#I felt it was irrelevant to the point but I can always mention them if wanted
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weskie · 3 months ago
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hi first glove anon here. i feel like i started something LMAO i’m glad you all share my vision
anyway i have more thoughts. specifically about medfet wesker… wooooo!!
wesker who insists on “examinations” in the medical supply room, dons his blue vinyl gloves and pries your lips apart to look at your teeth and depresses your tongue with his fingers to watch your face take on a subtle expression of confusion. he moves onto your throat and makes palpitations there, across your chest (bonus for lingering touches on an ftm reader with top surgery scars!!) and down to your waist, pressing into your hip dips just a little too hard so that you wince and/or have some bruising later from where he was slightly rough about it.
and, if you’re being pliant enough, he might just have to look in some other areas, hmm? examine your thighs and calves for “injuries,” just taking the time to casually feel you up. never taking it as far as you’d like so that the rest of the team doesn’t get suspicious. URGHHH I COOKED HERE.
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anon i can't believe you made me learn this about myself just now lmAOOO (/positive)
ALSO YOU HAD ME AT THE BIT ABOUT CHEST SCARS HALLELUJAH
no but i NEED to see a super detailed close up of his hands in exam gloves in the absolute worst way now. any color, but green in particular i feel would really accentuate the details of his hands very nicely, especially the bumps of his knuckles and maybe even a vein or two
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lupinqs · 7 days ago
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CHAPTER FIVE ━━ I Get You
❀ ━ pairing: paige bueckers x oc (jo jacobson)
❀ ━ word count: 4.9K
❀ ━ warnings: mentions of injury, angst
❀ ━ links: my masterlist, nobody gets me masterlist
❀ ━ author’s note: these hoes are gay
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PAIGE SITS on the sidelines, her crutches propped up against the wall, the weight of her brace a constant reminder. The gym smells like it always does—sweat, pine-scented floor cleaner, and faintly of old rubber. It’s familiar, almost comforting, but today it just feels hollow. Every bounce of the ball, every squeak of sneakers against polished wood, every shout of her teammates feels like a sharp stab. She should be out there. She should be running those plays, setting up the assists, pushing the pace, and taking those impossible shots. Instead, she’s stuck here, immobile and useless.
Her hands grip the edge of the chair, the cool metal biting into her palms as she leans forward to watch the scrimmage. Jo’s running point, calling out a play with that calm, sure voice Paige has come to admire. Jo makes it look easy, like she’s been apart of this team forever, and the rest of the girls respond to her without hesitation. It’s the kind of command Paige used to have, the kind she oddly always thought no one could replicate.
But between Jo and Nika, they’re doing fine without her.
And she thinks that’s the hardest part.
Every pass, every cut, every layup feels like a slap to Paige’s pride. The team doesn’t crumble without her; they adapt. Jo steps into the role Paige left vacant, and Paige can’t even dislike her for it because she’s so damn good at it. She runs the offense and with precision, directing the team perfectly. And, of course, it’s not like Paige wants her team to fail without her. It’s just a reminder of what she can’t do anymore—or, at least not for a long time.
Her stomach twists as she watches the scrimmage play out. She’s never been good at sitting still, and now, that’s all she can do. Sit and watch. She used to be the one lifting everyone’s spirits, the one pushing them through tough practices. Now she’s just another body on the sidelines, invisible and irrelevant. She feels like a ghost of herself, haunting the gym where she uses to thrive.
The ache in her knee is dull but persistent, a constant undercurrent to her frustration. The brace is still and cumbersome, and the crutches are a pain in the ass to deal with. Even getting to this chair had felt like a marathon. She hates every second of this—the injury, the recovery, the helplessness. It’s not just the physical pain; it’s the way it chips away at her identity. She doesn’t know who she is without basketball.
She glances down at the clipboard balanced on her lap, a half-hearted attempt to stay engaged. Geno had given it to her, suggesting she could help track plays and stats during practice, but it feels like a consolation prize. Like something he made up to keep her busy, to make her feel less like dead weight. The truth is, she doesn’t know what the hell her role is anymore. She doesn’t know how to help when she can’t be on the court.
Paige forced herself to focus back on the scrimmage, her eyes narrowing as Jo drives toward the basket. Jo’s quick, her movements sharp and meaningful, and instead of finishing with the layup, she does a no-look, dishing it out to Azzi on the perimeter, who buries a three. Paige catches Jo’s eyes as she jogs back up the court, and Jo flashes her that smile—warm, reassuring, effortless. It’s the kind of smile that should make Paige feel better, but—for once—it doesn’t.
Paige doesn’t have the energy to smile back. She knows Jo means well, knows she’s trying to be supportive, but it just makes Paige feel worse. She’s not in the mood for reassurance. She doesn’t want to be told it’s going to be okay, because it doesn’t feel like it ever will be.
Jo looks away and gets back into the flow of the game, and Paige’s gaze drops to the clipboard again. She scribbles something down, not because it matters, but because she needs something to do with her hands. She feels the tears prick at the corners of her eyes, and she bites the inside of her cheek hard enough to hurt.
The gym fades into background noise as her mind races. She thinks about the months ahead, the endless rehab sessions, the games she’ll have to watch from the bench. She thinks about how everyone else will move on, how the media will forget her name, how the team will find rhythm without her. She wonders if she’ll ever get that rhythm back, if she’ll ever feel like herself again.
She thinks she will. She has enough trust in God to hope he’ll at least give her that. But, here, right now, that feels so far ahead that it’s almost just wishful at this point.
Paige closes her eyes, breathing deeply. She can’t do this here, not in front of everyone. She pushes herself up from the chair, fumbling for her crutches. The awkward motion makes her wince, but she swallows the ache and glances at Geno.
“Gotta go to the bathroom,” she says, her voice too clipped to be convincing.
Geno narrows his eyes slightly, the way he always does when he’s trying to figure someone out. He nods once, and Paige feels the weight of his gaze as she turns away. She knows he can see right through her excuse, but he doesn’t call her out on it. She doesn’t need another lecture about staying engaged.
The moment she’s out of the gym, the air feels different—quieter, cooler, easier to breathe. The hallway stretches ahead of her, lined with murals of UConn legends. Paige’s crutches thud against the floor as she hobbles forward, her eyes skimming over the faces and names that loom on the walls. Maya Moore. Breanna Stewart. Diana Tayrasi. Sue Bird.
Her chest tightens.
She’s supposed to be part of this legacy. She’s supposed to be one of the names people remember, one of the faces immortalized in paint and pride. But now? Now she’s a girl with a busted knee and a brace that feels like a goddamn prison. The thought makes her stomach twist with equal parts anxiety and frustration, a bitter cocktail she’s been choking down since the surgery.
As she continues down the hall, trying to push those thoughts out of her head, she nearly collides with someone rounding the corner.
“Paige!”
Celeste Sinclair’s voice is bright and warm, and Paige immediately regrets leaving the gym. The grin that spreads across the redhead’s face feels too familiar, too personal, like an inside joke Paige isn’t in on.
“Hey,” Paige mutters, gripping the crutches tighter.
She hasn’t seen Celeste since before her ACL tear, and that’s probably for the best. The girls Paige hooks up with always have a way of getting too attached. Paige doesn’t blame them, not really. She knows she’s charming, knows how to make people feel like they’re the only one in the world when they’re with her. But that’s all it’s ever been: a moment.
Celeste is nice. Pretty. Accomplished. Good in bed. But Paige has never wanted anything more, never even given it a thought. Relationships aren’t for her. They never have been. Basketball has always been her first and only love, the one thing she’s willing to give herself to completely. And now that’s gone—at least for now. The last thing she needs is another reminder of how much she’s failed.
“I haven’t seen you since…” Celeste trails off, gesturing vaguely toward Paige’s knee, her voice tinged with sympathy. “How’re you holding up?”
Paige forces herself to smile, though it feels more like a grimace. “I’m good. Just takin’ it one day at a time.”
Celeste beams at her like she’s just said something profound, and Paige wants to die a little inside.
“I’m glad to hear that,” Celeste replies. “I wasn’t sure—did you get my card? I gave it to Jo to pass along before your surgery. Um, but you haven’t really said anything.”
Oh, right. The card. The one Paige didn’t even read. The one that’s now resting in a hospital trash can. Paige rubs a hand over her face, buying time to piece together an answer. “Yeah—uh, yeah, I got it. Sorry I said nothin’. Thanks, though.”
Celeste’s smile widens, and her eyes soften in that way that makes Paige want to shuffle awkwardly away. Celeste always looks at her like that, like there’s something more between them, something Paige knows she’ll never be able to—or want—to give.
“You’re welcome,” Celeste says gently. “I just wanted you to know I was thinking about you.”
Paige more, hoping that’s the end of it, but of course, it’s not.
“Hey,” Celeste starts, her tone shifting to something more professional, “any chance you’d be up for, like, a TikTok? Just something to show the fans you’re healing. They’d love to see you.”
It’s times like these that Paige understands why Jo thought it was so funny she was fucking their media girl. Paige stares at Celeste for a long second, feeling a spark of irritation flare in her chest, because, seriously, why would she even ask that? “No, Celeste. I don’t wanna do any media.”
The words come out sharper than she intends, but she doesn’t care enough to soften them. She adjusts her grip on her crutches, already turning to leave.
“Right,” Celeste says quickly, falling into step beside her. “I get that. Totally. Just… heal up, okay? Call or text, if you want to. You know where to find me.”
Paige doesn’t respond, just gives her a brief nod before hobbling down the hall. Her pace is slow, each step a frustrating reminder of how far she is from where she wants to be. Celeste finally stops following, and Paige exhales in relief as she rounds another corner, desperate for some space, some air, anything that doesn’t feel like pressure or pity.
AFTER PRACTICE, Jo walks into the locker room with the rest of the team, the chatter and laughter bouncing off the walls as everyone unwinds from the session. She’s still buzzing with the energy of the scrimmage (and the sprints they were forced to do after because of one-too-many missed layups), but as she rounds the corner to the lockers, she notices a familiar figure slouched on the bench.
Paige had disappeared halfway through practice, and though Geno didn’t make a big deal out of it, Jo had been aware of her absence like a missing puzzle piece. Now here she is, sitting in front of their side-by-side lockers, her crutches leaning against the bench and her gaze a little unfocused. Her brace sticks out awkwardly from her bent leg, and Jo feels a pant of sympathy tighten her chest.
“Hey,” Jo says as she tosses her bag in the cubby of her locker. She sits down beside Paige, close enough to make her presence known but not enough to crowd her. “You okay?”
Paige shrugs, her lips pulling into a vague shape that might be a smile but doesn’t come close. “Yeah. ‘M fine.”
Jo doesn’t buy it. It’s not that Paige is necessarily a bad liar; she’s just too proud, too stubborn to admit when she’s not. Jo watches her for a beat, the slump of her shoulders, the way her fingers fight with the hem of her T-shirt. She knows this posture, this energy. It’s the same one she’s seen in teammates who’ve been sidelined by injures, the same one she’s seen in herself on the bad days.
But Jo doesn’t push. She knows how that can feel—suffocating, like someone prying open a door you’re not ready to unlock. Instead, she plants her hands on the bench and leans back a little, changing the subject.
“Did you see Lou get me with that spin move earlier?” Jo asks, keeping her tone light. “Literally cooked me.”
Paige lets out a small, breathy laugh, almost imperceptible, but Jo catches it. It’s the first sign of life she’s seen in her all day.
“Didn’t even look like she was trying,” Paige mutters, her voice flat but laced with the ghost of a smirk.
“Right?” Jo exclaims, throwing up her hands in mock indignation. “It’s like, leave some dignity for the rest of us, y’know?”
She continues on, telling some half-dramatic story of when Nika picked her pocket after Paige left, weaving in jokes at her own expanse. She avoids anything too basketball-heavy, keeping the focus on the absurdity of her own experiences instead of the game itself. It’s a careful balance—Jo knows that bringing up basketball might sting, but it’s also a thread that ties them together, a shared language Paige can’t—and Jo knows she doesn’t want to—escape from.
Paige hums in response now and then, her focus flickering like a weak signal. Jo can tell she’s only half-listening, her mind somewhere else entirely. Still, she keeps going, hoping that her presence, if nothing else, might pull Paige out of her head a little.
After a while, as everyone’s getting up to go, Jo shifts the conversation again, tilting her head toward Paige. “Y’know, we could hang out later—maybe watch a movie or something?”
Paige looks at her, and for a split second, Jo thinks she might say no outright. Instead, Paige forces a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes and says, “Maybe.”
The hesitation is there, sharp and obvious, but Jo doesn’t call it out. She knows better than to push. She lets the word hang in the air for a moment before nodding, as if “maybe” is a real plan.
“Okay,” Jo says, keeping her tone casual.
Paige turns back to her hands, her fingers tracing invisible patterns on the bench. Jo watches her out of the corner of her eye, thinking of something that might reach her. She’s learned that Paige is pretty independent, something that stems from her childhood if Jo had to guess, and Jo respects that. She does. But there’s a difference between being independent and shutting everyone out, and Jo worries that Paige is tipping too far into the latter.
She tries to think of something—anything—that might help. She doesn’t need to cheer Paige up, necessarily. She’s learned by now that joy isn’t always the right goal. What Paige needs isn’t sunshine and rainbows (though Jo would probably be better at giving her that). What she needs is something steadier, quieter. A reminder that she’s not alone, even if she feels like she is.
She’ll figure something out.
PAIGE LIES sprawled across her bed, the room dimly lit by the soft glow of the string lights draped along the wall. Her eyes are fixed on her crutches, propped up against the wall next to her like a taunt she can’t escape. They stand there, silent and unmoving, mocking her with their stillness while the rest of the world seems to keep spinning without her.
Today has been one of the most frustrating days she’s had since the injury. The hours feel heavier, pressing against her chest, leaving no room to breathe. Practice was a disaster, even though she wasn’t really in it. She hates watching from the sidelines, hates feeling so useless. She’d escaped halfway through, hobbling out of the gym under the guise of needing air, only to run into Celeste, of all people. That interaction still churns in her stomach—awkward and uncomfortable, like a bruise pressed too hard.
Jo had asked her earlier if she wanted to hang out tonight. Just a movie, something simple. Paige had said “maybe” at the time. But an hour or so ago, when Jo knocked softly on her door, her voice east and unassuming as she asked if Paige wanted to make good on the plan, Paige had thrown out some half-baked excuse about being tired.
Jo didn’t push, of course. She never does. She just nodded, smiled a little, and closed the door, before Paige heard her leave the apartment—probably to go upstairs and hangout with their teammates. Her stomach twisted with guilt as she listened because Jo is Jo—kind and patient and the only person who seems to understand that Paige doesn’t want to talk about any of this. She doesn’t want to be asked how she’s doing, doesn’t want to be told it’ll get better, doesn’t want to be smothered in sympathy that feels more like pity.
But Jo’s absence now feels louder than her presence earlier. Paige stares at the ceiling, trying to will herself into a calmer state, trying to shake off the weight of the day, the week, the last month. It doesn’t work.
She sits up abruptly, shoving the blankets off her legs and swinging them over the side of the bed. Her knee twinges at the movement, the brace digging into her skin, and she lets out a frustrated huff. Her eyes land on the crutches again, the sharp lines of their edges casting long shadows in the dim light. She feels a bubbling in her chest—an anger she doesn’t know how to direct, a helplessness she doesn’t know how to contain.
Before she even realizes what she’s doing, Paige grabs one of the crutches from beside the bed and hurls it across the room. It crashes against the wall with a dull thud, sliding to the floor in a defeated heap. The sound echoes in the silence, and for a moment, she just stares at the aftermath, her chest heaving.
And then the tears come.
It’s not the first time she’s cried since the injury, but it feels different tonight—uglier, rawer, like the dam has finally burst. She curls in on herself, her hands tangling in her hair as sobs wrack her body. She doesn’t bother trying to quiet them. There’s no one here to hear her, no one to ask if she’s okay, no one to offer meaningless reassurances she doesn’t want to hear.
Except, there is.
A soft, hesitant knock at Paige’s bedroom door jolts her out of her spiraling thoughts. She freezes, her hands instinctively wiping at her face, smearing away the tears that have already begun to dry against her skin. Confusion threads through her—she thought Jo had left. She hadn’t even heard her come back.
The door creaks open, and there Jo is, standing in the sun light spilling from the hallway. Her brows are furrowed, her mouth pulled into a concerned line. She takes a step inside, her eyes scanning the room. Paige knows what she sees—the red puffiness of her face, the dampness of her cheeks, and the crutch lying discarded by the wall like a casualty of war.
“Sorry,” Paige blurts out, her voice cracking as the word tumbles out in a rush. She feels a fresh wave of shame rise up. She’s been awful to Jo, she knows that. First brushing her off earlier, and now this—disturbing her peace with her mess, her ability to just hold it together for once.
Jo doesn’t say anything for a moment, just stands there, her eyes roving over Paige’s face, taking in every detail. Paige hates how exposed she feels, like Jo can see right through the flimsy walls she’s been trying to keep up all day. Finally, Jo sighs and steps fully into the room, closing the door behind her with a soft click.
“Paige,” Jo says gently, “you don’t have to be sorry.”
There’s something in Jo’s voice that makes Paige want to believe her. Something so simple, yet so genuine, that it threatens to unravel the last bit of control she has. She doesn’t respond, just watches as Jo walks closer. She sets something—a bag, Paige thinks—on the floor next to the bed, but Paige doesn’t even bother to look at it. Jo sits down on the edge of the mattress, close enough that Paige can smell the faint traces of strawberry body wash on her skin. She hates that it makes her stomach do that weird fluttery thing, hates that it makes her feel anything at all.
“I’m just—” Jo pauses, and Paige looks up at her. Jo’s eyes are soft but unwavering, and the way she’s looking at Paige, like she’s trying to will her to understand something without saying it outright, makes her heart squeeze. “I’m really worried about you, P.”
The flutter in Paige’s stomach turns into something heavier, like a weight pressing down on her stomach. Jo’s worried about her. Paige knows that other people have probably been worried about her too—her parents, her teammates, her coaches—but it feels different coming from Jo. It feels too much. She shifts uncomfortably, trying to ignore the way Jo’s gaze feels like it’s peeling back all her layers.
“I’m fine,” Paige says automatically. The word sound hollow even to her, like a tired script she’s forced herself to memorize.
Jo shakes her head, her expressing softening even more. “No, you’re not. And it’s okay not to be.”
Paige doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to put into words what’s been clawing at her chest since the injury.
“But you’re shutting everyone out,” Jo continues, her voice steady but not accusatory. “It’s like you won’t even look at me some days, let alone talk to me. And I get it. I do. But I just—I want you to know that I’m here. That you can talk to me, because I’ve been there.”
Paige stares at her, the words catching her slightly off guard. I’m here. It’s such a simple thing to say, but the way Jo says it, low and earnest, makes something in Paige’s chest twist. She doesn’t know what to do with that—doesn’t know how to accept it without feeling like she’s admitting defeat.
“Azzi already tried,” Paige says finally, sounding shaky. “She tore her ACL in high school, and she tried to talk to me about it. But it’s just—she still didn’t seem to get it. No one does—I don’t know—” Her voice cracks on the last few words, and she feels the tears welling up again, hot and relentless.
Jo studies her for a long moment, her head tilting slightly. “You think nobody gets you?” she asks softly.
Paige nods, the movement slow and heavy, her throat too tight to speak.
Jo nods too, as if she’s been expecting that. “It’s not true,” she says simply. “I get you. I do.”
Paige shakes her head, a weak protest already forking. “Jo—”
“No, really,” Jo interrupts, leaning forward slightly. “You feel like everyone expects you to be perfect, all the time. You feel like if you’re not the Paige Bueckers everyone knows—the player, the leader, the star—that you’re letting everyone down. Your team, your coaches, your fans, your family—yourself. You feel like you don’t even know who you are without basketball, because it’s been your whole life for as long as you can remember. And now that it’s been taken away from you, you don’t know how to exist. You feel lost, like a piece of you is missing, and you’re scared—terrified, actually—that you’ll never get it back And you’re so used to dealing with everything on your own, to putting on a brave face and pretending you’re fine, that the thought of letting anyone in feels basically impossible. Like if you let even one crack show, then the whole thing will just come crashing down.”
The words hit Paige like a tidal wave. Every sentence is a punch to the gut, not because it hurts, but because it’s true. Jo’s right—about all of it. About the fear, the pressure, the suffocating wright of it all. And the way Jo says it, calm and matter-of-fact, makes it even harder to ignore.
“Was I right?” Jo asks softly, her eyes searching Paige’s face.
Paige swallows hard, her chest tight as she stares at Jo. There’s something about the way Jo’s looking at her—steady and unwavering, like she’ll wait forever if she has to—that makes Paige feel like the room is tilting. She wants to run from it, but she also doesn’t want Jo to stop.
Finally, she nods, her voice barely a whisper. “Yeah,” she says, her throat dry. “You were.”
Paige doesn’t know how to process the way Jo’s smile hits her. It’s small, soft, and knowing, but it wraps around Paige like a hug. Jo leans a little closer, her voice warm and teasing when she says, “See? I told you.”
There’s something about those words, about the certainty in Jo’s tone. She doesn’t want to cry anymore—God, she doesn’t want to—but something about Jo makes her feel like it would be okay if she did.
Jo’s voice interrupts her thoughts. “Scoot over.”
Paige blinks at her, furrowing her brows. “What?”
Jo doesn’t elaborate, just gestures for Paige to move. Paige hesitates, unsure of where this is going, but she shuffled over, making room on the bed. Jo grabs the bag she set down earlier and pulls herself up onto the bed. Paige watches as Jo leans back, settling against the wall, her shoulder brushing Paige’s, her other side cuddling into Sunny, the stuffed animal she gave Paige.
“What’s that?” the blonde asks, gesturing toward the bag with a slight sniffle. Her voice is still shaky from earlier, and she hates how small she sounds.
Jo pulls the bag into her lap, her voice lighter now, almost back to her usual bright, less-serious self. “Oh, this?” She opens it and pulls out a little tub of ice cream. “I went out and got us ice cream. I got your disgusting mint chip.”
Paige blinks, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth despite herself. That’s where Jo had gone, even after she’d bailed on their plans. Paige takes the ice cream Jo offers, along with a spoon, feeling a warmth spread through her chest that has nothing to do with the food.
Jo retrieves her own tub—still cotton candy, still gross—and balances it in her lap.
They sit in silence for a moment, and Paige lets herself watch Jo as she digs into her ice cream. There’s something so effortless about her, the way she fits into Paige’s space like she belongs here.
Jo suddenly looks around, frowning a little as if searching for something. “Where’s your—?” she starts but doesn’t finish before her eyes lick on something and she leans over Paige, reaching toward the nightstand.
It happens so quickly that all Paige can do is freeze. Jo’s arm brushes her side, her hair falls near Paige’s face, and Paige can smell her shampoo, something sweet and faintly strawberry. Paige’s heart starts racing, and she doesn’t understand why.
Jo grabs the TV remote and sits back, settling into her spot again like nothing happened. Paige feels ridiculous for how flustered she is, but she can’t help it.
Jo turns on the TV, flipping through the streaming apps before looking over at Paige. “You ready to finally start The Vampire Diaries?”
The blonde groans, leaning her head back against the wall. “No, I don’t wanna watch that.”
Jo’s been pestering her about this show for what feels like forever, insisting Paige would love it if she just gave it a chance. Paige, naturally, has resisted every time.
The younger girl shrugs, clearly unfazed. “Well, I don’t care. You’re already a little too depressed to keep watching Grey’s, sorry. It’s more fun to watch vampires eat people. Besides, the Salvatores are hot.”
Paige deadpans, “I’m gay.”
Jo doesn’t miss a beat. “Okay, Nina Dobrev’s hot.”
And, yeah, Paige supposes she can’t argue with that. She sighs, defeated, and waves a hand toward the TV. “Fine. Put it on.”
Jo grins like she’s won a battle, which she kind of has, and presses play. Paige doesn’t know what to expect, but she lets herself settle in as the first episode begins. Part of her wonders why this show is Jo’s favorite. Because, really, what is it about brooding vampires and dumbass love triangles that she loves so much? Maybe, Paige thinks, if she watches closely, she’ll learn something about Jo.
They eat their ice cream in comfortable silence as the show plays, the room filled with the sounds of dramatic dialogue and overly intense music.
After a while, Paige’s appetite fades. She sets her ice cream tub on the nightstand, not in grow her arm brushes Jo’s when she moves. Her heart stutters again, and she tries to ignore it, sliding back into her spot.
Without really thinking, she leans her head on Jo’s shoulder. It’s a small gesture, but it feels huge for some reason. Paige tells herself it’s just because she’s tired, that she needs comfort after everything that’s happened today. But the way her heart races says otherwise.
“Thanks, Joey,” she murmurs quietly.
Jo shifts slightly, and then Paige feels it—the warmth of Jo’s hand as it settles over her own. Paige’s breath catches, her stomach doing something weird and unfamiliar.
“You don’t have to thank me,” Jo says softly, certain.
But Paige does want to thank her, even if she doesn’t know how to put it into words. She doesn’t know how to explain what this means—Jo showing up, staying, not letting her spiral alone. All she knows is that her hand seems to fit perfectly under Jo’s slightly smaller one, and she doesn’t want to move.
The episode plays on, but Paige isn’t really watching anymore. She’s too focused on the warmth of Jo’s shoulder against her cheek, the quiet rise and fall of her breathing, the way her hand hasn’t moved from Paige’s. And in the back of her mind, Paige knows there’s something here—something bigger than she’s ready to admit.
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yr-obedt-cicero · 2 years ago
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The “sad rake” quote definitely predates Flemming's book, it seems to have spurred into many biographies and historical books in the 20th century—As it's been referenced in 1985, 1971, 1968, 1959, 1957. But the earliest mention I've found of it is from Nathan Schachner, in 1957 or 1946 (Depending which edition of the book).
Schachner wrote of many historical figures, particularly the founding fathers. His biography of Hamilton seems to be the earliest mention of this quote;
The young man was talented and possessed of much native ability, and his father was certain of “his future greatness,” Troup wrote after the event. But, the old friend of the family pursued wryly, Philip “was however a sad rake & I have serious doubts whether he ever would have been an honor to his family or his country!”
Schachner, Nathan. Alexander Hamilton. United Kingdom, T. Yoseloff, 1946.
An interesting detail here, Schachner's quote is phrased differently from how it is commonly repeated. For example, Raymond Locke, like many others, quotes the letter as; “alas Philip is a sad rake and I have serious doubts whether he would ever be an honour to his family or his country.” The bolded text is mine showcasing the altered words. An important thing to note is that from Schachner's quote Troup is speaking from after Philip's death, saying “would have been an”, while many retell it as “would ever be”.
Unlike many biographers, Schachner actually cites his source for this quote. He claims it was in a letter dated December 5th, 1801, from Robert Troup to Rufus King;
MS. letter, Troup to King, Dec. 5, 1801; King Papers, N. Y. Hist. Soc. Troup's unflattering estimate of Philip Hamilton is omitted from the published version in King Correspondence, op. cit., III, p. 28. The editor might have been justified in the deletion had not the context which he did print given rise to a complete distortion of Troup's remarks. On the basis of the text as published, all later biographers have conjured up a picture of young Philip which has little relation to the facts.
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And if we look at the December 5th 1801 letter that was published in The Life and Correspondence of Rufus King in 1894, it is clearly missing a lot of sentences;
New York, 5th December, 1801.
Dear Sir: ... We received the account of peace between Great Britain and France in this city on the 20th ulto, via Boston. It instantly operated almost like the hand of death upon all busi- ness. I had two auctions on that day on hand at the Coffee House: one of Sir Wm. (Pulteney's) real property in this city; the other of lands in my hands as an executor of an insolvent estate. There were several other auctions depending. All was knocked up, instead of being knocked down! Not a bid was given; every thing was buzz and confusion in the Coffee House. Ships have fallen. Wheat, corn and flour have been constantly on the fall! In short all business dull and nearly at a stand. I hear however, of no bankruptcies, and much serious mischief does not seem to be apprehended. For twelve days past the city has been much agitated with a duel between Hamilton's oldest son Philip and a Mr. Eacher—a brother lawyer of mine and a violent and bitter democrat... Young Hamilton was mortally wounded and soon after died. Never did I see a man so completely overwhelmed with grief as Hamilton has been. The scene I was present at, when Mrs. Hamilton came to see her son on his deathbed (he died about a mile out of the city) and when she met her husband and son in one room, beggars all description! Young Hamilton was very promising in genius and acquirements, and Hamilton formed high expectations of his future greatness! ... At present Hamilton is more composed and is able again to attend to business; but his countenance is strongly stamped with grief. Eacher has not since made his appearance at the bar. There is a general current of opinion agt. him, except amongst the violent democrats.
Very truly yours, R. T.
King, Rufus. The Life and Correspondence of Rufus King: Comprising His Letters, Private and Official, His Public Documents, and His Speeches. United States, G. P. Putnam's sons, 1894.
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According to Schachner, he had seen the actual manuscript of the letter located at the Historical New York library. And claims that the published version is much more censored to sugarcoat the perception of Philip. If so, it can be presumed that the real letter roughly follows along the lines of; “Young Hamilton was very promising in genius and acquirements, and Hamilton formed high expectations of his future greatness! [Philip Hamilton] was however a sad rake & I have serious doubts whether he ever would have been an honor to his family or his country!” If we trust Schachner's telling of the letter.
I haven't seen the actual letter myself, and I'm pretty sure half the writers who use the quote haven't either since they seem to have altered the wording in comparison to Schachner's (Which eventually was regurgitated enough so that it was believed that was the actual wording), and barely source it. If anyone has seen or can see the original manuscript, feel free to prove this wrong! But I'm willing to bet my money on Schachner being correct since he had seen the manuscript, and is one of the few who has actually properly sourced it.
“Sad Rake” Philip Hamilton?
From Wikipedia: 
Robert Troup, a family friend who had been Alexander Hamilton’s college roommate, wrote that Philip “was very promising in genius and acquirements, and Hamilton formed high expectations of his future greatness!”[7] Troup wrote privately, however, that despite Hamilton’s certainty that Philip was destined for greatness, “alas Philip is a sad rake and I have serious doubts whether he would ever be an honour to his family or his country.”[8][9] 
The first quote is from a letter from Troup to Rufus King [5Dec1801]: 
For twelve days past the city has been much agitated with a duel between Hamilton’s oldest son Philip and a Mr. Eacher—a brother lawyer of mine and a violent and bitter democrat.… Young Hamilton was mortally wounded and soon after died. Never did I see a man so completely overwhelmed with grief as Hamilton has been. The scene I was present at, when Mrs. Hamilton came to see her son on his deathbed (he died about a mile out of the city) and when she met her husband and son in one room, beggars all description! Young Hamilton was very promising in genius and acquirements, and Hamilton formed high expectations of his future greatness! … At present Hamilton is more composed and is able again to attend to business; but his countenance is strongly stamped with grief. Eacher has not since made his appearance at the bar. There is a general current of opinion agt. him, except amongst the violent democrats” (King, The Life and Correspondence of Rufus King, IV, 28).
So where does the second quote come from where he “privately” - I’m pretty sure his letter to King was also private - termed Philip a “sad rake”? Spoiler: I have no idea. 
Follow the Wikipedia citations, and these are the references: 
Realistic Robert Troup, belying his fond parents’ view of Philip’s talent and promise, described him as a ‘sad rake.’
pg 7 of Thomas Fleming, Duel: Alexander Hamilton, Aaron Burr and the Future of America (1999). Although Fleming does have footnotes for other citations, he has none for this. 
The other footnote/source:
“His father,” one of Hamilton’s colleagues said regarding Philip, “is certain of his future greatness but alas Philip is a sad rake and I have serious doubts whether he would ever be an honour to his family or his country.” 
p 117, The Aaron Burr Affair (1967) by Robert Hardy Andrews, in The Birth of America: Selected Readings from Mankind Magazine
No name is provided of this “colleague,” and there are no citations/footnotes in the version reprinted in this book. The references to Hamilton (father) and future greatness make it seem like it could be a Troup reference, but there’s no “sad rake” quote in his letters to King. The Robert Troup papers are at the NYPL (not digitized, it seems), but this quote might be with the recipient’s correspondence, and I don’t know who that was. 
The author of the latter essay seems to be this Robert Hardy Andrews. Let me say that there are some bizarre lines in all of the essays that are re-published in The Birth of America including this one: 
But Philip had begun to drink, and loved the theater, and yearned to prove himself “as more than ‘General Hamilton’s son.’” 
Again, whom is Andrews quoting? Are these just scare quotes, and he largely made everything up? Andrews died in 1976, so we cannot ask him. 
Let’s get back to Fleming (died in 2017), since he is the source that Chernow, etc, are quoting for Troup’s supposed description of Philip as a “sad rake.” 
On pg 78, Fleming writes: 
Even one of Hamilton’s closest friends, Robert Troup, lamented that his character was “radically deficient in discretion.” 
Um, this is what Troup wrote [31Dec1800] to Rufus King: 
The influence … of this letter upon Hamilton’s character is extremely unfortunate. An opinion has grown out of it, which at present obtains almost universally, that his character is radically deficient in discretion, and therefore the federalists ask, what avail the most preeminent talents—the most distinguished patriotism—without the all important quality of discretion? Hence he is considered as an unfit head of the party …” my emphasis, (King, The Life and Correspondence of Rufus King, III, 359).
Troup was referring to the Federalists’ opinion of AH, not his own. (In fairness, this would have been a decently shared opinion even among those closest to AH.) 
So where the “sad rake” quote comes from, and how it got attributed by Fleming to Troup, remains a mystery to me. 
Side note: I need to write about William Coleman, first editor of the NY Post, and his duel with Thompson (he mortally wounded Thompson) in 1804. 
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corpseconvulsive · 5 months ago
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Hi! My name is August and im here to address the rumors of Toby/Plague, a cosplayer and content creator being a groomer and other accusations made within the last few days
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You may recognize my name from other posts made regarding myself and other rumors including the rumor that i am one of the people Toby is grooming, which is devastating in my eyes because never once has Toby acted in a predatory way towards me, he is truly one of the coolest dudes ever.
Why did this rumor start? Its because of one screenshot where i am describing that i am cold and toby makes a joke saying he will “wrap his feet around me” which was obviously a joke, wrapping your whole ass feet around someone is not even humanly possible?
I fully consent to the sexual and darker jokes and fully enjoy them as we use in private in our servers for just ourselves and friends watering our humor down in the Blood of Salvation server, Toby always makes sure to respect a boundary if it is brought to his attention, still TO THIS DAY i am asked at least twice a month sometimes even three times if my boundaries have changed, the only one being to not make fun of me for my weight as it makes me incredibly insecure, Toby has never broken that boundary. If people had an issue with our humor, we have always communicated in the server that they can message a moderator to discuss any issues, no one ever messaged us saying they felt uncomfortable.
I can address that our humor is quite sexual and dark to begin with, however if toby is not personally friends, he controls his humor ESPECIALLY around minors, there have been many occasions where Toby has mentioned he is kind of sick of minors joining the server just because they simp and suck up to him and how gross he feels when people act like that just because the find him hot.
Majority of the jokes made were in a chat where only the moderators and admins can talk which you can choose if you want the channel to be visible or not, all moderators who are close friends talk here, we didnt say many of the screenshots shown to random members although we should have been more careful with what we say as some people are incredibly young.
Also the way this was handled was horrendous, Seirei has a large platform that i stopped following a few months ago, her content was great in my eyes and i completely idolized her because she seemed really cool, however things like calling ticci toby an abuser and other drama that arised has caused me to stop following her. She should have handled it like an adult and talked to everyone mentioned to get both sides as some people involved are minors which is so dangerous seeing how people are being doxxed now, some involved are as young as 14. Seirei’s posts are in my eyes, the reason this stupid situation has gotten to the point people have begun doxxing Toby and others, this in my eyes, is terrible, even for the ones making up these rumors and statements that are being doxed as well. I have no respect for those making up these things about my friend, however i think everyone deserves the right to feel safe in there own home without worrying about there information being leaked and something happening to them.
I have messaged Seirei who said to message her if you have more information or input as it says on her tiktok, explaining that Toby is indeed not a fucking creep towards me, is definetly not grooming me as I know the signs I have been groomed twice in my life for long periods of time such as 2-3 years starting before i was even a teenager, and about screenshots and things said about me in general regarding an old situationship. Seirei has not acknowledged my message along with another friend who has messaged her for a simple question.
Regarding the things with my ex situationship, i do not know why it is being brought up as it was irrelevant to this however all i will say is yes i sent her nudes however she did happen to start sending them first and it was a common thing for us to act sexual with one another, also one of the people who happens to be making accusations about Toby has told me i must not have sexual trauma if i sent nudes to her when I admitted i was a victim of sa and grooming which is a horrible thing to say to any victim to disregard what happened to them, it is not right and vile to do that to any victim no matter what abuse they have trauma and scars from, especially when some have developed hypersexuality from the trauma such as myself.
I would also like to discuss how these people accusing toby are hypocritical as well, they act like they have not done similar things while they have.
Robin, someone who started this mainly from what i know, loves to simp and support Jimmy Urine, who if you dont know who that is, he is a giant pedophile and was the singer of MSI(Mindless Self Indulgence). He has been charged with sexual battery against minors and they fully support this man and call him hot and basically drool all over him.
Virus is a person Toby used to be friends with before i came into the picture, a minor who said sexual shit and has wrote multiple in depth paragraphs about wanting to do sexual things with Toby as a minor before Toby finally kicked him from the server and blocked him entirely due to the shit he was saying. When i became friends with Toby I had heard stories about Virus as the server was still below 100 members(believe i was the 96th member after i messaged Toby asking if he had a server since his discord was on his IG) so the server was a close tight knit group with the moderators and there friends before it was opened for the public. After making it public Virus made MULTIPLE TikTok accounts and Discord accounts to join the server after being banned for his weird actions, how do we know? Because this dude kept posting art in his style, I was one of the people who analyzed the art as I am an artist myself, the eyes, nose, face shape, style, is all the same. He even presented us with a fake tiktok account, it was him in a red curly wig, same background as his other tiktoks. He is obsessed and seems to come back at least once every month or two.
Many others have made r34 of characters which is gross, like i mentioned before told me i couldnt have been sa’d and groomed if i sent nudes, someone tried accusing me that i was an adult talking to my situationship who is a minor despite the fact that my ex situationship was older than me, accused Toby of asking a minor to show him their tits as a joke meanwhile the “minor” i question is our friend Kat who is 23 so definetly a minor, people have called moderators who do there job mean, saying its wrong that we “shit talk” members meanwhile we only “shit talk” members if youre being stupid and we think its a possibility youll break the rules and start shit meanwhile these people accusing toby have servers and gcs on discord made for the purpose of shitting on Toby, myself, and other members of the staff in the crp server, and a bunch of other stuff.
As you can see, the list goes on with how hypocritical these people are, using things out of context to try and get the point across when all they are doing is lying to paint Toby in a bad light, its disgusting how they accuse Toby of being a groomer when this is who happens to be accusing him. Again to the rumor Toby is grooming me, i can fully state that no he is not grooming me, he has never acted romantically in any shape or form with me, he has never acted predatory towards me or any others, I mean if I dont text him, my dms are drier than the sahara desert with that man, hes not one to text first so sometimes i go a day or two without actually speaking to him. I know the signs of being a groomer from experience and research, Toby is not grooming myself or any others and its bullshit that people are accusing him based on messages taken out of context.
Thank you for reading🖤🖤❤️❤️
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good-to-drive · 3 months ago
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your analysis of paul + golden children was superb!!!! you mentioned that for children, abandonment means death. how would you say this manifested/developed in john considering his childhood (who's usually the one we think of regarding abandonment issues)?
Thank you so much, I really appreciate that!!! I always hope someone enjoys my ramblings lol. I definitely think John was deeply shaped by abandonment trauma and neglect, having had caregivers leave him, neglect him, and pass away during his childhood and adolescence, and I think you can see a mix of fear, shame, and anger connected to abandonment/rejection throughout his adult life. 
The best description I’ve read for the mindset of a child in a tumultuous family system is “Don’t let me disappear.” I touched on this here, but it all comes back to the deep, primal knowledge that without a caregiver you will die. It’s called existential fear because it’s quite literally a fear of nonexistence – it’s the knowledge that the only thing between you and death is the adult world, clashing with the knowledge that the adult world is inconsistent and unreliable. It's your survival being fundamentally dependent on a world you can’t control and, based on your experience of it, can’t trust. 
Ideally, children would never be confronted with the possibility of a caregiver dying, leaving, or neglecting them. But obviously John experienced at least two of those things, and arguably all three, and that means he was probably very acutely aware of death as a constant presence in his life. 
I know the way both Julia and Alfred abandoned him is already pretty heavily discussed, but one thing I don’t see people talking about is his life when he did live under Julia’s care.
I'm also not sure abandon is the right word for what Julia did, because I'm under the impression she may not have felt she had a real choice, but regardless it would have been abandonment to John. Children don't really understand that adults also don't control the adult world, and I'm sure he felt that if Julia wasn't his primary caregiver it was because she didn't want to be.
I don’t have an enormous amount of detail on this, but I know from this piece by Psychology in Seattle that Julia would leave John physically alone for long periods of time, particularly at night, to the point that he would have panic attacks and beg neighbors for help. And, again, when children feel abandoned or neglected it’s dying that they’re afraid of. He wasn’t just lonely and confused – though I’m sure that was part of it – he was existentially terrified. Through that experience of serious neglect, being unloved and rejected translated literally to death, which will set a horrible schema in a child's mind.
I think people might ignore this part of John's life because there’s a chance he can’t remember it, but aside from the fact that trauma can lead to early formation of memories, you don’t actually have to be able to remember something in order to be shaped and traumatized by it. And living with an early-childhood trauma you can’t remember, but which still shaped your brain and your perception of reality and your ability to ever feel okay, is a very painful and complex experience. In some ways trauma lives in the brain more than the mind, and being inside of a brain that’s been misused and twisted in a way you can’t get any clarity on is uniquely terrible. I genuinely don’t know if John could remember his early childhood, but there’s no way that experience didn’t instill deep trauma and permanently alter the way he saw and interacted with the world by instilling an early, maladaptive schema. 
It might also be a good time to mention how a schema is defined, which is something I don’t think I’ve ever explicitly done before. This article about the connection between maladaptive schemas and depression is way too long and mostly irrelevant, but this part is important:
A schema may be defined as “any broad organizing principle for making sense of one’s life experience” (Young, Kloscko, & Weishar, 2003, p. 7). While schemas can provide useful heuristics with which to organize the world, they can also be maladaptive when they involve pervasive, inflexible, and dysfunctional cognitions (e.g., Young, 1990). Expanding upon 78 EBERHART ET AL. Beck’s (1967, 1983) cognitive theory of depression, Young (Young, 1990, 1994; Young et al., 2003) has suggested that there are a number of specific maladaptive schemas that develop in childhood and are elaborated throughout life that place individuals at increased risk for psychopathology
A more straightforward explanation might be that schemas describe how you think about the world, and you usually learn them as a kid (sometimes even before you learn to talk), and everyone has them but when they’re really rigid or really negative they can cause a lot of problems in your life. One schema might be “I am unworthy of love.” That’s something a lot of people who experience early-childhood abandonment will develop, essentially explaining their abandonment to themselves by saying it must have been their own fault for not being lovable, and it echoes through their adult relationships by making love feel impossible or fake because it conflicts with one of their fundamental beliefs. A schema could also be “Most people are bad and want to hurt you,” which would make positive relationships in general very difficult to form. 
John also had his primary caregiver change early in life, when he went from being under Julia’s care to Mimi’s, which is always traumatic for children. It’s like being abandoned, except you’re also now dealing with a new caregiver who you don’t know and don’t know how to deal with. All the little things you learned for managing your relationship with your initial caregiver, the knowledge of how they usually react to things and how you can keep them appeased and thereby keep yourself safe, a sense of familiarity and the ability to know if you’re okay -- it's all stripped away, and it's utterly destabilizing and therefore terrifying. It can also make children very scared of feeling loved, because they’ve been taught on a deep level that being given love is a precursor to having love taken away. Of course, it can also make children desperate to feel loved, to be someone it’s impossible not to love. Or it can be a combination of both. 
There’s also evidence that Mimi used emotional neglect as a punishment during John's childhood – i.e. gave him the silent treatment when he did things that upset her. This is already a pretty horrible thing for a parent to do with an adult child, much less a young child who still feels (and is) utterly dependent on their caregiver for survival. I doubt I have to explain why using existential horror as a tool to torture your child when you’re unhappy with them is incredibly cruel and destructive, but it’s even worse for a child who already had a history of abandonment and neglect. And I think by reactivating his abandonment trauma in order to punish him or express dissatisfaction Mimi probably instilled in him very deeply that feeling unloved or rejected is something people do to you intentionally, because they want to see you hurt, because you've made some kind of mistake that displeased them. It would be so difficult for John to see any slight hint of rejection as anything but an intentional, malicious act meant to convey disapproval or retaliation, a conscious choice to hurt him in the absolute worst way possible because they felt he did something to deserve being hurt in the worst way possible. Because, in his experience, that’s exactly what it was.  
This would have created so much shame and self-hate connected to any kind of abandonment, as well as deep mistrust for people he loved and who therefore had the power to reject him. And for most people shame, self-hate, and mistrust are transmuted to anger and then to cruelty. I think you can see a bit of this with how John tended to react with anger when he perceived himself as rejected or overlooked (see also: John’s later relationship with George). Rejection, abandonment, and neglect were incredibly sharp tools in John’s world, both in how they were (sometimes unintentionally) used against him, and in how he himself used them when he felt abused and betrayed. 
Then when he’s still an adolescent Julia dies suddenly, and while John did have a positive relationship with her at the time of her death, it would be hard to construe it as an ideal mother-son relationship. And even if you’re past the point of wanting an ideal relationship with your parent, the fact that you didn't have one (and, in John’s case, that he’d never had a truly healthy relationship with any caregiver) will always be a source of grief. 
Not that it isn’t also horrible to lose a parent who’s been good to you (as with Paul), but it’s the difference between the emptiness of losing something wonderful and the emptiness of never having had that wonderful thing in the first place, and knowing now that you never, ever will. Even if the relationship were already dead, a parent’s death is often when you grieve what you could or should have had, and it’s like any grief in that it never completely leaves you. And the schema you build around that emptiness in order to make it survivable is usually very persistent, too. 
That being said, there’s such a thing as corrective experiences, where (usually through therapy) you reshape your experience of the world and by extension your schemas. My point being that trauma isn't fate and things can always get better.
I also think Mimi was one of these people who expresses love through control and criticism (would love to know more about her and Julia and Alfred’s childhoods, but a lot of that seems pretty opaque, which is so bizarrely universal for toxic caregivers – you know they came from somewhere, but you don’t know where, so you’re trying to draw compassion out of thin air and it’s hard). And there’s a lot to be said about how this translated to John’s relationships with women, how he was shaped by two powerful female presences in his early life who likely never made him feel fully loved, while simultaneously reiterating that being unloved is death. There are also multiple relationships with potential male authority figures that probably connected back to a perpetual state of mourning for his relationship with his father. 
I also think he’s probably like pretty much everybody who had a childhood dominated by fear in that he spent his adult life coping with anxiety and depression, and I’m guessing he was someone whose anxiety probably never dropped below about a 6/10. It’s actually kind of consistent that when people with this kind of childhood get into therapy they rate their anxiety based on their experience of the world, which is that you never really feel okay, you just feel better or worse, so they think their anxiety is around a 3-4. And then over time they start to experience moments of true calm and they realize their default state for most of their life was actually being at least somewhat activated, like a 6+, and that’s why it was so hard to think straight or keep their cool or look at things in a reasonable way. People always say you get the worst of someone when shit hits the fan, but the thing is that for some people that’s just what a normal day feels like. I don’t know how true that is for John, but I do think it’s possible, especially in his early life. 
Anyway, this is way too long, but thank you so much for the question!
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trashytoastboi · 1 year ago
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Hi mate! :D If ya have time, Can i ask hcs for Hawkins, Law, Kid and Killer reacting to seeing s/o's face for the first time?, (male, pirate ally s/o) Since his very conscious of the big scar on his forehead reaching to his chin and why he always wear a mask
Hiya! Of course! Sorry for the long wait on this and hope you enjoy 🍞🍀
Headcanons: Hawkins, Law, Kid, Killer x Male! S/O – Reacting to seeing their S/O's face for the first time
(Male Pronouns)
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Basil Hawkins
🔮 {Name} and Hawkins had hit it off so well that Hawkins fell pretty hard in a short amount of time. He truly was so charmed by {Name}, his personality and his little quirks or his witty sense of humour all became points that Hawkins really enjoyed about his partner. Some people brought up the curious question if Hawkins had even seen {Name’s} face as having it constantly covered created a very mysterious impression of him. 
🔮 The mask did have some difficulties such as eating and drinking restrictions, {Name} mostly ate by himself as the mask was not flexible enough to eat with it on. Hawkins never really minded so long as {Name} was comfortable. Hawkins being himself over held immense curiosity for anything unknown to him. Earlier on in the relationship he had the impulsivity to ask his cards for reason, even considering scrying to learn of {Name’s} appearance. Though he decided against it in respect for his partner. 
🔮 {Name} cautiously looked around the room, making sure no one was around before he took off his mask. Desperately needing a drink of water to ease his thirst in the oppressive heat wave. The mask was hot enough without the heat wave making it feel like an oven. His face was covered in sweat and he felt like he could breathe properly. {Name} reached for a towel to wipe the sweat, failing to notice when Hawkins had walked into the room and for the first time locked eyes with his partner without the mask. 
🔮 Hawkins is surprised to see {Name’s} face. By all means he really found {Name} attractive, but seeing how he panicked and tried to cover his face made Hawkins worry. “I didn’t want you to see it…” {Name} murmured sadly. The thing in mention was a rather prominent scar on his face, one that ran along the length of his face. So many people avoided {Name} and mocked his appearance that it became easier to conceal everything. He grew to hate his reflection just for the sight that was reflected back. He always assumed that others would hold an even harsher outlook. 
🔮 Hating oneself was not exactly a foreign concept to Hawkins, and while he could say from where he stood that {Name} shouldn’t have minded the comments of others he knew it was not as simple when on the receiving end. {Name} tried to awkwardly shuffle to where he left his mask and ended up tripping due to the poor visibility. Hawkins helped {Name} up and passed his mask to him. Hawkins felt a sliver of happiness finally being able to see the face of the one he so dearly loves, but his happiness is irrelevant if it caused {Name} so much distress. 
🔮 {Name} secured his mask on. Hawkins placed a kiss on the mask, an affectionate gesture the two of them developed. “I know it’s hard for you my love, but truly, you are still so beautiful in my eyes” Hawkins awkwardly said, attempting to comfort {Name}. Seeing his efforts really made {Name} happy, he felt a little more trusting and confident in slowly getting used to the idea of showing his face a little more around Hawkins. 
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Trafalgar Law
🍄 Seeing someone with an out of ordinary fashion sense, was actually pretty normal amongst the various pirates. {Name} didn’t stand out even when wearing a mask that entirely concealed his face. Law is a very thoughtful person, physical appearance didn’t hold the first and foremost consideration of his partners. He wanted someone who resonated with him on an intellectual and emotional level. 
🍄 {Name} had yet to work up the courage to show Law his face. {Name} knew Law, and knew that Law most likely wouldn’t react badly when he discovered the scar on his face. {Name} flinched every time he thought about revealing his face. Picturing Law’s disgusted face or his expression when he saw his scar, {Name} pulled himself back and away from the idea of showing his face. 
🍄 Unfortunate for {Name} but a situation in which Law saw his face did arise. Law noticed his partner being out of sorts that in turn led to discovering that [Name} caught a cold and was running a very bad fever. Law had the savvy to get {Name} to bed to rest as quickly as possible. Law insisted on him removing his mask so he could have water, medication, and breathe properly without the masks’ obstruction. Law was not in any way rude about it, but was a bit forceful purely out of worry for {Name}, he did offer to leave the room or turn around if it would make {Name} feel better. 
🍄 {Name} could feel the genuine concern from Law over his health and decided to remove his mask. The entire lead up felt nerve wracking, so much so he wanted to hide or cry. It had been so long since anyone saw his face, and {Name} dreaded the idea of Law feeling repulsed by his appearance. After he removed his mask he averted his gaze, waiting for the gasp of shock and horror. {Name} felt a cool hand press against his forehead. “Your temperature is really high.” Law stated with a worried tone. 
🍄 Law smiled softly, his hand cradling {Name’s} face. He understood {Name’s} hesitance to show his face due to the large scar that ran from his forehead to his chin. A rather deep and grizzly scar that more than anything had Law concerned over how badly it must have hurt {Name.} Not only in the physical sense but in the psychological sense to completely conceal his face for years. Without thinking Law leaned in and softly kissed the scar, {Name} backed away slightly out of surprise. 
🍄 {Name} felt so reassured that all of his worry and expectation was shattered by Law’s honest and gentle affections. Law didn’t flinch or think it was disgusting, rather he showed concern and sadness for the reasons that had to do with his care for {Name}. Law comforted him with constant reassurance and telling him how handsome he looked. It created a safe space where {Name} slowly felt he could be accepted and grew comfortable enough to start removing his mask around Law.
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Eustass Kid
🛠 Kid is direct and insistent that even if he didn’t care about {Name’s} face since he already liked him, he still wanted to sate his deep rooted curiosity of seeing {Name’s} face. Kid would never force {Name} to show Kid his face, but still he sometimes would tell {Name} about the kind of ideas he formed in his mind of his appearance. The lizard man was an interesting theory but {Name} did outright deny that one. To give Kid a crumb, something hopefully enough to satiate his curiosity {Name} explained how he looked, his features, some random marks or how some people have commented on his appearance. 
🛠 “So you’re a handsome bastard and you’re bragging about it?” Kid replied after his takeaway from {Name’s} explanation. “I also have a really large scar…It doesn’t look so nice…” {Name} explained running his fingers over the mask where his scar lay underneath. Kid stared at him with absolute shock, he frantically gestured to his face showing off his own scars. “So you don’t like my scars?” He asked, {Name} stumbled over his words saying it was different. 
🛠 “How so?” Kid questioned, well it came apparent in the way they regarded their scars. Kid wore them proudly, boasted the fact that he clashed head on with an emperor of the sea and survived with his life, one arm lighter and covered in the evidence tattered all over his body. Even if it hurt, it stung his pride that he lost in the first place he turned them into his point of pride. [Name} was the opposite, his scar became a point of insecurity and shame, he covered it and hid it away from others and himself. 
🛠 “So, are you going to show me or what?” Kid grinned, almost trying to challenge {Name}. Well, nothing to lose, Kid was practically covered in scars and it probably wouldn’t be anything new for him to see. {Name} slowly removed his mask, feeling awkward and a little regretful that he gave into Kid’s provocations so easily. Kid closed the distance to look at {Name’s} face from close up. Kid sighed. “It’s a crime covering up a face like that. Your scar barely affects how good looking you are.”  
🛠 “What..?” he muttered, confused over what Kid said so plainly. Kid’s hand grabbed {Name’s} face and pulled him into an unexpected and deep kiss. Kid grinned, “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now.” {Name} could feel the heat rising to his face, trying to process the last few minutes of compliments and the sudden kiss. “Oh? You can make a face like that huh?” Kid jeered, his grin only growing wider as he loved seeing the diverse reactions {Name} had to offer. 
🛠 Kid made a point of asking and encouraging {Name} to have his mask off around him, of course he relentlessly teased and flirted with {Name} including a stolen kiss or two. Kid’s abrupt and nonchalant attitude towards {Name’s} scar actually made him feel better about it, realizing that it did not encompass everything about him. There was so much more to him that just appearance and with Kid’s constant comments about how {Name} is actually good looking. 
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Killer
🍜 Killer and {Name} occasionally got a few odd looks when they went on dates, two fully masked men awkwardly trying to eat or drink with their masks on without removing them. Killer and {Name} could equally agree they had a deeper understanding of their insecurities, more so than others. They often confided in one another about the things that troubled them or what they didn’t like about themselves. These discussions usually ended in a lot of back and forth of one another trying to explain that they were more than their insecurities. 
🍜 Killer and {Name} had been discussing the possibility of encouraging each other to remove their masks. In their own space when they each had the courage to do so. People may not have understood the courage that hiding behind a mask provided, or that you may have seen a person in a more genuine manner when they could differentiate themselves away from what they disliked. 
🍜 The act of showing each other their faces held a much deeper meaning than just curiosity, it was a form of vulnerability and trust between them. “One, two, three…” In unison they spoke, counting to the moment of their reveal. {Name} and Killer removed their masks. The surge of self-doubt came up. {Name} was happy to see Killer’s face, the joy of which eased his own distress. Killer looked up to {Name’s} face, he saw a large scar and could see {Name’s} aversion to his gaze. 
🍜 Killer didn’t want to dismiss {Name’s} insecurity over his scar, but on the same hand he failed to see anything wrong with {Name}. He is still as wonderful as he always has been in Killer’s eyes, if anything more so now that he had a face to put to him. Killer’s hand reached up to touch the scar, running his fingers along its length. “I know this won’t mean much, but your scar isn’t everything. You still have some of the prettiest eyes I’ve seen, and…-” Killer was cut off by {Name’s} laughter, “I appreciate it Kil” Seeing how Killer recited this like a romance novel actually convinced him all the more of the sincerity and truth all the more. 
🍜 {Name’s} initial worries had easily been laid to rest, though he still couldn’t deny that years of his growing distaste towards his appearance would not be so easily overturned. He found comfort in Killer’s attempts to reassure him and his awkward arguments of convincing {Name} that he was still so wonderful, regardless of his scar. Killer had an almost resonating understanding of how deep insecurities could go, how deep they could burrow in your mind and entire identity. He is still determined to try to encourage and comfort his partner. 
🍜 Killer and {Name} started to spend time together without their masks, getting used to the idea of being more comfortable without them. Killer grew a little more affectionate with this deeper sense of trust and intimacy. Not to mention having easier access for the occasional kiss or two. 
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celest1all · 1 year ago
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#DESIDERIUM: CHAPTER ONE
#PAIRING: [] draco malfoy x lupin!reader
#WARNINGS: [] depression, mentions of bad eating habits, 's about it for this one.
#AUTHORS NOTE: [] sorry it's so short guys ! i'm very sad atm and i just wanted to kick start this fic somehow lmao. enjoy :)
#DESIDERIUM MASTERLIST [] read the rest here <-
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The worst part about depression isn't the sadness or the never ending pit of pain you somehow end up falling back into regardless of how happy your life is, it's the not feeling anything. No happiness, no sadness and not even anger itself can find its way into your body.
It's just empty.
And that's what she felt, every quaking moment of her day was filled by a gnawing sense of emptiness that nothing could fix. She tried everything, cigarettes, alcohol and even self harm. None of it seemed to heal the wounds inside her, only leaving more visible ones at that.
She found something else, a way to help herself - or atleast that's what she thought she was doing - and that was helping others, giving the people around her the love and care she believed they deserved.
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You walked into the Great Hall, silently wishing that all the food was gone as you weren't particularly hungry in the first place. You scanned over the huge array of students trying to pinpoint the people you were closest to - and the people you made it your mission to protect and help no matter the personal cost.
Harry was the first to notice you coming over, the slight smile gracing his lips upon seeing you. He waved you over and alerted Hermione and Ron that you were there.
"Hey," he said lightly, moving over on the bench to let you sit down "how are you doing?"
His question caught you off guard a bit, no one really paid that much mind to how you felt. You shrugged the feeling off as believing that he only cared as you were the daughter of his late Godfathers best friend.
"I'm fine." You say with a plastered smile, hoping it wouldn't let you down now. It never did, but there was always a chance it might at some point.
Hermione and Ron didn't seem totally interested in your presence and Harry nodded at your answer, going back to the two other Gryffindors in front of him and animatedly conversating with them.
Deciding not to push the conversation - or any conversation for that matter - any further, you started looking around the Great Hall again. Your eyes ended up looking at the Slytherin table, the green and silver ultimately catching your eye.
You never really spoke with any of the Slytherins, there were a few minute long sentences with a few of them like Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson. You like Blaise the most, he was nice. You had tripped over one of the other Slytherins foot (you were unsure if it was purposeful or not) and Blaise offered you his hand to help you back up. Ever since then, he would give you small smiles now and again, but you still didn't really speak a lot.
Blaise ended up noticing you daydreaming whilst staring at their table and smiled lightly at you, giving you a small wave. Jolting out of the trance you were in, you waved back, once again giving another fake smile that was getting all to easily to hide.
"Why you waving at her for?" Someone from beside Blaise spoke, he knew who it was though.
Blaise simply shrugged and turned to face Draco, "She's nice, I helped her one time."
Draco snorted at that, disgusted by the idea that one of his own was willing to help a Gryffindor - you no less. "You do know who she is, right?" He says snarkily. "She's Lupins daughter."
Blaise just shrugged again, not really sure of where to go from there. He decided to not continue the conversation and started speaking to Theodore Nott about something else, something irrelevant to you.
Draco looked at Blaise briefly and back to where you were in the Great Hall, you were staring deeply into the table in front of you, whilst still trying engage in any conversation that might potentially be thrown your way by the others. He couldn't understand why someone from his house would help you, and then continue to be civil towards you. You're not only a Gryffindor, but also a werewolf's daughter! Why was Blaise so willing to be nice to you?
The platinum haired boy was fascinated - no, he was confused and ultimately annoyed - about that fact, and what was so special about you. There couldn't be anything, right?
Draco wanted to find out why, and if there's one thing he prides himself on being, is that he will always get his way regardless of the consequences.
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pacific-rimbaud · 9 months ago
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(this is not to fix or invalidate how you feel at all!!) but my jaw dropped seeing that there were hate threads?? on the dramione reddit i see laoha constantly mentioned in a "what will fill this laoha shaped hole after finishing", "where else can i find platinum tier banter like this" way and not one bad word to say. i'm so sorry to hear there was hate and that it affected you, your writing comes across so confident and well-seasoned but ofc you're human too. keep on rockin pac!! we ADORE you!!
Oh, geez. Fandom-ancient discourse under the cut.
For anyone who's newish, back when laoha was publishing (end of 2019 to end of 2021) it was a thing on Facebook and Reddit to have several threads a week soliciting negative comments about specific fics. It was often phrased as a question like, "Which fic did you DNF and why?" or "What turns you off of a fic?" but sometimes it was more like, "I hated [whatever fic], does anyone else feel the same way?" And then people would proceed to drag the shit out of works and writers. I was by NO MEANS the only person impacted, although I may have had the highest ratio of hate to actual readership. Writers made it super clear that it was hurtful, that they no longer felt able to participate in fandom spaces because of the negativity, entitlement and cruelty, and people would tell them to grow a tougher skin. I mostly stayed out of it at the time, because discourse is always awful and pointless and I'm a pretty small potato in a spectacularly huge fandom. Also, it's the internet, and effective moderation is hard work. Thankfully Reddit made the decision to ban those threads, and hopefully it's become a more welcoming community as a result. Which is really my entire point. There is a human being behind every single fic a reader encounters, whether it's the top-fic-by-kudos masterpiece that nothing will ever equal or a palate cleansing speed read or whatever. Overwhelmingly those people are also readers who often want to engage in the community aspect of fandom. At that time, human beings who wrote for fun in their free time were going . . . this is incredibly hurtful, please stop, and some readers were effectively saying, on a constant basis, fuck you, shut up and give me more 100k+ fic written exactly to my personal tastes. Publishing my wildly uneven first-ever novel-length work with an unpopular Hermione in that climate was not a great experience for me, and it took its toll. Enough time has passed that I've mostly been able to sift through, take what helps me and leave the rest. Like: I will NEVER write miscommunication again! I'm also SO grateful to hear that some communities have chosen to take responsibility for shaping not just the tone but the values of their spaces. It was the right thing to do and too long in coming. Hopefully new DHr writers feel embraced and supported if they choose to engage in fandom social media. It should be fun. I honestly don't know what any of us are doing here if it's not.
That is not what you asked for, anon, but there you have it: ancient discourse that I hope has become irrelevant. I'm so glad to hear people are being kind!
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acourtofthought · 1 year ago
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Elain is the Key
(one of them)
It always throws me off when I see anti's claiming Elain is irrelevant to the series when truly, she's set up to be one of the main players at this point. I also find it odd when certain parts of the fandom choose to ignore how relevant she actually is to certain storylines because it doesn't support their ship.
Eris and Rhys held each other’s gaze. Eris said, “You’ve been trying to bring Tamlin back for a while. But he isn’t getting better, is he?”
"I can delay my father from allying with Briallyn and starting this war for a little while. But not forever. A few months, perhaps."
"Discover whether Koschei is indeed involved. At best, we’ll stop them all. At worst, we’ll have proof to justify any conflict and hopefully win allies to our side, avoiding the bloodshed that would carve up these lands once more
At the start of SF, we're told they have two main goals.
Either they stop Koschei and Briallyn
Or they win allies to their side with the information in hopes they can avoid bloodshed through the peace treaty. (meaning if they can gain allies they can avoid another war).
But they're not working with a whole lot time. Eris says a few months at most before his father tries to ally with Koschei and Briallyn (which passed by in SF).
By the end Nesta stopped Briallyn however they didn't stop Koschei. And they did not win any allies to their side in hopes they can avoid bloodshed as throughout SF, Mor was unable to get the peace treaty signed.
That means they still need to resolve these issues.
Some keep trying to connect Elain to the crossover, that she'll suddenly have her inactive Seer powers reactivated to help Bryce. That she'll visit Hel.
Bryce is Crescent City and ACOTAR characters may lend a tiny supporting role but I really don't think they're getting the focus, not to mention Elain's powers are dormant in her own series. Why would they make a reappearance for the first time in someone elses? Also, Elain doesn't need to be a focus when she's got a much more major part to play in her own world and the future of ACOTAR's own people. And that future is Spring (because Beron wants it, it's borders are not enforced and the need for its army) and the continent (because of Koschei and the treaty), at least for now.
Since the novella, we have heard how important Springs borders are due to it's location next to the human lands and how anyone looking to expand would have to go through Spring first. Rhys said he doubted he'd get a decent nights sleep until he spoke with Tamlin about it and got no reassurance that Tamlin was willing to do something to enforce his borders. Now Beron is setting his sights on that court due to it's lack of leadership. 45% of the way through SF, Cassian (the general of the Illyrians) tells us that because a new war is possible they need a strong ally, they need the Spring Courts forces.
Right now, the IC has all but labeled Spring as a major piece of the puzzle towards settling the unrest in Prythian (what with certain High Lords vying for the territory there) and the human lands. If Spring falls, it is a major issue for the rest of them. If they don't have Springs army, it's a problem.
The ONLY characters tied into Spring in a significant way are Tamlin (current High Lord), Lucien (now permanently stationed there as their eyes and ears and the last to actually do his duty to the court at Calanmai) and ...... Elain:
SJM telling us Spring had been made for someone like Elain in the same book she tells us that "but wearing black, no matter how much she claimed to be part of this court.... it sucked the life out of her" is really not a small hint. I'm not sure she could be any clearer other than coming right out and telling us "Elain isn't staying in the NC". Throughout the series, we're also given clues as to what Elain can do for the Spring Court:
The Spring Court had felt stagnant. Hollow. Empty despite its growing life.
She had been always so full of light.
Empty versus full
Distant - because on the estate, nothing bloomed at all. The pink roses that had once climbed the pale stone walls of the sweeping manor house were nothing but tangled webs of thorns. The fountains had gone dry, the hedges untrimmed and shapeless."
"After all of this....I think the world needs more gardens."
"A gentle grower of things"
Nothing bloomed versus more, a grower of things
“Are these still your lands?” Nesta asked coolly, stepping out from behind Cassian. “Last I heard, you don’t bother to rule them anymore.”
But Elain … The Spring Court had been made for someone like her.
Loss versus gain
And though he roams these lands, he does not see or care for the neglect he passes, the lawlessness, the vulnerability
Elain would love this place.
Neglect versus love
"I don't have anywhere else to go.""You ruined any chance I have of going back to Spring. Not to Tamlin, but to the court beyond his house. Everyone still believes the lies you spun or they believe me complicit in your deceit".
“My sister Elain can convince anyone to do anything with a few smiles.”
Mistrust versus trust
At the end of SF, Eris acknowledges that while Briallyn is now gone, the IC has bigger issues they need to focus on. Beron (who we know has set his sights on Spring) is "stupid enough" to establish an alliance with Koschei and he's furious that his old ally is dead. If someone is going to go head to head with Beron, shouldn't that be Lucien (and maybe Eris too?). Not only was Jesminda murdered by Beron but he's been abusing Lucien and Eris's mother as well Az torturing his sons. If Elain and Lucien end up together then she's involved in that storyline.
The unsigned treaty on the continent is also a concern (a treaty Lucien's real father played a role in helping put together).
Koschei is on the continent.
Vassa is about to be called back to the continent ("But Vassa's freedom would end." "She would have to return to the lake" "Tell my Vassa I'm waiting")
And the characters tied into those storylines?
Lucien and Jurian aren't going to sit idly by while their friend is taken away by a villain.
If Mor was unsuccessful in getting the treaty signed then what other characters do we know of who excel at talking to people?
Who better to persuade them than someone who can convince others to do anything with nothing but a few smiles?
Also, Nesta wonders if Elain would travel to the continent. But not where the flower fields are, to the other continent south of that and in ACOWAR, Elain's visions were how they learned of Koschei, Vassa, the other girls and the hidden box he keeps.
This is going to sound a bit egotistical on behalf of the character of Elain but truly, I don't think it's that farfetched to say that as of SF, Elain has been set up to be the most important main character (along with Lucien) to putting a stop to what they consider the most major threats of their world at this time based on her connections to those things and since it's confirmed she will get a book.
Who else that's getting a book would be a candidate for helping to restore Spring? Why else would Nesta remind us about Elain having wanted to travel to the continent but taking a step further and specifying a completely different area than the tulip fields?
I'm sure the crossover will introduce new concerns that could effect them down the line, like other villains entering their world but those have not yet been introduced into the ACOTAR series and are not things yet connected to Elain.
The treaty is unsigned, they NEED Spring up and running yet it hasn't been since the novella, and Koschei / Beron are major concerns.
Trying to claim Elain has a bigger purpose in the NC makes no sense to me. As of SF, what is a more major threat in the NC than what I've listed above? Also, trying to pull Az into the Tamlin / Spring storyline or Az into the peace treaty / Koschei / Vassa storyline is such a reach it's amusing. And claiming Elain isn't relevant to the series right now is just as much of a joke.
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sevicia · 4 months ago
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Watched Hellraiser 2022 with my sister over lunch and :( I'm so sad I really didn't like it almost at all. She thinks it's a really good movie though and after it ended we watched reviews of it (lol), a positive one and a more negative one and while I guess I could like, see? the points the girl from the positive review was making I just didn't find any of it impressive or super eye-catching, and she kept mentioning how this remake has super well laid-out and explicit lore re: the cenobites and how she really likes that instead of the vagueness of the original, but I seriously could never disagree more? The cenobites are alluring and intimidating because you'll DIE wondering. They're otherwordly and unfeeling to the point I could never call them villains, just merciless deliverers of their gifts...
BUUUT the girl from the 2nd review had apparently rummaged around my brain and taken it all out it was CRAZY
Like as the movie went on I kept thinking about how thoroughly UNsexy the remake is, it drove me INSANE. It's THE goopy gory sexy horror movie and this version had 0 goop, mildly unsatisfying gore, and felt incredibly tame sexually. No joke I was thinking WHERE'S THE SEX!!!!! for most of the movie
I don't have any sort of attachment to any other horror franchises so I've never been let down by a remake like this and I always thought that I'd be able to see all remakes as just another view to an established story, but it turns out I DRASTICALLY underestimated how much Hellraiser means to me.
The cenobite designs were cool and very beautiful visually, but I seriously missed the leather SOOO much.... this was also such a confusing let down for me
I will always be insane about gore but in this case it was just not gory enough? Even though the body horror related aspects were (once again) beautifully done, only a few of them felt visceral enough to be satisfying.
Towards the end where that one guy is becoming like, a cenobite-ling(?) and is getting his body peeled here and there and there and there I just really wanted to see him bleed more and scream with MORE anguish and writhe and cry. It was just not enough for me. There's also the fact that that scene in particular felt visually similar to the ending of Martyrs (also one of my favorite movies of all time), so it was just a complete letdown.
There's also the fact that I found none of the characters particularly interesting, which is crazy because I love Terrifier and that one's notorious for lack of character depth. But in Terrifier you had Brooke and Tara being silly friends together!!! There was not a single time I can think of where the characters in Hellraiser '22 had any sort of... joy? displayed between them. I don't need there to be super wholesome happy and clean relationships, I do, in fact, prefer the opposite when it comes to horror, but weren't these guys supposed to be friends? It just felt like they didn't even particularly like each other.
It also makes me think of how they handled (or rather Didn't handle) Riley's struggles as an addict. Of COURSE it's gonna raise tensions with the people who care for her! It's not an easy situation/topic to navigate, ever, but after one point it just felt irrelevant to the story when I feel they could've explored it in an interesting way that also aligns with the themes of temptation we see in the original. Frank went to such an extreme place while looking for sexual pleasure after all!?! I would've loved to see Riley struggle more explicitly with addiction, have more involved relationships with the other characters, have the cenobites use her addiction against her as a way to tempt her, and ALSO make the surreal aspects of '22 feel SO much weirder and anxiety-inducing!!
But in the end the most massive and shocking letdown is, once again, the lack of eroticism within the film. I want it to be scandalous! I want to feel thrilled! I want to look at the cenobites and be able to imagine what it'd be like to grab and twist and poke at their exposed flesh and bone and every sharp edge I could possibly reach! I want to look at gore and feel the way meat and guts and blood run through hands, wet and slimy and soft and red and disgusting, I want to think of a body's warm insides becoming colder as I hold them! There was no grime in this movie at all, and the gory scenes felt like they were only half-done!! I want to see it all, but the fact there was unreached potential will ALWAYS be so much more frustrating than just cutting it out entirely.
It was just not remotely what I wanted from a new Hellraiser movie, because it's an entirely different focus!! x( but its story couldn't have been told without the presence of the cenobites and the puzzle box, so ????
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ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused · 2 years ago
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Hey friend!! Me again!
Can I please request:
Daryl Dixon x Wife!Reader (Prison Era)
After the group escapes from Woodbury and Daryl and Merle reunite, Daryl is forced to choose either his wife and family or Merle! Maybe wife tries to convince and in the end you choose what he picks!?
Love your blog and your writing!! ❤️
༉‧₊˚. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 || 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐱𝐨𝐧
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― pairing: daryl dixon x plus size wife!reader
― era: eeason 3
― summary: as sad as it was to say, with merle gone, your relationship with your husband grew stronger than ever, and now that he's back, you're afraid that your marital bliss might have been short lived.
― warnings: arguing, fat shaming, sexism, merle just being merle, mentions of drug deals, mentions of past arguing.
― wc: 1117
⋆ a/n: AHHH THIS WAS SUCH A FUN WRITE. i don't know, maybe some may see this as daryl being out of character, but this is just what i would imagine daryl choosing. thank you for your request! it was a super fun one even though it took me literally centuries to make!!
masterlist | AO3
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Merle had always been a thorn in Daryl and your asses. Him and you had been together before the fall, and it was safe to say that your relationship was strained would be an understatement. You couldn’t stand the older brother’s constant rude comments and crude teasing, or the fact that he always felt the need to bring Daryl with him on his drug runs, risking his life more than once, and even getting him arrested at one point. You couldn’t just bail out one Dixon brother, but if you had the choice, you would’ve left Merle there to rot.
He was the reason why Daryl and you were on the brink of breaking up, that you had fought all the time and couldn’t even function as a stable couple. It was like Daryl was a whole different person when his brother wasn’t around, he was the man that you fell in love with; the one that was sweet and showed his love in his own way, not the one that would pick fights or explode on you, leaving the house for prolonged periods of time in a fit of rage.
You were ashamed to say that the apocalypse started, it had brought out Daryl’s soft side for you, rushing home as soon as he could to come and get you. Sadly, when he showed up, Merle was right behind him, bitching about how you ruined a deal that would have brought him a lot of money, and it just wasn’t a loss that you could bring yourself to care about. Soon, all of you soon found that money would forever be irrelevant as the dead had begun to eat the living.
You were grateful for Shane’s group allowing you guys to tag along despite the pair being quite the characters.
When Rick had confessed that he left Merle handcuffed to a roof, there was a shameful spark of relief, but before that flame could burn brighter, Daryl’s painful cries of anguish were quick to extinguish it. Even though the two of them had a funny way of showing it, they loved each other, so much to the point where he had demanded to be taken to where his older brother had been holed up, and when they had come back, that’s when chaos had ensued.
He had never held you as tight as he did then, when you guys were at the CDC, when Carl had gotten shot and then Daryl had gotten hurt looking for Sophia, and then when the farm had been over run.
It had been a long time since then, and what’s left of you guys had begun to create a new home, in the prison.
It was peaceful for a while, even after Lori’s death and the birth of Judith.
Then there was the Governor. When you had heard he had taken Glenn and Maggie, it was like you were losing everything all over again, and to add on top of it, Daryl had been taken.
You swore your heart sank when he had come out with Merle.
“He’s not coming with us!” You heard Glenn tell as you guys arrived at the car. “Like hell he ain’t!” Daryl argued. “He tortured me, and Maggie…” Before he could say anything else, Maggie had cut him off.
“Enough!”
“Daryl.” You called his name to draw his attention towards you. “I hate to say this, but they’re right. He is an asshole.”
“Well, ain’t it nice to see you too, tubby.” Merle laughed. “Fuck you, Merle.” You bit. “Alrigh’ enough.” Daryl said sharply. “C’mon little brother, you gonna let her talk to me like that, your blood?” You scoffed, “Blood? Please. You haven’t acted like you’ve been blood since the day I started living with you.” You turned your attention back to Daryl.
“Looks like you’ve got to choose.” Merle snarled with a smile.
Daryl was conflicted.
On one hand, Merle was right, they were blood, brothers to be precise. He must admit that yeah, he wasn’t the best, but they went through everything together. On the other, Daryl had entrusted you with parts of him that he would never tell Merle in fear of being called a pussy or worse. You cared for him, reassured him, calmed him down, you had become his vice, his wife. Yes, you guys had gotten married; it wasn’t anything too big, just Daryl slipping on a wooden ring he had made you, the both of you acknowledging your newfound titles together.
“Dar,” You said as you pulled him out of his thoughts, “Think about what we’ve gone through, what we’ve been doing, what we’ve been building. We have something good going for us. Do you think we would have gotten married, let alone still be together if he was still around?” You asked the last part quietly, but it seems as though Merle had heard it.
“Well, I’ll be damned, it looks like you’ve gotten comfortable Darlena.” He eyed you up and down. “I thought you would’ve gotten rid of her by now, but I guess you’re pussy whipped for a fat broad.” For the first time, Daryl stood up to his brother, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt.
“Watch what yer sayin’ about my wife, jack ass.” Daryl all but growled at him. You could tell a fight was about to break out between the two of them, and you’d see in before. When they would fight when you all lived together, punches would be thrown, things also thrown at one another, a scene that you would be forced to clean up as Daryl did the same, albeit guiltily.
“Hey, hey, hey. Everyone just calm down.” Rick said as he tried to quickly diffuse the situation.
“Nah,” Daryl said as he let his brother go, “were done. C’mon.” He left no room for argument as he grabbed you by your hand and tugged you towards the car where the rest of them waited. There were stars in your eyes as you allowed him to lead you away, Merle’s threats and calls falling on deaf ears.
The ride back to the prison was tense but comfortable, your head resting on your husband’s shoulder as he stared out the window.
“Hey,” You called out to him softly. He turned his head to look at you, his teeth nibbling at the skin of his lip. “I know what you did was hard, and I appreciate what you did for me. I love you, Daryl, and I won’t ever forget about this.” His grip on your hand tightened as he released his lip.
“I love ya too, sunshine. Yer my family now.”
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ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy
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the-blackjay · 18 days ago
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Happy Winter Solstice!
Spent some time today focusing about my goals for 2025, and reflecting on the past year. 2024 has been tough in some ways, and incredible in others, and I want to bring more of that energy with me into the new year.
I have achieved so much this year, for the first time ever I'm actually sticking to the goals I'm setting. I can't explain to you what that feels like, but I don't think I have ever looked at my life in such a positive way before now. I have worked so hard on myself, and it's wild to see it paying off.
(cw: abuse mentioned in red text, I'm trying to be more mindful of the way I type my posts. I'm purposefully making it hard to read to avoid upsetting people while remaining authentic to the way I speak and type.)
The biggest changes I've made that have helped me are:
Journaling/shadow work. Growing up, I was given a diary as a birthday present. I kept a journal for exactly 2 months until my abuser went through it and beattheeverlovingshitoutofme confronted me about my personal feelings. So, I have never felt safe writing my thoughts out on paper. This year has taught me the feeling of safety and security in my own home, and I'm thankful to be living such a blessed life with my partner who loves me and cares about me, and would never violate my privacy in that way. Learning to feel comfortable in my home has been very hard, I've lived on my own for going on 9 years, and I'm finally at a point where I feel safe, where I feel comfortable, where I'm able to express myself, where I'm allowed to have opinions, and where I'm allowed to talk about myself and what I love doing. Journaling has been so eye opening for me, I've struggled with ruminating thoughts my whole life, and being able to get those thoughts out of my skull and onto paper where I can visually dissect them and delve deeper into why I think and feel the way I do has been incredible. I have never tried therapy before because I'm and intellectualizer and feel it would just be a waste of money (that I don't have anyways) and I also don't trust other people with my brain in that way. Journaling has truly been the best thing I started doing for my mental health.
Limiting Contact with people who don't deserve it. Look, I'm not "gods gift to the world" or anything of the sort. I don't believe I'm better than anyone or that I deserve special treatment, but the past few years have truly opened my eyes to the way my friends have been treating and using me, and I have since limited my contact with many of them. I am always the first to call out people who mistreat others, but often would let people treat me like shit. I'm no longer going to be hypocritical in that way. I deserve friends who actually listen to my advice, who are there for me, and who enjoy spending time with me regardless of what I can do for them in return, and so do you!. I have felt so alone and so misunderstood, and so disregarded by friends in the past. I started this at the end of 2023, but this year I have pretty much removed everyone I no longer want in my life. So, the people who I dropped everything to help at 3am when their car broke down, but can't text me on my birthday. The people who came to my house while my mom was dying, and bitched about their own problems instead of comforting me. The people who talk at me for hours about their hopes and dreams, but can't pay attention to me for 2 minutes when I talk about mine. Goodbye. I don't even read the messages they've sent me, and I'm letting them fade into irrelevance where they can't bother me with their bullshit and drama anymore.
Developing a more consistent self care routine. Again, I grew up in a shitty situation. My whole child/teenhood my idea of self care was washing my hair (with bar soap, no conditioner) and brushing my teeth. So, I've always struggled with learning how to actually take care of myself. I never had a mother figure, I wasn't taught anything about hygiene or how to take care of my hair and skin. I've been putting in an exorbitant amount of effort into learning hair care, skin care, dental hygiene, the whole 9 yards. Washing my face before bed, oiling my scalp before a shower and using leave in conditioner afterwards, moisturizing, flossing and using mouthwash, the list goes on. It's not much of a glow up, but I do feel a lot better about myself and my appearance, especially coming from a place where I never had access to these things. (now if I can just control the frizz...)
Deepening my personal practice. I won't go into much detail here as everyone's practice is different and I do want to have privacy in this aspect of my life. I've been making a better effort to meditate regularly, and that has helped significantly with my stress levels and focus. It's hard to meditate with ADHD, but I've found that it's okay to let your mind wander a little before reining it back in. I've also developed a connection with several spirits who have given me so much more than I expected. My journey with the occult has been life changing, and I have felt more comfortable divulging my practice to friends and internet dwellers alike. I'm no longer worried about how others see me, and I only want to be surrounded by people who care for me regardless of my spirituality. It has taken me a very long time to be open and proud of this part of my life, and I'm never going back.
If you read this far, thanks for taking the time to sit with me! I hope you have a blessed holiday season, and I hope the new year allows you to grow and experience the best that life has to offer.
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kyluxtrashpit · 2 years ago
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(Okay this is a twitter thread that I wrote in a haze of emotion and people seemed to really agree so I’m putting it here too. Half meta, half personal opinion, and not edited into tumblr format as much as I’d like cause editing on mobile sucks and it seems I’m always on mobile these days lmao so read it if you like, don’t if you don’t)
I think, all these years later, I’ve figured out what it was about post-tfa kylux vs every variation after that just. Irks me a little. And it’s something I’ve written myself, so like. I’m not coming at anyone except canon with this, because we worked with what we were given. It’s what canon *set up* and forced us into that I have a grievance with
And it’s this feeling of unbalancing. Of tipping the scales. It’s taking them from a position of mutual animosity to a point where Kylo has something to make up for
And yes, Hux was very much going to shoot him while he was unconscious. If you look at the facts, this balances what Kylo did to Hux a few moments later - simple retaliation, actually milder than what Hux was about to do to him. But the fact that Kylo knew it happened is not shown explicitly in the movie, to the point where most people did not realize this and it’s only because of the novelization that we know it at all. And then the incident is never mentioned again, treated as a joke,  just dismissed as unimportant, while what Kylo did to Hux lives on as Hux’s driving motivation in tros too
And I don’t like it. Because I feel like Kylo very much is a person who feels that he has to make up for just existing. That he feels he himself is inherently an inferior being and that he is trying very hard to apologize for it, to be someone who doesn’t have to be made up for
And that’s what drives him. And it’s very sad and I think what is so relatable about the character. And yeah, he’s a villain, he does bad things, but that’s not the point. That’s not what he’s trying to make up for. He’s trying to make up for not being enough as he is, as if he has some defect since birth, a flaw present since conception so deep in his being that it cannot be excised, that he has to constantly compensate for
And that feeling of inferiority is something that very much needs to be solved, because I don’t believe he would’ve gone down the path he did if he didn’t feel that way, and that’s something that a romantic partner (in this case, Hux) could assist with. He could be shown he does have value, because being loved may not be a panacea, but it sure as fuck helps
And to take that driving emotion, to bury it under transgressions that do actually require some kind of making up (because, remember, Hux’s original transgression that caused Kylo to retaliate in such a way is so irrelevant it’s completely ignored by the narrative) just. It not only buries what makes him interesting under a smokescreen of comical moustache-twirling villainy, but also makes it so that the wound that drives him will never be healed. He can never feel like enough, that he is worthy of anything, because his issue of not feeling like enough is no longer relevant in the face of the real transgressions. His feelings are now irrelevant. The relationship can now never be balanced because of it 
And because of that, that wound that is found relatable by the audience can never heal. And that catharsis cannot be felt by the person who actually needs to feel it: the very real human experiencing the story. Because that catharsis can no longer be approached in the story
And this is all despite the fact that Hux actually transgressed first (and we know from the novel Kylo knew it, there is zero ambiguity there, you’d just never know it based on the films and post-tlj side media), because the narrative considers that unimportant. Even though Kylo’s actions make a thousand times more sense in the face of it, it doesn’t matter. Only Kylo’s transgressions do. And now that’s true in the ship as well, else it feels very much icky
And of course getting rid of a mutual enemy to unite against in Snoke didn’t help, but I really think that’s it. The character arc for Kylo that gave me the most catharsis is no longer accessible, or at least much, much more difficult to do. And once again, tlj is what stole it from me
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idleglowingpixels · 1 year ago
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I finally got my schedule aligned with a friend of mine to watch Monster High 2 (the live action movie sequel) and I have some thoughts about it
(Keep reading only if you're okay with spoilers, I go into a lot of detail)
Monster High 2 was a solid experience altogether. The previous movie was in a similar vain, but I think the special effects budget got amped up, because everything looked stellar and just generally better than the first movie. It's still not cinema film level quality but these aren't meant to be compared to that. It's a TV movie, and for what it is I thought that (almost) everything rendered out beautifully (idk why they keep having Lagoona do the oAo thing but okay).
As per the previous film, there were lots of highs in the comedy (Frankie is always the highlight of these movies for me, Cleo taking her job as campaign manager so seriously was kinda funny to me, and a lot of the Heath shenanigans were so reminiscent of G1 to me ESPECIALLY the teasing about Clawdeen being Deuce's girlfriend and general himbo behavior), but it's also a kid's movie, so there's bound to be misses too. Comedy isn't personally my forte, but I got enough chuckles and laughs here and there that it didn't really matter to me.
The songs sounded pretty nice! I went into the movie this time without hearing any songs in advance like the first movie, and was pleasantly surprised. None of them were particularly bad to me, but I think my favorite one was the very-poorly-disguised friend breakup song with the main trio. It reminded me of a similar song in Descendants 2 ironically enough, but I don't mean that as an insult, I love the Descendants soundtracks too!
Okay, now the story of the movie…I don't really know where to begin, there's so much to talk about. I guess I can start at the beginning.
I've seen a few people complain about Clawdeen blowing up on social media and going viral when the characters would regularly go viral or get tons of views on their not-YouTube channels in G1. I know the Internet was different back in 2010, but it wasn't THAT much different going viral back then as it is now imo. I found it an odd complaint personally.
While I have no idea how a half-human ghost can exist in the first place, I ADORED the little bits where that new character was. Unfortunately I neglected to remember her name, usually I'm better with keeping up on this stuff. But she was so goofy, like yeah queen, walk through the door and immediately hit it on the way back out. 💖
The whole thing with the prefect is kind of irrelevant for the most part, so I don't mind it as much. I have an irrational love for the whole fire and water thing Heath and Lagoona got to do for it together, and I noticed characters like them actually have something to do in the movie instead of just awkwardly showing up at the end to record Komos and stand guard I guess??? And they had much more dialogue this time around (very few exceptions, I can only think of Ghoulia and Abbey but who knows, maybe they'll get to be main characters in the third movie I presume will release next year).
Torelai being a general nuisance was amazing, and here she really did feel like her G1 counterpart…if said counterpart was British lol. Her outfits were really nice, felt super edgy and it was a plus for me. I also liked the mention of her scarring from the witches in France, where she'd studied abroad, but I do think they repeated the point of her bringing it up against witches in the song was too quick after the initial mention, perhaps it could've been reserved to the song and have her sing-song her way through explaining the wraith silver.
Draculaura was the main focus in the film, and I really enjoyed her story. She's got every card stacked against her, even those she trusts, it feels like they turn on her in her point of view (Clawdeen and Ellis specifically). I've also seen characters like Ellis a billion times, but as generic as he is, he served the purpose he was in the film for (lowkey thought the name was a reference to Elphaba/Wicked Witch of the West).
Seeing Dracula as much as we did this movie was amazing, loved that, though Zamara kinda fell flat with me as an antagonist. Making a comparison here, but it felt like they were trying to replicate what they'd done with Komos in the previous film, just adjusting her to fit the new narrative, but Komos was much better executed imo (I promise this isn't my bias to Jekyll and Hyde characters showing, I just think his dynamics with the students flowed more organically). I found the whole thing about witches marketing herbal products as remedies with magical healing properties to exploit humanity's fears of appearing healthy to be funny with Z, but that's about it. I also could tell she'd be the villain a lot faster than I did with Komos haha. Seeing Apollo play a significant role here was nice too! I really like how the adult/parent characters can be just as important as the teens, as I find the lack of parent appearances in G1 to be too sparce for something so integral to the characters' stories.
As with pretty much anyone who's seen the film, it seems we were all shouting at Clawdeen towards the end to just turn human to avoid injury from the wraith silver bars (I was so confused lmao), but I think she was so desperate to save her friend that she was in too blind a panic to control that or think rationally. Frankie is in a similar vein; I thought their upgrades would've caused more pain than it'd be worth, and since we saw the electricity from their arm separating from the rest of their body earlier in the scene, it might've triggered a rush of pain to Frankie or their energy would've been zapped out like a light. Also, y’all, they thought their friend was going to forcefully commit genocide, I don’t think either of them were safe from having irrational/impulsive solutions to a situation in which their friend is literally gonna die if they take time to think critically. I do think there could’ve been better execution with the scene, especially how important it is for later, however. I may be explaining the thought process of my only other point of contention here, but it wasn’t thought out all too much imo — Deen could’ve tried to shift back and find it doesn’t work, Frankie could’ve tried to detach their hand/arm and found themselves getting hurt (but not scarred since that’s really the were-girls’ common thing).
But when Clawdeen died just from touching the bars for too long, I was so shocked it was happening from something so small, I figured the explanation was that it might drain a monster's life force or something. But I COULD NOT take the grim reaper thing seriously. Genuinely laughed my ass off cause WHAT WAS THAT??? It seemed so out of place for the pacing to me I guess. I felt like it could've been a perfect opportunity to have Komos reach out to her through his petrification, especially with how much she hangs around his statue during her troubles and looks to his statue for guidance, but I knew going in he was like 99% certain to be a one-off villain. 🥲
Anyway, Torelai and Clawdeen's little trauma bond moment with the scars at the end was very wholesome, a nice tie back to the "not afraid to show my secrets or my scars" line from Coming Out Of The Dark. And for once the franchise acknowledges were-animals as having kinship, like don't get me wrong, I know it's mainly for the cats vs dogs thing, but they're essentially the same monsters. I always found it odd that they were treated as completely different monster types entirely when all they are is just a human base with animal features and abilities (speed, agility, heightened senses, etc.).
A lot of people have a problem with Clawdeuce being a thing, but I don't mind it personally. It's a different gen, nothing has to stay the same as G1, so I’m just going along with the vibes. And I can tell Deuce leaving is going to be where we follow through in the next movie (unless he got tossed into the underworld in the end credits scene, I have no clue). To be honest I really like his prominent inclusion in the roster of characters, especially with how erased he’d get in the G1 movies (they literally cut his part of the rap out and it’s so apparent q-q).
But back to the point about the after credits, when I saw the grim reaper actually CAME BACK and just threw Deuce to the side (or maybe through the portal idk) I instantly freaked out, no laughter to be had, like "WAIT OH MY GOD WE WERE SUPPOSED TO TAKE THAT BIT FOR REAL—"
I know the third film is looking to be centered on Frankie (They 💖) but I do worry with how much elements they're taking from G1 movies to make up new/similar narratives (Drac's Sweet 1600, the previous gen's self acceptance narrative but specifically with a half human character, the emphasis on Jekyll and Hyde shenanigans, vampires vs werewolves but make it vampires vs witches instead, etc.). I just don't think another Freaky Fusion thing with Frankie sacrificing their life energy should be necessary. Especially considering the new antagonist is very clearly gonna be this Grim Reaper dude. And since the Underworld might be the main location for the third film, I wonder if the whole thing about Heath being Hades's son in the TV show will come up in the movie. Ik they're different canons from each other, but It'd be pretty interesting to see how they'd create a MH version of Hades. (I found his design from the cartoon after typing all this up and I mean, okay then I guess 🤷 Don’t love it but don’t hate it either, he just looks too nice to me haha. I love when Hades is actually a nice character, but his appearance and Resting Bitch Face make him out to be a huge dick.)
As of right now, that's basically everything I have to say on the movie. I personally prefer the first one, but I will not deny that it's because I liked Komos more as an antagonist than Zamara — antagonists are just as important as protagonists. He has the Jekyll and Hyde thing going for him too, which is just overall a favorite trope of mine (Though his change wasn’t as literal). I do think this movie had more going on and much higher stakes, what with characters almost committing mass genocide, suffering injuries and nearly outright DYING.
But I don't know, it was a solid 7/10 for me I think, on the higher end of 7 but Zamara keeps me from giving it a higher rating (sorry y'all I just REALLY didn't like her character, not even in a love to hate way, and villains’ likability matters too much for me personally). I guess my ranking for the first movie would be a low 8, but it’s based more on how much I enjoyed it than how objectively good or "perfect" it is.
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omgitstatertot · 2 years ago
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Light in the Dark
Chapter one
(A/N): This story begins in alignment to the beginning of season 3 (Chapter 49.5). Some facts and parts of the original storyline will be altered, but the timeline stays true to the MHA Universe. I truly hope you guys enjoy this story. If you have any feedback or requests for unreleased chapters, please feel free to let us know
Quirk: Solar Powered
Abilities:
User can harness UV rays to enhance physical ability and manipulate pure light in surrounding areas.
User can detect light on ALL spectrums, including infrared, up to a certain distance proportional to state of being.
Along with enhancing physical strength, agility, and vitality, the user can choose to embody pure light leaving their intended body parts intangible.
When quirk is in use, the user’s eyes and hair turn gold and illuminate
CW: Mentions of child abuse and neglect as well as family member death
“Wait so we’re not supposed to take any long trips over summer break?” I vaguely hear Ochaco say though my dazed off state.
Yaoyorozu replies explaining the rules for this summer break. At some point while she is speaking, I completely zone out.
I am brought back to reality by a light tap on my shoulder. I jump in response, and swing my head around to see Mina Ashido step back as a response to my quick motions.
“Sorry (Y/N), I didn't realize you were zoned out again. I just wanted to know if you were on board.”
On board with what? How long was I out for? I give her a dumbfounded look.
Ashido begins laughing, “Girl, did you hear any of that conversation?”
I begin to nod my head side to side before she chuckles and continues with a kind smile.
“The girls thought we would get together at the school pool during break. You should come with us!”
The girls from class 1-A have been hanging out periodically for a while now. Sometimes the guys come along and they have study groups or training sessions. It's common for everyone to get together out of school. I’ve been invited to pretty much every event and I have declined and made an excuse each time. I guess I was afraid something would go wrong and I would ruin my chances of making friends.
I do need to spend more time with my classmates. I felt completely irrelevant during the Sports Festival. I am sure no one even noticed me next to Midoriya, Todoroki, and Bakugo on the TV. Spending time with everyone would be beneficial. Although, I hate swimming… NO (Y/N), you need to get closer to your classmates. Stop making excuses.
“I would love to go with you guys!” I say, sparking surprise from the group of girls crowded around my desk.
“You will?! FINALLY!” Yaoyorozu exclaims, “I have been waiting for the day you would go out with us since the start of the semester! You are always so busy…”
I quickly respond, “I know, I know, I know. I work way too much… I’m sorry that I haven’t been hanging out with you guys-”
Ashido cuts me off with a hug, “Don't apologize! We are just so glad that we get to spend time with you outside of school!”
I look up to see kind faces nodding in agreement to her statement.
Did they really want me to hang out with them so badly? I didn’t know I was ‘wanted’ like this. I suppose I’ve been keeping myself oblivious. Not anymore. Maybe Class 1-A is where I will find my place; my family.
TIME SKIP: (Y/N) ARRIVES HOME
I take one step after another along the gravel pathway through the woods. The long walk under the shade of trees is grueling, especially during the spring and summer. It is beautiful when the trees are fully grown and bursting with leaves. But this much shade after a day of using up my energy is a bad mix. The sunlight, that so wonderfully replenishes my body, is being kept on the other side of a thick green roof; for 5 miles. It's exhausting and boring. I have to find ways to distract myself. Each time I arrive at this step of the journey, I find a rock to my liking, and I guide it along the path with me. Every couple steps I kick my designated rock a few feet further and repeat until I reach the end of the path.
I step out of the shade and into the large grassy plain. I soak in the sunlight and feel myself immediately bursting with energy. The destination of the moment is my house. A two-story cabin-like building with large one sided glass window panes in place of the east and western walls on the top floor, as well as 2 very large skylights on the roof. From the outside they look like they have been painted black, but on the inside you can see everything, and the sunlight has easy access to anything inside; well, anyone.
I live on the top floor and decided that modifying the house to increase sunlight exposure would greatly benefit my health. It took me days to install everything, but it has so far been my best project yet. I’m not much of a handy-man, but I had to learn how to fix household appliances and damage pretty young.
I come from a family of crime and violence. My mother was a mass burglar. When I was 10 years old she was caught by a pro hero after robbing their house by accident. Instead of giving up and going to jail, she caused a large explosion with her quirk, killing 2 pro heros, 3 cops, 12 civilians, and herself. I don’t remember much from that time besides seeing my father melt with grief, and slowly turn it into anger and resent. My father may still be alive, but he is a very dangerous man. He has been involved in gangs and mobs of criminals for as long as I can remember, with his affiliations growing stronger since my mother died. For such a heartless man, he loved my mother with every bone in his body. He loved her enough to have 2 children even if he never wanted them. When mother died, he began to see us as reminders of what he lost. He hated us. My older brother unfortunately became a small-time thug as a young adult. He had so much potential to go far in life. He was on track to become an engineer when mother passed. He couldn’t stray from grief and the model our parents had left for him. If only he could have turned his life around. Maybe he wouldn’t have become… so horrid.
My tennis shoes squeak on the dewy grass as I walk some more. I take it much slower than before; a leisurely stroll; soaking in the sun. I finally reach the mulch pathway to the front porch of my residence. I step up the concrete stairs while pulling my keys out of the (F/C) drawstring bag I had hung over my shoulder. I insert the key just to feel that the door was unlocked already.
Suddenly I realize that I've let my guard down. I use my quirk to search for infrared light in my near distance. I learned this ability at school. I can sense light on any spectrum, which includes the electromagnetic light that radiates off of living beings. To the human eye those rays are not visible, rather detected through heat, but I can see these rays and decipher the different energies from certain people.
I recognize the familiar energy waves coming from my upper floor.
Dad?
I sprint up the stairs impatient to see if I had actually detected my father or if I was mistaken. To my awe, I was correct. I see my father standing above my desk turned away from me looking at something. His shaggy black hair flowing across his naked shoulders. A white sleeveless tee shirt tucked into his favorite pair of jeans. He turns around to face me, and only then did I realize the mistake I had made.
Because my father is a criminal, he spends very little time at home. I usually only see him for a couple nights every 3 or so months. Other than that I am the sole person in the house. When he visits it is usually not a pleasant experience, but it is a small price to pay to stay in my home and not the streets. I just prepare for his arrival and tr my best to keep him happy. His last visit was a month ago, and he found out I enrolled in UA high. Safe to say I didn’t feel like much of a hero after his punishment.
Oh F***... He wasn't supposed to be back for another 2 months. I left everything out on my desk.
I gulp as he completes his turn towards me. His eyes as piercing as ever, a perfect compliment to his predator-like demeanor. I maintain eye contact to avoid looking at his hands, because of what they are holding, and what I know is about to happen. My body shutters as he opens his mouth to speak.
“My eyes must be deceiving me,” he laughs before switching to dead serious, “Or maybe it's just my own blood.”
The air grows thinner and the temperature starts dropping rapidly. I keep my posture straight and try to breathe steadily as my father closes the distance between us. With every step he takes the air grows colder and colder.
“What the h*ll do you think you are doing?” he says before grabbing my jaw with his freezing touch and shoving me back against the wall.
“You think you are a little detective, huh? You think you are so smart, don’t ya?”
I remain as still as possible while trying to loosen his grip.
“ANSWER ME (Y/N)!” He screams, “WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE GOING TO ACCOMPLISH HERE?”
The air grows even colder than I thought was possible. I fight against the natural shiver in my skin.
My father’s quirk is Temperature Control. Anywhere within close proximity to him, he can raise and lower the temperature to extremes. As someone who thrives in the heat of the sun, cold temperature is a severe weakness for me. He realized he could torment me with his quirk a few years ago after exhausting every other method to get a rise out of me.
I can feel the frostbite forming underneath his fingers, my body growing numb, but I keep my face as straight as possible.
“I SAID ANSWER ME (Y/N)!” He yells one more time while tightening his grip and lowering the temperature even more.
Don’t show. Don’t let him win. You are stronger than the cold. He doesn’t deserve a reaction.
Just as I feel myself start to react, he yanks his arm, with it's hold on my jaw, away from the wall and across the room. I am sent flying into my steel bed frame with a harsh impact that leads to me collapsing onto the hardwood floor.
He throws the stack of papers at my body, leaving them to spread out around me. I stare at the pictures and information documents regarding the USJ incident, more specifically, the Nomu that All Might fought. Underneath these photos, screenshotted texts and stolen confidential police reports confirming the identity of the Nomu; confirming everything.
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crowlore · 2 months ago
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some datv ramblings and generally fair handed criticisms below the cut. nothing too massive bc each serious issue i had with the game could be an essay on its own. don’t assume that if it’s not mentioned here i dont have something to say on it. heavy spoilers ahead etc
first the disclaimer that ive been a dragon age fan for half my life. ive had 13 years to sit and stew on these games and their attached products and my opinions can change and evolve with time. my critiques come from a place of love and desire for positive growth of the ip. okay? okay.
veilguard was a Fun game, dgmw. easily the most replayable also. but i still hold the opinion that 2 was the last good dragon age game (in the sense that it’s engaging, has interesting writing, and Feels like dragon age), and there are still lots of people that hate it. i can defend a lot of the decisions made in veilguard’s production from the viewpoint of someone very familiar with the struggle of the development process just like i’ve done for every title. it’s harder to make games of this scope than many realize. knowing what i know of the early concepts for what became the finished product, and the massive shakeups during development, there’s a lot im willing to forgive in the presentation of information in game. the writing is a whole other issue, but as i said im not touching on the egregious points of writing criticism with this post.
i dont think the dialogue is nearly as big of a problem as many are saying, beyond the fact that it does go less in depth than past titles. complaints of “therapy speak” are largely overplayed and would have likely been completely overlooked if the surrounding dialogue was as deep as it was in early entries and if the emotional consideration generally put forward by rook was returned by their companions. also im self aware enough to acknowledge that beyond that this series has always had bogus line deliveries scattered throughout. it keeps me humble. i think the roleplaying is (marginally) better than inquisition’s (not saying much), personally, because rook feels more like a person than the inquisitor. of course that’s not a good thing for everyone, since plenty of players liked that the inquisitor’s background was largely irrelevant and they just sorta popped into being at the onset of the plot. it made it easier to shape them in your head, i get thet. but again personally i like a protagonist with established traits and mannerisms, much like hawke. i enjoy leaning into the mold the writers set up for them, and just filling out the grooves for flavor. i dont believe having a narrow objective for the tone and character of a story is inherently a bad thing - but i also think the writers missed out on a lot of opportunities to really dig into what they set up.
rook being groomed into a replacement prisoner for solas’ fade prison was a really tasty character writing choice that unfortunately needed a lot more backing - not everybody played a character they believed would regret their choices so severely! don’t be afraid to foreshadow things heavily! we all saw the varric reveal coming from a mile away so just own that decision! go crazy with your justifications.
the endings were. something. i guess. i understand the objective of the “secret” (not that secret) reconciliation ending, but it feels self congratulatory for the inquisitor more than anyone..and they don’t even have to want to save solas! it really just felt like a bone tossed at “fans” of solas’ character (said mockingly bc there are Those People that really don’t want to engage with the character as he’s written and just treat him as a fictional boyfriend rather than a narrative device worth examining). rook would have to be an idiot to take that bargain given everything solas has done to them, im sorry. (on that note: rook is meant to be an unpredictable wild card of a tactician - a mind to rival the dread wolf’s. i liked the suicide mission style role assignment segment a la mass effect 2 but show me more of that! show me more scheming. i want it!) i dont really care if it’s considered the “good” ending, or that it would make my inquisitor happy. but this is also coming from someone who thought solas’ character was Gravely mishandled in inquisition, and only became interesting and enjoyable as an antagonist in veilguard. (as an aside, i had to laugh at how solas’ memories painted a terribly pitiful “a woman made me do it” picture of his actions. STAND UP)
speaking of antagonists. elgar’nan is boring. im not sorry. his freaky immoral scientist sister was not only a more interestingly sinister villain, but there were more hidden depths to her than elgar’nan if you found those late game codex entries. i dont find unexamined unabashed evil interesting! god of tyranny, so what! give me MORE to work with here. the closest we got was getting to grill solas on how a massive factor in his pointed hatred for elgar’nan was that they were similar. stubborn, prideful, vindictive men who put themselves above others. that was something! give me more of that!
ultimately i see the gaps in the plot and character writing where there was meant to be more, and while i am disappointed by the lack of real meat on the bones of a game we’ve waited a decade for - i do still see where concessions had to be made. all this is also just me engaging with these points in isolation, devoid of connection to the grander themes and mishandling of real life implications. i dont hold back on those, but they’re for another post where i do more than just a stream of consciousness.
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