#i accidentally deleted my tumblr yesterday | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

caapsiizzereads · 1 year ago

Text

Freedom felt like summеr then on the coast

Jamie Tartt x f!reader

Summary: just summertime fluff, you and Jamie having the time of your lives in Brazil and falling in love along the way

Words: 2,9k

Warnings: language, as usual

A/n: sorry to everyone who already saw this post yesterday, but tumblr was really testing my patience and i accidentally deleted it😀😀 so i’m reposting it now and if it glitches again i’m deleting my whole account🥰

Sunset on the coast is always a great view, even more so if you’re watching it from a boat smoothly gliding through the ocean. You can feel the tiny sprinkles of water landing on your skin, the ocean breeze blowing through your hair, and Jamie’s fingertips lightly moving on your thigh as he’s comfortably leaning against your side. Despite having spent the day just hiking around the island and relaxing on the beach, you both feel a bit tired, so an hour-long boat ride is actually a good opportunity to rest before you have to drive back to Rio for another hour.

You get off the boat and walk back to the shore. Jamie’s hair is a mess, wavy from all the humidity (he says it’s annoying, but you actually find it adorable) and tangled from the wind. You run your hand through it, trying to somewhat fix it, and he smiles softly at you.

You’re walking towards your car, and Jamie puts his hand out palm up.

“Oh, come on!”

“You’ve had four caipirinhas!”

“And I’m good.” You’ve driven in worse states…

“You drove here, only fair if I drive back. Just to be safe.” Jamie is still holding his hand up, now looking at you expectantly.

“Fine.” You roll your eyes, but put the car keys in his open hand. “But I’m still picking the music.”

“What happened to ‘driver picks the music’?” Jamie asks teasingly, even though he really has no intention to argue with you on that.

“It changed to (Y/n) picks the music anyway.”

You are waiting for your drink by the bar, mouthing the words of the song and your body slightly moving to the rhythm. The bartender passes you your drink, and you happily pick it up and start making your way through the dancing crowd back to Jamie. Jamie is vaguely aware that someone is trying to pull him into a dance, but he can’t take his eyes off you. You have a carefree smile on your face, your body keeps gracefully moving with the song, and you’re clearly enjoying yourself. Another girl sways in your way, and you take her hand, making her spin as you smile breezily at each other. It reminds him of the first time he saw you two days ago.

Jamie can’t believe he’s only known you for two days. He’s not much of a believer in love at first sight, but what he felt for you that night is definitely real. Desire? Infatuation? Awe? Whatever it was, it’s only been growing stronger.

The moment you hinted that you wanted to take Jamie home with you that night, he felt like he won a fucking lottery. He wasn’t oblivious to all the eyes that were on you that night, and so weren't you. Yet you still chose him. And not even in his wildest dreams could he imagine where that would lead him.

—

You’ve never heard an accent like this before, so you ask him where he’s from. Jamie tells you that he’s from Manchester, England, and he’s in Rio to shoot a commercial for Nike.

“Are you like a model or something?” you laugh.

“A football player.”

“Ooo, are you good?” you looked at him, intrigued.

“Fucking great,” he declares proudly.

“Good. Imagine if I slept with a shitty football player… That would be embarrassing.”

—

The following day was supposed to be Jamie’s last in Brazil, but he just couldn't get the idea off his mind. So after the shoot was over, he told Keeley that he was going to stay there for a few more days. She was there in the bar with him the previous night, so it didn’t take much for her to figure out what that dreamy look on Jamie’s face was all about. She gave him a cheeky smile and wished him a good time.

And two days later, here he is, having the best fucking time as you make his way back to him, give him a kiss, and pull him into a dance with you.

—

“So what do you do?”

“I’m an engineer.”

“So you, like, build machines and stuff?”

“Almost,” you chuckle. “I build bridges. Well, not by myself. I’m more of, like, an architect but for bridges.”

“That’s cool. Bridges are cool.” Now that he thinks about it, Jamie realizes that he has no idea how those things are actually built.

“Women in STEM,” you mouth theatrically.

—

Back at your Airbnb bedroom, you both are lying on your sides, your head on the pillows and Jamie’s head on your thigh, facing each other.

“What do you wanna do tomorrow?” you ask.

“I don’t know. Whatever you want.”

“We’ve been doing what I want for two days, tomorrow we’re going to do what you want,” you insist. “Come on, surely there’s something.”

Jamie hasn’t really thought about it. You’re good at navigating your way around and you know what you want, and Jamie has been happy to just follow your lead.

On your first full day together you wanted to go to the Tijuca National Park because you wanted to see the waterfalls. You were definitely right about that because the nature here is absolutely spectacular. Then you spent the rest of the day just wandering around the city and then watched the sunset from the Sugarloaf Mountain because that view was absolutely insane.

—

“Yep, looks good,” you decide after a quick look. You stole Jamie’s sunglasses earlier today, and you have no intention of giving them back until the end of your trip. They look better on you anyway. And these plasticky green ones seem like a totally good replacement. “Or…” you switch the glasses on Jamie’s face to a pair with a yellow frame. “Do you like these better? They have pink ones too,” you grin at him.

“Okay, I’ll get it if you get…” Jamie’s eyes stop on arguably the ugliest t-shirt in the store, “this.”

You know what he’s trying to do here, but you’re not letting him win that easily. You pick the t-shirt a couple of sizes bigger than yours, roll up the sleeves, and tie the bottom in a knot. “So, how do I look?”

Jamie’s mouth falls open. He doesn’t know whether he’s impressed or disappointed because you are still annoyingly attractive. “You could pull off a potato sack.”

“Bet.” You take your phone and start scrolling through your camera roll. In a minute, you turn your phone showing Jamie the picture. It’s from a few years ago, when you went to a Halloween party dressed as Marylin Monroe in her iconic potato sack look.

“Fuck me.” You were, in fact, rocking a potato sack.

“Already did,” you wink at him.

—

Today, you went to Ilha Grande. It was quite a long way, but it was totally worth it: the island had this very calm and relaxing atmosphere, the locals were very friendly, the beach was great, and the food was as good as always. It was a nice break from the busy Rio.

Jamie thinks about where he wants to go. There’s one thing that immediately comes to mind.

“Maracanã Stadium. We don’t have to go to a match, can just walk around. You know it’s one of the largest stadiums in the world?” Jamie gets visibly excited.

“There are matches?” You thought he said it was off-season.

“Yes. The Brazilian League has a different schedule, they are playing now. But we don’t have to go.”

“No, let’s go! If you want to. And if you don’t mind explaining what the fuck is going on to me.” You’re not much of a football fan, but the excited look on Jamie’s face is totally worth it.

Perk of a huge stadium: you can get tickets to the upcoming match literally the night before.

—

“How did you get into football? Like, did you always know that it’s something you wanna do professionally?”

Maybe it’s the knowing that in a few days he will probably never see you again, maybe it’s the fucked out state of his brain, maybe it’s just you and that thing about you that makes it feel safe to talk about things, but there, in the security of your dark bedroom, Jamie finds himself telling you the full history behind him and football. He tells you about his father and the impact he made, about his failures and regrets, about his accomplishments and dreams.

You don’t speak up much, just letting Jamie talk and use your hand as a fidget toy, and when he’s finished, the room goes quiet.

You squeeze his fingers, which are laced with yours. “Are you happy?”

He thinks on it for a moment. “Yeah.”

“You’ll be alright, then.” You smile at him, and it makes him feel so warm and content on the inside that he has no choice but to believe you.

—

The stadium is really fucking impressive and really fucking huge, and Jamie looks like a child in a candy store. He supplies you with an endless amount of trivia about the exhibits at the Stadium and the 2014 World Cup, which apparently had its final here. Your contribution to this conversation is that Pitbull and Jennifer Lopez wrote the theme song for it.

After the match, you go to the local Aquarium, which, according to Jamie and confirmed by Wikipedia, is the biggest in South America, but in reality, it ends up being pretty mediocre. Really makes you crave some seafood for dinner, though. This is a little bit barbaric, but at least you’re in it together.

You’re walking down the streets of Rio de Janeiro. They are filled with music, partying crowds, and friendly smiles – a carefree atmosphere all around you. Tomorrow is your last day here, and then you will go your separate ways.

Never in his life has Jamie felt this way. It’s like being in the spotlight of your attention is addicting. You are a lot, but he can never get enough of you. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to just pack up his stuff and move one with his life now. He pushes the thought out of his mind. That's for him to worry about later. Right now, the air is warm, and your hand is in his, and life is fucking mint.

—

“So where are you going next?” Jamie asks while mindlessly tracing invisible patterns on your skin.

You pick up your phone and show Jamie a digital drawing of a bridge. “Budapest.”

“You're gonna build this?” Jamie’s eyes go wide.

“That’s the plan.”

“This is fucking insane.” He looks at you in fascination. “Do you have pictures of the other ones you did?”

You show Jamie the pictures of the three other bridges that you’ve worked on. In between, there’s a photo of you on a construction site, wearing a shirt, a skirt, and a hard hat. Jamie giggles when he sees it and takes your phone in his hands.

“What are you doing?”

“Sending it to myself,” he grins, pressing the AirDrop button. He accepts it on his phone and looks at it thoughtfully for a moment. “I can’t imagine you doing all of this. Not ‘cause I think you can’t or anything, just, like, you being all serious and wearing pencil skirts.”

You laugh. “Okay, first of all, pencil skirts are not required, but I look fucking hot in them. And second, you’d be so disappointed. Daily life me is so lame. I’m a terrible workaholic. My ideal night off is just staying at home with food, wine, and TV, alone. I thought about getting a dog, but I’ve killed every plant I’ve ever bought. I don’t even have hobbies, I just either work or do fucking nothing,” you chuckle.

Jamie looks at you dreamily. “I would’ve loved to get to know the lame you.”

A part of you wants to indulge this scenario, but you quickly push it away, not letting the moment sit for too long. “Okay, I showed you mine, now show me yours,” you smile eagerly.

Jamie opens a picture of the team, telling you a little bit about everyone. He tells you about his rocky history with Roy, about Sam and how you would totally love him because everyone does, about Isaac and his barbering skills that Jamie is still yet to use, some funny stories about the players and coaches. Your conversation only quiets when the sun starts to rise and you slowly doze off to sleep.

—

“C’mere.” You stand by the edge of the bed where Jamie is sitting, and he tilts his head to look up at you with a pleased smile as you start applying spf to his face like you’ve been doing it every morning. Jamie always wears his spf, but he just likes it better when you do it for him.

“I was thinking…”

“I don’t like this already.”

“Oi!” he pokes at your thigh, and you grin teasingly at him. “I was thinking…” he starts again. “Maybe we could, like, exchange numbers? Instagrams?”

“Jamie.” You stop him. You’ve mentioned once briefly that it’s not your first vacation fling, and you don’t do the whole exchanging contact information thing. He knows this.

The wistful look in Jamie’s eyes doesn’t help at all. “But I like this. Don’t you?” He affectionately runs the back of his hand along your leg.

“Oh, I fucking love this. But the expiration date is exactly what makes it so good. We don’t have anything to worry about, we don’t owe each other anything. We just have a really good time, and then we go back to our lives.”

Maybe Jamie doesn’t want to just go back to his life, but he knows that arguing here is useless and it’s better to just enjoy your last day here together.

You go to the Botanical Garden and have lunch at Parque Lage, beautiful sceneries. The night, as usual, ends with getting drunk at the bar and then going back home and having some mindblowing sex.

—

“Does it always feel like this?” He doesn’t need to explain, you exactly what he means. This is an answer in itself.

“No.” You can give him that much.

—

You get up and get ready together. Your flights are only a couple of hours apart, so it makes sense for you to just go to the airport together. There’s some heaviness in the air between you that hasn’t been there before.

You arrive at the airport, go through all the regular procedures, and settle in the waiting area.

The boarding for your flight is announced, and when most of the crowd disappears, you get up. Jamie stands up too.

“It was really nice to meet you, Jamie Tartt,” you smile tenderly at him.

“Yeah, you too.” He envelopes you in a tight hug.

“Come on, London boy, keep your head up.” You kiss him on the corner of his lips before you turn around and walk away through your gate.

Jamie smiles to himself. You were still wearing his sunglasses on the top of your head.

It’s been six weeks since Jamie was back in London. He would say that everything has gone back to normal and he doesn’t miss you at all, but that would be one big dirty lie. Because the truth is that not a day goes by that he doesn’t think about you. He looks at the pictures that he made of you a bit too often, he checks every new person who follows him on Instagram, hoping to see your name, he keeps the sunglasses that you jokingly bought for him in his drawer. Everyone on the team has heard about you at this point. He even googled that fucking bridge in Budapest, how pathetic is that.

Today is Richmond's first match of the season. It’s a home match against Leeds United, so it shouldn’t be that hard. The team is in great spirits, and everyone is feeling very optimistic about the match.

They were right because they win the match with a final score of 3-0. Great start to the new season.

Jamie’s talking with Sam on his way from the Stadium, when Sam interrupts him and nods ahead with a mischievous smile. Jamie turns to look, and he’s met with a familiar face looking back at him. He knows he’s staring, but he just can’t believe his eyes.

“So you didn’t lie, huh,” you smile smugly at him. “You are pretty good.”

“You’re here,” he mutters, mostly to convince himself that it’s real.

“I accidentally stole your sunglasses. Thought you’d want them back.”

Suddenly, Jamie recalls a news headline he saw not so long ago. “They are making a new bridge in West London.”

“We are.”

You burst into laughter when you got the offer a day before you were supposed to sign the Budapest contract. You don't usually believe in stuff like fate, but if that’s not it, then what is?

“You’re here,” Jamie repeats excitedly now. He closes the distance between you and pulls you into a hug, slightly lifting you from the ground. When he puts you back down, he still keeps his hands on you, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear again if he lets go.

“It’s a big bridge. Gonna take a while.”

“Good,” he breathes, pressing his forehead against yours. “Hope it fucking takes forever.”

A/N: the alternative title for this fic was ‘I just wanna burn this bridge to see if you’ll come right back to me’, but we’re sticking with Taylor themed titles for now

A/N 2: reader’s job is a reference to Jamie’s line from s2 if you haven’t figured by now… and there are two(?) Taylor Swift references in this fic too

A/N 3: yes, i totally did an excessive research on Rio’s landmarks for this

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt imagine #ted lasso fic

310 notes · View notes

spicyboelives · 1 year ago

Text

@strangerhands I accidentally deleted the original file yesterday (I had 'meh' feelings about it) so I just screenshotted it straight from my Instagram? Anyway! I still dont know how tumblr works so I hope its cool to reply via tagging you?

#jake lockley #moon knight

121 notes · View notes

skylarbee · 1 year ago

Note

I just saw your recent post on AM stans hating on Milex stans… I need a catching up please. What about LV and Amanda (?) and Matt too? I rarely ever dive deep into bands and their members, I just like to appreciate their music.

Thank you ♡

! long post incoming and i want to point out that i don't plan on using this blog to discuss any of these people (only maybe very rarely) - i don't like them, i don't think they're good people, i don't want to argue with people who think otherwise, and i usually ignore whatever they're up to - my main focus will always be on milex/miles !

hi anon! <3 i have no idea how much you know already, or if you basically don't know anything related to these three, or any of them. i will say that i have no screenshots concerning the things that i mention, but searching their names up on tumblr and/or scrolling through blogs like @/shit-talk-turner and @/alexstorm will make things more clear.

this whole thing started when louise posted a screenshot yesterday of an am fan saying some dumb shit about her in the comments and bringing up alexa (i still can't believe she posted this). she posted this with some equally stupid words (i don't have the screenshot - you can find it on twitter/tumblr/ig/tiktok/wherever), and matt then reposted her story, jumping to protect her (maybe amanda did too, i don't know). then she managed to screenshot some nice comments and posted those too, saying that 'love always wins' or something similar, and that haters can kiss her ass (this definitely didn't come across as her craving and asking for some compliments; she definitely doesn't need people babying her in order for her to feel good about herself) - which reminded me of something similar that amanda said like a year ago, that they don't pay attention to the haters anyways, of course after posting a long paragraph paying attention to them (makes me laugh just to think about it).

there are so many other hysterical and foolish things she does, like posting pictures of a messy bed (look, i'm fucking alex turner!), selfies with suspicious rings, other pics hinting at alex's presence, calling paparazzis to take pictures of them on the beach, pretending to be jane birkin and alex to be serge gainsbourg, going off about how independent she is while living off of alex's money, somehow managing to make matt's and amanda's marriage about her (with amanda encouraging her), 'accidentally' always doing these when miles has important things going on, etc etc (the fact that her and miles never interacted in real life is also deeply concerning. alex, dear, you should always trust your best friend when they don't like your partner, they always end up being right - especially knowing that miles was always on really good terms with alex's exs). it's clear that she's deeply insecure and adores when the attention is on her and when people are talking about her, and if she goes for a long period without this, she just has to pull something that will get fans talking. she's trying so hard to fit in and be the sexy rockstar girlfriend that she just ends up looking stupid.

if you don't know the real reasons why some people don't like louise, i'm just gonna post some links about her that pretty much sum it all up:

https://www.tumblr.com/snarcticmonkeys/685972106927882240/can-you-recap-the-problematic-things-frencies?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/snarcticmonkeys/685366553489866753/everybodys-got-something-to-hide-except-me-and-my?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/snarcticmonkeys/685366736118235136/everybodys-got-something-to-hide-except-me-and-my?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/snarcticmonkeys/685155230049075200/louise-the-fangirl?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/snarcticmonkeys/685155226833059841/lyon-july-2018?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/snarcticmonkeys/685095240693170176/deleted-posts?source=share

about amanda... now, if i remember correctly, amanda had a blog dedicated to her music, and people dug up some screenshots in which she replies to someone and uses the n-word, and then another post where she's being racist. these screenshots are somewhere in the depths of my phone and it would be impossible to find them, and regardless, these screenshots are so old that she could've well changed for the better since then.

the problem with her is the fact that she's having arguments in the comments with young fans (asking stuff like did they have brain tumours for breakfast and other ridiculous things...or was that louise?) and posts even more ridiculous stories in response to people bullying louise, and protecting her like she's a toddler who can't take care of herself. the pure arrogance and self-importance with which she communicates her ideas is just mental, she thinks that she's on the top of the world, and encourages louise to act the same way. it's baffling that two 40-ish women think that bullying 14 year olds will achieve anything other than encouraging other 'fans' to act the same way.

the thing about matt is just basically the fact that ever since he's been with amanda, he acts the same way as her. now, i know there's been some issue about some idiots commenting about his daughter, which made him deactivate his ig account, and i have absolutely no words for the people who dared to say anything about that poor, innocent, completely blameless child. but even before this, he turned to the same kind of arrogance as amanda and reposted all her stories concering louise. the way that they need to say over and over again what a good person louise is, how much alex loves her, how great their relationship is, how beautiful and kind and caring she is... makes you really question if she really is indeed all those things (especially if you opened those links i posted). more importantly, what exactly do they plan to achieve arguing with teenage girls? it's so childish, my god, they are only adding fuel to the fire. god knows what they're telling alex and also god knows what he thinks about it all.

there's something that i'm not 100% sure about, but i'm gonna say it in the hopes that someone will see this and will tell me if this is wrong or not: matt cheated on breana when both her parents died (this one is definitely true), and left her with 1 year old amelia, and fucked off to live with another woman (amanda denies being the woman in question, i have no idea). she was solo parenting for a while (breana said all these in a podcast), then matt woke up and decided that he wants something to do with his daughter after all, and ever since then he takes care of her too - good job love, you're still horrible though.

in short, l&a's insanely childish antics dragged matt into the whole thing too. they're constantly throwing hissy fits, in hopes to achieve god knows what, and then they feel proud of themselves for telling teenage girls off. which makes you think, what would happen if am would be 10 times more popular than they are know, and louise would get 10 times the hate she gets now? or even better, what would happen if louise would get the same amount of hate miles gets on the daily? she said in her screenshot that she knows that it's only a minority of the fandom that leave such mean comments - then what's the point of paying attention to it? all this just shows another reason why these two definitely don't like each other - miles has brains, the other one... well, i'm sorry. i tried my best to like them and look past their mistakes,but i just can't do it.

#lord have mercy #alex turner #arctic monkeys #amanda blank #louise verneuil #matt helders #anon

127 notes · View notes

olderthannetfic · 9 months ago

Note

All right, I have a story to tell all of you For the story to make sense you’re gonna need some context. One I went on vacation last week and two I’ve only ever saved one fanfic long term that wasn’t for just reading and deleting. It’s an important fanfiction to me. 3) I had just accidentally deleted this fic off my phone. But I thought that the fanfiction is still online. I’ll just read it online. But unbeknownst to me in the Last 3 to 6 months the author has deleted their Tumblr and with it the story. While some of it could be recovered with the way back machine I was skeptical it would be able to capture all 60 chapters. this fandom was tiny.

I was bummed I couldn’t read it on vacation. But I thought it’s on my computer at home i’ll just read it when I get back. I come home and I can’t find it on my laptop and I think I deleted it from my computer after I transferred all my important files to a tiny flash drive a couple weeks ago. I Look where I think the thumb drive is and it is not there. while there were other important documents on at some drive, I had most of them still I my computer somewhere but not the fanfiction. I looked everywhere. I’m by some pure stroke of luck and the confluence withof events. I was able to find it yesterday evening.

But I went back to my computer and searched for the PDF again and found it on my computer. I had forgotten to put the name of the document in quotes. Such a dumb mistake specially for someone whose job revolves around research.

Lesson for today.: advance search options are great if you don’t forget to use them

God, I hate searching for documents on my computer. Things that should come up don't.

48 notes · View notes

deputyrook · 1 year ago

Text

Impressions- 2/? Mark Hoffman x Psychic!Reader

(Repost after I accidentally deleted my tumblr 😭)

PART 1.

You're a reluctant psychic. He's a detective. And a serial killer.

(Can I make it any more obvious?)

Word count: 3498

WARNINGS: Gaslightling, corruption, stockholm syndrome, some drug use (painkillers), blackmail, power imbalance, abusive dynamics, overt threatening, general Saw-levels of horror.

this fic is kind of goofy, because I'm writing it for fun and not taking it super seriously! enjoy 💕

“Mark didn’t hit on you, did he?” Kerry asks over the phone, a note of disgust in her voice, “If he did, I’ll kick his ass. Though… you didn't exactly look uncomfortable when you fell into his arms yesterday. Am I wrong?”

Sometimes, you wondered how Kerry could be so oblivious.

You swallow a handful of painkillers before you answer her, washing them down with a swig of stale soda that’s been sitting out on your counter.

“He's, what, ten years older than us?” You ask, setting down the can and playing with the cord of your telephone.

“That’s not an answer,” Kerry teases, “And he’s early forties, I think. Hey, I won’t stop you. I'll sure as hell judge you, but I won't stop you.”

The events of the prior evening feel surreal now, in the morning light of the next day. Detective Mark Hoffman hasn’t contacted you, and if you didn’t have his phone number saved in your cell, you would have thought the entire car ride had been a bad dream.

You can’t help but second guess yourself now- had he ever actually admitted to being an accomplice? What if he was just a defensive asshole, and you’d misinterpreted everything again? The doubts creep in, now that your visions have been chased away, back into hiding in the recesses of your mind.

“Not interested,” you mutter. “I wasn’t feeling great last night, you know that. I barely remember getting home.”

Kerry’s tone sobers at that, and you hear her sigh. “Yeah. Sorry about that. I know you don’t like doing that, but we were completely out of leads.”

“And you still are,” you note, “I didn’t dream of anything useful last night, by the way. Total void.” If you’re lucky, you’ll never have another vision about the Jigsaw murders, though you suspect you’ve been plunged headfirst into the thick of it.

The painkillers will keep the flashes at bay, at least for now. The rest will come to you, jumbled and nonsensical, when it’s least convenient.

“Not entirely. But how are you feeling?” Kerry asks. She’s never been the best at heart-to-hearts, or at fielding your psychic nonsense, but you can hear the genuine concern in her voice for you. You wish you could tell her- the killer she hunts is right there, in the office across the hall, she could be in danger- but with the potential risk to both her and you, it’s just not worth it.

Not unless you manage to get your hands on some hard evidence of Hoffman’s involvement.

Years of dealing with a surrealist-nightmare-kaleidoscope for a brain had forced you to become patient. You could bide your time and wait carefully until an opportunity to steal some actual proof arose. Until then, you just had to keep breathing.

“Helloooo? Are you there?” Kerry’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah, sorry Ally. You know how I get. I called in sick today, but I’m alright. I promise. Nothing some rest and relaxation can’t fix,” you try to smile, but you can’t hide the exhaustion in your voice.

“Good,” she says, resolute, “I won’t ask you to come in again. Not unless something else comes to you. But I won’t believe he’s dead. Not yet.” It doesn’t take psychic abilities to know she’s talking about Eric Matthews, nor to feel the regret she carries with her, punctuating her words.

“And you shouldn’t. You know my hit rate on alive-versus-dead isn’t always the best.” Kerry hums in consideration at your words, and after you both say your goodbyes to one another, you hang up the receiver of the phone.

Once again, you’re left in the silence of your lonely apartment- save for your cat, who brushes up against your leg with a purr. He reminds you so easily that it’s not just your life on the line, here. Would Jigsaw ever try to test a cat...? Reaching down to scratch behind his ears, you try to consider your next steps carefully.

But all it does is make your head hurt. You pluck an ice pack from your freezer and lay down on your sofa, holding it to your head with a soft groan.

You must fall back asleep at some point, because you’re woken up from a dreamless sleep by the ringing of your phone. You check your home phone, and then, realizing it’s not the culprit, rifle through your bag for your cell.

“Hello?” You mumble into the phone as you flip it open, blinking awake.

“What, were you asleep? It’s the middle of the day,” Hoffman says.

“I called in sick. Got in pretty late last night, and I didn’t sleep the best,” You deadpan. Without being right next to him, it’s easier to keep your cool and not get flustered.

“We should talk. Let’s get dinner,” he says, “Six-o-clock. You know Eve’s Diner? On Newhaven street- with the neon sign?”

Your stomach drops. It didn’t seem like he was just asking you out politely. When was the last time you got dinner with a man, anyway? His tone is so casual that it makes you want to squirm.

“Yeah, I know the place. It's pretty close by, right?” At least in public, he wouldn’t be able to do anything overtly threatening to you. It didn’t seem like there was any use in arguing with him, or telling him you weren’t feeling up to it. He knows your address, and he apparently knows Jigsaw. That's enough to secure your compliance.

“Good. I’ll see you there, then.” And he hangs up the phone.

Your head throbs, but it’s lessened in severity since the morning. You consider taking another batch of painkillers, but decide against it. If you’re meeting Hoffman for dinner, it might be better to stay sharp.

—

The sight of Mark Hoffman, sitting in a diner booth, would be almost comical if it wasn’t so nerve-wracking. He’s stirring some sugar into his coffee, hunched against the wall, his hair smoothed back neatly and his police badge hanging around his neck. He looks tired, you think, but otherwise like a normal, upstanding member of society- if not one slightly too large and too dour for the diner table he’s seated at.

“Hi,” you say, sliding into the booth across from him.

He nods toward you in recognition, before leaning back in the seat. Mark looks at you, up and down, in silent surveyance. You stare back, studying him in return. Both of you size each other up, like the other is the dangerous one.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” He says, “And after some more thought, I’m not convinced. For all I know, maybe you’re workin’ with John Kramer. That seems more likely than you being psychic.”

Ah. You’ve gotten this reaction before. When someone, with time and consideration, doubles back to doubt your abilities. You couldn’t exactly blame him for that. Particularly for skeptics, it’s a hard pill to swallow that you have access to senses that they don’t.

Being accused of being a serial killer was new territory, however.

“I’m not working with Jigsaw,” you sputter, keeping your voice quiet. The diner isn’t too busy, and you’re seated in a corner away from other patrons, but it’s still public enough that you want to be careful. “Shouldn’t you know I’m not?”

He squints at you, like he’s trying to figure out if you’re lying or not.

“You tell me. You said there were four. Jigsaw, Amanda, myself- according to you- and so who’s the fourth? If it’s not you.” He sounds impatient. You blink at him, trying to process where he’s coming from. And then, it hits you. He doesn’t know.

For a second, you consider trying to play it off like you are the fourth apprentice. Maybe then, he’d trust you more directly with information that you could use against him. But then, you re-evaluate. Lying to a mass murderer was probably a bad idea. Lying to a cop was arguably worse.

“Well, it’s not me. But yeah, there’s at leastfour involved that I picked up on. Four main...signatures,” You pause, before continuing. “So that’s why you want me to tell you about what I sense. Even you don’t know what he’s planning, or everyone who’s involved.”

“I’ve been on this case since the beginning. Of course I wanna know. Especially since you’re out here accusing me,” He remarks, taking a sip of his coffee before continuing, “Kerry didn’t act any different toward me this morning. Good. Keeping your theories to yourself was smart.”

“Yes, lest you start actually convincing me you’re not Jigsaw, let me not forget how you threatened me last night,” You mumble, crossing your arms in front of your chest protectively.

“You pouting about it?” He asks, teasing, a smirk just barely edging onto his face, “C’mon. Show me your trick. How do you do it?” He beckons you closer, and you find yourself leaning in across the table. Like you’re sharing a secret with him.

“It’s not like I’m getting visions of the future, per se,” You try to explain, “It’s more like... hyper intuition. I get emotions, mostly. It’s an extreme version of empathy. Sometimes I get flashes of imagery from the past, present, and future, but it’s usually mixed up so I can’t tell which is which. Mainly, I just trust my gut. Which isn’t often wrong- but my interpretation of what I’m seeing can be off. Has been.”

“Hyper-intuition, huh?” He says, mulling it over, “Tell me something else about me, then. Prove it.”

You swallow uncomfortably. “I uh, need to be touching you.”

Mark raises his eyebrows at you. Before he can say anything mocking, the waitress comes by, filling both of your coffee cups. She takes your orders quickly, as though picking up on the vibe that you both want to be left alone. When she leaves, Mark spreads his hands in a gesture as if to say, do your thing, then.

Gently, you reach out and take his hands in yours. Rough, calloused, and strong. You try not to think about it as you close your eyes, and allow the gate to open for the second time in two days.

The chattering in the diner fades away into the background as your intuition takes hold, clouding out your other five senses like the moon passing over the sun in a total eclipse. First, there’s just darkness. Even the sensation of Mark’s skin against yours fading to a dull buzz. Then, sensations begin to spawn, bubbling up from somewhere else.

From the man seated across from you, you think.

“Strawberries,” you murmur, the taste of fresh, wild berries being the first thing that comes to you, sweet and tart, “I think they were picked wild, by mindful fingers. Yours are older, but never as gentle. Her small hands were always more careful than yours, never crushing the berries like you did.”

It’s a kind, well-loved memory -you assume- the impression coming in easy and unambiguous. The next is more muddled.

“Ah- pain. There’s noise, it’s discordant and loud,” You wince, squeezing Mark’s hands. You tilt your head, trying to make out the source, but all you get is scraps of yelling, fighting, shivering hands, the smell of rain.

It melts then, into that feeling again. The deep, unending well of misery. Loss, in its purest form. Utter loneliness, vast like an unending ocean.

“It’s like the sun went out,” you whisper, voice cracking. Your heart is breaking. The depth of your pain is nearly unbearable, and it makes you want to pull back and disconnect. “It’s like all the light’s been snuffed from this world. Alone.”

“Yeah,” Mark’s voice confirms, calm, quiet and sombre, “You know why that is, don’t you?”

You frown, hands trembling. The smell of blood rises, pungent and sickening. Blood, blood, so much blood. It smells so strong that you can taste it. Then something else- formaldehyde. The words leave your mouth before you can register what they mean.

“He took her from me,” You murmur hoarsely, a pure conduit for the feeling. Dimly, you’re aware of hands squeezing yours back, too tight.

Then, the rage. The despair. An energy trapped, like a feral animal in an enclosure. Desperate to make things right again, to make the world right, with no way to do it that makes sense.

Trapped, trapped, trapped. Starving. Alone again.

You’re lost in the feeling before Mark’s voice pulls you back.

“He deserved what he got,” he says, and you’re redirected. The sun is still gone, the world is still cold. Justice is a fleeting concept, a principle that isn’t achieved until you make it happen.

The world is so cold without the sun, but he died screaming for taking her. That’s justice enough.

And then, a finality- a sense of purpose.

"They all deserve it," you say.

You open your eyes, and let go of his hands. Hoffman’s expression is hard to read as you settle back in the booth. The despair still lingers over you, like a chill that’s seeped into your bones.

“That your thought, or mine?” He asks finally. “You must have felt a lot of it over the years. Other people’s pain.”

“Sure,” you reply, “Everyone’s got it. Life isn’t fair.”

“Not unless you make it fair,” Mark counters, “You can’t tell me he didn’t deserve to die like that for what he did.”

“Can you just tell me?” You ask quietly, “So I can get the full picture, no missing pieces of the puzzle. The loss...was your sister? He killed her?”

Mark thinks about it for a second. He looks like he’s going to refuse you, not responding for so long that you wonder if he’s deliberately ignoring you.

Your food arrives before he answers, the waitress bringing your plates and setting them down in front of you both. Mark's ordered a cheeseburger and fries, the all-American classic diner food; you a club sandwich, though your appetite has evaporated since you've arrived here. And after yesterday, it was barely present to begin with.

Then finally, after you both have started to eat, he speaks.

“My sister’s ex-boyfriend murdered her. Seth Baxter. A sick, abusive fuck. He was convicted, got life in jail. Took a couple of years, but he finally went away for it. Well, he filed an appeal. His new lawyer said that the jury was tainted by the evidence of his history of domestic assaults on women, that the evidence was improperly admitted and ‘prejudicial’ to his case. After five years, the case was successfully appealed... and he went free,” A feeling of disgust and rage twists in you, and you can’t tell whether it’s Hoffman’s or yours.

“So you...”

“Jigsaw killed him,” Mark answers, “Cut him in half. He was already dating someone new when he was picked up. Tell me that's not fair.”

The words hang in the air, and you take them in. You’re starting to learn to read Mark’s face better, you think, because you can detect just a hint of smugness in his expression. You try to determine how you feel about this, but your feelings are still all tangled up in Hoffman’s. Extricating them is difficult.

“So he deserved it,” You say finally, “Jigsaw’s not just a vigilante. He kidnaps people who are- who are addicted to drugs, or who only hurt themselves, and he makes them play in these sick games. It's not right,” You can’t believe you’re arguing the philosophy of Jigsaw with one of the murderers himself. It seems unbelievable.

Mark actually rolls his eyes at you.

“It’s either people who deserve it, or people who don’t deserve their lives to begin with,” He murmurs, “think about it.”

Then you remember the feeling you’d gotten before, at the police station. The deep, dark depths of satisfaction. A kind of beast in the heart, ugly and hungry and grinning. The thought that you might have inadvertently given it some purchase in your own mind freaks you the hell out.

“Easy for you to say,” you whisper, the fear keeping your voice barely audible, “You like watching people hurt.”

Mark doesn’t deny it- maybe he sees no use in doing so, when you already know better. He looks at you coldly, calculating.

“Does it matter?” He says, “Keep your word, and you won’t be on the receiving end.”

You take a sip of your water nervously, looking around the diner. Though still not exceptionally busy, you’ve both nearly finished your food (well, Mark has, you've picked away at yours), and more people are trickling in the door. If you continue to talk here, it may become more difficult to avoid being overheard.

Wouldn’t that be a good thing, for you?

“Let’s finish up,” Mark says, as though he’s been reading your mind, “We can meet up again later. I'm going to ask you more about this mystery fourth person. So keep your eyes open," he pauses, and huffs. "Or closed, I guess."

"And Kerry will be fine?" You ask, insistently, "She's a good person, Hoffman."

"Is she?" He challenges, "she wasn't exactly discreet with Matthews. And she knew he was dirty. As far as I can tell, you're her only friend."

"Oh, and you didn't know?" You snap back, defensive, "If she deserves to be tested, we all do."

Mark stands, putting on his coat. "Yeah. Or most, at least." He replies in agreement.

"Come on," he adds, his hand on the small of your back again. You can't tell if it's meant to be possessive, threatening, or whether he's done it without even thinking about it. Perhaps surprisingly, it doesn't feel as uncomfortable this time around. "I'll walk you home. Wouldn't want anything to happen to you."

A worm has been planted in your mind, and it feeds.

Over the next week, you feel more torn than you think you've ever felt in your life. Mark Hoffman's words bore into your mind, repeating over and over, with the echos of his pain piercing through you in random intervals. You flit between feeling angry at the situation you're in, and wanting to go to Kerry and lay it all out on the table, to a strange feeling of camaraderie with Mark Hoffman.

It's a downside you've always had to reading someone, and inviting them in- you feel connected with them, permanently. Once you see through their eyes, and feel what they feel, it's hard for you to just pull away again. A piece of them remains.

It was like you were being tested yourself. By connecting with the worst possible person, you were pushing yourself- how strained could the connection be, how adverse to your own interest, while you still feel like you're on the same side?

You lie awake at night, replaying your conversation with Mark in your mind. Thinking of all the hurt you'd ever felt, yours and everyone's, echoing forever.

Needless to say- you weren't doing great. And the fact that you weren't sleeping well didn't help.

Dreams came frequently after that shared dinner with Mark Hoffman. You dreamt alternately of horrible panic, the feeling of being trapped, and physical pain that makes you wake up sobbing. So many images form in your mind that it's hard to keep track- scalpels, keys, case files, teeth, distorted statues, the smell of antiseptic.

You text it all to Mark as it comes to you. Anyone looking at your text log would think you were both insane.

But still, you tell him your dreams, and he listens. You theorize about the fourth person together, like you're trying to solve the case. You trade tidbits, make suggestions, and rule out others.

You kind of... like texting him.

---

[2:33AM - Outgoing] Just woke up with the image of a blonde woman in my head. I don't know who she is.

[2:37AM - Incoming] could be jill tuck. ex-wife.

[2:39AM - Incoming] Photo Message

[2:42AM - Outgoing] Nope, sorry. Not her.

[2:45AM - Incoming] i thought maybe she was the 4th

[2:47AM - Outgoing] Blonde woman didn't feel like the 4th. Looked like a scientist of some kind? Idk. Wearing a white lab coat.

[2:49AM - Outgoing] I also got a red room with a bunch of pictures. Like Polaroids maybe? Hung up I think. Not sure if it was connected to the blonde woman.

[2:50AM - Incoming] that ones a red herring. already happened

[2:52AM - Outgoing] Ugh

[2:56AM - Outgoing] How long is this going to last?

[2:57AM - Incoming] what

[2:59AM - Outgoing] You keeping me as your pet psychic

[3:00AM - Incoming] you think i'm planning to stop?

[3:01AM - Incoming] you'd better get used to me.

[3:02AM - Incoming] remember. delete these.

[3:04AM - Outgoing] Yeah, yeah. Do you ever sleep?

[3:05AM - Incoming] when i'm not being woken up by txts

[3:08AM - Incoming] lets meet this weekend

[3:08AM - Incoming] I want to show you something

(author's note: the true dynamic is emerging! and yes, I had to go on a little sidebar on how seth baxter's sentence could have actually been reversed. i'm a prosecutor, I can't help myself.)

TAG LIST: @icarusinstatic @honimello @haven-is-happy @thebrideofcaliban

NEXT CHAPTER

#mark hoffman #slasher fic #saw franchise #slasher x reader #saw movies #sawposting #costas mandylor #detective hoffman #mark hoffman x reader #mark hoffman x oc #my writing #sorry again for the repost

109 notes · View notes

stursweet · 1 year ago

Text

hi friends :) i’ve been putting this off HARD due to obvious circumstances in the fandom recently and strong opinions that have been circulating.

unfortunately it’s not possible for me to do so anymore that my inbox is filled with 160+ requests with sexual content. from my standpoint; this situation is incredibly bizarre and concerning. the infantilization of three 20 year old men is weird as fuck standing by itself, let alone coming from 14, 15, 16 year old girls. i myself as an adult can promise you that they are more disturbed by adolescents feeling the need to mother them rather than any content that could be written about them. i promise! with my most gentle and sincere intentions, i’d like those reading this to please stop and think.. and think deep. these are not minors. these are not people that are actively speaking out against “being sexualized”, - in fact, they made multiple videos of them reading content of themselves willingly and matt even made multiple joking requests to ‘make them weirder’.. if they had a genuine grievance i promise you that they would not willingly, and multiple times at that, read these types of things and record it and put it out. obviously in the fan fiction videos they are uncomfortable- and it would be bizarre if they weren’t! considering their fanbase is primarily minors! it would be concerning if they were eating it up! obviously they’re not going to be swaying their feet and giggling? please, let’s get a grip. the violent defense against writing for them (which by the way, may i add, if you do not want to read it / are made uncomfortable by the content, you can SCROLL! just swipe your finger up across the screen! hope that helps!) is beyond disturbing. and, they find it comical as well; nick just commented on a tiktok yesterday regarding sexual audios saying “they’re gonna quit” laughing his ass off at how insane some of u are.. they do not care. i’m sorry! they don’t. if they knew that peoples addresses were being leaked and people were being threatened with death over the head of FANFICTION about them they would be absolutely appalled: leaps and bounds more appalled than they would be if they were to read any pieces (which they aren’t, might i add: if you think chris and matt sturniolo have tumblr / google ao3 please get on meds). these are adults. GROWN ADULTS. i promise you that they do not need the defense of 11-16 year old girls. if they were bothered by this they would have explicitly spoken out at this point. the fanfiction video was not the cry for help that you all think it was. AND. they are so fucking busy; fan fictions written about them are at the bottom of their give a fuck list. infantilization of men older than you is WEIRD. every single male that has ever been on the internet has had fan fiction written about them and world war three did NOT start! your behavior is insane and embarrassing. nick matt and chris think you’re bizarre. they can defend themselves.

please losen the fuck up. please.

and : i’ve been lurking for a LONG long time. and i can very much confirm that some of these freaks making these posts and coming out against this were liking, requesting and even posting shit even worse than what they’re coming out against before it was a trend to be a weirdo infantilizating freak!! you know who you are!!!

as far as my account goes; i am unfortunately scared for my safety to post that content as people have literally had their personal information leaked.. and if you do not see an issue with that i am begging you to delete tumblr, unfollow the triplets and put the phone down. they would hate u and so do i. 💕

note: incest fics and nick fics with a female are absolutely fucking repulsive and are not okay!! that is a completely different story. i’m not okay with that i just want to make that clear .

if you have a different view that’s okay. block me or scroll! or read in secret and accidentally like one of my posts again! that’s okay too! love you i’ll write soon

127 notes · View notes

ev4ikcasswife · 8 months ago

Note

very wierd that you receive these anon messages because salty never mentioned any names and never asked to threaten anyone

I did not receive the messages that were shown in the last post. Evan received them. The entire conflict with Salty took place mainly in Russian-language social media. There are points in this story where I jumped to conclusions, but I admitted my guilt for them and apologized. If I'm not mistaken, Salty mentioned Evan and me in her telegram channel (it's something like a blog in messenger, I don't know how to explain). Most likely, the person who wrote to Evan came from there.

And also a fun fact - my main complaint was that Salty didn’t make herself an infopost/dni, and then started complaining that people were sending her requests on certain topics. Many did not understand this, and began to think that I was angry with her for not liking chansaw. However, the only thing I don't like is her approach to analyzing Heathers, but for the most part, I don't care. I have no idea what Salty writes about me and Evan on her tumblr and Telegram, but tbh, again, I don’t care.

The point where I personally was wrong: Salty liked a post with an incest ship without realizing it (she didn't notice the tags). Well, I wrote about this in Telegram, and the form of my message was very rude. She wrote to me and said that she did it inadvertently. I deleted the post and apologized twice. (May 14 and yesterday).

I did not renounce the rest of my words, claims and conclusions about other topics. Besides that deleted post, I did not want to incite people to bullying in any way. Before this deleted post, I even hid her nickname when I explained this whole situation with the info post in my Telegram channel. Salty is unlikely to read this, because she blocked me, but if anything, tell her that I am sorry for the rudeness and slander that I spread about her accidentally putting like on that post with an incest ship. I'm sorry, I was wrong here specifically. I have anger issues, so I could be rude in my other messages. For this I also sincerely apologize. Tell this to Salty if u want to comfort her.

I repeat, I do not renounce my complaints about Salty’s information post and her approach to analyzing the show in any way. I 100% believe that she is wrong here specifically.The whole conflict actually began with my reblog of her post, where she told why she didn’t like Chandler/Veronica, citing arguments only from the musical. You will see my reblog if you scroll down a little on my blog. Then she started complaining in a separate post that people even talk to her about Chandler and chansaw.

Salty very willingly accepts requests, but she does not have any information post (certainly at that time) where she could write about which requests do not interest her. The question arises in the comms: “How should people who are on this account for the first time understand this?” Salty writes that this is obvious, because her blog is “entirely dedicated to jdronica.” Apparently, she doesn't know that you can love a little more than one ship*. If Salty had a dni list with unwanted topics for requests, it would not be so stupid.

Nicknames are blurred out due to the fact that these are photos from my telegram during a discussion of the situation (I already wrote that at first I hid her nickname). If you need original screenshots, I will provide them for you.

*Upd: Salty actually has drawn another ships arts, this makes situation even more...strange(?)

#heathers #heather chandler #heathers the movie #heathers the musical #heathers 1988 #veronica sawyer #chansaw

15 notes · View notes

topaztimes · 4 months ago

Note

I hate tumblrrrrrrrrrrr they deleted the whole ask!!!!!!!!!1 I hate them so much!!!!!!!! I wronte a huge thing because I'm so fixated on Lightcanon and how those two are just so traumatised and psychotic in the right way because they got the worst past in so many different ways that it means they CAN fit in a way that means they can CARE about each others and I was at my third big paragraph 'cause I'm so into it!!!!!!

Fuck 'em!!!!!

WHAT THE HELL!!!!! So Tumblr doesn't like sending me asks for your notifs (I saw these yesterday since I accidentally clicked on the inbox tab lmfao) AND it tries to stop you from even contacting me. I think there's something malicious going on at this point

Also that sounds THRILLING. If you're up to writing it out again (maybe you did and I just didn't read it yet LMAO) then I would love to see it

#SZASKS #SZRIENDS #I love disfunctional-made-whole relationships

3 notes · View notes

outeremissary · 2 months ago

Note

2, 8, 10 and 11 for Balthazar?

sorry this took so long I accidentally deleted half of it while writing it yesterday. pain. Anyway thank you for the ask, I have put my Enormous Essay under the cut. And I am so sorry if on some platforms the formatting of the images loads fucked up I've given up on that. Tumblr hates me and wants my post to take up the entire dash and then some

[prompt list]

2) Who's your OCs best friend? How did they become best friends?

I feel like I don't do enough with this in a lot of my doodle posting just because I actively dislike using the black pencil because it smudges like a bitch, but that would be Jaethal! They have similar outlooks on life in many ways- the cold pragmatism, self serving hedonism, and general disdain with the place they find themselves in makes them get along fairly well. Balthazar has a lot of respect for her and values her counsel; she sees him as a reasonably sensible person in most matters who is, at the very least, very much on her wavelength.

I guess the becoming is the more interesting question considering the fact that neither is a person who's particularly eager to invite others in. Part of it is just long exposure. Spending a lot of time wandering around and becoming familiar with other people builds a sense of rapport and gives a lot of time to get a sense of who's agreeable to you and who isn't. But that's accelerated in my eyes by Jaethal being able to pretty effectively see through Balthazar's facades. His benevolence and his gradiosity are convincing performances, but only performances- and under that the ambition and the calculation are clear. He's something interesting to watch and feel out. And he's responsive to attempts to tease out the motive, and quick to try to build a bridge when discovered by someone who so proudly displays the spirit he hides. He shows her the respect she believes she is due and shows it genuinely; she recognizes his real character without exposing it in return. I think they build trust in one another fairly early as kindred spirits and allies in pursuing their separate goals.

8) What hobbies does your OC have? What do they do to unwind?

He enjoys learning new things relevant to his interests, games of strategy and social maneuvering, and keeping up with fashion trends and collecting bits and pieces of his wardrobe. On the social side he often enjoys engaging in a bit of frivolous debate and while he wouldn't consider it a hobby per se does enjoy going out dancing.

When it comes to completely relaxing, he prefers to be alone. Taking a long, hot bath is a favorite activity, and the privacy his noble status can afford him is a welcome novelty compared to the public bathhouses of his youth. He likes to take time to read, and just generally to be away from others and not in a state of managing his performance. And of course there are the often less solitary time honored traditions of drinking or sex.

While he wouldn't see it as worth mentioning, he's someone who also engages in people watching when able to be inconspicuous- there's an idle entertainment to seeing others go about their little lives. And in Absalom he enjoyed watching kites.

10) How does your OC handle their mental health? Do they take care of themselves?

Balthazar handles mental health by simply never having issues ever! *checks notes* Wait, it looks like that's wrong. By repressing fucking everything except a sense of smoldering retributive anger and never showing vulnerability to anyone. He's a very "catharsis in vengeance" kind of person; while he's not exactly devout, the self-centered justice has contributed to him being an irregular of Calistria's faith. He's good at sorting his problems into "things I can get even with" and "things I can't do anything about" and pouring a lot of energy into plotting against the first while burying the second. He's good at multi year campaigns to ruin someone who made him feel humiliated, but he refuses to acknowledge his mother even exists. There's nothing to be done about that abandonment or what it did to his father. So it doesn't exist! It's easier to pretend that's just a blank space in his life.

When confronted with something that's impossible to avoid and impossible to affect he tends to break down. Despair seeps in. He's not someone who's able to be vulnerable in front of others, so he tries to act as if nothing is wrong before retreating as far from public life as possible. And he's prone to lashing out at people who try to help him, as well as just fruitlessly lashing at the problem in general. Deceit and avoidance being first lines of defense often make problems worse, but he's not eager to change for that.

As for taking care of himself... he feels that he does. He indulges in what feels good whenever he can, he props himself up to feel powerful, he takes petty vengeance on others and pays forward the ill done to him. It feels good. Like being a problem solver, like not being denied. And what he does to soothe himself makes him feel like he's in control of his life.

Anyway I'm not sure I've ever created a character with Good Well Adjusted coping mechanisms

11) What was your inspiration for your OC?

Uhhhhhhhhh. So like, flashback to 2016 where for Reasons I was creating an evil god demon-y fallen angel-y kind of character who was the proto-Balthazar. My original thesis with this Funny Joke Character was a character made of stereotypical fandom bait traits for the kinds of fandoms I'd been in (mostly anime), which meant a mysterious, androgynous, ambiguously queer pretty boy who behaved like he knew more than anyone else in the room and was a master manipulator. I've never actually been able to pin down a specific point of inspiration for Balthazar, but he's very much based on an archetype that you get a feel for watching a bunch of anime (or did in the mid 2010s watching a bunch of anime). I think if you wanted examples that were probably especially influential, a sampling of that list would look something like what's below, the true TLDR section.

Breaking with the archetype a little immediately with a lady inspiration just because I absolutely know she was in my mind- Takano Miyo from Higurashi no Naku Koro ni. And when I say "she was in my mind" I mean "originally Balthazar looked like a flat chested Takano when first conceived." Little of that remains, but Higurashi was like. A primordial weeb influence for me. I was first exposed to the series at age 13 and Takano was one of the first examples I saw of a character who seemed very kind and ordinary but was actually quite callous and even cruel. She had this sleepy, nonthreatening softness to her that stuck in my mind. Imagine that, the visual language of a character being used to deceive. That's crazy <- 13 year old Emi

The second, which I never ever thought about consciously but feels in retrospect like he had to have been lurking somewhere at the back of my brain as one of the examples of the archetype I was most familiar with: Vincent Nightray from the manga Pandora Hearts. I was obsessed with Pandora Hearts in my early teens and I fucking hated this dude, which is a surefire way to solidify "will be into this type later" in your developing personality. Playfully malicious, totally nonthreatening compared to all the magical warriors around him, always a step ahead of the other clever planners, and someone who's constantly pushing boundaries of comfort around physical contact to the point of making your skin crawl.

Annnnnd Joshua from the DS game The World Ends With You. I don't remember if he was a conscious inspiration but I feel like at some point he must have been. Joshua is a fucking cunt. He's a condescending, teasing know it all who refuses to make genuine connections with other people and serves as a marker for the main character's growth as a person by showing all his shittiest early game traits taken further. He's also, spoilers for a nearly twenty year old game, an angel. Angel-like being. In the small scope of things, God. He treats everything around him like a game because that's what it is from his perspective. I was very fond of this treacherous God-being who stood in the middle of his own machinations for a better view. You can also see he has light white-ish hair- I feel like this prettyboy manipulator type is pretty strongly associated with blonde or white hair lmao.

I feel like Joshua's physical mannerisms were also Influential here

#boy I hope this is readable considering it was written in various chunks and never edited as a whole thing #ask game #ask me emithing #balthazar lucienne #kaleido-scope-lady

3 notes · View notes