#but that was a while back and I now understand that not everyone has the same experience with queerness and Christianity as I do
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Ex-husband!Gojo who doesn’t understand that the parents (mostly the moms who try to hide behind their giant sunglasses) at Mio’s soccer games talk, and he chooses today to pull you into his lap. Several sideways glances cast your way at how cozy you both must look as you watch your four-year-old daughter run in the wrong direction across the field because she got distracted by a butterfly.
He doesn’t hear what they talk about—aren’t they divorced? I’ve never seen anyone divorced act like that—or (worse) when they try to be subtle about their probing into Satoru’s dating life while you stand there with a stilted smile plastered onto your face.
(More than likely, he’s listened to every word and doesn’t give it the same amount of thought or care as you do.)
“Gojo,” you hiss, trying to move off his lap to no avail. “I have my own chair.”
“Can you still call me that if it’s your name too?”
A huff. “Go bother somebody else—”
“Shh,” he tells you, tugging you further against his chest. “You’re missing the game. Mio’s finally found her way back onto the field again.”
“But everyone’s staring at us.” You catch the eye of a mother tearing into a pack of fruit snacks.
“So? Let them stare.”
Everyone starts cheering, and you both watch Mio chase the ball down the field, her little body ducking between the taller kids.
“That’s my girl!” Gojo shouts over the other parents.
And then Mio kicks the ball into—
The wrong goal.
“Maybe we should have let her join t-ball,” you whisper, though you both clap as your daughter starts doing not-quite cartwheels in the middle of the field.
Ex-husband!Gojo who still does work around the house every Friday, and to your dismay, shirtless now that the weather is warmer.
The plate in your hands has a few scuffs, half of a cartoon character’s face scrubbed off to oblivion that Mio will have something to say about later. Doing everything to stop from staring out into the yard where he’s mowing the lawn because the window is right there, above the sink, to tempt you.
It’s difficult when his chest glistens with sweat from the early-summer heat and how those stupid gray cotton shorts (that you know he picked out with the sole purpose of torturing you) sit dangerously low on his hips—
He looks towards the kitchen window, a crooked smile stretching across his lips. The blood rushing to your brain, that must be what makes you give a sudsy wave and cause heat to creep into your middle.
Ex-husband!Gojo who strolls into your room while you’re putting away laundry one afternoon, and unsurprisingly shirtless as he crowds you against the dresser. Front to back. His mouth at your ear.
That steady resolve you pride yourself in crumbles at your feet, and you swallow the tiny, helpless sound working its way up your throat. A slippery thing that slips out. “Satoru…”
“You know, these little shorts were always my favorite,” he tells you, his fingers playing with the elastic waistband.
“Were they?”
“Don’t you remember? Couldn’t get them out of the way fast enough.”
Your mouth is dry, something playing in a loop in the back of your brain. Early morning, breakfast cooling on the stove, crumbs stuck to your cheek, these shorts dangling off the leg propped up on the counter—
“Where’s Mio?”
A kiss to your nape, a knowing smile. “Taking a nap.”
Ex-husband!Gojo who works your shorts and underwear off your legs before pulling you to the edge of the bed.
“Satoru, we—we can’t keep doing this—”
Your words trail off into a moan when he slaps your clit with the leaky tip of his cock, and wet sounds echo in the room.
“Yeah? Go on, baby,” he tells you, slowly splitting you open, stuffing you full, two puzzle pieces slotting perfectly into place like it should be (how it’s always been). “Tell me some more why we can’t keep doing this.”
You can’t, not with how he’s filling you up in the way only he knows how. Not when he hooks two thick fingers into your mouth because you’re getting too loud, pinning you against the bed with your cheek buried into your pillow, every sound choking into nothing.
You wriggle underneath him, fingers clawing at the comforter and your back arching.
“Christ, look at you,” he growls, leaning over you, teeth bared. “Fucking look at you. You needed this, didn’t you?”
Ex-husband!Gojo who presses what leaks out back inside you with his thumb after he pulls out, wet and sticky circles between your legs until you fall apart again with a soft cry. His thumb is there again, at your entrance, pushing and stopping like a plug, muttering something under his breath that sounds like, “Can’t waste it.”
And quieter, “Maybe it’ll take.”
(Who knows?
Maybe it will. Worse things have happened.)
Ex-husband!Gojo who stays for dinner for the fourth time that week, and none of the reasons have been because Mio asked if he could. It’s more about the fact that you’ve enjoyed how whole your family feels again, that you can pretend for a moment this is what you do every night.
(How it was probably always going to come back to this.)
That your wedding ring doesn’t sit in the back of your sock drawer, and his isn’t tucked away in his wallet. That you don’t feel guilty when you think about saying I love you or wishing he’d stay longer—
“Daddy, you gonna lose,” Mio tells Satoru as Mario Kart appears on the screen.
“We’ll see,” he laughs, tugging on one of her pigtails until she’s giggling and swatting his hand away.
You lean back against the couch, watching them with a small smile you share with Satoru over your daughter’s head.
#gojo satoru smut#gojo smut#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo imagine#jjk drabbles#jjk x you#jjk fic#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#fem!reader#.things i write
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Silent
Pairing: Matt x reader
Wordcount: 1.8k +
Summary: you’ve always quietly watched the triplets, silently wishing you could be a part of a group like them. Until you and Matt talk for the first time…
Warnings: selective mutism, anxiety, crying, angst, praise, no use of y/n, no oc
(Disclaimer: I’m not mute in any way. This was a request from an anon that I accidentally deleted. Hope you like it ! Requests are open)
I developed selective mutism pretty early on. My mom says that I didn’t talk even back in kindergarten.
But it’s been years now.
I can talk, and I can’t shut the fuck up for the life of me. I talk a lot, even have full conversations with myself.
Just not at school, or around new people. God, especially not in school.
It’s not like I want to be the ‘ weird’ mute kid. I would love to talk and make friends, I just physically can’t open my mouth and talk.
It even took months for me to utter simple words to my therapist, tho by this point I’ve known her for years and I’m pretty comfortable.
There are these triplets in my grade. We’ve always gone to the same school, but I don’t think they ever noticed me.
Well the first time I noticed them was in first grade, because there were three of them. Of corse my six year old self didn’t understand the concept of multiples back then, and I really wanted to ask, and talk to them. I really thought they were cool.
The first time I interacted with any of them tho was when I was in fourth grade and Nick had asked to use my dark green pencil since he only had light green and needed both dark and light.
Back in fourth grade I wasn’t just selectively mute, but also really shy. So I’d just looked down and stared at the desk giving him a small nod.
In freshmen year I shared a class with Nick again, he asked me for a pen, wich I gave to him.
Despite not having talked to him once in my entire life, he remembered my name. Wich isn’t too shocking since we’ve always been around each other, I was just kinda in the shadows.
He actually gave me that pen back. Most other people would’ve forgotten and just taken it, but Nick didn’t and I appreciated that.
I only ever interacted with Nick those two times. despite sharing a few classes with both Chris and Matt over the years, I’ve probably never even held eye contact with either of them.
I’ve been watching everyone.
Bullying isn’t really a thing. Sure there were some hurtful comments by jocks here and there but it really wasn’t as bad as in the movies.
Besides I think most people forget i even exist so they don’t even bother bullying me.
I’ve had my eye on Matt for a while. Not in a weird way. But Matt seems to pretty obviously have anxiety too. I don’t know if he’s open about it, I’m not in his friend circle.
But every time I’m feeling overwhelmed and we’re in the same room, I unconsciously glance at him to see if he feels the same or if I’m just going crazy.
Chris seems to be the loudest and most extroverted one. And while yes, Nick seems pretty extroverted too, Chris seems more… random? Bold?
I sulk in the back of the class my lips pulled into a tight line as I try to get myself together.
There is literally no reason for me to be feeling like this. Honestly no one has tried to talk to me today, nothing happened, I just feel so overwhelmed.
I raise my hand just slightly. I make eye contact with the teacher. Mrs. Evans. I literally love her, she’s so kind.
Her son is apparently mute too.
When I was diagnosed with selective mutism they thought it’d be a great idea to make me learn sign language just in case, and that’s just what I did.
Since Mrs. Evans son is mute, her son, as well as her and her husband also learned sign language.
So whenever I needed something I could sign to her. Not that I wouldn’t be too embarrassed too.
Our eyes lock. Everyone was working on some paper I should also be doing, but I’m too busy hyperventilating.
I let my hand drop on my desk and glance at the door quietly asking if I can go to the nurses office since I was too tired and ashamed to sign it to her.
She gives me a pitying smile but nods. I hate pity, but then again that’s better than getting told im faking.
I look around the class of students. I get up, as quiet as I can. I pack up my little stuff and quietly walk to the front of the class. I nod in appreciation and walk outside.
I stare at the ground while I walk down the hallway. I sigh.
I feel my eyes start to water and I bite the inside of my cheek.
Honestly I should probably go to the nurses office to get checked out, just so I can leave. But I don’t think I can handle communicating with another human.
I feel like I’m about to break down. I continue to walk down the hallway clutching the straps of my bag harshly.
I consider if driving home even is a good idea seeing as I’m about to have a mental breakdown. Or-
Suddenly I bump into someone.
I close my eyes trying not to cry right then. I don’t know who I bumped into but I want to apologize, but I know that I can’t, and since I don’t know who I bumped into I don’t know if it’s someone who’ll be mean about it or-
I’m taken off guard by a gentle brush to my upper arm.
“You’re good, it’s okay” I hear a soft voice say. I can feel my lip quivering, I feel like if I open my eyes the tears brimming at my waterline will actually fall.
“can you open your eyes?” It sounds more like a question, and that voice sounds painfully familiar but I can’t quite place it.
I want to tell him that I can’t, that I’ll cry if I do and I’ll feel even more embarrassed. But my curiosity takes over me.
So I slightly blink open my eyes. I don’t open my eyes fully, just enough to see the person through my tears.
It’s Matt, looking down at me all concerned.
I blink my eyes open. at the sight I watch his expression relax just slightly.
He himself looks overwhelmed, and honestly I don’t know if it’s because of how I’m acting, or if he had a shitty day himself.
“You okay?” He sighs slightly. I watch as he licks his lips and swallows thickly.
I take in another deep breath trying to calm down. I nod just slightly, but while I do the tears in my eyes finally spill.
I feel my hot tears run down my face. Matt’s eyes immediately widen and his mouth opens slightly like he thinks it’s his fault.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, no please don’t cry.” He holds up his hands in front of my face as if he wanted to wipe my tears away but was holding himself back because he didn’t know my boundaries.
He looked miserable, like he was about to cry himself. And I just know that something this wouldn’t have him emotional like this on a normal day. At least I don’t think it would. But he seemed to be overwhelmed as well.
I scrunch my nose slightly sniffling in response. I glance back up at him and the sorrow in his eyes makes me want to sink into myself. I breathe out shakily.
Before I know it I’m bringing my hands up to my face and covering it. I tilt my head forward trying to stop crying, because crying in the school halls is just pathetic.
“I’m sorry. Fuck- can I touch you?” I hear his frantic voice. I appreciate that he asked first. I want a hug, but then again I don’t know Matt. But he just seems so genuine.
I overthink not responding to his question. My thoughts spiral at the sound of the sweet nothings and apologies leaving his mouth, only being back round noise.
Matt seems to notice that I’m starting to spiral. I feel his hand tenderly touch my wrist. I flinch slightly, and as soon as I do I feel him retract his hand.
Everybody deals with anxiety differently, some people like to be physically grounded others liked to be comforted some other way and I just knew that Matt was trying to figure out what to do without overstepping.
I’d tell him that it’s okay, or that he can hug me, but I literally can’t speak and I feel too embarrassed to let him see my teary face.
“I’m sorry, I’m-“ I hear Matt let out a breath. I know an anxiety breath when I hear one, he is panicking.
I decide to bite the bullet, what’s the worst that can happen. I look up slightly and peak through my fingers.
His hands are up and frozen. He looks almost frantic, Matt looks like the only way he knows how to ground me is by hugging me or something, but he seems unsure if that’s okay.
Despite myself I let out a little nod. Matt lets out another breath but this time he actually touches me, and I don’t flinch.
He holds my wrist and gently pulls my hands off of my face.
I let out a shaky sigh. I can’t help it when I let my head fall forward.
“It’s okay.” He says sweetly under his breath. He puts his hand under my chin as he picks my face up. Our eyes lock. I see the way Matt is also crying, tears running down his face too and I relax just a little.
He never seemed like the type to make fun of someone for crying, but especially not now.
“You wanna go to my car?” He says softly, not in a way where he is forcing me to do anything, but rather offering.
And honestly as upset as i am I have to weigh my options. Would I rather cry in the school hallways or in Matt’s car?
The best option would be to go to the bathroom, but Matt wouldn’t be able to come with, and honestly I would feel too bad leaving him alone at this point.
So I nod.
I feel Matt’s arm go around my shoulders as he hugs me for a moment. He turns me, and starts walking in a way where his arm is still around my shoulder keeping me close to him.
We walk out to the parking lot. I watch as Matt unlocks the car and opens the door for me to enter.
And by this point, if I go out this way so be it…
Before i can even register Matt is also getting into the backseat next to me.
We just look at each other for a moment. He breathes out another anxiety sigh.
“You want a hug?” And with that I don’t really know if he’s asking for me, or to comfort himself. But regardless I nod.
I feel his arms come around me and I sink into the feeling of his hug.
I’m uncertain if by tomorrow he’ll act like this all never happened, or if he’ll try to get to know me, because I’ve been wanting to know him for a while and I would more then gladly let him.
Masterlist
A/n: I know this is really short and I’ve been uploading a lot of angst recently. But I’ve been feeling sad, and every time I do write smut it’s for Kinktober. Soon you’ll get smut tho. Also this ended up a lot like crybaby. <3
‼️please don’t copy my work/idea‼️
Taglist: @muwapsturniolo , @sturnad , @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 , @evie-sturns , @me09love , @fratbrochrisgf , @spideylovin , @chrissgirlsstuff , @stunza , @whicked-hazlatwhore , @sturniooolos , @ecliphttlunar , @orangeypepsi , @klaus223492 , @char112244 , @sst7niolo , @slut4chriss , @mattsturniololoverr , @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n , @st7rnioioss , @t1llysblogs , @nonat-111 , @blahbel668 , @rockstarchr1s , @sturnsintrouble , @nayveetbhh , @tillies33ssss , @sturncakez , @strnilo , @somegirlfromasgard , @mattslovelygf , @sturnsmaeve , @sturnstvr , @lucianastrun , @jnkvivi , @jamiesturniolo , @chr1sgirl4life
#sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo#chris sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo x y/n#chris sturniolo x you#chris x reader#christopher sturniolo#christopher sturniolo x reader#sturniolo smut#christopher sturniolo smut#matthew sturniolo#matthew sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo x you#matt sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo#chris sturniolo smut#sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#christopher sturniolo x reader smut#sturniolo fanfic#Spotify
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UNDERSTANDING ──── echo.
summary: in the middle of the night, echo finds you, hurt and exhausted and in need of an apology.
pairing: arc trooper echo x reader
word count: 1.6k
warnings: none! just a sprinkling of angst and grief.
a/n: i love echo so much & im so glad he’s okay as of the finale!! this takes place sometime around the early seasons, but after the season 1 episode “cornered.” also, i listened to waves by chloe moriondo while writing this!
You’re not sure what to think of Echo.
Most of the time, he’s quiet. When he does speak, it’s usually to enforce a rule, remind the group of their current plan, or to keep Wrecker in check. You’ve seen his softer side, with Omega and occasionally his brothers, and it’s rare but honestly endearing.
The thing about him that most irks you, however, is that he never wants to seem to interact with you.
Officially, Hunter is the group leader; ever since Clone Force 99 accepted you into their squad, that much has been clear. You’re the only non-clone—or “natborn” as the others refer to you—living on the Marauder. It’s been several months since you saved Omega from bounty hunters on your home planet of Pantora, and now, you’re as much a part of the Bad Batch as anyone else.
Except, you’re not a batcher. Not really.
Despite how much you care for your squadmates, it’s easy to feel separated from them at times. Easy to feel different. Most of the others have picked up on this by now, and often go to great lengths to make you feel like one of them.
Not Echo, though. He seems—wary of you, almost, and you’re not sure why. Once, you brought it up to Tech, who simply waved you off with one of his shrewd, knowledge-filled comments. “You are new here, you know. Some people are simply slower to open up than others.”
You, however, know that’s not the case. You’ve seen Echo with his brothers, and with Omega. He can be kind, and funny, and even angry. But to you… to you, he’s nothing but quiet.
For some time, you tried your hardest to be yourself around him—to crack your usual sarcastic jokes at his expense, to be friendly, like you are with the others. But the constant avoidance and clipped answers leave you increasingly confused and hurt.
So you withdrew from him, too.
It still bothers you, sometimes. But you’ve learned to brush it off.
Now, you sit in the cockpit, feet resting against the control panel. A ration bar—one of the good ones—rests in your hand. Every so often, as you watch the blue glow of hyperspace streak past the viewport, you take a bite of the ration bar.
You’re on first watch. Someone has to stay in the cockpit to oversee the ship’s journey back to Ord Mantell—and, since you still can’t fall asleep in hyperspace, you keep volunteering for the job. The cockpit is mostly dark. All the lights are off, and the viewport is dimmed. Anything brighter reminds you of how sleep-deprived you are, and so you’re content to sit in the blue gloom.
Leaning your head against the headrest of the pilot’s chair, you close your eyes. Your entire body feels heavy with exhaustion, but every time you try to drift off, the rumbling of the ship’s hyperdrive jerks you awake.
The sound of footsteps startles you. You open your eyes, leaning around the back of the chair to inspect what little part of the ship’s corridor you can see. You can hear the sounds of someone moving around by the small common area, but you can’t tell who it is.
Tech’s probably experimenting again, you think wryly, and settle back into your comfortable position.
Soon, though, the footsteps grow closer. Someone enters the cockpit with a tired sigh, placing something on one of the chairs nearer to the door. It sort of sounds like Hunter, but with the similarity between everyone’s voices, you can’t be sure.
The footsteps halt suddenly. You look up to find honey-coloured eyes surveying you with apprehension. In the dim light, awash with blue, you register the glint of a cybernetic headpiece.
“Oh,” you say, blinking up at Echo, “hi.”
Echo only grunts.
You frown, looking down at your hands, at your half-eaten ration bar. “It’s late,” you say quietly. “You, um—you should get some rest.”
When Echo answers, you don’t look up. He says, voice low and gravelly with sleep, “I slept for a couple hours.”
Slowly, you nod, fiddling with the foil wrapper of the ration bar. The cockpit falls silent; you wait for Echo to leave, but he stays still, his shadow falling over your tired frame.
You want to ask why he’s still here. You want to be rude, to ask him to leave so you can have some peace and quiet. But truthfully, he isn’t saying anything, or causing any disturbances, so instead you hold up your unfinished ration bar. “You want a bite?”
Echo blinks. It seems to take him a moment to process your question. Then, to your faint surprise, he nods. “Thank you,” he says as you hand him the ration bar wordlessly.
It’s a peace offering, of sorts.
He sits in the co-pilot’s chair and takes a hesitant bite, chewing slowly. You see his expression brighten—probably at the realization that this is one of the good ration bars, the kind that Hunter always says not to hog—then return to his usual neutral one.
You watch as he swallows. He hands you back the bar, holding out his hand, but you don’t take it.
“Why… why are you here?” you ask quietly.
As soon as the words leave your mouth, Echo drops his arm and breaks eye contact, looking almost embarrassed. Or maybe even ashamed.
Still, you wait for his answer. Several long, painful seconds pass before he says anything. When he speaks, it’s like he’s forcing out the words.
“I wanted to—” he pauses. His flesh hand fiddles with his metal one. “I wanted to apologize.”
You feel your breath hitch. Staring, you try not to gape. “What?” you say, whispering without meaning to. “I don’t—”
“I’ve been horrible to you,” Echo continues, voice steadier. “I didn’t mean to be so… withdrawn. I didn’t realize I was doing it. I… I hope you can forgive me.”
Instead of acknowledging his apology, you bite the inside of your cheek with uncertainty, then cross your arms over your chest. One of the others must have put him up to this. Probably Omega, or perhaps Hunter. Raising an eyebrow, you ask, “Who sent you?”
“No one!” Echo replies hurriedly, then presses his lips into a thin line. “I mean, Hunter told me that you—he said that—” He sighs. “I didn’t realize it on my own. But I came because I wanted to.”
You blink, cursing yourself when you feel your eyes sting. With a start, you realize that this is the most Echo has said to you since you joined the squad.
Taking in a breath, you wring your hands anxiously. “I just… I just don’t understand why.” You shrug. “You’re not the same with me. Not like how you are with the others.”
Echo swallows. “It’s not—”
“I just want to know what I did wrong.”
At that, Echo falls silent. Guilt permeates the air, enough that you can feel it.
“Hey,” Echo says, kinder than you’ve ever heard him. “Look at me.”
You do. His eyes, like lava, or maybe liquid gold, bore into you. It almost hurts to look.
“This,” he continues, gesturing to the space between you, “is not your fault.”
Against your will, a lone tear slips down your cheek. “So whose fault is it?” you whisper, barely loud enough to be heard over the ship’s engine
It’s obvious from the look on Echo’s face that he’s thinking of something—or someone—specific. Despite how much you want to, you don’t push.
You just wait.
“It’s my brother,” Echo finally murmurs, and you raise your eyebrows, quickly cycling through the rest of your squad. Hunter, Wrecker, Tech… maybe Crosshair? You can’t think what any of them, even the one who’s no longer a member of your group, have to do with you.
“Your... brother,” you repeat dumbly.
“Yes.” Echo nods. “Fives.”
Oh. A fellow soldier, then. Probably from before the war ended… and probably long dead.
Drawing in a shaky breath, you hastily wipe your cheek with your sleeve. “What—what about him?”
“You…” Echo shakes his head, then lets out a humourless chuckle as he turns to look at the viewport, at the swirling blues and whites and greys of hyperspace. When he speaks again, his voice is barely above a whisper. “You remind me of him.”
You blink.
Truthfully, you have no idea what to say to that. Luckily, Echo continues, saving you from having to come up with an answer.
“Your sense of humour, I mean. The sarcasm, the jokes.” He shrugs, and the light from the viewport catches on his cybernetic headpiece, glinting in the otherwise dim cockpit. “And… and the way you know people.”
“‘Know people’?” you echo, confused. “I’m not following.”
“You understand people,” Echo says, and finally looks at you again, eyes impossibly sad. “Somehow, without ever having experienced what others have gone through, you understand their pain—and you feel it with them.” He closes his eyes for a brief moment, then opens them again. “Fives used to do that too.”
And suddenly, as though a switch inside you has been flipped, it all makes sense. “And that’s why you’ve been avoiding me,” you realize, and Echo winces. “Because I remind you of him.”
“See?” The barest hint of a smile graces his lips. “You’re doing it now. And you’re not even trying.”
“I guess I never thought about it like that.”
“I’m sorry for everything,” Echo says. “I am. It just…”
“Hurts,” you finish, and Echo blinks, surprised. You smile softly. “I know you too, you know.” Reaching out, you take his flesh hand, gently prying it open and taking the ration bar. As Echo watches, you split the remaining piece in half and hand one to him. “And for what it’s worth—I forgive you.”
The shadows colouring Echo’s face suddenly seem lighter. He smiles, then—really smiles.
You take a bite of the ration bar and smile back.
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TAGS | @sweetsunflowerkisses @sarasxe @buckethead-over-heels @frietiemeloen @leotatombs @revengeisaconfesionofpain @hoeneyhoeney @idoubleswearimawriter @burningfieldof-clover @captain-rexs-babygirl @living-that-best-life @readeity @itspauvr @my-own-oracle @xlovingheartsx @seriowan @leotatombs @blueberry-9-pancakes @lucyysthings @idoubleswearimawriter @burningfieldof-clover @captain-rexs-babygirl
#star wars#tbb echo#tbb echo x reader#tbb echo x you#arc trooper echo#bad batch echo#the bad batch#the bad batch x reader#star wars the clone wars#arc trooper echo x reader#arc trooper fives#sw tcw#sw tbb
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A little speculation about Corpse Disposal and J-horror
But I'm a little bored so sharing a part-theory, part-headcanon on Muu and Rei
So we unfortunately don't see much of Rei in "Its not my fault" but I want to point out three key times we do
The first time we see Rei in the MV, is her wet sleeve (we know its not Muu because Muu wears a pink jumper under her blazer)
Then, after a lot of bug stuff, we're finally back in the real world, where Muu has just killed her Post-After Pain. In INMF, we don't see the surroundings as well, just the dirt track and bushes. But in AP, we see this is right next to a rushing river (Muu's undercover card also features a bridge as a landmark)
The next time we see Rei after her corpse, is a flashback to the start where she turns the hourglass over.
Then it cuts just further back to before Rei stood up - as she pulls herself up off the floor
She's alive and absolutely soaked after a session of intense bullying (which we saw Muu insert herself into in AP)
However, I want to now switch a little to talk about cinematography and a concept called the Kuleshov effect
The video I linked is pretty concise but the gist is that if you put two shots next to each other, even if they were filmed separately, the brain interprets it as a continuous scene
(so if you film a character looking off screen, then a picture of an apple on a table, we're going to assume they're looking at the apple)
Therefore while we understand chronologically that the sequence of events is
Rei (wet and alive) -> Rei's murder on dry land ↺ Flashback to Rei still wet and alive
Which I think everyone understood as a commentary on how this power struggle was a constant cycle of the hourglass being turned over
I think visually, it also implies a sequence like
Rei was bullied -> Muu kills her -> Sopping wet, Rei crawls back to the classroom
But wait!
That sequence suggests a missing step
How did Rei get wet again?
Well, we know Muu killed her next to a river
And if you were a scrawny teenage murderer with a body on your hands,
would you leave it there where someone could see it while you grab a shovel and stand in broad daylight digging a hole in tough ground???
Or try lighting a fire in public???
Of course not!
It'd be much easier for Muu to, in a panic, just roll her body into the convenient river and let all the evidence wash away!
(Of course, if Muu was panicking, she might not have been very careful.
Given she ended up in MILGRAM, there must've been something tying Muu to Rei's death and in T2 Muu seems to have finally remembered losing her left shoe...)
Fun fact: this is the same shoe Cinderella loses in the animated Disney film (and the best known version of that story came into English from France)
Shoe break over, back to the Endless Queen's Game
So, if we assume Rei's corpse was thrown in the river, what does it matter? Its just a pointless headcanon
But I speculate the meaning goes deeper!
So that image of Rei, soaking wet, crawling off the floor reminded me of something:
J-horror ghost girls!
Specifically the most famous of ghost girls Samara/Sadako
Who became a vengeful spirit after being thrown in a well and now crawls out of TVs to kill people who watched her VHS tape
Her story too is a cyclical one (its called 'Ring' for a reason), the only way to break the curse is to copy the tape and have someone else watch it, who will then become the victim unless they can themselves copy the tape and show it to another unsuspecting patsy
The story goes back further because this movie is based on a novel, which is based on the legend of 番町皿屋敷 Banchou Sara Yashiki.
There are many versions but generally a maid girl Okiku is proposed to, and when she rejects the proposal, her master breaks one of ten plates and promises to forgive her if she marries him.
When she declines again, he beats her to near death then throws her into a well
(sometimes it's a jealous mistress instead of a master)
Interestingly, Atrophaneura alcinous (swallowtail butterfly) larvae found in Japanese wells became known as Okikumushi お菊虫 (Okiku bugs), tying back to the whole insect thing...
It's been said a bunch now, but the name 'Rei' can be read as 霊 meaning ghost (seen in words like Yuurei 幽霊, a more common word for ghost than Rei on its own)
We know Muu is afraid of ghosts too (though I must admit she says Obake, not yuurei, but both words refer to ghosts)
Remembers the i/井 in Sakurai/櫻井 can be read as 'well'
I'm sure that has nothing to do with anything
Uh, I can't think of a conclusion because its 1 am and I had to look up a bunch of spooky images
TL;DR:
I think Muu may have quickly shoved Rei's body into the river next to where the murder happened (maybe forgot her shoe at the scene of the crime) and now she's scared by the cycle continuing and Rei coming back to haunt her
#muu kusunoki#rei milgram#haruka sakurai#milgram#ミルグラム#milgram theory#I can't fit it in the post but isnt it funny how Rei and Muu's lives revolve around cycles#then Rei dies of blood loss after a sharp pain in her abdomen
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Hope
Hi! So this is the first time that I've wrote somthing this length in a while so this will be a bit rusty.
This is slightly self indulgent as someone who has chronic pain, I just thought I'd write someone up with a reader who has it in mind.
Anyway reader is someone who experiences chronic pain, it's a small insight into the mind of someone who lives with it. I tried to make the reader as gender neutral as possoble, but other than that I hope you enjoy. Please feel free to give feedback of any kind, I just ask that you are kind <3.
Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton X Reader
Possible triggers: Dissusion of mental health problems, mentions of chronic pain and how it can affect someone's life, Mention of feeling sick / vomiting.
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The drawing room is not exactly the best place for you to be right now, you had initially thought that a spot of reading would be a sufficient distraction from the blinding pain shooting through your temple. unfortunately, the book you are reading, or trying to at least is not providing any useful distraction, with the words on the page becoming more blurred the more you try to preserver.
Huffing you close the book, trying to focus on something else to distract you from the burden you carry. The pain.
You were never a sickly child, quite the opposite, you were always able to bounce back from any aliment that affected you, that was until sometime during your early adulthood. You cannot fully remember when it happened, just that one day it started, a sharp pain like a needle had been pushed through just under your kneecap and the stubborn thing would not go away.
At first, you had thought you had just over-exerted yourself during the social season with dancing, however, when that had ended, and you found yourself with more time to rest and recover you found that this pain remained. And it had gotten worse, it slowly moved upwards towards your other joints, sending sparks between all the different offending joints.
A knock at the door breaks your train of painful thought, you slowly move towards the door, confused as you had confessed to your maid that if anyone needed or wanted you for anything to very gently turn them in another direction to not exacerbate your pain anymore with meaningless conversations.
The door slowly creeks open, your maid’s face apologetically peeking around the frame.
“Apologies, I understand you did not want to be bothered; however, you have a visitor. One who is very adamant to see you, even after I explained that you had fallen ill today…” she relays, she seems almost skittish, unlike her usual self. This visitor has put up more of a battle than others, who would see you?
Sighing you looked towards her, trying not to cringe at a sudden stinging in your temples, you can’t very well be mad at her, after all, she can’t ultimately swat away everyone that wants to see you, though you had hoped that you would’ve had more time to try and calm down this headache before seeing anyone, alas, fortune is not in your favour today.
“Please do not apologise, Ester, you tried your best,” you say sympathetically. “I do not think I would be so lucky to hide myself away for the whole day without interruptions, please do send whoever is most eager to see me in, if you would not mind.” With the housekeeper slipping back out the door you try to calm yourself, ‘breath, just breath’ you think, trying to calm yourself down, trying to calm the headache, as well as your body.
You are not given enough time, as you hear the door opening again, this time more swiftly than before, footsteps moving quickly and a huffing breath. You then realise a slight error in your wording to your maid early, while you had instructed her to tell people that you had fallen ill, you mostly assumed that she would only need to tell people already aware of your ailment, and with that understanding they would know that you were somewhat alright and not gravely ill and not someone else. Someone who is not aware of your condition, someone who is now staring at you with anxious eyes trying to determine what it is that is wrong with you.
With your body still positioned towards the door you fully take in your visitor, Mr Benedict Bridgerton. You watch as he steps into the room, the door slowly closing over, trapped.
“I was told you were ill” he starts, stepping closer towards the chair you reside in, eyes still darting over you trying to determine the cause of your ‘illness.’
“I give my apologies for being so ardent in wanting to see you, I had initially come here under different pretences, however, the way your maid described your illness I was stricken with worry.” He speaks too quickly, staring at you with a slightly overwhelming concern.
“What ails you so?” he finishes almost crouching in front of you. The pause in the room is too stifling, this question that you hoped you would never have to answer while alone. In the past, you were always quite fortunate when the question had come up, with your father or mother there to quickly move the conversation along. Never bringing the truth to light.
“A misstep walking down some stairs! The floors had just been washed and they were simply too enthralled within their novel to notice” was one such story that had to be shelved after multiple uses.
“Oh, you know they were just so concentrated with their needlework that they strained their hands; nothing to concern yourself about” another one, a slightly more believable story, and one that could be told repeatedly. However this time you were alone, there was no one to save you, no one to swiftly tell a half-truth. No, you were on your own, and with a mind-numbing headache in addition.
“Ah, yes, erm please do excuse Ester, she does tend to exaggerate a little bit with her storytelling, I have but a simple headache.” You are not exactly lying, you do have a headache, you are simply omitting that the ache is also everywhere else within you.
“Oh, thank goodness!” Benedict replies, visibly relaxing, almost bending in half with the sigh he lets out.
“I thought you to be gravely ill with how your maid detailed your condition” he continues, “That you could hardly move, and you were racked with pain” he recounts, what you can only assume to be Esther's attempt at persuasion. And while true, you had hoped she would have chosen something along the lines of having a simple cold.
“Yes, well, as you can see, I am in perfect health, you have nothing to worry about Mr Bridgerton, though your concern is duly appreciated. I do hope your time has not been wasted by travelling over here,” you respond, very much hoping that you can put this conversation to bed. You can feel the pain in your temples starting to come down towards your neck, you need to move, having been sitting in one position for too long but with Mr Bridgeton here you could not just up and move. You also had forgotten your cane this morning in your room, not thinking you would need it very much today, and you did not particularly want to be witnessed limping up and out of the room in front of a man who had no idea of your condition.
Your only plausible solution was to grin and bear it, or rather, politely smile and nod along to whatever this man was about to ask you.
“Nonsense!” he exclaims loudly in a jovial manner, making the pain shoot through you once more.
“My time is never wasted when it comes to you” he speaks softly, as if he realised that by shouting, he would be causing you pain.
“If you are in good health I was wondering if I might ask something of you?” Ah the question you have been waiting for, it could not have come quicker.
“Yes, you may” Your response could be seen as quite rushed if you were in a normal situation, however with the pressure in your temples building and the pain slowly becoming more intense, you found yourself not caring how your actions could be perceived as by others of the ton.
There is a moment of silence where neither of you say anything, staring at him expectingly, you choose to prompt him by nodding your head towards him, hoping he catches onto your hint.
“Oh Right!” he starts with a jump. “Well I came here today with a confession of sorts, I have witnessed you, wait! Ah!” he suddenly stops almost aware of how slightly strange he must sound.
“Oh goodness, well- I, god” You take some pity on him as he seems to stumble over his words, ablet not enough pity to warrant sitting patiently in an increasingly uncomfortable chair.
“Mr Bridgton, I do not mean to rush you but would you please simply ask this question” huffing slightly.
“I know this is not how I am supposed to go about this, but I cannot ignore my feelings for you any longer! Please would you do the honour of letting me court you?”
There is a pause after his confession, stunned, shocked you are not sure how to respond. You almost think it is some cruel jest that he has been set up to follow through, but as you look at him, his expression and how he holds himself you realise that he is being as truthful. You feel as if someone has thrown a bucket of cold water over you, what does this mean? This cannot be real. This man of high stature wants to court you. While not lowly in rank, you certainly are not what you would expect a Bridgerton to go for and certainly not someone as seemingly broken as yourself.
Sitting there for a few more moments you realise that he is still waiting for your response.
“I, I cannot” you start “I am very sorry, but I cannot accept this offer.” You state, dropping your focus to the floor.
“I. what?” Benedict almost laughs, stunned.
“Why can you not? Are you intended to another?”
“No, I am very much not.”
“Are you interested in someone else?” You scoff at the question.
“No, not that it matters either way” The pain starting to build up even more now that you are having to argue your case.
“I have refused your offer, Mr Bridgton, I do fear that Ester had some truth in her words and I feel a headache coming on. I think it best that you leave for the day” You aren’t lying per se, you have had a headache for the best part of the day.
“But why not? I do apologise, but I am simply confused. You are not intended to another, and you are not interested in anyone else, so why refuse my offer.” He states.
“At least agree to court me, and then you can make your decision afterwards, at least let me have a chance to show you how I care for you.”
You are starting to get frustrated, and the pain in your head has started to become unbearable, like someone smashing pots and pans together, you feel a ringing in your ears, and you almost want to throw up.
“I am not well!” you explode, your breathing is ragged as your chest moves quickly. The pain in your temples is more present than ever, cringing you move to push your forefinger and thumb to either side of your nose bridge and start to pinch, hoping that brute force would almost will the pain to subside.
‘Pathetic’ you think to yourself, ‘I can’t even argue correctly, must everything I do be muddled with pain?’ You try and calm your breathing, focusing on the feeling of your fingers on your face, the clothes you are wearing, your breathing, anything to try and calm the pain down before it loses control.
There is a strange tension between the both of you, a quiet blanket that has been placed over the room as you do not know what to say.
“I am not well sir… I have not been for quite some time” you start again, still pressing your finger and thumb into the sockets below your eyebrows.
“Ester was right. I am riddled with pain, every day. I cannot dress without the pain, eat without it, speak, walk, laugh; live without it, I am tormented by it…” You begin to feel a sharp pain behind your eyes as tears start to fall onto your cheeks. Realising that by unravelling this thread that you would not be able to stop, you cannot tangle it back up again and simply throw it into your sewing box never to be spoken about again.
“I cannot be who you want me to be, I cannot offer you anything. It hurts to live, and I cannot burden you with that, you would be throwing away your freedom if I were to agree to your request. Do you want that? To be saddled with an intended that cannot do the simplest of tasks without the burden of pain?” You seem to burst out into a frenzy of words.
Without giving him a chance to argue back you move to stand, using a hand to brace yourself on the side of the chair you are occupying, you push down to give your body the momentum to move, your elbow shaking as it strains under the surplus of weight it is not normally used to. You curse yourself for not bringing your cane with you.
You pause while trying to catch your breath, frustrated that you simply cannot run out of the room and hide after such a shocking outburst, left to just stand there trying to muster up the strength and energy to try and move towards the door. With your head tilted down you were fortunate enough that you could not see his face, which was one of pain and shock.
Starting again you move towards the door, gripping the backs of chairs and the edges of side tables, with your back turned you don’t see Benedict moving as well, like a kicked puppy wanting to be comforted he follows behind you, he does keep his distance, not wanting to upset you further than you already are.
As you place your hand on the door, dropping it down so you are grabbing the handle, you feel a presence behind you. From the corner of your vision, you see a hand place itself on the door. You slowly turn around to face him, you thank some part of him that he is not crowding you up against the door, that he has given you some space.
“Please let me go, let me go. You can be free, you can move on, let me be.” you pleaded, looking up at him, your eyes flitting over his face looking for a sign, any sign that would indicate that he headed your prayer. You slowly focus on his eyes, looking within them, your breath hitches as all you see is a kindness so gut-wrenching it makes you feel physically sick.
There is no malice, no pity, or any inclination that he will follow your word. All you see within his gaze is kindness, one of love and hope. You start to feel overwhelmed, having such a kind affectionate gaze homed in on you. You think back to all the times you caught his gaze; at balls, gatherings, when he would come to speak to you, when he came to visit today to ask to court you. You think about how there was no pity within his stare, no sympathy, no looks of “such a shame, one so young yet so ill,” none of that.
You start to think about how you have brushed him off, how you have ignored him, at times even running away from him, too wrapped up in your melancholy to even look, actually look at how he was gazing at you, too scared to even admit that someone might even look at you within out an ounce of pity.
You start to think about how you could allow this, the love and admiration of another person, how this could happen. Could this happen? Could you willingly put your anxieties aside and let someone in, could they be your rock, could they hold you when the pain becomes overwhelming, suffocating you, pulling you down into despair?
Could you let him? As this question appears within your mind you feel a spark, like flint and rock smashing together, start within you. It is almost unnerving, unnatural. You have not felt this for an extraordinarily long time, almost losing belief that you could ever feel it again.
Hope. Hope that you could be loved and cherished, that you could have someone there for your bad days, as well as your good days where you could go for a walk or a carriage ride, where you could go to socials and visit family.
This line of thought left you almost breathless, as you still stood within the drawing room of your home. Slightly pressed up against the door, with one of your hands behind your back on the handle as you were trying to escape…again.
As this chaos was happening within your head, Benedict slowly brought his hand to your cheek, hesitating as if unsure if his action would cause you more pain than comfort.
Pushing the feeling of guilt down, you take a leap of faith by slowly moving your head towards him, tilting it so your cheek rests within his palm. You flinch slightly, Benedict moving his band away from you, nervous that he might have caused you more anguish. Quickly you stop him, bringing your other hand to cage his, gently placing his hand back onto your face, cupping your cheek and jaw slightly through his hand.
“It…it did not hurt that much, I was just surprised is all” you whispered “It has been a very long time since anyone has held my face this way” You can feel your reserve beginning to crack, you pushed forward, that small spark of hope within you starting to burn brighter.
“It is quite lovely actually, I don’t have to use as much energy to hold my head up when it is being held for me” you ramble, trying to ease the tension and hopefully his nerves.
“I see” he replies slowly, looking over you to make sure that his actions are not upsetting you in any way. Slowing analysing your features, sketching your appearance in his mind, unsure if he might get an opportunity to be this close to you again.
Bringing his focus to your eyes he is startled at what he finds, hope. A small whisp of it, and while surrounded by what he can assume is anxieties and doubt, he is so certain that it is there.
“If you would let me” he continues “it would be an honour to hold your head for you if only for a moment, to provide but a small reprieve.” Realising that you are not stopping him from speaking, he continues.
“You are so extraordinarily strong, a remarkable person. Willing to take on so much and push through it all, despite the load you carry” he feels your head rest slightly more in his hand, seeing your eyes fluttering before you shut them for a moment. He is worried slightly that he might have messed up, saying something that pushed you down into the darkness rather than bringing you up into the light. However, as you open your eyes again, slowly raising your focus from his chest to his face, then to meet his gaze once more, he disregards his previous concern. He can see that spark burning ever so slightly brighter.
You gently pressed his hand between your own and your face, turning the latter into his palm so that your lips were ever so gently touching below his thumb. If he would be so bold he could move the digit with a feather-like touch across your cheek and wipe away any tear marks from earlier.
“But you do not have to carry this load alone, I am not sacrificing my freedom wanting to be with you” parroting one of your earlier statements with earnestness.
“I am not sacrificing anything, I come forward willingly, I come to you after hearing about you and your life. I come to you as a willing partner if you would have me. Allow me to carry some of your load, let me hold your head and hands for you. Allow me the honour of holding you during your dark moments as well as your light.”
“I want to be there for you, with you, I am not here out of pity, I am here out of admiration and love. I fear that if I loved you any less, I would be able to talk about it more, my heart is but a reflection of you.” He felt like he was rambling, struggling to find the words to convey his true feelings, how he was frazzled by you, in a way he had not been before.
There was a pause and he started to doubt himself, his words, and his abilities before he saw a subtle movement from the outskirts of his vision.
As you looked into his eyes you could feel your grip on the door handle slipping, becoming less tense, less firm. Overcome with emotions from Benedict’s confession your hand goes limp, falling from the handle completely.
As you stare into his eye you slowly bring now limp hand up towards his face, almost parallel to his still cupping onto your own. You move slowly, akin to a dazed animal who is wary of any sudden movements; as you reach, you settle your arm on his chest resting so that your palm now cups his jawbone.
Benedict sees the movement, your hand dropping and moving up, towards him, he feels like he might faint, being able to touch you is one thing, but you, touching him is something he did not consider. He shuts his eyes, almost squeezing them closed not wanting to frighten you with how shocked he must look.
When you finally rest your hand against his chest, he felt like his heart must have stopped beating, he froze, willing himself to take a breath, to steel himself before opening his eyes.
For when he did, he was in awe, the spark that was once so dim, nearly stamped out was burning and it was burning bright.
“Do you mean it?” you ask, voice shaking slightly.
“With my whole heart, with the air in my lungs and the blood in my veins. I will be by your side till you are through with me, till I drive you mad, till we are grey and even then, I will still hold your head for you so you can rest for a while.” Benedict tries to convey every ounce of his emotions that he feels so you can be sure that you are fully aware of what he is experiencing.
“I think I would like that” your reply is rushed. Not wanting to waste a moment, not letting it run away or hide. You finally made your choice, you would let hope win, you would lose the battle but win the war and your victory prize did not seem all that bad.
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Hi, I have been following you for some time and just read you also have cats. Can we see them or can you tell us about them? I love seeing people's cats but can't have any since I'm allergic.
oh gosh, this is like the ultimate-nicest-ask any person could ever recieve and i still made you wait for the reply, im so so sorry!! classic case of unlucky timing happend - your ask came on the next day after one of our cats had to be put down through euthanasia. im only now feeling like talking about her, hope you'll understand <3
also warning: someone here is obsessed with their cats so prepare yourself for a lot of pictures!!!
so this is her, our obachan that was somewhere around 16-17 yo at the moment of her death (no one knows how old she was for sure, and we called her a necromant bc doctors predicted her death like 10 times and she lived and lived and lived. our friend said that everytime death came for her she just stared at it with her unblinking eyes, forcing it to leave lskdjflkdsjf)
near the end of her life she had no teeth, progressing cancer, brain tumor that caused epilepsia but she still was the god's smallest gremlin, (and the most adorable too) creating havoc everywhere she went
the other cat that we adopted is this little goofball
she literally found us on the street near our home back in ulan ude and just followed us there asking food. she was our neighboors cat, but they left her behind after moving, saying some bullshit like they coudnt catch her (while she was activelly asking to be held when she came to us. she was pregnant too, and very, very anxious)
she is the most shy cat i ever met; text book wall-flower, but now after almost 5 years together she is much more brave!! tho she still scared of blankets and towels for the reasons that makes want to return back to uu and violently kill her previous family
also can anyone tell me what is this
and heres our first cat and the only one we havent adopted from the street but from a different family!! she is the youngest and the cheekiest little seagle that loves to terrorize everyone and since she is very very cute - she gets away with it every time
she also is notoriously hard to catch in a photo, and when we finally able to - she is just chilling in the most bizzare places like in the freezer
on the toilet cistern
on the computer box
on the bysicle seat
inside the drawer inside the box
on the bench
inside the cat bag
i found one (1) picture of her in the bed and it looks like this
like almost anyone who has cat family member - i could talk about their little habbits for hours but i think what i already said is too much so im putting myself on the leash here lkjsdflkjasjd thank you so much for listen to my rumblings!!! i cant deny it feels kinda healing to talk about all of them now and that happened thanks to you @dabenport so sending you a lot of hugs!! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡ also i have allergy on cats psldkf;sdkf;lkd;lf so i hope that maybe one day you'll be able to find less allergic cat friends to share your life with!!! im sneezing a lot but its worth it
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I mean this the nicest way possible but have you considered the fact that you just .. hate RPF? Wich is fine, like you said it's a gray area. It's not everyone's cup of tea, actually! It's not even mine because I actually came across those trailers you said! And I instantly went "ew wtf" and I clicked not interested, and then I another showed up, and clicked not interested, and then the algorithm went ok got it, and it's been a while thankfully, that hasn't showed up. So, what I mean is, there is content in the internet that is weird, that's for sure, but there's like... Ways to avoid it? And the way that this has been a persistent subject in your blog in such a deep way makes me think that you suffer it more than anyone, wich is fine but just, don't look at it anymore? I don't know what to say honestly because, again no to be rude but youre making the MOST out of it. And it's like you're treating fandom culture like this deep dark secret when its as public as it can be and I promise you the most a person can do is feel weirded out and mute that content, and hope it doesn't show up.! But for example, I hate povs content, and that has to be the most persistent content I've seen so far on F1, full of "you're the wife/girl/sister" blah blah and I'm a lesbian, I've clicked not interested so many times I lost count and IT KEPT showing up (until i figured muting y/n, driver x reader helps) so if it keeps you more calm there are ways to avoid content you dont like!
I get where you’re going with this but also, nah. I’ve always loved RPF and will keep consuming it whenever I can. I just make a big stink out of seeing it outside of tumblr and ao3 because of algorithms and the way I was taught to interact with RPF about fifteen years ago in which….these things have to stay within their intended circles at all costs. This is back when fandom content was not cool and mainstream and unless you kept your fandom life and your actual life very separate you get bullied to hell for it. Now, I often feel like the pendulum has swung a little too far the other way and there’s such a massive influx of new people because fandom culture is trendy that fandom etiquette is starting to collapse. The treatment of RPF being one of them.
RPF differs from POV content in two ways. The first is that POV content is a little more accepted than RPF in the general consciousness, usually because it’s het but also because it’s very obvious this is a self insert fantasy which while I imagine is awkward for drivers to see, can be easily laughed off as being so obviously just a fantasy. RPF on the other hand builds off of pre-existing relationships and lore and is usually slash, which already introduces an awkward element (and you can say the men shouldn’t have toxic masculinity all you like, it’s not just them that’s the issue it’s everyone who perceives them and the content), also it’s more difficult because people DO talk about these pairings platonically. In order to not experience Lestappen on my tiktok FYP, I can’t interact with any video that mentions those two in the same breath ever because the algorithm will eventually push me ship content even if I don’t want to see it and I click not interested. This happens over and over again.
I love RPF which am just on super high alert about RPF safe spaces being breached because I know from lived experience that it doesn’t bode well. This is also just personally not the way I was taught to interact with fandom, and again I’ve seen enough shit in my time to understand why that etiquette had to be enforced.
#anon#asks#keep RPF on tumblr discourse#there’s generally a breakdown of fandom etiquette and RPF popping up everywhere is a symptom of that I could talk for hours but
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the melting point {chapter 19}
Pairing: Frankie Morales x Baker! Reader (ex EMT! Reader)
Summary: Time passes and heals a lot of things, while others are discussed as the wedding gets closer. Frankie sees the stress weighing down on you amid it all and plans something special…
Word Count: 4.1k
Warnings: hurt and comfort, fluff, light angst, reader has trauma similar to the triple frontier guys, reader is described as having tattoos for plot points, reader is partially handicapped, reader has mobility issues, adult content, adult content, smut, p in v smut, oral (m recieving), the whole gang is here, plus oc inserts, serious conversations, alcohol consumption, alcohol, mentions of past trauma, ptsd, nightmares. that seems to be it, but let me know if i've missed anything!
A/N: as we see this penultimate chapter, i just wanted to take a moment and thank everyone who read, liked, commented, and shared this fic that holds a special place in my heart ♡♡
ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi
“We’re going on a trip. Cleared it with your doctors and ensured them we would keep up with your stretches and daily mobility exercises. Does…does that sound okay?” Frankie is making dinner, busy at the stove as he stirs the contents of one pot and keeps an eye on the other. Simple, today, after you had gone to work a shift at the bakery, and he had been in the air since before the sun rose. Lex was in the living room doing her homework, the tv on but muted to allow her to work easier.
You were at the table, having set it up for the meal and now on your laptop answering emails. You look at him over the top of the screen, about to question him when Lex trots in and all but shoves herself into your lap and puts a piece of paper down across your keyboard.
“Mama Pastel, I don’t understand this.”
“Is this your way of asking for help?”
“Alexia, manners, please. Did you ask Pastel if you could sit in her lap, her legs are still very tender sometimes.”
“Yes, papa.” She barely resists the urge to roll the very same eyes peering over at her. She turns to you with a smile so sweet your heart melts. You wrap an arm around her, holding her in place as you shift your legs to hold her weight more evenly. “Mama Pastel, can you please help me with this, it’s fractions. Also, your legs can hold me, right? I…I feel like I need to be close to someone right now.”
“Of course, mija, my legs are always strong enough to hold you. Fractions are no fun, huh?” You smile over at her father, something he catches before he turns back to finish dinner as you lean down to rest your chin over her little shoulder. The soft murmuring of you helping her with the page fills the room, and it’s enough to make you yearn for everyday to be this easy.
But just last week, Frankie had had a rather alarming nightmare, his mind replaying the events of his hearing. He had woken up in a sweat, frantically wiping at his face to rid himself of the white powder he had been indulging in right in front of the judge. You hadn’t been in bed, which further spiked his overwhelming panic. Searching through the whole house to find you sat behind the wheel of your truck, hands tight on the steering wheel as you bowed you head and sobbed. You had a nightmare of your own, dreaming of driving and loosing the feeling in your legs and crashing. You hadn’t said anything other than that, but Frankie read between the lines. You were afraid of hurting them, of causing them injury with the potential for your limbs to suddenly be numb to your control.
“What are we having for desert?” Lex asks as Frankie announces dinner is ready, turning off the stove tops.
“Little Pastel, that’s what you’re turning into.” Frankie pins her with a raised eyebrow, his eyes meeting yours behind her as he settles the pots in the middle of the table on trivets.
His lips are twitching as he tries to tame a fond smile in order to chastely parent. Though you can see right through him, worry and love for his daughter outshining the reminder to be kind and respectful because he knows it’s a reminder that she’s comfortable around you enough to push into your space and seek you out in the ways that she has been. It’s been a little better since she returned to school, feeling more like herself and doing better in crowds. She had even asked to go on the winter fieldtrip, a weeklong thing at a conservation center down South toward the coastline. You had both agreed it would be good for her, even more so since she seemed so excited. But needed her therapist to sign off in the idea before a decision was made.
“Better than little Catfish!” She fired back loudly with giggles that only increased in volume as you tickled her sides and asked her what was so wrong with being like her daddy.
“He’s so good to us, we should both wanna be more like him, I think.” She squeals as she fidgets in your hold, trying not to lose her balance still in your lap. But you don’t let her fall, you wouldn’t dare. You look up at him and offer him a bright smile he can’t help but reflect back before he says to dig in before the food gets cold.
“Thank you,” You wound your arms around his neck, pulling yourself closer to him as his hands helped to guide you into a comfortable position against him. Nestled in between his outstretched legs, you pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. You moved to do so to the other side, but he dipped down and captured your lips fully with his own. You had been doting over wedding plans when he had found you in bed, papers and brochures and an open laptop scattered all around you.
“No need to thank me, sweet girl. Want you to be comfortable. You okay with this, not too much pressure on your hips?” His hands were light on you, helping to support you as you stood on your knees over him. But you didn’t answer him with words, instead you planted yourself right over his lap, grinding down on him. The deep groan he graced you with was swallowed by your willing mouth, tongue lapping at his lips to catch the lingering taste of something sweet he had eaten.
“Q-querida, we- you sure this is okay?” Despite his cock stirring in his boxer briefs, his worry for you softened your heart further and you felt adoration for the man beneath you fill your chest with a jittery feeling. You had been lingering, staying up late to greet him after his double, triple flight tour day. It had been marked on the communal whiteboard in the kitchen for weeks now, a reminder that he was still the only one working.
“Frankie, I need you. It’s been so long.” You’re suddenly desperate, having been alone all day. Caring for and totting Lex to and from school, making dinner with her, getting her bathed and settled into bed with a fluffy blanket fresh from the dryer and a bedtime story. You longed for the days to feel just like that, the shadow of Frankie all around the house, in her smile, her laugh, her sparkling brown eyes. Her love for you as strong as the love you had for him and for her in return. The ease of domesticity stirring something in you, making you feel like your skin was too tight and Frankie was the only one who could help abate it.
“I-I want to…”
“Just, let me sit on it. Please, carino, I need to feel you inside me.” You can’t help the whine of your voice, the scent of him fresh from the shower and dressed only in his underwear laid across the bed too much of a temptation.
“Fuck, you can have anything you want, just want you to be comfortable.”
“I will be, once your cock is nestled as deep as it can go, filling me up, stretching me. God, Fransisco, your cock is so beautiful, so thick and hard, and perfect. You’re perfect to me, for me. I love you, mi amor. I love you so much.” You panted against his lips, kisses smothering the words into his skin, his lips, his scruff, the column of his neck. Hands trailing down and releasing him from the fabric.
“Dios mio, mija, you’ve got a mouth on you, don’t you?”
“Let me show you what kinda mouth I’ve got.” You push down further to rest over his shins, hips hinged as you lean down and press an open-mouthed kiss to the head of his weeping head. His hips stutter up, chasing the feeling of your warm breath as you pull back to relieve yourself of his large shirt you had stolen before settling in bed to wait for him.
It’s slow, despite your desperation for the man you loved, the way you take him fully into your mouth and lave at the velvet hardness of his cock with your tongue. Taking him as deep as you could before bobbing your head at a savoring pace. His thick fingers tangle into your hair, gathering it into a mockery of a ponytail to better see your face.
Hallowing your cheeks, you look up at him through your lashes and groan around him at the wreckage you’ve caused. His mouth is hanging open, plush lips wetted by his tongue and puffy from your barrage of kisses. Beautiful eyes blown wide as he takes in the image you create between his legs, blush high on his cheeks as he feels the slight scrape of your teeth along his length. He’s still so warm from his shower, smelling of his woodsy and homey soap. But he chokes on his next breath as you dive down, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat and you close your eyes to revel in the feeling of him thick and hard in your mouth.
“Get up here,” He moans out, hands letting your hair fall from its loose hold. You readily pull your mouth from him, making sure to lick a firm strike up from his heavy balls to the sensitive tip before moving up to straddle his waist. He shimmies from his underwear completely, shucking them to crumple at the end of the bed along with all the paperwork you had hastily piled together.
His cock nudges against your inner thighs and you take him in a gentle hand to line him up properly while he latches a mouth around your breasts, free from the flimsy camisole you had on just seconds ago. He bites down on the hardened peak as you sink down, slick arousal making it easy for him to stretch you. A wonton moan at the feel of him after so long catches as he grazes that soft, spongy spot at the perfect angle and your hips rock forward suddenly. His hands wrap around your ribs, grounding you, keeping you upright even as you arch at finally sitting flush, hips to hips after what had been nearly six months of being cautious and careful. Nearly six months of waiting and pleasuring each other in other ways.
“I’ve got ya, sweet girl. Just take your time, we’ve got all the time in the world for you to feel good.” He rumbles, voice gravel as he presses kisses all along your neck and chest, nipping at the soft weight of your chest, your lips, your cheeks. Everywhere he could to sooth you while you adjusted to feeling so full once again. “Gonna make you feel good for the rest of our lives, yeah?”
“Y-yeah.” You stutter out, lifting up slightly before sliding back down his length with an obscenely wet sound. His lips capture yours and you hook your arms around his neck, beginning to move against him to spark pleasure across both your bodies.
It was winter, the new year just having passed, Alexia sent off on her fieldtrip, leaving you and Frankie to each other for the entire week.
Open road is stretched in front of you, the tires below you moving quickly and devouring it as quickly as Frankie would allow. You were busy in the passenger seat, one of his hands on firmly on the wheel while the other moved the piece of paper in your hand to get a better glimpse at it over his dark aviators.
“I think we should keep it small, even if the city has rallied to help us.”
“Yeah, I don’t want a huge thing, its already going to be in the paper. An article in the magazine.”
“We can ask them to not do that, if you really want.” He smoothly drifts into the fast lane to pass a slower work truck laden down with a trailer full of yard work machinery, shifting back into the slow lane as soon as he’s passed them and had enough room to safely do so before he glances at you out of the corner of his eye. The flowers, the venue, the caterers, the photographer, everyone one of the local businesses had offered to either donate their services or severely discount you for the event. Wanting to make sure you both had everything you needed or wanted for the momentous day.
It had honestly shocked you, when you discovered just how much the people around the city appreciated your efforts during that fateful last day of the farmer’s market. Offering your shop to those seeking shelter in the chaos, the people you had stopped to help if they were bleeding or limping from the rushing crowds as you searched for your own people amidst it all.
“No, I think…I think it’s nice to have some good publicity for the bakery.”
“Did…did you pick out a date you wanted?” You paused, looking out the window as you felt your heartrate pick up and your nerves spark to life. It was beyond sappy, you realized, but the particular date you had in mind seemed to work out perfectly with all the vendors, with family needing to fly in or travel, with a break for there to be coverage at the bakery and Lex’s school out for the summer…
“I wanted to pick one that meant something to both of us so…I was wondering if the date we first met was okay with you?”
“Sweet girl, that’s…that’s perfect. I was thinking it but didn’t want to influence the decision if you already had your heart set on something.” His hand curled tighter over your thigh, dull fingernails making light marks in your skin.
He helps you out of the truck at the next gas stop. His hands strong around your waist as he makes sure you have both feet on the ground and your cane in hand before he dips to kiss you cheek and lets you loose to make your way into the building. The giggle bursting from your lips and the slight float to the skirt of your dress has him feeling warmth bloom in his chest as he makes sure you have no trouble along the small distance. Someone is exiting just as you approach the door and they do a double take at the sight of your tattoos on display and the flattering form of the dress over your skin, holding the door open for you and saying something you seem to reciprocate.
Frankie busies himself with hooking the gas pump into the tank’s opening and looks up to watch you amble through the store through the wide windows, the guy who held the door open doing on the other side of the pump. You’re slow in your movements around the few aisles, taking in all of the sweet and savory options. But you make sure to grab a dr. pepper and a cherry coke. Mini powdered donuts make their way into your hand holding the drinks to your chest before you approach the checkout.
“She’s a looker, man, good on you.” Comes from the other side of the pump before a vehicle takes off.
“Frankie! I got snackies!” You hold up a plastic bag the second you’re back out the door, shaking it slightly before grimacing and halting the movement, realizing it would make the drinks fizz up. “Oops, my bad.”
“Sweet girl, what did you get us to munch on? We’re only about half an hour out at this point.”
“And where is it we’re going again?”
“Nice try, querida, but it’s a secret. I think you’ll really like it.” He pressed the tip of his index finger to your nose as you enter his orbit. Hand moving to take the cane from you and place it in the truck exactly where you preferred it. It was a beautiful thing, sleek carved wood stained a dark, espresso brown. The hand coated in silver cast to look like blooming flowers to ensure your grip is secure and travel down a few inches. The tip of it capped with rigged silver as well to help with steadying your uneven right side.
He takes the bag from you next, setting it down in the middle of the bench seat, the center console pushed up to create more room for you to cross your legs while you went over stuff. It wasn’t the best position for you to be sitting in for long hours, but you argued it was one of the few ways that brought relief sometimes so he let you do what you thought was best. He had put his foot down and gotten stern with you though, saying that if he noticed it was doing more harm than good that he was going to ask you to try and sit another way.
Truth be told, Frankie would carry you for the rest of your live if you would allow him to. Should you need to be off your feet altogether. A custom wheelchair having been ordered to replace the generic one the insurance company had covered for immediate use after your surgeries. It had been a long conversation, one in which both of you had shed tears during. But the agreement was that it would be stored in the downstairs closet and brought out for longer trips, hospital visits that would take more than a quick pop in and out to ensure no uncomfortable and hard waiting room chairs caused harm, and days where the errands piled up.
While you were recovered from the surgeries and dealing with the trauma of what happened, your legs worked as well as they could. Though the already replaced right one tended to go numb at random intervals the doctors could only explain as part of a degenerative disease that had probably been undiagnosed before the first shooting. The left often got a tingling sensation, sciatic nerve sensitive on both sides making it hard for you to get out and about some days.
Working full time had been another conversation, safety rails installed with the help of the guys all around the house should you be home alone. The showers in the two bathrooms you used were set to be remodeled with ledges for you to set on should you want to, the tubs to be replaced with shower stalls and a fancy tub of your choosing to be put in the master one attached to yours and Frankie’s room.
He worried about the stairs, something that took a longer conversation in which you admitted to feeling like you were flipping his whole life upside down and ruining the home he had carefully curated for him and his daughter. His solution had been as simple as breathing, as loving you: turn the guest room and laundry room into a new downstairs master, expand the kitchen to accommodate the laundry room equipment. The money it would take had caused you to break down, even if Frankie hadn’t batted an eye at the arguably large sum it would require.
Will and Benny had argued that two cousins of theirs that resided in Texas was more than willing to make the trip to oversee the project. They had readily agreed to absolve the labor and graciously discount the materials as long as their flights were covered, and they had a place to stay as for the duration.
You had briefly talked with Joel about it, equal parts meek and steadfast on certain aspects of the project. Insistent that they would be able to stay in the apartment above the bakery. You had promised you didn’t want to be difficult, but the man’s deep twangy voice had assured you that you had every right to be since it was for your comfort.
Trees got thicker on either side of the winding road as the elevation hiked up. Deep in a forest of some part of the northern portion of the state. Somewhere you had no idea of, the GPS on the truck shut off and Frankie leading the vehicle with just the inner workings of his mind. The truck was moved into second gear and the engine rumbled loudly as Frankie continued to drive. He had shut off the radio to concentrate, something you did often as you drove to new places for the first time. A pleased smile pulling at your lips as you discovered things about him that you shared.
Turning off the paved road, the tires crunched over a gravel one as he continued on. You were leaning out of your seat to try and better see the glimpse of bright blue off aways between the trees.
“Almost there, sweet girl.”
“Frankie, what in the world did you plan?”
He just chuckled, jostling your thigh in his grip before removing it. You were about to turn to him when you heard the hum of conversation and laughter through the open window. The gentle splash of water trickling in the background as he rounded one last curve and began to pull up the drive of an impressive looking cabin. It was all dark tones with neutral accents in the form of a large patio that shifted into a deck, stretching out onto a decent sized lake. The water sparkling in the sunshine and temporarily stunning you.
“About time, Fish! Mante, watch this!” Benny hollered as he ran down the length of the deck that jutted out into the water and leapt from the edge of it. Balling up, he made a spectacular splash into the pristine water, causing it to splatter all over the girls lounging on the bank. Morgan and Luciana only laughed as Benny bobbed up to the surface, wiping the water from their skin and turning to wave at you from their spots. Will and Santiago were over by the grill, trading laden down plates with of cooked and raw items from a long wooden picnic table set up right in the middle of the covered part of the deck that doubled as a large patio off the side of the cabin.
“Figured the water would feel good on your hip. Got you a set of trekking poles if you want to hike, but there’s also plenty for us to do around the cabin if you don’t feel like it. Whatever you wanna do, sweet girl.”
“Don’t be hoggin’ the woman, primo.” Santiago sidles up to the passenger door, leaving Will to handle the grill on his own. His sunglasses pushed up into his hair as he reached through the open window to brush an errant wave of hair away from your face and behind your ear. You feel warmth blossom in your chest at the endearing move, grateful for the man that he was and the part he had become in your life even if it had been more than bumpy since meeting him. “Let’s get the week started! C’mon, Fish can unload the truck. I’ve got your favorite beer in the cooler waiting for you, hermosa.”
Before you move through the door Santiago opens for you, you lean over and take Frankie’s face in both your hands to kiss him deeply. Your hands trail down the thickness of his neck to rest atop his shoulders as you scoot across the long bench of the front seat, the center console pushed up. You hook your arms around them to scoot closer to him, pressed your chest flush with his. Tongue licking into his mouth, you sneak your hands into the back of his shirt dip them below his belt and grope at skin beneath. Hoots and hollers rang around the open space hidden in the trees, making your heart soar to be around so many friends, around Frankie.
He seems a little star stuck as you scoot out and walk arm in arm with his best friend toward the hub and bub of the deck, taking a moment before he pushes himself from his won seat behind the wheel and follows suit with a shining grin.
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Welcome to your fairytale where the only rule is let your imagination go wild
Hi, it's Chanty (I feel like this name resonates more with me rn) Today, I have a fairytale for you. How to choose? Close your eyes, imagine yourself surrounded by thousands of fairies, let these little creatures to lead you to their world, then choose either the image or fairy you feel more drawn to
If you are ready then let's jump into the fairies land
Remember tarot is not set on stone and you can change your path whenever you want. This is for entertainment purposesThis reading is general so if it doesn't resonate with you just let it go
PILE 1
Welcome to your story little stranger. You were born in a port, where you had to fight against everything you loved and get away from there. You are a brave adventurer with your heart always on your sleeve. You left your home where there were seas, oceans, seagulls & boats to reach a place in the mountains, where you will begin to discover yourself. You will see that the world is bigger than you thought, your perceptions about life will change. One day, walking through the countryside of that new town, a woman will change your perception of what life is, what love is, what freedom is. What you had always believed in will collapse, you will feel lost, you will cry, you will miss what you used to be, what you were, what you knew, but from that encounter your internal conflicts will be removed and understood, and your faith will have new foundations. You will feel glad to have spoken to her, to have asked her for maybe an address? Or a price? Or even the time. From that moment your motivation will be to see life as she sees it, your motivation will be to go out, smell the fresh air, the grass, the flowers, even the smell of the market. See the sky, the landscape, the clouds go by. You will miss the sea but the land will keep you anchored, which is what you needed, which is why you decided to start a new life
Your days will pass, your luck will change, you will be successful but then one day, when you look in the mirror, you will understand why you feel tired, because despite living well, you have never felt complete. The villain of your story will take action and look directly at you through the mirror. Why? It's me? Did I forget you? You will murmur while your memories of the sea, the fish, your family, of you, pass through your mind. The laughter as a child, how you dreamed of conquering the world, the promises you made to your parents, friends and siblings, all that comes back to you, your eyes crystallize and suddenly you feel tiny before the world again. Someone knocks on the door is your messenger, he informs you that there is a traitor in your castle, someone close to you has stolen the most precious things you had "running away" is the first thing that goes through your mind instead of fighting "RUNNING AWAY" is not the first time you will do it, will you stay to fight? No. "I want to go home" you say to the surprise of your server, I want to go home, you repeat once again, I want to see my family. You pack your things on a day of the waxing moon
Winter is about to come, the snow is about to fall but the only thing you think about is looking for a new rainbow on the horizon, the only thing that matters to you is starting over in a new place. Because as the years go by you still don't forget what that woman you met that spring told you. The seasons have passed, you are now in a big cage, fly little bird, look for your freedom, because your peace is in building a new home in every place you go. You will always have people celebrating your victories, your father, your friends, your colleagues. Everyone understands that you were born to sow, harvest and go to a new field to sow new seeds. What you are looking for is found by moving away from the problem, the magic that the fairies gave you is in letting go and waiting for your wishes to come true. That woman, that fairy that you found in the past, was just the beginning of your path, she was your teacher, she was your inspiration so that you could free yourself from everything that is gone, so that you would run with the wolves, so that you would be master of the sea, mountains and forests, so that you would finally understand that moving away is part of your freedom, that growing up sometimes makes you smaller, but even being small you can conquer whatever you set your mind to, that your greatest enemy is you, that the solution is not to stay tied, that you can build bridges and cross them with your friends but sometimes you must leave the bridge and take the road on your own, that it is you and your independence creating new relationships and that your hope is to collect all the colors of the rainbow, the pot of gold is not so important to you, but the lightning that bathes you when you arrive at what will be your new home, your freedom
Cancer, Aquarius, Gemini, Pisces, Leo rainbow, Beaches, Places with ports or mountains (whether you were born there or want to live in a place like that or it is where you find peace of mind) Sociable, Fish or Birds as pets. LGBT? People who struggle to let others/things go
PILE 2
Oh little creature, you are a warrior, strong, determined, with an implacable character (or at least that's what you want to appear to your family), "should I go?" You ask yourself from time to time. One night, while everyone is asleep, your magical adventure begins, you then take a book, press it between your hands while you watch the lamps from your window, "should I go?" You ask again and unconsciously use that book as an oracle. The answer comes to you. Then, you go to sleep, you let sleep take over you. The rays come through your window waking you up, it doesn't bother you, since you have decided what you will do: you will give up. But you will not give up on your dreams, nor will you give up on your ideals, you will give up on feeling the way you have been feeling, you will give up on the pain, the tiredness, you will give up on feeling alone and after that, you will realize the power that it has. nature for you. Before you had resolved your conflicts by crying at night, you had fought against them in your dreams, you had tried hard to feel the pain on your skin but this morning you had decided that it was no longer going to be like that. You gave a light smile to the people who were at home, you took your backpack and went for a walk down the street, the weather was perfect and the sun's rays caressed your skin, as if it were your father delicately touching your face, making sure you felt him next to you. Soon you felt a little sad, why did those women treat you so badly? Why did they seem to despise you? What was the evil that you did? Why did they claim that you were the one who ruined them? You hadn't done anything, at least not deliberately, but still, you couldn't please them. You are about to cry again, your aimless steps take you to a large tree, you are impressed by its magnitude, how tall it is, but you do not feel small, but rather protected. You sit leaning your back on its trunk, you take out the book or a notebook and the doors to the magical world open again for you
You have found the point where the fairies gather, they dance happily while you immerse yourself even further in your thoughts that are no longer bad but healing. You remember when you had a family that in your opinion was happy, you remember dad's arrival, the affection, a golden halo covers all those memories, the smile spreads on your face "I will have a home full of love" you promise yourself.
Time passes and you keep your promise, that day it wasn't your imagination but your power of divination. Now you are everything they told you you could never be, you are beautiful, you are kind, generous and an example for those who love you. Sometimes you have bad days, sometimes you have problems, but everything you experienced taught you how to draw your sword and fight your enemies. Your dark days and that hand that was extended to you that day you were reading under the tree, have been your allies. You are still of unbreakable character but now you do not pretend it but rather attach it to your emotions as a whole. You no longer cry yourself to sleep, you no longer mark your skin, now you appreciate every day and the opportunities it gives you, because those who had hurt you received what they deserved. You understood that it was not right to normalize what they did to you, or what you did to yourself, you turned pain into light, you wrote your wishes in your journal and you were grateful because they came true.
Trees, Nature, Parks, Libra, Aries, Pisces. Forests, Green, Blue, White and Purple, Journal, "Find the answer in a book" "Write down your fears" Lamps, Activist, Environmentalist, Healing through plants, Shadow work, mommy issues, "I love you"
PILE 3
This is the story of a wise man who with his words gave peace to those who consulted him about their indecision. It was magic, it was freedom, it was calm, it was hope, it was a miracle. It was written in his life story that he would be a courageous human being, who would face any problem by giving it a real solution. He was a transformer of lives but he was afraid to transform his own, but that day came... His worst fear: change, arrived in the form of a warm, pleasant and charming young person. He could not do anything but fall for them, he fell in love. His powers and wisdom disappeared. Confusion reigned in his head, he felt bad, he felt miserable, he felt like things had slipped out of his hands. Why had he fallen in love? Why had he given his heart? That was not his mission, his mission was to be a counselor, to share his wisdom and words with others, his mission was not to live but to serve... Then a day, one of the two left and no, it wasn't the other person but the wise one. He took the pieces of his heart, almost all of them, and decided to go to a new place to find peace and he achieved it.
The days, months and perhaps years passed, his recognition, powers and wisdom returned, he felt happy, he was an advisor to privileged people, he had a name with golden letters. There was a celebration, everyone was dancing, laughing, drinking and our wise man had a smile on his face but his soul felt desolate. He felt like a part of him was dying, tears rolled down his cheeks, he apologized and went out to the garden to get some fresh air, that pain became bigger, he couldn't contain it anymore and he let out the tears that he had held back for years, is it worth? the pain? He asked himself. He had left the one he loved alone so as not to transform who he was, but now he realized that transforming was part of life, of his life: passion, emotion, love, tears, all of that was part of his being and he couldn't bottle all those feelings for his entire life, he had to let them flow, and then, not only would he be a wise man of words, he would surrender to the transformation and now he would be a teacher, a magician, a whole. But he had to face his secrets, his fears, his shadow. He had to learn from his past, he had to embrace his self that had been hidden, he had to learn not to fear change and flow with it.
The process was chaotic, sometimes he wanted to go back to being who he was, sometimes he woke up wanting to explore his other versions, sometimes there was light, sometimes darkness, sometimes he just wanted to be in bed, forget who he was, but sometimes he wanted to use his magic, play an instrument, dance barefoot and watch the water drops fall creating colors as they crash on the ground. He always had the world in his favor, but, because of his fears, he never realized it, he thought that they only used him or needed him, he thought that they only approached him because of his wisdom. He never imagined that they were going because of the peace he transmitted, because of his gaze, because of the admiration and respect they felt, because of the inspiration he exerted. Sometimes he forgot that magic existed, that he was magic, that he was light and he was protection. He has not yet become the magician he should be, he has not yet mastered it, he still has doubts and setbacks, he is still sometimes afraid to feel, to love. He still sometimes thinks that he was born to serve and not to live. But life will show him (show you) again that nothing stays the same forever and that the only thing that is certain is change.
Scorpio, Taurus, Capricorn, Virgo, Sagittarius. Fear of change, Red, A Party, Lost love, The Past, maybe some of you are LGBT, Tea or Coffee, Avoidant Attachment, The friend who gives good advice, Teachers or your career has to do with education or sharing your advice, listening, Speak Now by Taylor Swift pop out to my mind
Ok, this is it, thank you for reading me and I hope it resonates with you (I was about to cry bcus I wrote this like three times and for a variety of reasons I needed to pause it and I don't know why but the post wasn't saved for those three times 🫠 I don't know if it was a sign of the universe and I just kept being stubborn 🙂)
Anyway, see you all next time
Alic (Chanty) 🪽
#tarot and astrology#tarot#tarot reading#tarot asks#tarot cards#tarot tumblr#pick a picture#tarotblr#tarotcommunity#pick a card#divination
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Here's why a potential "love story" between Mae and Noa, whether explicit or simply implied, may not be such a terrible idea.
Why? Because Shakespeare told me so, that's why.
"When in doubt, it's from Shakespeare....or the Bible." At least according to a book I had to read for high school, lol.
The biblical references in Caesar's trilogy have been pointed out multiple times already, and these movies have also been described as Shakespearean tragedies. So I thought, 'ok, what kind of Shakespearean tragedy will we have this time around?'
I'm first gonna start off with Hamlet in the Caesar trilogy. I'm also gonna mention other popular movies that are based on Shakespeare's plays. Not necessarily because it's concrete proof that this is what will happen in future POTA movies. This is me simply picking up certain storytelling beats and patterns I've noticed in some of my favorite movies.
It's not 100% the same, but there are some similarities. Also, this isn't anything new. Many have pointed this out before, but I love talking about this stuff!
The Lion King, Black Panther, and Dawn of the Planet of the Apes are loosely based on Hamlet. A king or rightful heir is killed. Usually by an evil uncle, cousin, or family member. For some reason this always results in them falling off a very high cliff.
Everyone thinks they're dead, the evil relative takes power, and everything kinda sucks. There is not enough food in the Pride Lands under Scar's rule. Killmonger burns the heart-shaped herbs. Koba leads the apes to war against the humans.
The rightful ruler spends time in exile, recovering from their wounds and trauma. They might even get a visit or have a recollection of their dead father.
Then the rightful ruler comes back from the dead, challenges the usurper, and regains their rightful place upon the throne.
Now lets take a look at their sequels.
The Lion King 2 and Wakanda Forever share some similarities. They both follow another one of Shakespeare's popular plays, Romeo and Juliet.
Like the Montagues and Capulets, we have two rival kingdoms in both movies. We got the Pridelanders and the Outsiders. We also got the Wakandans and Talokanils.
The two heirs/rulers from both kingdoms meet. They hate and don't trust each other at first, but then they start to have compassion for the other. In Kiara and Kovu's case, they fall in love. Namor and Shuri don't fall in love, but after Namor shows her his underwater kingdom and what he has to protect, she softens and begins to understand him more. (They even got the whole Hades and Persephone thing going on, who are a couple in Greek mythology, by the way).
There are losses on both sides. Kovu's brother was killed while going after Simba. One of Namor's people was killed when Shuri was rescued by Nakia, and Shuri's mother, Queen Ramonda, died after Namor's attack on Wakanda. (Starts nervously eyeing Anaya here...)
These losses make things worse, by the way.
In the end, both pairs are able to bring the fighting between their people to a stop. The Outsiders are welcomed into Simba's pride. The Wakandans and Talokanils stop fighting after seeing their leaders return together.
Maybe something similar like this will happen with Noa and Mae. While I'm all for a good romance, it may end up being more like Namor and Shuri's case. There's something there. The tropes are present, but they don't fall in love. (At least not yet. Please Ryan Coogler, give me Nashuri endgame in Black Panther 3, hehe).
This is just a theory, by the way. This doesn't have to happen, but I just think it'd be neat. There would be differences though. What those differences would be, idk, but whatever happens in the next one, I can't wait!
"But but.... aren't you forgetting something?"
What's that?
"Don't they...ya know...both die at the end?"
Besides, they don't have to die. Things can be a little more hopeful for our two heroes 🙈
#planet of the apes#kingdom of the planet of the apes#pota#kotpota#planetoftheapes#kingdomoftheplanetoftheapes#mae pota#noa pota#maenoa#noamae#nomae#nashuri#namor x shuri#seaprincess#mcu namor#princess shuri#the lion king#kiara and kovu#the lion king 2#black panther
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The List ~Pt. 10 - Convergence~
Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) x Reader
Summary: The fight with Vox triggers memories of your life on Earth, but a familiar voice calls to you. When you wake, you find an unexpected hand has helped you but of course their aid comes with a catch. More secrets are brought to light and you must choose whose side you're truly on.
Themes: Huge warning for depictions of war/ bombings/ injuries/ death. With everything going on in the world I understand if it is hard to read so feel free to skip the ~8 ish paragraphs.
The usual angst, mystery, sassiness, cursing, fluff, actual plot, mentions of blood/bodily harm, slow burn, Lucifer can't take a hint, Alastor is full of surprises, eventual smut, and of course 18+
3k Words
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7
Part 7.A Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 (You're on it!)
**sentences in italics are internal thoughts of the reader
Like a movie, you watch different places around the world flash before your eyes. Each scene, you’re surrounded by the same small group of people. A feeling of pride filled your body when you looked at them. Are these people my family? They feel like it. You knew you’d do anything to protect them.
~~I’m here love…
A final flash puts you at an eerily familiar scene. You sit at the end of a small table, watching everyone laughing, eating, singing - just enjoying the down time together. The sound of an air siren puts an immediate silence over the tent. All eyes snap to you, waiting for your guidance. You stand from your chair, “Alright just like training guys, take your assigned positions around the camp and keep a clear - “, ringing pierces your ears as everything goes black.
~~You’re stronger than this…
In what feels like a second, you are lying face down on the warm ground. How long was I down for? Pushing yourself to your knees, you watch blood from your face make little droplets in the dirt below you. Dust and smoke fill the air, burning your lungs when you try to take a breath. Fuck…Where is everyone? You look at what remains of the camp around you. Piles of brick, wood, and rock litter the area. The night around you is hauntingly silent, interrupted only by the occasional pop of electricity from what remained of the generators. As the dust begins to settle, you’re able to make out multiple sets of boots under rubble nearby. No…no...no…no please...
You attempt to run towards them but stumble back to the ground. A mix of dirt and blood coat the front of your uniform. Other than the pain in your side, you have no way of knowing the true extent of your injuries as a numbness washes over you.
~~Fight…please my dear…
Sounds of tumbling brick and coughing distract you from your self-evaluation. You crawl towards the sound and find a man trying to sit up, pushing away the rubble that buried his lower body. “Thank God, you have no idea how relieved I am to - “, an involuntary gasp leaves your mouth when you see the piece of metal sticking right through him.
He half-heartedly laughs, “I was going to make some smartass comment like - How bad is it doc? Think I’ll be home for dinner? - but uh…I think that answered my question.” Fucker always had to make jokes, even the face of death.
“No it’s not..It’s not that bad. I just need to find my bag, I can stop the bleeding….just…k-keep talking to me.” Your hands fumble across his chest. You try to apply pressure while your eyes frantically scan the area for your medical bag, but Lord only knows where it ended up after the explosion.
~~Please…we need you…
Warmth continues to spread under you, his blood now staining your hands and arms. He grabs your hands, stopping your efforts and gently setting them on his face, “Don’t do this - ya know how it’s going to end.” A single tear slips past your lashes and down your cheek. His breathing begins to labor, “Hey now boss lady, no cryin’. We all knew what we signed up for. This ain’t your fault.”
~~I need you…
A deafening sound fills the air followed by a blinding flash of white light.
Your eyes bolt open as you sit up gasping for air. Alastor nearly jumps out of his chair, hastily sitting himself behind you in bed to wrap his body around yours, “I’m here, dear. Breathe. You’re safe.” You try to relax in his arms while your mind reels. Was that a dream? A memory? Is that…how I died?
You look down remembering the fight with Vox. Other than a few blood stained cotton bandages, you appear to be mostly healed. “How -?” you begin to ask. Alastor tightens his grip on you, making you wince from the pressure on your still healing wounds. “Please…just…give me a moment.” he begs quietly into your neck. You feel his chest rise and fall against you with ragged breaths. If it was anyone other than Alastor, you would think he was crying.
Gentle sounds from the wooded bayou fill the room. After a few moments, he breaks the peaceful silence, “Don’t ever scare me like that again.” he breathes through a raspy voice. You lean your head back to look up at the demon. He looked just as rough as he did that night in the tower.
You bring your hand to his cheek and pull him into a tender embrace against your lips. He sighs into your mouth as his body relaxes. He needed to feel you, to know you weren’t gone. The corners of your mouth curl into a smile, “I don’t know how but I heard your voice…through the darkness you were calling to me. Even as I dreamt of my life on Earth.” Alastor huffs amusingly, “My dear, I never left your side. Charlie said talking to you might help. I thought it was silly really but I was willing to try anything. Good to know my efforts weren’t in vain.”
Alastor delicately brushes his fingers through your hair, “I didn’t think it was possible to feel something worse than the initial fall into Hell, but you seem to enjoy keeping me on my toes. As much as I hate to say it, you might not have made it if Lucifer hadn’t -”
“Lucifer!?” you yell in surprise at how casually Alastor mentions him, “Why would he bother saving me?” A few taps on the door interrupt before you can get an answer. Without waiting for a response, Lucifer walks into the room, “Ah good you’re awake.” he chirps casually.
You swing yourself to the edge of the bed in an attempt to stand but Alastor keeps a firm hold on your hips, slotting you between his legs to keep you sitting. He scolds quietly in your ear “Easy love, let’s not move too quickly. You’re still healing.”
Lucifer makes his way across the room, puffing his chest out arrogantly as he leans against his cane, “There were only a few wounds I couldn’t get completely healed but you seem to be a strong one! Of course someone had their doubts.” he glares at Alastor, lip nearing a snarl.
He did help when he didn’t need to, ulterior motives or not I should be grateful. You muster a smile and cool tone, “Well you did wonderful, sir. I am feeling pretty good to be honest. Thank you. I suppose I owe you.” What the fuck did I just say?
Alastor exhales against your neck and digs his fingertips into your sides, making you curse at him under your breath. It didn’t help how smug Lucifer suddenly looked. He nonchalantly fiddles with his suit, “Well we do have some private matters to discuss. If you’re feeling up to it of course.” No but do I have a choice?
“Sure! What’s going on?”
“I uh - would prefer there to not be an audience, if you don’t mind.” Lucifer shuffles his cane to his other hand. Your chest hitches at the request. I rather not be alone with this man right now. Alastor notices your apprehension, “Anything you have to discuss can be said in my company. You have quite a nasty habit of putting your hands - amongst other things - where they don’t belong.” his tone cut with such sharpness even the well collected King looked visibly uncomfortable. You feel him disappear from behind you only to reappear in a chair by the fire behind Lucifer, “You may continue sir.”
Lucifer scoffs but doesn’t speak right away. You fumble nervously with your hands as his eyes burn into you. Chills creep across your skin from the tension filling the room.
“Soooooo - what did you need to speak about, sir?” you ask wearily, wanting to get this conversation over with. “I told you to call me Lucifer,” he takes a seat next to you on the bed, “And I think you know damn well what we need to talk about.” his once sickeningly sweet voice now harsh with ire.
Cool, nothing like pissing off the King of Hell. You try to hide the anxiety building in your chest, “Lucifer, I appreciate your offer from the other day however I am staying here. With the sinners and with Alastor. I am capable of -”
“Yes, yes - you looked quite capable as you were dying in my arms just a few nights ago!” he bites, “Do you think you’re of any use to the people you claim to want to help if you’re dead? Do you think he will actually support you in your efforts?” his eyes dart to the demon across the room.
“Oh and you will!? You want to keep me like a pet in your little castle! Remind me, how did wanting such things from Lilith turn out for you?”
An unsettling smile crosses his face, making a pit form in your stomach, “You tread on thin ice my dear. If you wish to take low blows, fine. You’re naive to think he actually loves you. You said yourself, he just wants to use you -”
“I was wrong. I was only naive to think you did not want to use me.” you interrupt plainly. R̷͈̈u̸̦͌l̸͍̍e̴͔̅ ̷͉͛#̸̗͒1̶͍͂ ̵̮̐B̵̬̊e̷͖͐ ̵̡́o̵̡̿p̵͎͂e̴̢̋n̷̡̆ ̵͚̋t̵͕͠o̵͔̽ ̵̺̉t̶̰͗ȓ̴̠ů̷̹s̶̩̄t̴̙̅,̸̈́͜ ̶͉̓b̶̘͗ǔ̵̮t̶̯̂ ̸̝̿n̴̳̍ȅ̷͔ṿ̵̀e̴̗̾r̸̨̔ ̵̻͒ḑ̶̾ǫ̴̉ ̴͎̉ś̴̤ō̴̩ ̴̣̒b̶͉͠ḻ̸͗i̶̳̽ṋ̷̀d̶͉͒ĺ̵̘y̸̙̕
He cocks his head and raises an eyebrow, “I - I don’t know what you mean. I - I saved you. I protected you when - when he couldn’t. Of course I would have never allowed you to get hurt in the first place.” Alastor clears his throat and shifts in his chair, using every ounce of restraint to not lose his tongue. His eyes pinpoint to Lucifer through a sharp grin.
I’m not the only one on thin ice here. “I appreciate you helping me, truly. But I think we both know deep down…you’re scared. You’re weaker than you let on. Locking yourself away, ignoring your duties. Without Lilith you’ve become just a shell of the ruler you once were. And, not to sound arrogant, but I get the feeling you think I can somehow change that.”
Lucifer’s look softens and he takes your hand, eyes glued to his thumb tracing across your palm, “I’ll admit there’s some truth to your words. She was my strength. She knew how to lead better than I ever could. The city has gone to shit without her. But…” his other hand cups your cheek as he meets your gaze, “...you can change all of that. Standing by me, you can do so much good for our people. Isn’t that what you want?” his words seem to plead with you. You hear a crack from Alastor’s grip tightening on the arms of his chair.
You shoot a glance at him, silently asking him to calm down. With a gentle touch, you take Lucifer’s wrist to remove his hand from your face, “I want to save souls, Lucifer. Charlie’s dream is incredible and I plan on helping her see it through. I do not wish to assist in the rule of Hell.” You say soft but stern, trying to make him understand. He stands abruptly to look down at you, “Does this demon share these same sentiments?”
Fuck he does NOT let up. “I don’t understand. Why are you so against him!?” you raise your voice making the Radio Demon’s ears twitch.
Lucifer kneels in front of you, tightly gripping your shoulders, “Listen to me…” Alastor stands to say something but you raise a hand to stop him. You wince as slender fingers dig deeper into your skin and the King’s voice darkens to a whisper, “He will never stop trying to gain more power. You want to save souls yet you stand by someone who would sacrifice anyone and anything to get what he wants. You help bring him to power…and he will destroy everything. You, me, Charlie…He - won’t - stop.”
Your heart pounds against your chest, fighting against the thoughts racing through your mind, “How are you so sure about his intentions?” you squeak out. He gently brushes some hair away from your face, “My sweet girl, there are darker secrets to him than you know. Secrets, I fear, that will destroy you.”
“That is enough.” Alastor’s voice warns with a heavy static.
Lucifer angrily stands back up, bringing you to your feet with him, “Why can’t you just trust me? Have I not proven myself enough? He will take away everything.” Your hands press against his chest in an attempt to keep him from getting any closer, “Please, stop! He -”
The lights of the room begin to flicker. Alastor grabs Lucifer away from you by his jacket collar and pins him against the wall, “I said that was enough.” he spits. The two men snarl nose to nose before Lucifer lets out a jarring laugh, “Oh-ho - so she really doesn’t know? How far are you going to try and bury the truth?” he peeks over Alastor’s shoulder to you, “See my dear this is what I mean. If he truly loved you, he would have been honest about his - situation.”
Alastor pulls back and slams Lucifer’s smaller body against the wall again, seething through gritted teeth, “You have no right to -”
“W-what is he talking about?” You brace yourself against the bedpost and take a step towards them. Lucifer shoves Alastor off, sending the pissed off demon half way across the room. His body hits the wooden floor hard enough for the planks to creak beneath him. He half-heartedly struggles to pull himself up onto one knee, panting like a dog about to attack.
Lucifer saunters over to you. You hear a low growl from Alastor as he watches the small King move his hands over your waist and his lips to your ear, “His soul is bound to another. He only needs you because your power combined can break him free. And what do you think he’ll do the moment he is unchained?” he breathes through a wicked smile. Your entire body tenses, both from shock and how intimately his hands run against you.
He gives a coy chuckle, raising his voice to ensure Alastor hears him, “Come see me tomorrow. Alone. We can speak further on how you can repay me for helping you.” with a flick of his wrist his cane flies into his hand. You flinch as he presses a kiss to your cheek before disappearing behind his red ribbons.
Alastor remains frozen, kneeling in the middle of the room. His eyes stare into you while flickering between red and black dials. You can’t tell if he’s about to explode or break down. Although a hundred questions are running through your mind, you know better than to poke an already agitated bear or in this case, deer.
In a moment where you should be angry or confused, where you should yell and scream, you instead do something that takes both yourself and Alastor by surprise. Ignoring the pain and soreness in your body, you drop to your knees in front of him and throw your arms around his neck in a tight hug. He moves his hands up but hesitates before touching you. “Wha-what are you doing?” he asks with a mixture of confusion and intrigue.
Within an instant, a plan forms in your head. This is going to get messy. But it’s the only way to protect me…and protect us. R̶͚̀u̷͍̿l̷̦͛ȅ̸̥ ̸͔̀#̷͇̿4̶̫͝ ̴̧̌Ț̶̈ù̷̫r̸͓̃ǹ̷̩ ̸̘̚y̴͔͊ò̵͜u̸͙͝r̸͜͠ ̶́͜w̸̮̉ẻ̴͚á̵͚k̶͎͌n̵̘͛e̶̪͐s̵̜͝s̵̛̤ ̸̼̋ĩ̸̭n̴̘̈t̷͙̎o̴̡̓ ̵̩͌ŝ̷͉t̴̺̊r̴͈̍e̶̡̔n̷̝̓g̶̭̚t̴̺̓h̸̩̓
You pull him closer and run a hand up into his hair, caressing the back of his head, “You already know the questions I have and I fully expect answers. However, at this moment, I only need to know one thing…” you move away to rest his head in your hands, forcing his crimson stare to you, “...if I help you to break your deal, are you willing to keep your chains and bind your soul to me?” Your tone is serious but affectionate. He needs to know I’m not asking from a place of selfishness. Ȓ̸̤u̷̞͗l̶̫͂e̸̛̩ ̴̬͝#̴̼̒3̶̙͝ ̷̣͂K̵̜̓e̴̘̽ë̶̤́p̸̳͑ ̷̣͘t̷̥͆ẖ̸͐o̶͉̐s̷͗͜e̷̛̻ ̵̪̍y̴͎͗ǒ̴͎u̵͘ͅ ̸͇́ĺ̵̮ö̴̧v̴̩̏ę̷̀ ̷̝̋c̸͠ͅl̶̫͑o̸͈͆s̴̟͠ë̵̢́
“Yes.” he says without hesitation. His immediate response takes you aback. The last thing you expected was the ‘all powerful’ Radio Demon to give into your request without a second thought. For a moment you are left completely speechless.
Unassured by your lack of response, Alastor places his hands over yours, “You’ve already managed to obtain my heart and my mind. The second my deal is broken, I will give you my soul. I will give you everything.” Your heart flutters at his words.
There isn’t a single hint of anger or regret in his voice. His eyes lock to yours as he peppers kisses into your palm and down your wrist. The image takes you back to the first night you spent with him just months prior. That night he looked hungry and desperate but now there’s nothing but devotion, a silent plea for your trust.
You can’t fight the heat rising in your face from his affection. He always has a way of clearing your mind yet clouding it all at once. You’d be surprised if he couldn’t hear the pounding of your heart from his willingness to give everything to you. Well phase one of this plan is already going swimmingly. He cocks an eyebrow at how smug you suddenly look, reading you like an open book, “What schemes are you concocting behind those eyes?”
You lightly peck his forehead, then his nose, stopping just above his lips. A sly grin spreads across your face, “I have a plan but you’re not going to like it.” He rolls his eyes and groans, “It involves Lucifer, doesn’t it?”
He helps you to your feet and pulls you into him. Your hands rest perfectly against his broad chest as you smile up at him without an answer. His eyes close with a deep sigh, “My dear, I already do not like where I think this is going.” he mumbles, knowing you’ve already made up your mind.
You stand on your toes to give him a quick playful kiss, “I believe it’s time for me to go make a deal with the Devil.” R̸̢̉u̷͙̔l̷̺̇e̴̡͌ ̷̢̿#̶̠̍2̷͊͜ ̵̤̕D̷̦̐o̴̞̒n̷̠̈́’̷͔̆t̵̪̀ ̴̬̊b̸̺͋ẽ̶͈ ̴̣͘a̴͚͋f̶͔͗ṙ̶͔a̵̻̕i̸̪̾d̵̲̂ ̸̙͗t̷̛̥o̸͕̐ ̸̟͊s̵̖̒h̸͔̊ö̷͇́ẃ̶ͅ ̷̯̓y̸̭̔o̸̮͆u̴̠͐r̷͙͝ ̶͚͝p̵͔͌ǫ̷̛w̵͔͝ė̶̝r̴͎̂
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Have you played AT THE GATES ?
By Onyx Path Publishing
In the world of Gaia, magic is everywhere and in everything, but a danger from the Void outside the world has upended the balance. On the continent of Everend, seven nations vie for resources and influence in an uneasy peace after centuries of struggle. A year ago, in an explosive demonstration of power, one nation called forth daemons from the Void. Now all nations fear for their safety and rush to gain daemonic magic for themselves. As the nations struggle, common folk continue their daily lives amid uncertainty of an incomprehensible power and the brutality of war. All the while, magic collides with the Void tainted landscape to create dangerous beasts who threaten everyone’s safety.
Everend needs heroes to stop the march of destruction and help people understand their new place in the world.
Will you heed the call?
At the Gates is a high fantasy tabletop roleplaying game about burgeoning heroes struggling to survive, fighting for what’s right, exploring dangerous places, and saving the world.
Magic fuels all parts of Gaia, from fields of wheat to the people who sew them. Magic is rooted in the living nature of the world: the elements, the mind, the body, and the soul. The Void stands outside the world, and represents all the esoteric concepts such as order, entropy, and energy. Where the Void meets the world, Outlands grow. These places are warped by the intermingling of two opposite magics, and everything that lives there is tainted and dangerous. Hidden inside these Outlands are gates into the Void, standing as literal tears in reality.
You play as heroes who have chosen to buck the status quo and try to change the course of things. Your characters may attempt to change the course of the war, delve into the secrets of daemons and the Void, fight against tyranny to protect what they love in the world, fight to restore balance to Gaia, or all the above.
You stand at the gates, holding back the tide, changing the course of history.
Currently crowdfunding on on Backerkit
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ngl still being a kaiser fan after 261 is lame
Omg this ask got me so tight when I got to it I had to hop on mylaptop to type my essay
Ok this is a little Personal and some of yall aren gonna fuck with me after this but it's ok . Kaiser is a character I identify with because he's a good portrayal of someone with NPD so WE WILL GET INTO IT!
So like that being said. What do you mean 'Still liking Kaiser after the leaks is lame' like genuinely what do you mean. I just woke up but are you guys like SURPRISED by this. I liked him when he was introduced and this is what he was acting like. There have been A HUNDRED more chapters of him acting the same way past introduction. And now he's still acting like it. I understand if you just hate him right off the bat that makes sense but this doesn't really. Even if you're one of those people who just liked him for the backstory reveal because you have a I Can Treat You Better hero complex re:abuse victims that behavior WAS shown EVEN IN 260. "I hit the ball but it doesn't hit back" - the author has a very specific way of writing and this was VERY much intentional
Also like I understand there might be an initial shock when reading such words. Like it's Unpleasant it's Ugly. But also it boils down to a State of mind which personally I've observed as common among victims of severe trauma. "These people are born 'humans'. Different from me, they were born 'wanted humans'." = I hate people who weren't hurt the same way I was because I am jealous and bitter, I'm so jealous and bitter it feels good to me to make others feel like shit. And I'm not trying to get on some Hurt People Hurt People bullshit because that shit is annoying and apologia but what I'm trying to say is that sometimes Trauma makes you unpleasant and ugly and erratic and I appreciate that Kaneshiro actually wrote it out. Also like that feeling by itself isn't inherently evil. I think it's a very natural response! In this case Kaiser goes too far not by experiencing this emotion but by acting on it.
So now with THAT out of the way too, I think we need to sit down and think more into the Ness situation. So first he says, "I can't accept kindness because all I know is malice. If anything I think malice makes life easier." Then he goes to say he is specifically looking for someone to make a "dog to his malice" and reads a psychology book to achieve that. Like first of all I'm sorry but that is so comically evil it's hilarious to me. He read a textbook to be a more efficient male manipulator. But anyway the way I understand that isn't a deep underlying evil within him but a need for control. I think he believes everyone will hurt and disorient him unless he feels like he's Controlling them. From an abusive household the only relationship dynamic he knows is person of authority - inferior party. His only friend is Ness and the only person he feels safe around being Ness is because of he tells himself Ness is his "dog" and therefore won't ever raise a hand to him. And that's because he thinks anyone who isn't his dog/under his control will do exactly that.
And so... If we go from there, from the parallel we understand Kaiser didn't see his meeting with Ness the same way Ness sees it. However, that doesn't mean Kaiser's view is the objective truth. I think they're both UNRELIABLE and EMOTIONALLY UNSTABLE. So what that means is that Ness sees his time together with Kaiser through a more glorified lens, while Kaiser denies himself thinking of Ness as a companion because that puts him in a vulnerable spot, so to maintain his feeling of being in control he exerts distance and tells himself Heh we aren't actually friends because he doesn't even know that one time I giggled at him in the showers I was actually just manipulating him all along because I am sooo evil and untouchable 😏. Like do we actually take this perception at face value here because to me it just seems like a Scared and Cowardly person trying to act out his idea of a strong person because the ONLY other time he's been in any meaningful proximity to someone he got beat up and degraded.
With that I also think Kaiser is very much narcissist posturing. He'slying to himself to make himself seem invulnerable and self-aggrandizing himself through his malice (I think pretending we are 100% evil and irredeemable makes a lot of us feel safe because it seems inhuman and people are easily hurt so you don't Ever want to be a multidimensional person with layered personality traits). Because like if you think about it without the emotional reaction of "I hope Ness kills you you stupid whore" that we all have... He actually isn't doing anything that big. Like in his head he's like Heh I'm soooo Patrick Bateman I have all the control 😏 but all he did was like find a guy to play football with.
Like he's trying to say to himself that he's all that. Sure he does insult Ness and that's not good! But he didn't pull off some Complicated deeply horrific scheme. I do not believe Kaiser has an objective view of himself. It really takes away the power from all of that when you realize what he's doing is just Very Pathetic and Paranoid and Intimacy Averse. "I can't have normal friends let me get this guy in on my master servant roleplay and I'll act like he's not enjoying it too because it'll make me feel more powerful" Men will do anything but go to counseling
Addendum: This is also not Kaiser. Now I don't know what kind of person Kaiser is but considering I read it as him suffering from NPD/a disordered personality that means he doesn't have a "real" identity most of the time, this is a shell we're seeing. He just has a mask maybe there's something underneath maybe there isn't and he's empty inside, but the point is he is the kind of character who has a specific way they want to portray themselves and will lie to both themselves and the audience to achieve it. Yes I believe that includes the I'm a male manipulator evilest person alive 😏 shtick too (I think the actual truth is probably somewhere in the middle of his and Ness's view. Most likely they're both incorrect).
Notice how Barou and Rin overcame things? That is because they have a real ego. Kaiser doesn't have a "real ego"/sense of self right now, all he has is his selfish act. I believe that is intentional because I think the Blue Lock mangaka shows a good grasp and understanding of psychology. The development is pointing towards him actually getting one during this match we'll see. Hey he might even change and grow as a person if that happens but I wouldn't get too overly optimistic!
Also we need to understand that we only see these people playing football we don't know what the fuck he's like outside of that. I currently don't have any reason to believe he's anything beyond rude and insufferable when like talking to people who aren't his football rivals and in Blue Lock on principle I believe everyone is at least 30% a better more bearable person off the field.
And to finish off my demented rant some of yall are fucking HYPOCRITICAL. So when Isagi takes joy in ruining people's dreams it's fine but when Kaiser does it he needs to kill himself? Let's be very serious.
TL;DR Kaiser's behavior makes total sense, his 261 characterization falls in line with everything we've seen of him before so there's no need for shock, and he looked good being dysfunctional and messed up too
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{I'm going to post this as it's own thing as well, since I'm pretty proud of it. This is in response to "The Future is Plural" and those who respond with The Future is Singlet. This entire thing is aimed at anti-endos, and I think is an important read for them. I also wanted it to reach my normal audiance as well, since a lot of you probably have some of the tags I tagged the original as blocked.}
"The future is singlet" goes back to what I reblogged earlier, which I doubt y’all would see since it’s a pro-endo post. Nobody is asking for there to be more abused kids. If they are, they probably aren’t speaking in good faith on this argument or they have something else they need to work through.
Let’s say that we know, 100% for a fact, the only way to be a system is through trauma. There is still use for you in that phrase. The point of “the future is plural” is not what it says on the tin, as you've shown. We’re not asking for there to be more systems, if we’re thinking strictly in your terms. We’re asking for it to be believed; for it to be taken seriously. We want it to be normalized in the way where if someone says “hey I’m plural” we believe them. We want there to be more understanding and less hate. We want to ensure that those ahead of us don’t have to face what we have, and that what those before us have done was not in vain.
You know why it’s not okay for clinicians to abuse their patients with DID? It’s not because they woke up one day and decided “maybe we shouldn’t be treating our patients like this.” It’s because activists before us did their job. Back in the ‘80s there were so many fucked up practices being done to those with DID, named MPD at that time. Which I must include because it is pertinent to the history of our disorder. Law suits have been brought to court and have been won over these practices. Now, while we are quite a bit better in terms of clinicians that specialize in DID, we aren’t in terms of the general population. They may still believe we are voilent and scary. They may still believe that it’s not a real disorder. They may still believe that it’s just like what they see on TV. Which, as everyone here knows, it isn’t.
We want to make sure they understand that we are humans, too. While we may be many, we aren’t terrible or lying or any number of things others who have no experience with DID think. We, as a community, deserve better. We deserve to be believed. We deserve to be treated with respect and dignity.
And so, I bring it back to one of my first points. Even if we were arguing for there to be more systems, it’s not in the way you desperately want to believe. It’s not begging for more traumatized children. It’s not through pain and suffering. Its a call for pride on all sides. It’s also recognition of the systems that just happen, it’s to celebrate the beauty of those who found their plurality and aren’t traumatized like you or I. You can believe that systems and dissociation ONLY form from trauma, but you wouldn’t be right. To the end where even Dr. Collin A. Ross, one of, if not THE leading researcher in the field, outright states that there are those out there who have been diagnosed with DID and who struggle with dissociation who have no trauma history. He himself has said that there are even people who are multiple that would not fit the criteria or don’t have the difficulty that those with DID must to experience for it to be the disorder it is. (Thanks sysmedsaresexist!)
If you won’t listen to those who experience endogenic plurality, if you won’t listen to those who have done research and have still come to this conclusion, if you won’t listen to those leading in the field of trauma and dissociation, then who will you listen to? How will you be able to make sure you’re not spreading the same misinformation and hate that the phrase “The future is plural” is a desperate plea to combat? How are you better than the endogenic systems you want to demonize so badly?
#syscourse#endo safe#actually did#did osdd#plural community#plural stuff#plural system#did system#pluralgang#traumagenic system#actually plural#did blog#did alter#osddid#dissociative alters#actually dissociative#dissociative identities#dissociation#dissociative identity disorder#pro endogenic#pro endo#endo friendly#endogenic system#plural#sysblr#system#traumagenic#actually traumagenic#endogenic safe#didblr
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Odair’s Miracle
Warnings- pregnant reader, husband!finnick, typical hunger games let me know what else:)
“They’re still making up their mind,” Haymitch explained the other tributes in a rebel meeting. “She wants only Wiress and Beetee and Mags, and he’s gonna do whatever she wants.”
“Mags and I are a picked deal, she has to understand that.” Finnick protested.
“She’s the girl on fire, she’s not going to care. But if you all keep each other safe, and those two safe until we can get you out, then she might trust you enough to be allies. Finnick and Mags, you stay with them, Johanna you stick with Wiress and Beetee.”
“Haymitch!” Finnick called, running up to him as everyone started to leave. “We need to talk.”
“We do indeed. Not just about Y/N.”
“We gotta keep her safe, Haymitch. She isn’t safe here.”
“Son, you think I don’t know that? Your wife is like a daughter to me. You and I would both gladly die to keep her and that baby safe.”
“I know. So what are we gonna do?”
“I’ve been talking with 13. They have doctors there that will be able to take care of Y/N and the baby. Help with the delivery as well. I’m making sure they have everything you two will need. Dippers, bottles, pacifiers, everything.”
“Thank you.”
“Of course. As soon as we break you all out we’re all going to 13 and she’s going to go make sure the baby’s okay.”
“No,”
“No? What do you mean no?”
“I want her on the first plane there as soon as possible.” Finnick ordered. “I want her there before the games end. Before they start if that’s possible. The longer she’s here the more danger she’s in. I want to know she’s in 13 and her and the baby are safe while I’m in the games. She doesn’t know anything right now, but she’ll listen to you Haymitch. You’re like her dad. If you get her on that plane she’s gonna go. And I need her and the baby safe.”
Haymitch smiled at how demanding Finnick was about Y/N and the baby’s safety. “Of course. The night before the games, while everyone’s asleep, I’ll get her on a plane back. If anyone asks, she’s going back to 4 to be with your sister during the games.”
“Thank you.”
🔱🔱🔱
“Darling, I’m back.” Finnick called, as he walked into their hotel suite.
“Finny,” Y/N called from the bed.
“Is everything okay, my love?” Finnick asked, as he walked in to the bedroom.
“I just missed you.” Y/N explained. “And so did the baby.”
“Well, I missed you both two.” He smiled, getting undressed. “How was your evening honey?” He asked, getting in bed.
“It was good. I ate dinner and then came to bed. How was your night? Do you have any allies.”
“Yeah, I have some.” He sighed, snuggling up to her, lying his head on her chest, close to the bump as he placed his big hand on it.
“What is it?” Y/N asked, raking her figures through his hair. “I know that sigh, what’s wrong?”
“Katniss only wants Mags, and Peeta’s just gonna do what ever she wants. But she doesn’t seem to understand that Mags and I our a group. A packed deal.”
“I know. I’m sorry honey. But you have to give her some grace. She’s just a kid. You have to remind that.”
“I know.” He breathed. The baby kicked, maligning him smile. “Hi, baby.” He smiled, kissing where the baby kissed, and running his hand along the bump. “We love you.”
“We certainly do.” Y/N smiled.
🔱🔱🔱
“Finnick,” Caesar let out, holding the mic, while Finnick smiled at the audience. “I understand that you have a message for somebody out there. A special somebody. A somebody that might even be pregnant with your baby?”
“Yes,” Finnick smiled. “That’s the one. My beautiful wife, Y/N.”
“Now, I have never seen you cry before, Finnick. That was until your wife got called into the reaping. I think we all got scared when we saw how pregnant she was. Are you worried about the pregnancy at all? About the chance that you might not get to meet your baby?”
“Well, don’t say that, Caesar.” Finnick chuckled, putting on a show for everyone. “Of course Im going to get out, and go back home and to my wife. Be there for her throughout the rest of her pregnancy, and while she’s in labor. I’m going to meet my baby.”
“Of course you are.” Caesar let out. “But just in case you don’t, do you have anything you want to say?”
“My love,” Finnick started, looking in the camera. “You have my heart for all eternity and if… If I die in that arena, my last thought will be of your lips, and our baby.”
🔱🔱🔱
“Finny!” Y/N cried as Finnick walked into his dressing room, closing the door. “Finny, I love you so much!”
“I love you more, honey,” he let out, wrapping her in a tight hug. “You and the baby.”
“Please don’t die in there.” Y/N begged.
“I won’t.”
“How can you be so sure?”
Finnick went to answer, but there was a knock at the door. “Who is it?” He asked, walking to it.
“You know.” Haymitch called.
Finnick sighed and opened the door. “I thought we had more time.” He whispered.
“It’s now or later.” Haymitch replied, then he walked in.
“ Bubba!” Y/N smelled as Haymitch entered the room.
“Hey, kid,” Haymitch smiled, hugging her. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too. I haven’t seen you science the tour came to 4, how are you?”
“As good as I can be under these circumstances. How about you? How are you and the baby.”
“We’re also good, under the circumstances.”
“Darling,” Finnick sighed, walking up to her. “We need to talk.”
“What’s wrong?” Y/N asked, fear washing over her face as she put her hands protectively around the bump.
“Darling, there’s a rebel plan going on. We’re going to escape out of the arena and fly out to 13.”
“What?” Y/N gasped, tears coming to her face.
“It’s to dangerous to go into more explanation, but Haymitch is going to take yih to a plane. I need to know you’re safe in 13 before I go into the games tomorrow.”
“What? But, what about you?”
“I’ll be there soon, honey,” Finnick explained, cupping her face. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay. This is to keep you and the baby safe. You know Haymitch and I wouldn’t do anything that would hurt you and the baby.”
“I know. But I don’t want to leave you.”
“I know. But it will be okay.” He explained, kissing her lips, one hand on her face, as the other went to her baby bump.
“Here,” she let out, slipping off her sea shell ring that matched his shark tooth necklace. Wear this for me.”
“I will,” he let out, taking it, and putting it in his pocket. “It won’t fit in my fingers, but I’ll have my dresser tie it to a string for a necklace. You take mine, okay.” He said, taking his necklace off, and putting it around her neck.
“I love you,” Y/N cried, hugging him as best she could with the bump.
“I love you,” Finnick let out, kissing her head.
#finnick x reader#finnick odair#thg finnick#finnick imagine#finnick x you#hunger games#mockingjay#mockingjay part 2#katniss#peeta mellark#katniss and peeta#the hunger games peeta#thg peeta#the hunger games fanart#thg katniss#thg series#finnick x y/n#finnick oneshot#dad!finnick#the hunger games#thg#thg fanfiction
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Heyya! It's me again! 🌙! Been a while since I asked a question:3 btw hru? Love your new fics! And also concerned on how many requests you have. Pls do take your time on making them you could (or have gone) burnt out if you rush. Do take a break from time to time <3. Here are my questions!
Questions for both Sagau x bsd and self aware bsd
1. Did you mention Verlaine in SAGAU X BSD?
2. Where are all the other good genshin characters stay in GL world (like nahida, scaramouche, citizens, etc.) ?
3. Does Nahida and Furina move their people in the real world too?
4. Is Fitzgerald basically the richest person in the world?
5. In the real world, is the government suspicious of Fitzgerald like- suspicious if he is the richest person in the world.
Hello, 🌙 Anon! Long time no see.
I am doing great. Glad that you liked my last fics.
And thank you for your concern. I am doing requests in my own pace, taking enough breaks.
And to your questions.
1. Verlaine was mentioned in this post and in this post. He also has one SAGAU themed meme, and he was requested in Event.
He didn't appear in the fics, for now. I am planning to write about him saving Furina and Melusines from Fortress of Meropide, but, it still in planning.
Can share some plans for future SAGAU x BSD AU Crossover fics
(Right now I am talking about original fics, not including requests and event!)
Fukuzawa and Fukuchi fic. - "A step back". Set right after Reader returned from Teyvat, but before Capitano got into the Real World to capture Reader. About Fukuzawa and Fukuchi taking care of a still almost broken Reader.
Mori, Elise and Zhongli fic. - Mori vs Zhongli
Verlaine and Furina fic I mentioned above
Maybe? An Arlecchino focused fic. A scene, where Arlecchino came to Reader to negotiate about benefits she will get from helping Reader. Will I tie it to BSD Character? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ We will see.
Mitchell and Venti fic. Venti, after confronting Fake Creator, is forced to be loyal to them, otherwise they will execute everyone in Mondstadt. He gets an earful from Mitchell.
Another Fukuzawa fic, possibly? Something with Fukuzawa act as an assassin again. Perhaps with Rosaria and Eula, or Lawrence Clan.
Saving Nahida and Aranaras fic. Chuuya? Perhaps Adam and Lucy.
Fake Creator focused fic. About their past, and why they decided to pretend to be a Creator. Possibly with Ayatsuji.
Atsushi fic. Something soft, Atsushi bringing tiger cubs to Reader for petting them.
BEAST Spin Off. Semi-canon for the main crossover. BEAST Characters get into the Real World after Reader returned from Teyvat and BEAST! Mori accidentally scared Reader with his voice.
What if. What if Reader get into Teyvat before BSD Cast got into the Real World and during execution Reader, instead of returning to the Real World, got teleported into BSD World.
2. In BSD Manor. It's big enough to house few more people. If needed, Fitzgerald might order to build one more house (he was planning to do it anyway, in case more BSD Characters appeared in Real World).
Kids helped Aranaras and Melusines build new villages for them.
3. Does Nahida and Furina move their people in the real world too?
It will depend, if most of their citizens will be in danger (example: If Fake Creator ordered Apep to "unleash" jungles on Sumeru, or Neuvillette decided to drown Fontaine), Furina and Nahida will demand for their people to be moved.
Otherwise, if their people aren't in danger, they will see and wait.
BSD Cast, while angry, aren't unreasonable. They understand, why common people chased after Reader (fear, religious beliefs). Their revenge are mostly focused on "playable characters". People in power, who ordered to hunt Reader.
They will try to keep permanent damage to the normal citizens as low as they can.
4. He is quite rich. I won't call him the richest, but he is wealthy.
5. Even if they are, they won't find anything. Fitzgerald is financially clear. For real world, he was just a cosplayer, who decided to play on the stock exchange (Fitzgerald and Alcott) and get a jackpot from online casino (Sigma, Fyodor, Dazai). There is no tax evasion, Fitzgerald is just a very lucky person.
BSD Cast prepared, before going to the real world.
__________
Tag list: @withered-blossoms , @myluckymoon @cocodrilofeliz @c4xcocoa @vvyeislazzy @whisperingwinters @nervousinfluencertidalwave @ayameshu
#self-awarebsd#self-awareau#bungou stray dogs au#bsd#bungou stray dogs#bsd anime#bsd x gender neutral reader#gender neutral reader#imposter sagau
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