties, courtesy of my mom, and a whole shit load of child support coming in from my dad. My mom is a complicated topic for me. I lived with her my whole life up until I was 11 and only visited my dad on weekends. The best way I can describe our relationship, is that she was there but she wasn't THERE. If that makes sense. I was essentially raised by live-in nannies that she brought from my country. She disciplined me and stuff but I could never rely on her emotionally and I often think I was more of a chore for her if anything. I have a half-sister from her too, she probably hates me because I don't call. My mom took her when she left so there's that. My mom would always fill my head with dreams of us going to Malawi together and living happily ever after, only for her to leave with my sister and never look back. She's been gone for almost 5 years I think and there's still a really empty part of me that I'm afraid no amount of sex, drugs, or anything else can fill. She doesn't call much and our relationship is strained. The best way I can describe that empty part of me is like a really deep, dark abyss filled with the unknown. Nothing can fill it up, nothing can keep it lit for long befor fizzling out. It has left both physical and irreperable mental scars for me. I don't think my mom knows how much her absence/abandonment has had an effect on me but if this letter is any proof, it's clearly done a whole shit load of damage. Anyway, she's still my mother. Half of me basically so I naturally have some love for her. I do love you mom but you've fucked me up. My Dad is a phenomenal man. He's sick right now wih high blood pressure problems and I don't do much to help him get better. In fact I cause him a lot of stress, sadly. My Dad is the one person who has not all the way given up on me, I'm eternally grateful to him for that. I don't know what else to say about him except that I love him very dearly and I can only hope his next kid turns out a gazillion times better than I did. Dad, you're amazing. I don't know anyone as selfless as you, peace and blessings man. Now I'm sure you're wondering what else could have driven me to want to end my life. Remember how I said I have this empty part of me? That's partially because of the abandonment. I'm tired of being abandoned, it makes me feel worthless. So of course, there was a boy I cared about very deeply, maybe even loved who knows. To make an extremely long story short, I told him I was scared of being left again, he said he would not leave, and what do you know! he left. Boohoo. I was devastated but couldn't leave the toxic vat of waste that was our "relationship". The sex was cool, the memories were kinda cool, but I was feeding off of false hope and sweet nothings, and that is enough to fuck up even the kindest person. I think my favorite memory with him was when he came to my house once and I tried to teach him how to dance in my living room. He had no rhythm whatsoever but he did it anyway, happily. I'd like to believe that at one point he cared for me but I'll never truly know. If you're reading this, thanks for being my first and showing me what love ISN'T. Stop giving up so easily, be more appreciative, and for gods sake stop being an ass to everyone. Next up: My friends. I have a remarkable group of friends who have taught me so much. You are all beautiful human beings, I wish only the best for each and every one of you. Thank you for thinking of me as amazing, thank you for putting up with my dramatics and my annoyingness, and so much more. Thank you for being there when I thought I had no one in my corner. I love you all so deeply. I feel as though my death would be a relief to anyone affiliated with me. I weight off of their shoulders. Suicide is selfish but in this case I may be helping you all. I don't know. I don't know what else to write right now, and I'm actually pretty tired. I guess all I can say is, if this does end up being a suicide note, the song O Children by Nick Cave needs to be played at my funeral along with my TB playlis on spotify and the most banging plate of mac & cheese needs to be buried with me I'd actually prefer to be cremated and have my ashes spread on the mac and cheese and dumped into the ocean or somewhere equally sappy. If this is a suicide note, don't mourn me but relish the fact that I am probably happier wherever I am. If this is a suicide note, I'd like this note to be available to the general public as a lesson of sorts. What it's gonna teach, I have no fucking idea. But I do hope it teaches something. quae fiunt in tenebris, ut in palam veniat. Peace & Blessings kids.