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#I mentioned them in a post like a year ago
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AITA for making my ex taking medication as a bargain chip for us to get back together?
This happened a while ago but I saw some posts about the right of someone to go unmedicated and now I feel bad and wonder if I was shitty 💊🧘‍♀️ mentions of death, pet endangering, pet death, untreated mental illness and if you call them a narcissist I will steal your left socks. Also not disclosing their diagnosis because you guys can't be normal about mentally ill people.
So me and J (about 25, I was 22 at the time. Name changed for privacy. Both of us is NB) had a extremely quick developing relationship where in 5 months we went from dating to living together. Don't judge me okay I was 20 when we met and I needed a place that wasn't my parents house. Sorry, this will need some context. J convinced me to drop college due to mental health and to move out of my roomies house for privacy reasons.
So three days before my 21th birthday, J lost her brother due to an accident, and we moved together anyway. One month after her brother passed her cat also passed away. That made the grief way worse and about 10 months into the relationship she tried to choke my cat because she peed in the wrong place. I told her I was going to leave her and in result she slitted open her arm with a box cutter.
Later she admitted to be hurting our two cats when I wasn't home by choking and almost drowning them.
By december of the same year I came out as aromantic and she was extremely shitty towards me from deceiving her because she thought I actually loved her but that was all a ruse. So we broke up for real this time but kept living together because well, it was unfortunately what we had and we couldn't move to our separate paths due to our income. That was january with until march/april more or less when she noticed i was pulling guys like no one and hooking up constantly (that was self harm but that doesn't justify it. In my defense I told her just because she would ask me repeatedly if I was hooking up with guys and always wanted to know where I was going). I also went back to college and started hanging out with other people that seemed to actually like me!
Keep in mind all this time she was unmedicated and when I tried to bring up she need therapy and medications she would shut me down, even before the break-up.
And then, by may she was crawling at my feet because she wanted me back. And I cared a lot about her. So I put in my conditions that unless she was medicated and on therapy by the end of july, I would never consider going back to her. And would you look at that, it actually worked because before june ended she was both medicated and on therapy and I said well you did your part, and went back to her, with her now.
Btw for all that matters I am 25 and broke up with her again from almost 2 years now but last time I talked, she was still on therapy and medicating herself, making a bitter remark on how "that's the only way people can stand her, that no one can stand her true self"
So, AITA for making my ex take care of her mental health before I considered going back to her?
What are these acronyms?
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cinnamonest · 2 days
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Also on note of that “bone breaking” post I believe Xiao is an absolute menace to the innkeepers because of his inability to gauge human sickness and injury. He's thoroughly convinced any slight discomfort you experience is a near-death situation.
Human life is incredibly fragile. Their bodies are nearly unbelievably susceptible to death from even very mild injuries and sicknesses, they die so easily it's frightening. Which is why he has to be very vigilant with you.
You once got a bit nauseous from eating something a bit past expiry date — you insist it's just food poisoning over and over, but he practically drags you to a pharmacist anyway “just in case,” because there are many deadly pathogens and parasites humans can die from that begin this way, and you will drop dead before you even know something is wrong.
If you have a headache, it's probably an oncoming aneurysm that will cause sudden death. You may think you have a mere common cold, but he is well aware that many very dangerous and severe illnesses begin as symptoms of common colds, some of which progress so rapidly you may not have time to notice before sudden death.
You try to explain your throat hurts because what you ate is giving you heartburn, but if it has the word heart, which is a very vital organ, that can only mean you are at great risk of, you guessed it, sudden death.
More than once now you've been sleeping a little too deeply — your breaths are so slow that it looks like you're barely breathing at all, so he has to shake you awake to ensure you are still alive. Any cough or sneeze is met with this head-jerk in your direction and yellow eyes wide open staring in panic, and you have to swear up and down you just got swallowed the wrong way or inhaled some dust.
Not even period pains are safe — it's normal, so you insist, you can't hide your discomfort so you're all but begging him not to worry about it, but this one time he remembers about seven hundred years ago he once heard a villager mention a woman who had internal bleeding mistaken for just that and died, so it must be seen professionally (yes, each month). The whole concept bothers him — you're bleeding and in pain, those things are bad, how can you be sure it's the normal amount of bleeding and pain and not too much, that you're not actually five minutes away from dropping dead? That's right, you can't know, which is why you have to let him carry you to the harbor for the third time this week.
Injury is even worse — yes, he's aware that human flesh bruises easily, but this bruise is on your ribcage, and you don't recall how it got there, there are organs underneath there and you could very well be internally bleeding out.
Both innkeepers are, at this point, used to him coming bounding into the main lobby in full-fledged panic, demanding to hand over the emergency medical kit kept by the front desk so he can save you from bleeding out (you accidentally cut your finger on a splinter on the baseboard), and they no longer bat an eye or ask where you're going when he comes barging through carrying you (protesting, at that) out the door without a word before vanishing in the direction of the nearest village with a doctor… even when you try to get their help to please tell him I'm fine, they just ignore you at this point, knowing it's futile.
There's a death at the inn once — you try to be reasonable and explain that it was a very elderly and sickly man who most certainly died of natural causes, but see, you don't know for sure that he didn't have some kind of rare rapid-onset deadly illness that can spread from the bottom floor all the way up to where your room is, so it is imperative that you be disinfected professionally.
He annoys the doctors too — they're all used to it at this point too, but many of them are aware of him, and none of the humans really want to oppose or risk upsetting one of these beings they have a degree of reverence for, so much to your dismay, all of them continue to treat his concerns as legitimate, even though it's very blatantly clear to you that they're faking taking it seriously.
On the bright side, having some pity on your suffering perhaps (or being tired of dealing with the same thing over and over), the harbor pharmacist managed to convince him that an over-the-counter mild painkiller was a miracle cure for a wide variety of ailments, so unless you feel that you need more, he says, then that should be enough… which cuts down on the frequency of your unnecessary emergency care visits, but only somewhat.
At this point, surely at least one of the concerns has been legitimate, he has definitely saved your life more than once by now. And yet, you have not thanked him for this, you continue to be so naive to your own fragility and do nothing but complain about it when you literally owe him your life. Unbelievable.
But rest assured, your ungratefulness will not deter him from continuing to take the utmost care of you, he'll continue to save you, regardless of how unappreciated these life-saving efforts are.
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alex51324 · 2 days
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It's Almost Here! North American Solar Eclipse, 2024
As I mentioned in that other post, it will be visible as at least a partial eclipse to most of North America, with the path of totality cutting a diagonal from Sinaloa, Mexico to Newfoundland, Canada, including 15 US states from Texas to Maine.
Don't be fooled by how we just had one back in October, and another one a few years ago in 2017: total solar eclipses are rare! They only happen when the Sun, Moon, and Earth line up just perfectly--and only for a small portion of the Earth's surface each time.
It's a wild coincidence that North America/the US has gotten three in such a short span of time; the last one before the recent trio was in 1979, and the next one won't be until 2044. (We do have a big partial coming to us in 2033!) The Northeastern US won't see another until the 2070's.
(Note: If you are not in North America, you can use these maps to see when your continent will have its turn!)
This eclipse is also really special in that its path of totality sweeps across a lot of heavily-populated areas. About 31 million people live within the path of totality, and millions more are expected to visit.
So, it's a pretty big deal, and now's the time to get ready!
If you live in the path of totality:
Lucky you! Look up your location on these maps to get the exact time and duration of totality.
Be ready for extra traffic & crowds--especially if you live somewhere with stuff for tourists, or a place that people outside the immediate area will have heard of.
Totality times are in the afternoon, ranging from about 1:30 in Texas to 3:30 in Maine (local times), so if you'll be at school, or at work in a setting where you can't choose your own break times, now's a good time to talk to whomever you need to. It's not unreasonable to ask to step out into the parking lot for the three minutes that people will be coming from far and wide to see--but depending on your setting, it may take some arranging ahead of time. (If you're in school, hopefully your science teachers have already thought of this, but if not, ask them. And if your science teachers are jerks, try other teachers.
If you live near the path of totality:
Try to go! As the American author Annie Dillard says, "Seeing a partial eclipse bears the same relation to seeing a total eclipse as kissing a man does to marrying him, or as flying in an airplane does to falling out of an airplane."
(Link is to the Atlantic; if you hit a paywall, the 12-foot ladder works.)
Here's a map of approximate driving distances to the path of totality, in the US (from this page).
If you're close enough to think about going, here are some Google maps with eclipse overlays for more detailed planning. (I like the Xavier Jubier one.)
Once you're inside the path of totality, anywhere you can see the sun is a valid viewing location, but if you're making a day of it and you want to find a special spot, check local visitor's bureaus or tourism offices for the area you'll be in. They'll probably have a list of parks and other places. For instance, here's what Erie, Pennsylvania has.
Seriously, If you are able to drive/have a car, live within day-trip distance of the path of totality, and can be away from work/school without losing your job/being arrested for truancy, you should go. This is a once-in-a-lifetime type of thing, and there's still loads of time to plan a day-trip.
(Note: If you aren't in day-trip distance, but now you want to go, you don't have a lot of options: hotels and flights have been full for ages. However, if you're in two-days-driving distance, you might be able to find a Sunday-night base camp, from which you can get up on Monday morning and drive several more hours to the path of totality. For instance, in Pennsylvania, there are still reasonably-priced hotel rooms to be had in State College, which is--in normal traffic--three and a half hours from Erie. (You might even be able to get a little closer than that; I just checked State College because they have a lot of hotels for the Penn State football crowds.} So if you're coming from, say, Maryland or Virginia, that could work, and there may be similar creative options for other regions. Again, if this is something that's feasible for you to do, without bankrupting yourself, getting fired, or other long-term consequences, I would strongly consider doing it!
If you live in North America, but have no way to get to the totality:
A partial eclipse is still pretty cool! And again, it'll be a while before you have another chance to see one, so it's worth it to make the time.
All of the 48 contiguous US states will be able to see some amount of eclipse. So will Hawaii, Mexico, Central America, and most of Canada and the Caribbean islands, plus a little bit of South America. (Alaska and part of the Yukon are SOL, but you will have your turn in 2033!)
Use these maps to look up the time and extent of the eclipse in your location.
As of this writing, you can still get eclipse glasses here, among other places. If you run out of time to get them, check for eclipse-viewing events at local parks, libraries, etc.--they may also have some to give away ahead of time, but even if not, if you go to an event, there will almost certainly be some to share.
The plus of a partial eclipse is that you have a fairly relaxed viewing window--as much as a couple of hours, depending how far you are from the middle of the eclipse zone--rather than a standout moment that you want to make sure you're in position for.
That makes it pretty easy to get a chance to see it even if you're at work--everybody can take turns stepping outside for a look. You can share eclipse glasses, too.
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the-kr8tor · 2 days
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Sink or Swim
Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader
Total Word Count: 16k
Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), Hobie is mentioned taller than R, CW food mentions, CW suggestive, TW blood, CW injury, CW miscarriage mention, TW violence.
A/N: I've divided this chapter into two because of how long it is and tumblr wouldn't let me draft the post without the app crashing. So sorry for the inconvenience. I'll put the link at the end and on top.
Between the Devil and the Sea Masterlist
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CHAPTER 13 >>> CHAPTER 13 II
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Hobie's throat feels like he swallowed glass. Yet, he screams until his lungs give out, until his body gives out. Fist pounding into steel, skin splitting, blood staining the metal, he continues to call for you. His ears could only hear your frantic yells, his name falling out of your lips, vomited out desperately, asking for him, calling for him to get you out.
He kicks and thrashes at the metal bars, his mind imagines the worst— nails ripped from your fingers, bones breaking, skin scraped and slashed. He doesn't need to imagine how it could feel for he had lived through it all, survived through sheer will alone. But he promised, he promised to you and in that hollow grave that it will never be filled with your body; that your own blood wouldn't spill in between his fingers.
Yet, like the knife that he is, like the one who breaks skin and bleeds everything he touches— he hurt you, shot you where you stood, when he should've protected you, shielded you from the bullet. But how could he do it when the bullet is from him? When he used the same weapon that has ended dozens of lives to protect his crew, to harm you; the only person he deems worthy of telling all his secrets, you, who is worth more than every single treasure in the world.
Maybe he should've listened to you and stayed on the island.
Hobie calls for you once again, in hopes that you hear him too, in hopes that his voice is enough to bring you hope. The lighthouse that guides you home. But he knows, he knows all you could hear are muffled sounds and the creaking from the rocking ship.
Your voice wavers, like you've been forcefully silenced. So he does the screaming for you. It's loud, tone furious, ready to scratch at anyone who gets closer.
“Hobie—” Gwen tries to get his attention as the door opens, revealing the two guards staying in the doorway, keeping their distance.
Guns are strapped to them, knives glinting in the lamp light, armed to the teeth. Hobie knows it's all for him.
“Shut the fuck up.” One frustratingly said, teeth clenched, hands kneading at his temples.
“Keep screaming and you won't get supper.” The bigger one utters, the large scar on his cheek tightens as Hobie taunts them with a grim smile. The smile he reserves to strike fear.
They stiffen in the doorway, shoulders straight, hands reaching for their weapons.
“Do it then.” Hobie says, voice guttural, hands gripping the bars. “End the screaming.” His sheer tone alone sends everyone's hair to stand upright.
No one in the crew dares to stop Hobie. He doesn't know if they're afraid just like the men in front of him or if they're biding their time to scratch and bite too.
“Come closer and end it.” He doesn't yell, and that terrifies the men in the doorway. “And you'll find out exactly what I did to Admiral Kinney all those years ago.” He can still taste the admiral's ichor on his tongue.
The hulking men share a look, sweat dripping off their brows. And with that, they shut the door behind them, returning to their post with their tails tucked between their legs.
“Cowards.”
If it wasn't a grim situation, James would've laughed.
Hobie hears Gwen sigh behind him, the liquid in her hand sloshes as she practically shoves it in his face.
“At least drink some water. For your throat.”
“No, ‘m not drinking that slop.”
Gwen has had enough, she takes him by the collar, eyes bravely glaring at her captain. “If you want to leave this ship and save her, then drink the slop, eat the fucking bread and keep your goddamn energy for when we get the window to escape. Screaming won't help, captain. It's not helping anyone.” Her jaw is set, eyebrows knitted together.
The rest of the crew stand on the side, ready to get between them if it gets physical. He'll never hurt Gwen, never even thought of it. But he can't stand the thought of his family standing against him rather than next to him. So he fixes it, you'd like it that way.
Hobie gingerly takes the cup, chugging it down in one gulp.
“Good, now eat some bread and sit down.”
“Y/N—” he starts.
“She'll be alright, she's a fighter ain't she?” He nods, “you know her better than us, so tell us, cap'n, that she will survive this.”
He roams his red eyes at his sparse crew. For a brief second he sees the ones he lost behind them. For the first time, he's glad he doesn't see you with them.
Returning his attention towards Gwen, he utters the words with the confidence of a captain.
“She'll survive this.”
Sitting down in the corner, he rests his poor throat, the dry bread didn't help much. It was shitty to say the least, times like this, he misses Finn. He'd beat him if he ever knew that he let the famous bloodsail pirates into the hands of a former admiral and you into the hands of someone you fear the most.
Hobie shuts his eyes for a second, he swears it's only for a second but when he wakes up with a start and the door opening with a creak, the moon is already shining outside the large boat.
When he sees you appear by the doorway, he thinks he's still dreaming.
“Ten,” He hears you say between gritted teeth. All he could focus on is you, checking for signs of an injury, he starts from your head—nothing, arms, also nothing, save for a few scratches. Then he settles on your bandaged leg, and he remembers what he did, what he did to you. Guilt and grief overtakes his body, he tries his best to hide into the background, into the wooden walls, to become part of the ship, to hide his shame. Because he hurt you, and he'll never forgive himself for what he did.
Hobie watches from his corner, defeated when you tell him subtly that you're alright. And when you called for him, called his name softly like summer wind breezing by, warm and reminding him of home— he couldn't help but oblige.
Who is he to deny the sky?
When you held him in your hands, he felt anew. Apologies spill from his mouth, eyes forlorn at the red spot on your bandages.
What is the tides without his moon?
He feels lighter when you forgive him. But his past action still haunts him, he knows it'll join the long line of nightmares that plague him at night.
“That's my girl.” He says truthfully and proudly, he feels your heartbeat hasten through your pulse.
You tell him your choice, your decision to give up your freedom for him and the crew. He feels like he was back on the revenge, facing Mathias, refusing to let you go as you offer yourself for their freedom.
His heart beats harder as you ask him to read your mother's letter. He's unsure why you would let someone like him read something as heavy as the letter. It's reserved for someone whose hands wouldn't stain the paper with crimson.
“Because I trust you.” You say, and everything aligns in his mind. Like Poseidon shaking him inside out, like the tides itself is splitting him open.
Hobie reads it with trembling hands and broken skin. Like he thought, it turns the paper pink like ink blots dirtying the pristine paper.
He dictates it, heart shattering at every tear you let out. Wiping your cheeks dry, he's careful not to let his split skin touch your softer ones.
“It's real, innit?” He asks like the earth isn't eating him whole.
“It's real.” You answer and the world caves in around him.
Hobie teases to feel the resemblance of normalcy, “little tomato?” He asks.
And you answer with a “I don't want them, just you.” Like you didn't just mend his shattering heart with one sentence. And you break it right after with a “We'll meet again, in this life or the next.”
He's terrified once again. He shakes his head as the door creaks open. “No, Y/N—”
As you kiss his wounded knuckles gently, you ask him something he can't possibly do.
“Don't follow me, please.”
Reaching for you, he should've read the last line in the letter to you. ‘Don't trust anyone’ it said, whatever it was, it's not your burden to carry, so he'll do it for you.
Hobie apologizes in his head for keeping it away from you and for what he's about to do.
With the dinner bell ringing, and heavy footsteps retreating, the crew takes their chance. The key opens the door smoothly. They sneak around the ship, only leaving shadows and footfalls that's barely audible.
Climbing up the steps towards freedom, Hobie spots a door at the end of a hallway. Like two hearts beating as one, he knows it's you behind it.
Miles takes his arm before he could come to you. “Don't.” He whispers to his captain. “Don't waste her sacrifice.”
“She didn't sacrifice herself.” Hobie shakes his head, scoffing quietly. “I can't leave her behind, Miles. I can't.”
“I know,” he pulls him away from the hallway. “she asked you to not follow, so don't follow.”
“If this was Gwen—”
“If this was Gwen we'd be doing the exact same thing. She wouldn't ask us to follow and we'll leave because she asked us to.” Miles spares a heavy glance towards your locked door. “I know it hurts, but we'd be in the gallows by morning if we don't leave now. We'll have another chance at saving her.”
“You don't know that.”
“I don't, but it's better to not know instead of being dead. At least we'd have a chance.” Miles tugs him further away. “Do you think it's better for her to think that she caused our deaths just because you took the chance?” His voice is determined.
“Don't hurt her like that, Hobie. It'll ruin her.”
With one last look towards your door, Hobie nods, following the others to the deck then to safety. As the dinghy drops down into the sea, and into the dark night, he hears Miguel curse his name.
He asks for your forgiveness silently.
Hobie and the crew finally make it to the docks without being seen by anyone. It was pure luck that no one saw or even heard them, he thanked the early morning and the still dark sky for lending them a hand.
“We need to wait for her.” He says, stretching his stiff hands from rowing the boat.
The sparse pirate crew hides in the shadows, hidden behind the dark alleyway. They lean on the grimy walls, hands cradling their fatigued heads, huffing and groaning at the aches and pains they had from their daring escape. They can still hear Miguel cursing Hobie's name, his voice ringing in their ears.
“Hobie,” Gwen calls for him. “Leave her be.”
“What the fuck?” Hobie turns sharply. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“It means we leave her alone.” Pavitr says forlornly, eyes downcast at the dirty pavement.
“We promised her—”
“That was when we didn't know it was her actual family. Back when we all thought Miguel was a threat to her.” Yuri pipes up, hands braced on her knees. Fatigued and clearly needing rest. “I love her, Hobie, I really do. We all love her, but she's with family now. Let her be.”
“What are you guys talking about?” Miles scoffs, “We're talking about the same person right?” He stands next to Hobie, arms crossed on his chest.
“C’mon, Miles,” Gwen says tiredly. “We all heard their conversation, it's real, she's noble—”
“And what of it?” Hobie snaps back. “You were too.”
“I was.” She scowls. “But she has a home to go to, a family that's waiting for her. We need to let her be until for whatever reason she decides to stay or leave with us.” Inhaling sharply, she rubs harshly at her eyes. “Let's make a compromise then. We're all clearly feeling conflicted. I don't want to fully let her go, we all agree right?”
Everyone nods, tension running high, glares thrown about the small group. Gwen continues, “Then we stay close to her, we watch her like when we used to observe potential crew members. But this time we make sure she is actually safe and not thrown to the wolves.” Her idea reminds Hobie why he chose her as his first mate.
“I'll keep first watch,” Hobie quickly says, "we switch after I say so.”
“And when will that be, Hobie?” Yuri clasps her hand on Hobie's shoulder, comforting the man. “You haven't slept a wink, add the fact that you were stranded on a bloody island for a month, you're not in the right state for this.”
“I'll be once I see that she's safe.” His voice cracks, “I didn't keep an eye on MJ and look what happened. I-I don't want that to happen again. Please let me do it. You can follow me all you want just let me keep watch—”
“It's Y/N,” James whisper yells, he peeks around the alley, watching you slowly walk down the ship.
They all clammer to see you ignore Miguel's helping hand. Pride swells in their chest, they remember now why they can't exactly leave you behind— you're family.
As if fate is pulling the strings, you crane your neck to look in their direction. The crew ducks away, but Hobie stays, staring at you, waiting for your signal, anything to indicate that you want to run away with them.
He sees your subtle shake of your head, and with that, he hides with his crew.
“Did she say something?” Pav asks, concerned for you.
“No, nothin’” He holds his heart in his hand. “She said nothin'”
Hobie follows you quietly throughout the day. Hiding from Miguel's watchful eyes and your sad eyes. The crew left to rest in an inn, Miles offered to come with him, Hobie's glad he did for he found an unhitched horse in a street corner. But it could only seat one so Miles, the angel that he is, let Hobie go on without him.
“I'll take care of them.” He promises before he lets his captain go.
They all know your house, they've raided their ships before. Crates upon crates full of luxury, with the same design on your necklace stamped on the wooden sides. Hobie knows them quite well, the favourite of the king, always giving them special treatment. Yet the queen holds them at an arm's length away, but she never left her eyes away from their business. He guessed sacking random ships has its perks, gossip is one of them.
Hobie silently trots his horse, eyes never leaving the carriage you just left. The cemetery sends his nerves alight, with the crows cawing in the background, he strains his ear to listen in. He's hiding behind the chapel, the irony doesn't escape him.
The truth is revealed to you, and unbeknownst to you, he has learned about it too. His head is in his hands as he listens to how broken your voice is, tone splitting at the seams. Then his heart stops when you tell your mother that you want to stay, that you want to find the person responsible for their deaths, that the same flames burning inside him now have spread to you.
Hobie doesn't want you to go down the same path he walked on, to let the embers singe your skin, to let the fire burn you from the inside out like it had with him. You helped him through his, helped him control it. Now it's his turn to do so for you.
He cares for you, loves you for all your soft touches and gentle tone. But he's prepared to love you through your jagged edges, through all the anger that's inside you. He'd love both sides of you, because it's you, and no one else.
His foot accidentally steps on a twig as he sees you leave. Hobie almost ran towards you when you looked at the source of the sound. This time he ducks away, knowing that there's eyes on you, eyes that are prepared to take you away the moment they see him. So he waits, until there's no more eyes on you.
The next time he saw you again was when you stepped out of the carriage and into the golden doors of the palace. He's terrified for what's to come, whether or not Miguel has brought you on a silver platter for the wolves to devour.
With his guns accompanying him, he readies outside the walls of the palace until you leave, until he sees you again climbing inside the carriage.
He can finally breathe again, he doesn't have to kill this time. Not yet anyway.
Hobie tries his best to stay hidden, he bribes and lies to get inside Hazelside. Then he waits, and bides his time just to talk to you.
“Hazelside estate,” Miguel says when the large manor looms over the horizon. “Your family has owned it for two hundred years. Passed down to every first born child of the family.”
Acres and acres of land stretch across the vast space. Primed apple trees and oaks line the road, men and women in work clothes walk near the carriage, not even craning their necks to take a peek inside. It seems this was a daily occurrence for them.
“Two hundred years.” You repeat, contemplating how many generations owned it. “So it's mine once the papers are signed? Where would my…uncle and aunt go then?” Your mind goes through a hundred scenarios where you stay and where you decide to leave it all again.
“They have their own house. Granted it's not as big as Hazelside but it's enough for them. Knowing his majesty, he'd take his sweet time from releasing the papers.”
“How well do you know the king and queen?” You ask, eyes scanning your family's land.
Stone houses are standing miles away from the main estate, employees of the house you think. Chimneys billow out smoke whilst the sun is just about to rise. You imagine them having breakfast with their families, sleep still clinging in their lashes, hot tea wrapped in their cool hands. Opening the window, the smell of fresh apples wafts over you. Home, you think. It smells like home. Or it just reminds you of the apple tarts Jessica made for you when you were younger.
“You alright?” Miguel asks, watching you frown.
“I'm fine, just tired.” You lied, in truth, you miss them all.
“You had a hectic day, I don't blame you. You'll get to rest soon, I promise.”
How could you even think of sleeping alone? After being near him? After saying goodbye?
“You didn't answer my question.” You shift your attention from the trees to the man before you. “How well do you know them?”
“I barely know the queen, but the king? Yes, short answer? He's a moron, a buffoon wearing a crown.”
Lyla snickers next to you, head plopped on the carriage wall, seemingly asleep.
You smile, “You have a monkey for a king.”
“Once you're the Hazelside duchess, he'll be your king too.”
“Christ.” You chuckle nervously.
“Don't worry, I'll help you get accustomed to polite society.” Miguel reassures you and you still have no idea if you'll stay long enough to bear the title.
“Polite society.” You say with a scoff, “What I just saw wasn't very polite.”
“Just remember, everything here is political. Everyone here is climbing the ladder, kissing the royal asses. Some are doing it for their families, some are doing it for their personal gain.”
“Which one do you think I am?”
“Neither.” The carriage stops, horses neighing, hooves stomping on the gravel. “You're not like them, Y/N, that's why you'll end up walking all over them.”
The footman opens the door, Miguel gives you a look before coming down the small steps. He reaches towards you, helping you down. You hesitate. You still don't take his hand even with your bad leg.
The wind blows cold, goosebumps appearing on your skin, face worried at the sheer size of the manor. The glinting silvered birds catch the early morning's sun's rays. Beady eyes seemingly blinking when a cloud passes by.
Vines cling to the ancient walls, small purple flowers run along the plant and along the large windows. Strong columns line the façade, laurels carved on the marble, oak doors displaying the house sigil— your necklace bearing a similarity to it. Flower beds cradling violets lay by the foot of the building, blooming and fragrant. The smell hiding your trepidation from the dozen or so people watching you with unreadable eyes.
The staff greets you with a stiff nod, they stand on the stairs leading towards the manor. Their uniforms are perfect, perfectly ironed and clean; perfect white gloves on their hands.
A couple of them help your drunk uncle off their own carriage. He groans, head swirling, eyes rolling to the back of his head. Fancy clothes sweaty and moist, neckerchief lopsided and dirtied by ale. In contrast to his wife, who looks tired with the heavy eye bags under her eyes, she still looks like a proper noble compared to Frederick.
“Freddy—” She groans, kicking her husband's leg, “get up!”
“Darling…” he slurs, “there's two of you—oh wait…now there's three!” His guffaw fills the quiet morning.
Victoria gives up, leaving the man to the care of her staff. She walks off, huffing and puffing. She gives you a glance, “what are you waiting for? Get inside.”
Her eyes flick to Miguel who stands behind you, she immediately clamps down her bitterness. “Welcome to Hazelside, niece.” With a stomp of her heeled foot, she heads inside, no doubt seething.
“Catty.” Lyla says next to you, elbowing your side. “C’mon, your grace, before the sun gets in their eyes and sends them into a murderous frenzy.”
You chuckle, shaking your head. Something flickers in your peripheral vision, when you move your head to look, whatever it was, it's already gone behind the thick bushes.
“Y/N?” Miguel beckons you over. “It's cold out, come inside before you get sick.”
“Coming,” you call back, eyes darting around the thicket.
Miguel shows you around to your room in the west wing. Various historical paintings decorate the walls, wooden simple frames around them, showing the true beauty of the art without all the extravagant gold laurels around it.
Sculpted busts of your ancestors wait at every corner, marble eyes staring blankly at what's in front of them. Large windows line the walls, just outside the glass lies an expansive field of apple trees, bulbs of reds and greens adorning the branches of the mighty orchard. You stand in awe at the sight, workers start flocking the trees, picking and plucking at the ripest of fruits. The sun shines directly at the field, apples aglow with its light like red and green stars.
You lag behind Miguel as you gawp at the scenery, hand tucked inside the pocket of your gown, mindlessly rolling the pearl. Wishing the crew could see it too, wishing that he could see it and harvest the fruits with you.
Miguel calls for you, hand reaching but he retracts it back to his side. “Apples are new around here.” You genuinely smile at him, so he continues. “It used to just be hazelnuts, which still grow plenty in the estate.”
“Why the change then?”
“They didn't change, your family merely adapted. Your grandmother was the one who started planting the apple trees. Whenever she had a—” Miguel falters, you can practically see his brain turning.
“Had a what? I'm a big girl, Miguel, I can handle whatever it is.” You encourage him with a nod.
“A miscarriage,” he says lowly, “At the end of her life she planted seven trees. There was only one seed she didn't plant and that was when your mother was born.”
Your heart aches at the story even though the people in it are practically strangers to you. “Apple of her eye.” You murmur.
Miguel chuckles, turning to watch the vast orchard that spans acres upon acres of land. “It’s an understatement. She was spoiled, your mother. But she had a heart, most of her gifts almost always ‘gets lost’ somewhere.” He smiles fondly. “Strangely enough, it always ends up with someone who would benefit from it more.”
“Which one ended up getting lost in your backyard?” You smile at his rare grin.
“A lot, pocket watches, jeweled eggs, there was a kitten once. Only because her mother didn't like it.” He sighs, hazel eyes shining under the sunlight.
“You loved her.”
“I did,” he stares at you with kinder eyes. “She was my best friend, and so was your father. They both were.”
“What did you mean back at the carriage when you told me that they did the same to you?”
He swallows thickly, staring back at the outside of the opulent manor. “My daughter, Gabriella.” he says after a moment, “She was only a few years older than you. Your parents were her godparents, this was before they eloped and had you.” You can feel the strain in his voice. “She got sick…they poured everything into giving her the best doctors the country has to offer. They were at her side while I was drowning my sorrows in the navy. When they weren't by her side, they were with me. But in the end everything was all in vain.”
“I'm sorry,” you say genuinely, “I'm sorry, Miguel.”
He gives you a tight smile and a pat on your shoulder. “Even after all that they were still by my side, even when I pushed them away.” Sniffing, he subtly wipes his eye. “I didn't cross the sea and traveled thousands of miles to find you because I want us to be even. Or to pay the debt, I just wanted to find the last thing they left in hopes that I also find them in you.” His chest heaves. “I couldn't even say goodbye to them.”
There's tears in your eyes as he chokes on his own words. “I lost my friends but you lost your family before you could even meet them. And for that, I'm sorry, Y/N.” His hand shakes. “They didn't deserve what happened to them.”
“Tell me what happened to them.” You stand toe to toe with him, determined to get answers.
“Pirates, I told you they were pirates.”
You shake your head. “Do you really believe that, O’Hara? Or are you still trying to convince yourself otherwise?”
His jaw clenches, “It was pirates, Y/N.”
“Tell that to the former navy medic I call mother.”
He whispers, “the last time I looked further into their deaths I lost my Job, stripped of all my titles. I almost lost my house because of it.”
“Then tell me what you found.” You challenge him back. “Tell me who ordered it so I can live in this house in peace.”
“I don't have definitive proof—”
“Who?”
“Edward.” He says through gritted teeth. “He wanted to marry your mother, even going as far to ask for her hand. But when she refused him for your father—” he heaves. “I think he has probable cause to order the attack.”
“You were answering the man who might've killed my parents and wanted me dead?”
“How do you think that makes me feel, hm? I had my full trust in the navy, trusting the report they gave, trusted them with my whole life, even dedicating my life to them. And the moment I get a whiff of a planned murder on the only family I've ever had they bar me from the only life I've ever known. How do you think that made me feel?”
“I'm sorry you went through that but you could've done something.”
“He is king!” Miguel's voice booms around the hallway. He shifts his voice, pinching his knitted brows. “His word is law, I couldn't have done anything, even if I had proof.”
“You should've started with that instead of telling me lies, then I would've come to you without a fight.”
“There would've still been a fight.” He states matter of factly. “Hobie was ready to fight the moment I stepped below deck.”
“Could you blame him though? We both know not every single pirate crew is as nice as them, he didn't attack because you claimed it was pirates. Or that he was offended, he knows that he has done unsavoury things too. So what did you say that made him lunge at you?”
Miguel shakes his head, refusing to say anything. “It's best that you don't remember it.”
“Fine, be like that, just know that there will always be a wall between us.” Your heels clack loudly against the oak floors as you leave him behind.
The room they gave you was surprisingly comfortable, unlike the apartments in the palace that you explored. It's ten times bigger than the inn you were in, complete with your own bathroom and sitting room. It's all wooden walls covered in beautiful tapestries of various scenes from history— the thick cloth helps keep the heat inside. All the windows are wide open to let the cool air in and the moonlight. So you could hear the rustling of the trees outside, so you could smell the crisp apples. It helps, you think as you sit in front of the large stone fireplace with birds engraved in every corner of the stone.
You're already sick of the bloody birds.
You wrap the fur blanket closer to your body, still in your gown, refusing to wear anything else they've provided for you. You've heard of poisoned dresses before, it's far-fetched but you can't risk it now that you're in a more unfamiliar territory where your own family holds a grudge against you just for existing.
Especially now that you're alone in a large room filled with strange things. And with only his dagger to keep you safe.
Anyone would kill to be in your shoes right now, to be pampered and placed in a household that can provide for all your needs. If it weren't for the hunger in you, you would've left all of the gold in this house just to get back to them. Instead, the fire has you in its hold too.
Miguel's information only fueled the glowing embers in you, you're determined to find who killed them. But you're still restrained in this large manor, and until you can get your answers, you say their names to satiate the hunger.
“Edward and Mathias.” You say through shuddered breath, feeling if you could just say it louder, the sky would strike them down where they stood.
The pearl in your hands is warm, the shiny surface reflecting your scowl.
The flames mesmerize you as it dances in the kindling. Orange and reds illuminate your face, it's the only light in the whole room. You exhale and a puff of clouds escape your cool lips.
It's getting colder, and you're missing him.
Just when you're about to stand up to close the windows, a pebble lands near you. It thuds on the wooden floors, the sound gets your attention.
“What the hell?” You say confused. Standing back up, another flies through the open windows and into your room. “Who the fuck?” Speed walking towards the window, you almost get hit by a pebble if you didn't dodge it in time. “Hey!”
Fifteen feet below your window, you see two people dressed in their night clothes, bundled up in fur coats. They look up at you with wide eyes, like they got caught with their hands inside the cookie jar.
“Cousin!” One exclaims, a wide apologetic smile on his lips, showing you his perfect teeth. “Sorry about that! Can you come down?”
“Who in the world are you?” You ask, confused, you lean down to take a better look, hands gripping the sill for support.
“We're your cousins! I guess?” The girl next to him says, eyes shining in the moonlight, hand holding another pebble. “We waited to see you during supper and around the house but you were apparently hiding!”
“Alright, why do I need to come down then?”
“Because we want to properly introduce ourselves! Without screaming at you from below that is.” The girl shrugs, smiling prettily at you. “Please, cousin?”
“...fine.” you grumble, the dagger is still hidden underneath your skirt in case they're planning something nefarious.
They beam up at you, the girl daintily claps her hands. “Brilliant! We'll be waiting at the entrance.”
As you trudge down the unfamiliar sprawling halls, trying your hardest to not get lost in the maze-like structure. You accidentally encounter another painting of your mother.
Her name is etched on a golden plaque just below the portrait. This one was different from the one in the palace, she was stiff there, lips tightly closed into a line, eyes cold and empty. The one in front of you is warm, a soft smile on her lips, eyes shining and alive. Her dress is in lilac, golden stars adorning the bodice. She still wore the same necklace you're currently wearing, it rests perfectly on her neck. In her hand is a closed locket, you wonder whose portrait lies inside.
“Hi, mum.” You whisper into the cold hallway. “Where's dad's portrait?” You ask like she would open her mouth and answer back. With a sigh, you head downstairs.
Walking the ancient floors, the moon shines down at you, the light peeking in from the gaps of the heavy curtains. Silently, you meet with your cousins in the foyer. Carefully coming down the curved staircase, hand gripping the bannister, the boy who is about the same age as Miles meets you halfway. He reaches towards you, giving you a hand.
“I heard about your leg, I thought you'd appreciate some help.”
“You're Frederick's children?” You say, questioning whether or not you should take his hand.
“We are,” he says with a sigh. “Come on, cousin, or you might miss it.”
“Miss what?”
“The birds.” The girl waiting in the foyer excitedly says. “They're migrating.”
“Oh, I don't see why that would be so interesting.” You say as the boy flexes his fingers, beckoning you down.
“You’ll see why. Take my hand please, you look like our grandmother going down the steps.”
“Fine,” with an exhale, you take his hand. You hold his hand, a feather light touch that he barely feels, giving yourself enough time to react if he decides to do something.
“I'm Jonathan, or just John.” He says as he gently leads you down the steps. His stride is slow, waiting for your own feet to keep up. “And this is my sister—”
“Collette!” She suddenly clasps your hands when you reach the last step. “Sorry–” her tone is sweet and genuine, quickly removing her hands from yours. “I got too excited! I'm Collette, my brother and I are twins.”
“Unfortunately…” John says under his breath.
Collette jabs her elbow by his side, earning a groan from him. You see the similarities on their faces now that you're closer to them. From the slope of their noses to the curls of their hair, they look very much alike. Except for their eyes, Collette has emerald eyes that shimmer from the oil lamp she carries. While her brother has brilliant blue eyes that remind you of the sea when the sun shines above it.
You get reminded of him again.
“Who's older?” You ask teasingly, pushing the previous thought away.
“I am!” They both speak at the same time. John looks at her sister with disappointment, while Collette scrunches her nose.
“I'm five minutes older than you, Jojo.” She says with a tone you could only describe as annoyed.
“Father told me I'm the one who's five minutes older. Not you!”
“Sure,” she nods sarcastically, the lamp in her hand sways. “Because father was in the room when we were born.” Her head swivels to look at you, and you almost jump at how fast she moved. “He wasn't in the room.”
“Ah, I think I got it—”
“Like you could bloody remember.” John says with a scoff.
Before the argument could go on, you stop them with your hands on each of their shoulders.
“I need to sleep, so whatever you want to show me, just fucking show me.”
Collette stares at you with a gasp, eyes wide like you just said the darndest thing. Meanwhile, John has the biggest grin you've ever seen.
“Wow, cousin.” He says, amused. “I heard you used to run with pirates but I didn't know you got their vocabulary too. Hazelside would be more interesting now that you're here.”
“Gosh,” Collette exhales, clutching her pearls (literally) “I didn't know that word could be uttered by a woman.”
“You should try it sometimes. It's very freeing.” You chuckle at their reaction whilst you make your way outside. “Before we freeze to death, cousins?”
“The oldest should lead the way.” John takes the opportunity to rag on his still bewildered sister.
She groans audibly. “You're not the one with the lamp.”
You smile, there's a warm familiar feeling in your chest.
Leaves crunch under your bare foot, you've got blisters from the uncomfortable heels Miguel gave you. You'd take walking on bare feet rather than wear that torture device ever again. The only plus side of the fancy shoe is that it makes you feel powerful with every click of the heels. Walking along a path, tall apple trees carve a way for you and the twins.
“I like your dress.” Collette says right next to you, you sense her wariness by how she keeps her distance. “The color is beautiful, it's our house color.”
“Thank you, but I've been told that red suits me better.”
“Oh, I think they're right actually.” She smiles, her eyes crinkling at the corners.
“Yeah, I'm slowly getting used to this one though.” You lift up your skirt a bit for emphasis.
“Is it true that you were shot?” John asks in front of you, looking over his shoulder. “We heard from the footmen that you were shot by a pirate when O’Hara rescued you.”
“I was, but that's not the whole story. Miguel didn't rescue me.”
“Really?” Collette's brows are raised in question and surprise. You nod at her question. “Huh, I told you we shouldn't listen to gossip.” She slaps her brother on his bicep, he winces, glaring at her. “It's bad to begin with.”
“That's the thing about gossip, Co, it's not always the truth.” He spits out.
“I knew that, pssh.” She crosses her arms on her chest, annoyed and embarrassed.
“Why are we out here again? If you're planning to ambush me—” Colette gasps loudly, like you've shot her.
“Ambush you? Do we look like we know how to fight?” She stops you from going further down the path just as you see a dark river at the end of it.
John knits his brows with a pout. “We're here to give you a warm welcome, cousin. We heard mother and father didn't even give you a tour, so I guess it falls on us to show you around.”
“At night though?” You gesture around the silence of the grounds, save for a few crickets chirping and the flowing of the lake, you're practically alone in the dark.
“Guess we're just living to our house motto, ‘carpe noctem—’”
“‘Seize the night’” Collette finishes her brother's sentence. “The ancestor who established our house was a gambler.” She shrugs.
“That's our house motto?”
“Nope!” Collette answers you. “It was our house motto.” She gestures to herself and her brother. “Before the crown granted us Hazelside, after—” John elbows her. “I'm sorry.”
“It's alright, what's the actual motto?”
“‘alis volat propriis—’”
“‘She flies with her own wings.’” You translate, the siblings look at you with awe. “There's latin in medicine.”
“You know medicine?!” Collette shrieks, the sound echoing through the dark.
“Brilliant.” John murmurs.
“Oh you must tell us more!” Collette loops her arm around yours, walking side by side. “How and where did you learn it?”
“I—”
“Don't pester her, Co.” John clicks his tongue, “have you cut anyone's arm off?”
“How grim!” She exclaims.
As they lead you towards the sparkling lake, you three chat through the night by the banks of the hazelside lake. They ask about the world outside the capital, they ask about the sea and the pirates you were with. You don't tell them about all the blood and violence, deciding that you shouldn't mar their innocent hearts with stories of death. It's not yours to tell, and you don't want to traumatize the only people who don't look at you with contempt.
“So you're not mad at me or even at least a bit annoyed for showing up and taking the estate from your parents?” You ask whilst the sun slowly rises, bathing the lake in bright blue. The hazelnuts in your mouth is a welcome one since you haven't eaten a single bite since you got to the capital.
“Not really.” John munches on his own pile of hazelnuts. He lounges near the water, hand cradling his head, chewing quietly. “We were surprised at first because there have been a handful of girls who claimed to be you. Who were obviously not you.” You raise an eyebrow at his statement. “But when they told us it was Miguel who found you, we were sure it was really you.”
“Wait— there were people who claimed to be me?”
“Mm-hmm.” Collette hums, sitting close to you, hanging on to every word you utter. “They weren't very convincing.”
“The story of Miguel trying to find you was pretty famous around here. I mean, the guy abandoned his post to find a missing duchess who may or may not be alive. That was a big story back then, so a lot of women threw their daughters and young relatives at the manor's gates to get a chance.” John informs you.
“We were quite young back then, but the fakes dwindled away through the years.” Collette finishes his statement.
“‘Quite young’ she says,” he scoffs, “we were barely out of the womb, Collette.” His sister sticks out her tongue at John.
“Huh, that's probably why I haven't heard of it either, I was still young.” You wonder.
“The sun's almost out!” Collette points at the clear sky. “Get ready, cousin, because you're about to see the most gorgeous thing.”
“The birds here migrate at this time of year,” John helps you both up to your feet. You surprisingly take his hand. “like clockwork. Collette and I used to watch it with our parents before they got all…well, too much. Now it's some sort of tradition for us.”
“Look look! The trees are rustling!” She points, jumping up and down.
“Any minute now.” John smiles at his sister as she half hugs him.
The three of you wait for a sign of the birds, a minute passes, then two, then five. Yet, not even a feather flies overhead. The early morning sun shines brighter with every minute that passes. And with every minute, the twins grew agitated.
“Why aren't they coming out?” Collette asks sadly.
“I'm sure they're just getting ready for the journey.” John reassures his sister with a pat on her shoulder. “My calculations are correct, why aren't they here yet?” He questions no one.
Their slumped shoulders and frowns get to you. An idea pops in your head, and you think it's all Hobie's fault.
“Maybe they're still sleeping.” They look at you simultaneously, “I mean it's really cold out, they probably wanted to stay in bed— or nest to sleep more. I know I would want to.”
“Oh,” Collette gives you a small smile at your attempt to make them feel better. “That's probably it. Thank you, cousin.”
You grin mischievously at them, “what if we wake them all up?”
John makes a face. “How?”
You inhale, putting your hands around your mouth, you scream, “wake the fuck up!” The sound echoed throughout the field and across the lake.
Your cousins let out a loud guffaw, you giggle at their reaction. John joins in, copying your actions.
“Wake up you wankers!” He yells, exhilaration filling his chest. “I've always wanted to say that.” Chuckling, he laughs louder at the face his sister is making.
“Johnathan!” His sister gasps next to him.
“What? Try it out! Come on then! No one's out here to tell us off.” John shakes her shoulder, giving you a wide grin.
“Join us in the dark side, Collette.” You sing song, “the birds need a wake up call.”
“You won't tell mother and father?” She asks the both of you. Wiggling, she’s excited.
Crossing your heart, you promise. “I won't, I'm not a tattletale.”
“Cross my heart and hope to die, Co.”
“Alright.” She exhales deeply before letting loud the loudest scream you've ever heard. “Wake up, cocksuckers!” It's so loud that you swear your eardrums are blown out. Smiling, she turns towards your surprised forms.
Now it's you and John's turn to gasp.
“Cocksucker?!” You exclaim, bewildered.
“Where'd you learn that, Co?!” John pokes his sister.
“I heard it when Mrs. Williams stubbed her toe during lessons.” She said shyly.
“Good on you, sis.” He pats her back. “Good on you.”
Collette looks at you expectantly. “Good show, Co.” You wink at her and she giggles happily.
Facing towards the thick trees across the lake, the birds still don't fly overhead. There's nothing but the wind rustling the branches.
“They didn't wake up though.” She says forlornly.
“What if we do it at the same time?” Your words have them smiling again.
“Yes!” They say simultaneously.
“Ready?” They both nod, taking in air before screaming their hearts out.
“Cocksuckers!” The three of you let out simultaneously. The canopy rustles and out comes a hundred or so birds from the thicket.
You all jump up and down, arms up in greeting the birds. Their feathers shine in the sun, light filtering through their wings. Iridescent blues and whites glowing, reflecting in your eyes. Wings flapping loudly, beaks held up high as they greet the sky with open wings.
Amidst the beauty of it all, you wish that he was there to witness it.
A tear slides down your cheek. You wipe it quickly before the twins notice. Head staring up at the sky, amidst all the beauty and light, there's a darkness swirling inside you. Amidst all the life around you, you feel the opposite. And you miss him. The worst part is, you see this place becoming your home.
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>>> CHAPTER 13 II
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zanarkandskylines · 3 days
Note
Hello! I was wondering if I could request a balugou or Todoroki x reader helping reader grieve their father. Their father died unexpectedly, and even years later they haven’t processed grief a lot yet. Like some days they’ll be fine, then something will remind them of their dad, or randomly in the middle of the night they’ll cry when they realize they lost their father. If not, totally okay! Love your work so so much!
omg anon, absolutely! i (unfortunately) have a lot of feelings about grief and have no problem talking/writing about it as i find it therapeutic. i super appreciate the respectful approach and thank you for reading my work! supporting my little fleeting thoughts brings me more warmth than you know. 😭💗 i am gonna choose bakugo over the two of them since i don’t think i could do todoroki well enough, hope that’s okay!!
lost in the echo 『 ♡ 』 bakugo x fem!reader ⇢ it all happened so fast - one moment, your family is happy and healthy. the next? it's broken and in disarray, loss shattering your whole world. in a world of super heroes, people often forget just how painfully human they are when sickness strikes.
꒰ tags & content ꒱ heavy talks of grief (parent's passing), talks of self harm/substance abuse (drugs/alcohol), talks of cancer/illness & hospitals | major emotional hurt/comfort, eventual fluff, sprinkles of angst about being perceived while grieving, soft bakugo, reader’s best friends are bakugo and mina, bakugo’s secretly crushing on reader, “happy ending,” characters are 18+ ꒰ cross posted to ao3 | wc; -1.5k ꒱ -`✧ katsuki bakugo masterlist 
☆ inspired by "neon grave" by dayseeker ☆
⋆ ˚ʚɞ — just a general note to please, please mind the tags for this fic. it's not dark content, per se, but it deals with heavy subject matter (descriptive self destructive habits & harm) and could be upsetting for some. much love for you all! ♡
───
“This party sucks,” you whine, leaning on Mina’s shoulder. “Monoma’s drinks are weak as hell.”
Mina pats your head and exhales dramatically. “Might be time to call it a night, babe. It’s almost midnight, and they’re weak cause you’ve downed six cups.”
You roll your eyes. “Whatever.”
The two of you had been invited by some of the class 3B students to hang out in their dorms over the weekend, AKA drink and bullshit the night away. Months ago, you wouldn’t have been caught dead at any of these parties, but nowadays? You were looking for any way to silence the nagging voice in your head. Mina tagged along, mostly to keep an eye on you since none of your other classmates attended said parties. She’d been on her phone most of the night, texting and scrolling in the corner as you knocked back drinks.
“Who the fuck are you texting?” Your words came out acidic, but that wasn’t your intention. The alcohol was beginning to sink in, stirring the emotions in your chest. It was Russian Roulette, you never knew which one would be loaded in the chamber and ready to fire.
Mina clicked her tongue at your tone, raising her eyebrows. “Why do you care?”
Ah, that was code for “I’m texting Bakugo updates on how you’re doing because we’re worried for your wellbeing.”
Logically, you knew they just cared about you. You’d had a tough couple of months - nothing crazy, just that your dad fucking died and tragically lost his battle against cancer.
The news wasn’t easy to hear, let alone digest, the longer it sat with you back when your mom first broke the news. Cancer. One of the most gut churning words in any language. The sheer mention of the term is enough to make anyone’s hairs stand on end, especially when it’s applied to someone you love and care about.
Fluorescent orange bottles lined your kitchen counter back home, multitudes of medication prescribed to keep your dad in a haze while his body decayed. They taunted you, a constant reminder of the grim reality your family was stuck in. You’ve memorized the smell of the hospital, too - that faint stench of death mixed with cleaning supplies. Late nights in the glow of vending machines of the ER lobby and long days spent listening to nurses drone on about hope and miracles. They even had the gall to give you and your mom false hope, declaring he was in remission one week before he died.
You shake your head to rid yourself of the memories, pissed off that even in your buzzed state of mind, all of it was crystal clear. Mina gives you a quizzical stare, realizing that you haven’t heard hear her talking to you the last few minutes.
“We’re leaving,” she exclaims, grabbing your wrist. You tug it from her grasp and chug the rest of the drink in your hand, tossing the now empty cup to the floor.
“Fuck off, Mina! I know you’ve been talking with Katsuki all night. You two treat me like I’m a fragile little bitch!” You yell, waving your arms for dramatic effect. At this point, she’s used to your combative outbursts. She knows you’re grieving, but goddamn, she wanted to smack the shit out of you when you got like this.
“Suit yourself, I’m goin’ to bed.” And with that, she leaves.
Mina actually walks out and leaves you.
You storm to the door, throwing it open and pursuing her down the hallway of the Class B dorms.
“Minaaa!” You call after her, slurring the latter half of her name. She’s got her phone to her ear as she cocks her head to the side, acknowledging she heard you but isn’t listening.
You’re not proud of what you’re about to do.
Sprinting to catch up to her, you take the phone out of her hand from behind, the screen blinking the caller ID briefly - Bakugo. A sinister cackle escapes you while bringing the phone to your ear.
“Katsuki fuckin’ Bakugo. You and Mina are the fucking worst. Why can’t you just let me self destruct, huh?!” The rage bubbling in your guts was too strong to ignore. The metaphorical gun was loaded, and unfortunately for Bakugo, he was the target.
“You treat me like I’m some weak-ass bitch. Just ‘cause my dad fuckin’ died doesn’t mean shit! I’m not a goddamn child, Katsuki!” Your voice cracks over the word ‘child.’
“Treating me like a kid is rich coming from you, ya know. Hah!”
Mina attempts to grab the phone from you, but fails when you duck out of her reach, dancing down the hall away from her. Bakugo still hasn’t said a word back to you.
“The guy who treated sweet little Midoriya like shit for no reason, bullied him over a fuckin’ non-existent grudge. You’re the goddamn poster child of a shitty friend.”
“Y/N, ENOUGH!” Mina screeches, ripping the phone from your hand. She turns away from you while raising the phone to her ear once more.
“I’m sorry Baku-“ Mina’s interrupted by soft snivels. She could tell he tried to hide it - you made him cry.
“Hey, she’s just drunk and being an asshole. She doesn’t mean it,” she whispers. “Get to bed, I’ve kept you up long enough.” Mina hangs up the phone and turns her attention back to you. She doesn’t say a word - her eyes tell you how disappointed she is with your actions.
You quietly sulk behind her back to the Class A dorms, reveling in the guilt of your actions.
───
Monday comes along and you still haven't said two words to Bakugo. Admittedly, you're ashamed of yourself and don't have the courage to apologize right now. It wasn’t the first time you’ve gotten into a small tiff, it always goes back to normal. You’re sure this’ll pass and he’ll just talk to you again…right?
But he doesn’t.
Classes wrap for the day and he leaves homeroom without looking your way.
───
The silence in your dorm room is starting to drive you mad, not having a decent enough distraction for the endless loop of thoughts circling in your mind. You wander into the bathroom and lazily open your medicine cabinet. A set of translucent orange bottles occupied the bottom shelf - you’d taken them from home, stealing your dead dad’s various medications. A pang of guilt stabs you in the gut while you shuffle through them. You had zero idea what most of these pills even did, but if it got you high? Who fucking cares.
You’re about to dump a few in your hand when something stops you, dropping the tablets onto the floor.
What the fuck?
“Dad…?” You speak aloud, knowing full well how fucking insane you sound for thinking your father’s ghost smacked the medicine out of your hand. As expected, there is no response, just dead air. You scurry back to your bed, grabbing for your phone. Instinctively, you’re about to click Bakugo’s name when your eyes fall on the time: 11:56PM.
You call him anyways.
After a few rings, the line picks up and you hear shuffling before he verbally answers.
“…Hey.”
“Uhh, hi. Sorry for waking you.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Can you come to my room?”
There’s a pause.
“Yeah.”
“Thank you. Door's open.”
The line ends with a click.
A minute or two later, your dorm room door cracks open, Bakugo stepping inside and closing it quietly behind him. He hesitantly makes his way over to the bed and sits beside you.
“Y’okay?”
“I almost took some pills. Something stopped me, though and I didn’t.” Shame creeps through you as you're acknowledging the destructive behavior for the first time in months.
“…I’m glad you ditched ‘em.”
Another pause.
“I’m sorry for the other night.”
Bakugo inhales deeply before shifting his gaze to the floor. “Yeah. ‘S fine.”
Obviously, it was not fine.
“Katsuki, seriously. I’m sorry for being an asshole.” You place a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t deserve to have you here right now.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t say shit like that. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t wanna be.”
The two of you sit in silence for what feels like an eternity.
Bakugo speaks up first. “Why’d you call me over? Y’coulda told me about the pills over the phone.”
Your eyes begin to well with tears, overcome with emotions that you'd been withholding for too long.
"I miss my dad," You say between hiccupped sobs. "I don't know what to do...it fucking hurts."
Bakugo doesn't hesitate to pull you close, awkwardly throwing his arms around you. "I know."
Everything comes pouring out of you, every single emotion that you've shoved away into the imaginary closet in your head since the funeral. No matter how many times you tell him that he can leave, he doesn't. He stays with you the entire night, laying beside you as you cry yourself to sleep.
───
When you stir awake the next morning, Bakugo's arm is securely hooked around your waist as he's peacefully resting behind you. You give him a light shake to wake him up.
"Mornin'," he grunts, sleepily opening one eye. "How ya feelin'?"
Honestly? You felt...okay.
"Good, I think. Better than I have in awhile," you say, rolling over to face him. "Thank you. I'm sorry again for-"
Unexpectedly, his lips are on yours, silencing your apology. You let out a squeak before melting into the warmth he offers, tugging on your waist to pull you closer to him. He breaks the kiss long enough to mumble, “Forget about all that. Just shut up and kiss me, dammit.”
You can’t help but feel guilty about his affection, how you didn’t think you deserved it after treating him so horribly. All Bakugo wanted to do was be there for you when you pushed him, and Mina, away.
“But…why now?” You ask while pulling away, perplexed at how casual he’s being about all of this.
He just shakes his head, grin plastered on his smug face. “Cause I don’t like seein’ you cry. And Mina may or may not have blabbed about a certain drunken rant ya went on about me.”
What the hell was he…oh. Ohhhh.
Dammit Mina!
“What did she tell you?!” You blurt out, covering your face with your hands. Bakugo grabs your wrists, pulling your hands away from your flared cheeks as he laughs.
“She didn’t say shit, but now I wanna hear it.”
You smack him playfully in the arm, huffing as you turn over. He scoots up and lays his head behind yours on the pillow.
“I care about you, idiot. That’s why. Do I need another reason?”
You close your eyes, a smile settling on your lips as you grab his hand, moving back to snuggle closer to him.
“No. That’s good enough for me.”
The pain in your heart momentarily subsides and offers you a glimpse of hope.
Things will get easier, no matter how dark it is.
💥 tags; @slayfics
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I am DEEPLY sorry about making you dive down this rat’s nest of a lore hole, but I’m back with another question that should be cleared up: Can You Fuck Shadow the Hedgehog?
I have a feeling this is gonna get complicated real fast…
I've had this one in mind for a while, so this shouldn't be all that hard to write.
CAN YOU FUCK: SHADOW THE HEDGEHOG?
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...
YOU FELL FOR IT! YOU ALL FELL FOR IT!
To any reasonable person, Shadow should have been included in the Sonic post, alongside Surge, Mighty, etc. But you want to know why I didn't? Because if I did, it wouldn't give me the proper opportunity to rant about something.
SHADOW THE HEDGEHOG IS NOT 50 YEARS OLD. HE NEVER WAS, HE NEVER HAS BEEN, AND HE WAS NEVER MEANT TO BE.
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This is a misconception that has permeated through the fanbase for Chaos knows how long, being repeated over and over and over again, ad nauseam.
Why do people even say this? Well, Project Shadow started 50 years before the event of Sonic Adventure 2. Which means Shadow's creation happened 50 years ago.
So, people take this as "Oh, Shadow was created 50 years ago, this must mean he's 50 years old!"
DO YOU PEOPLE NOT KNOW WHAT THE WORD "STASIS" MEANS.
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During Sonic Adventure 2, Eggman breaks into a military base to unleash a "top secret military weapon" for his plans. This weapon, is, of course, shadow. The screenshot above is from the scene where Shadow is released.
What does this look like those particles are? What do they look like to you? Usually, thick white air particles like these are a result of the use of cold to pause biological processes. On top of that, the shot right before it displays the object atop the machinery pretty well, although with some distance.
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This is a pod. Like, this is very obviously a pod. Shadow is even standing on top of it once he's revealed.
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And what does he say when he's revealed?
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Note how he says "Awakening". This is taken from a re-translation of the Japanese script, since the official translation makes him refer to being released as opposed to being awakened. Remember, translations for these games in this era were... Less than stellar.
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(seriously, don't go there yet? to the guy telling you he shouldn't have ever been born? like maybe you're right maybe you shouldn't have been born but we don't know enough to say that for sure. ok, buddy)
So, yeah, Shadow isn't 50. I've been saving this for a standalone post, because it is baffling to me how people still keep spouting that "Fact" over and over, even though it makes no sense. He was frozen. He didn't develop mentally or physically. I'm not a Marvel fan by any means, but this is like if you added 66 years to Captain America's age because that's how long he was frozen. For these characters, if you just knocked them unconscious and then sent them to the future, it literally would not make even a bit of a difference.
He's not 50. Moving on.
Oh yeah, uh. That whole immortality thing.
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(Source: Japanese dub, translated.)
Here and there, official material will mention Shadow as being "Immortal" or "Ageless". While never stated in the 2005 game, it makes complete sense, as Shadow was made with Black Doom's own genetic material. Black Doom is immortal, Black Doom's genes are in Shadow, thus, Shadow cannot die of old age.
There is, however, no implication that he does not mentally mature. In fact, it would make sense for him to start out quite young to then become more mature as time goes on, since part of the reason he was made was to accompany Maria, in a sibling-like relationship. Although it's unlikely that the Sonic Channel artwork is canon, most of it at least, it does convey a situation akin to this, which would be horribly out of character otherwise.
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Look at em! They're doing their homework together! And then a few years later, after Maria's death...
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Look at him! Using a minigun for the first time!
His maturity in SA2 also seems just about on par with Sonic's, so it's safe to assume that when that game happened, they were about even in terms of mental development. In general, Shadow is a Sonic counterpart. A very, very close counterpart.
... Very... Very... Ah screw it, let's just bite the bullet.
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This happened! An entire Bumblekast episode dedicated to Sonic, Shadow, and mostly Sonadow. It's pretty recent, too! From 8 months ago! In fact, it was made for Pride Month 2023; after Frontiers released. So, Ian Flynn by then became not just a comic writer, but a writer for the games.
I'm not saying Sonadow is canon, obviously, but if the current writer of the games is willing to entertain it for an entire episode and even go as far as saying it's actually really easy to make happen and you don't need to do too much work for it to happen, then it's probably safe to assume the characters are on even ground in terms of maturity.
So, if Shadow can hypothetically, in a fully canon-compatible way, make out with Sonic, and Sonic is fuckable, then Shadow is, by extension, fuckable.
Honestly this is entirely longer than necessary. I could have brought this one up earlier and saved myself the work. Where's the fun in that, though?
Either way, verdict is;
You can, in fact, fuck Shadow The Hedgehog.
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You mentioned in a post a couple days ago that you talk to your best friend every day but in your last post you mentioned that you have a friend that you feel too drained to talk to sometimes and I know this is my own insecurity but how can that be? If I’m the second friend to someone why am I less important?
There are a few reasons for me, anon. And none of them mean my other friend isn’t important to me.
My best friend doesn’t drain me the way most people do. Not even if she’s having a crisis. A lot of that is from being friends for over ten years and knowing so much about each other. But I don’t have to think a lot about everything I say/do with her. I can just be myself. I don’t feel a need to mask, and I don’t feel a need to filter myself. There is a lot of stuff about me and my interests/life that only she knows because a lot of people wouldn’t “get it”. And I’m safe to be myself with her. Even if I’m having bad recovery days. I never worry about feeling judged.
There are times we don’t agree on stuff but we always respect the other’s opinion. I know even if I accidentally say something wrong, she won’t lash out or get angry at me. If she feels a need to discuss it, it’s done in a calm way that is respectful of both our feelings.
She’s also come so far in her healing that there is no pressure on me to answer which helps a lot of the energy draining ironically? I feel more drained if there’s pressure. It’s not to say she never feels insecure, but she is so good at handling it herself sometimes. And if she does need reassurance, she asks me in a really healthy way and I’m more than happy to give it to her.
I think a lot of it is just that while having a safe space is nice, she’s kind of like my safe person?
My other friend is a great person and so compassionate. But she isn’t actively trying to recover, and she has a lot of behaviour she has to work on. This isn’t a moral failing or me thinking she’s a bad person or me judging her at all honestly. It’s just that I need to be in a specific headspace and have enough energy to be willing to engage with someone who I don’t feel cares to help themselves.
I also have other friends that don’t need to recover but we just aren’t as close. I don’t feel I can be myself so much. I feel I need to mask and filter everything I say and that takes active effort which takes energy. With my best friend, I don’t have to put any effort into doing any of that. I can just act around her the exact way I can when I’m alone which makes it easy.
This is about my very specific friendships and I don’t really know that any of it could be helpful to you. But I will say that my other friends are also important to me and I love them. And my love and closeness to my best friend doesn’t take away from any of that.
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innitmarvellous · 2 days
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So I read some books about aro & ace identities recently, because while I am quite sure that I'm ace and probably even aroace, I'm still struggling a lot with the ramifications of this discovery about myself, even though I first noticed this about myself a few years ago.
That's why I tried to make myself feel better by reading these books in the hope that it might be helpful in any way...and that's also why I took some notes about things that always bugged me in some way, both while reading the books and before that. (I'm not done with the books, but I already noticed enough recurring issues for a whole post.)
First, I really would like to feel at least sort of good about it. It doesn't have to be pride, just some sense of it being alright. I know that's not a prerequisite, but I don't want to feel unhappy and uneasy all the time just because of my identity :/
And there are some things I like about it. For example, having found a name and explanation for whatever is going on with me was undoubtedly nice, and I like the fact that the community seems to be very open to people identifying as ace or aro no matter where they exactly are on the spectrum. Well, there are always the exclusionists, but that's technically the consensus and I like that.
Still, there is this unpleasant feeling that doesn't seem to go away. The fact that there is something I will never understand and never experience - despite desperately wanting to. I guess that is the problem if something just isn't there, and that's just so hard to accept. Like, other people also might struggle with their orientation, but at least they do have the option to find someone who feels the same and will enter a relationship with them - while this is entirely impossible for me. And I think that's where I struggle the most, honestly. Knowing that there is no way to get the thing I want with my logical mind, because my feelings won't allow me to - and thus people on the outside won't consider me as 'relationship material' in any form since I'm lacking something crucial. And yes, I entirely understand that this would make people avoid me when it comes to relationships. After all I could never give them the thing they would expect from a relationship and it would be unfair towards them if I entered a relationship while being unable to do so. But it really doesn't make it hurt any less, and it definitely doesn't make me feel good about myself. There is something missing about me, that's just an undeniable fact and it reduces my worth in the eyes of others. Is that fair? Maybe not - I can't say, as I can't see things from their perspective - but it just is how things are. But it is very, very hard to accept.
Oh, and there is another thing that keeps being mentioned: namely that relationships without sex or of course also even fully platonic relationships are possible. But honestly? That doesn't really comfort me at all :') Because...I wasn't even nice and attractive (in both a physical and personality sense) - and whatever else - enough for a "normal" relationship, so it feels downright illusory to tell myself that someone will accept me despite my "defects" (if that's what I'll call them in this context, since that would be an allo person's view in most cases, I assume) and agree to have whatever kind of deeper relationship with me. That sounds like such a nice dream, and yet that's all it is and will remain: a dream. It's simply impossible, and that just feels bad. Because I would want to have closer connections to people, but I can't. Idk, but that is a bit cruel, especially as it isn't exactly my fault because of a choice I made.
I also feel kind of uncomfortable identifying myself as queer or part of the LGBTQIA+ community. I'd like to, but idk, I fear I wouldn't really be welcome in most queer spaces since I used to think I was heterosexual before I came across the terms ace and aro. Also, I was never oppressed due to my identity and had technically no trouble to pass as more or less some kind of straight allo late bloomer, so idk... And well, I see why my constant talking about some fictional/celeb mancrush I've got might make people think that I'm a liar and just pretend to be aro or ace for attention or other reasons. In fact, the exact same thing happened to me when a guy fell in love with me and I was forced to tell him about probably being ace. He didn't believe it because "I was always crushing on anime guys" and basically accused me of deliberately leading him on and it wasn't pleasant :/ (But I can't help it...I mean, a celeb crush doesn't require me to act on anything! I just find a guy attractive in whatever shape or form and it makes me happy to have my silly little daydreams about him and whatever. But it doesn't necessarily mean I graphically dream of fucking him, despite what I might jokingly say.) Anyway, I think it would be useful if I could confidently use the term queer for myself because idk, it would make things easier. As in, I'm definitely not "normal" aka not the standard straight cis person I once believed to be, but yeah...I still doubt that I would be allowed to call myself queer. I'm too different to be considered normal and too normal to be considered queer, I guess. So I'm sure people wouldn't be too happy about me pushing into their communities. Falling between the chairs again :')
Maybe all of my doubts and all that stuff...it's not so surprising, though. I mean, I kind of assume that most people wouldn't be too happy at the prospect of lifelong solitude and loneliness, without any chance to form deeper bonds with other people. Or maybe it's just me, who knows. It definitely scares the hell out of me and I hate it so, so much. And well, that makes it so difficult to make peace with this annoying sexual/romantic orientation of mine. (I would change it if I could...but alas we all know that's impossible.) I don't know what I exactly expected, but I surely didn't sign up to a rather sad lonely life of unhappiness and yet that is exactly what I will get :/ Another thing that is very hard to accept, and I genuinely wonder how other people managed to deal with that... I know accepting it and facing that truth is the only possible way, but yeah...I still can't bring myself to feel good about this. I mean, I've been lonely for my entire life, so I don't know...maybe I just hoped this would change at some point in the future and finding out that this will never happen now is kind of soul-crushing, honestly.
Lastly, I know that this is mostly a lengthy and overly personal rant post, so maybe no one has even read until here. But if someone did and feels like commenting, then I would really appreciate that, because...I still don't really feel fully enlightened on how I'm supposed to feel now. Maybe talking to actual people would help, but who knows. Again, I'd appreciate it if anyone wants to share their thoughts (my DMs are also open btw), although I'm aware that a random Tumblr post probably isn't the best way to solve my problem. ^^
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rockhousejai · 1 day
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when you said you wanted to put a more of toons in Disney Sibs Au i remembered minnie, bendy, boris, mortimer and other else ( i wonder what they look like in Disney Sibs Au )
Funny how you mentioned Minnie and Bendy because I technically already have concepts designs for them if you scroll down far enough (For little Bendy tho, I’ve always drawn him with a scarf since middle school)
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A year ago I made a concept for a little version for Fanny and Felix and I think Boris (I’ve never posted the one with Felix tho up until now)
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Maybe I might do more since it a fun little concept but yeah hope that answer your question
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messrsage · 4 months
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i don’t like how the marauders fandom has become so popular and mainstream on tiktok not bc i want to gatekeep the fandom or anything but bc all of the new, big marauders tiktokers and cosplayers now look like and give off the vibe of the people who used to bully us for being in fandoms and getting excited over fanfiction or our favourite characters
#like im sorry but at least half of them are just doing thirst traps under the guise of cosplaying#just by saying it’s sirius core (they wore a leather jacket) or remus core (they’re wearing a sweater)#again this comes back to the thing i mentioned a few weeks ago about pretty privilege as well bc now they’re surpassing actual cosplayers i#the fandom who have been putting real work in for years and who know these characters like the back of their hand in terms of followers and#likes and it’s really disheartening to see bc so many of my mutuals there are amazing at what they do#and they’re not getting the same kind of attention anymore bc ppl (or the algorithm) prefer the conventionally pretty ppl over the fandom#nerds and geeks and freaks#idk where i’m going with this it just annoys me when it comes up on my feed#i’m barely on marauderstok anymore and i don’t post any content either so idk maybe im wrong and things aren’t like that at all#maybe that’s just my algorithm#i also think the way the fandom has gone mainstream is a huge part of the issues we’re experiencing as a fandom#these ppl don’t know how to be in a fandom#they don’t know how to use sites like ao3#they don’t understand the purpose of fanfiction or how headcanons work#they don’t KNOW#this is not to say that ppl aren't allowed to join fandom or partake in it just bc they're pretty or popular#but again its more the vibe of them being the kind of ppl who would look down at fandom or bully ppl in fandoms#and it shows in the way they interact with fandom bc they're trying to force fandom into being something that's palatable for them#instead of learning about how fandom operates and adapting to it#they're trying to censor ppl and cancel ppl and whatnot bc they did xyz and that just wont work with how *they* want fandom to be like#sorry to break it to you but fandoms arent all about aesthetics and not everyone is going to agree with your takes ppl are allowed to think#for themselves and ppl are allowed to disagree with you and ppl are allowed to partake in fandom in ways that might make you uncomfortable
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alexcabotgf · 1 year
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alex cabot fancam for the dash 🧡🤍💗
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madootles · 1 year
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a baby
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moopermoment · 7 months
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i take jetkie very seriously
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outeremissary · 2 months
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kasperia character journal please? 👀
Hi Romeo! Sorry this is a lil late (days later edit: now a lot late), time kind of stopped functioning for part of Friday, hahhh . Anyway some good luck on this one being the only one I have screenshots from while my laptop hangs between this world and the next! (days later edit: it's actually dead forever) Anyway, this was admittedly a bit of a cheat because it is a tabletop character journal, but it's a WIP to me and I like working on it. Counts!
Anywayyyy. I don't think it's actually been said on Tumblr at this point, but Kasander and Asperia are two parts of a dissociative identity disorder system (I don't know if this is too jargon-y an explanation...?). Not the only two, but the two who interface the most with the outside world and in some ways have the strongest feelings about "Asperia's" life. In tabletop, their journal is how they communicate with one another to mitigate the effects of losing time and to get some sense of coordination with what they're doing. On a meta level, it helps me track what each of them knows about game events and how they feel about each other (and any other alter who adds something to the journal). Relationships within the system aren't really something that generally makes sense to externalize into regular RP. The journal is a helpful way to develop that running self-exploration side plot without derailing what's happening in session.
It's been a really fun exercise in character voice. I love writing epistolary type stuff- Carmen's mission report character journal was one of my favorite parts of playing her back in 2019- so it's been very relaxing to me. Excited for our hiatus to end to gather more material for it. I've gotten a little off track from some original plans though- one significant concept I'd had going in was that Kasander's parts of the journal are written as direct letters to Asperia, while Asperia's were supposed to be written as a diary as if the other pages didn't exist. Stubborn willful ignorance from someone struggling to come to terms with their reality. Unfortunately, it's very fun to write things that are a little bit more communicative ^^;; I'll probably have to rewrite pieces of recent parts of the journal to be a bit more in line with that intent before adding the next chunk to our party's notes drive. Not a lot room to develop the twins' relationship over time if there's not much distance between the start and the end, after all.
With that said, some of the direct exchanges are very fun. Pros and cons.
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It's also fun to think through what's tracked and what's omitted (intentionally or unintentionally). Kasander loves describing the cultural experience of a location but carefully skips mentioning having actually spent money on things. They're always on thin ice with the funds. Asperia keeps (mildly exaggerated) accounts of personal achievements but completely skips over failures, especially failures that involved injury to the body. She needs to communicate a sense of superiority- something that certainly works when Kasander apologizes profusely any time the body is hurt under their care.
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(yeah it seemed like a good idea at the time to use a more "handwritten" font for the final thing but I've been having A Lot Of Regrets)
I unfortunately don't have a screenshot, but the journal has also had one small addition from Paracelsus as well. It's just a to-do list of ways to organize and restock the crafting supplies. Very typical of them. Asperia thinks he wrote it, like everything Paracelsus writes.
Also fun to get to work in some in-world explanations for things that raise some meta questions, like not having some items that I need for my character concept (I ran out of starting equipment budgettt). This bit is also consistent with the pattern that Asperia avoids referring to Kasander by name.
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How common the two of them actually sabotaging each other's possessions is has yet to truly be established, but it is an aspect of what the party thaumaturge refers to as their "feud."
Pros over BG3: they are aware of and communicating each other, and they didn't have to have five near death experiences for it to happen. Yay!
Cons over BG3: lot more hostility from Asperia persisting past that point. Kasander did in fact ruin their life a little.
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britneyshakespeare · 4 months
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Also I never knew that there was even a single color photograph of my grandparents' wedding in 1952. I've only ever seen the ones in black and white. Don't they look beautiful? Didn't I just come from the most gorgeous people?
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scarletwitch1918 · 10 months
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Today was the second birthday this year of a friend that I thought I was really close with that i didn’t get invited to
#birthday#fake friends#friend group#I’ve literally counseled this girl through half her shit this year and then she doesn’t even invite me to her birthday that she invited#people she barely talks to too and then after that she turns around and hangs out with my fucking brother of all people#I can’t wait for a new school next year so I can finally get away from the people who stopped appreciating me a long time ago#I know it sounds kinda selfish but I truly have not done anything (in the last 4 years) to ever hurt or fully disregard them and I really#don’t know what happened#one week we were waking to and from school together everyday and now I feel like I’ve been rejected from our walking group and I’m literally#uncomfortable walking with them in the mornings because they just fully ignore me the entire time#this isn’t even about just the one friend anymore#this is also happening with someone else who was supposed to be my best friend and now she barely talks to me anymore#and like I can accept that we’re not bffs anymore cause it happened a year or two ago so I’ve moved passed it#but she just pretends I don’t exist anymore#we have like three classes together and on snap she got an send it that’s said like tag your fav people on each class#and when I tell you i was in the room with her when she posted I and she didn’t even mention me#istfg#im gonna stop now because this is getting extremely ranty but I can’t really talk to anyone about this irl so this is just my vent space now
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