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bitchinbarzal · 6 hours ago

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Yacht | N Hischier

summary: a tweet about nico’s off season escapades hurts you.

The first time Nico calls, you don’t answer.

The second time, you silence your phone.

By the third, you block his number.

It’s not that you owe him anything — you weren’t exclusive, weren’t serious, weren’t anything more than stolen nights and tangled sheets before he left for Switzerland.

That was the unspoken agreement. No promises. No expectations. Just something fun while it lasted.

And yet, when you see the tweet — Nico Hischier spotted on a yacht in Ibiza with a mystery woman — something inside you cracks.

You stare at the photo attached, your stomach twisting. His back is turned to the camera, but you’d recognize him anywhere—the sharp lines of his shoulders, the curve of his neck. He’s leaning close to a brunette in a bikini, her hand pressed to his chest like she belongs there.

Like he’s hers.

It shouldn’t bother you. It really, really shouldn’t.

But it does.

So you do the only thing that makes sense: you stop answering his calls. Stop replying to his texts. Stop giving him any piece of you at all.

And when John asks you out in late July, you say yes.

It’s easy with John. Simple.

There are no blurred lines, no unspoken rules, no waiting around for the other shoe to drop. He shows up when he says he will, texts you good morning and goodnight. He doesn’t make you feel like an option, like something temporary.

Most days, that’s enough.

And then September comes.

You know Nico is back in New Jersey before you even see him. He’s hard to avoid when his face is plastered all over social media — first day back on the ice, first media availability, first preseason game on the horizon.

You tell yourself it doesn’t matter. That he doesn’t matter.

But when you spot him across the room at a Devils event, looking right at you, you realize you’ve been lying to yourself.

His gaze doesn’t waver, even when John leans in to murmur something in your ear. You barely register what he says, pulse roaring in your ears.

Nico looks different. Not physically — he’s still tall, still impossibly handsome, still the same person you spent so many nights tangled up with. But there’s something else, something in the way his jaw tightens, the way his hands clench into fists at his sides.

And then he’s walking toward you.

“Can we talk?” His voice is lower than you remember, rougher.

John tenses beside you, but doesn’t say anything. He just looks at you, waiting.

You could say no.

Should say no.

But you don’t.

“Yeah,” you say, pulling your hand from John’s. “Give me a minute?”

John hesitates, then nods.

Nico leads you away from the crowd, into a quieter corner of the venue. He shoves his hands into his pockets, exhaling sharply.

“You’re ignoring me,” he says, accusation laced into every syllable.

You fold your arms over your chest. “You’re just now figuring that out?”

His brows furrow. “I don’t get it, why?”

You let out a humorless laugh. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously.” His frustration simmers just beneath the surface. “I come back, and suddenly you’re acting like I don’t exist. I called you—”

“And I didn’t answer.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” He exhales through his nose. “I just don’t get what I did.”

Your stomach twists. You shouldn’t care enough to explain, but the words bubble up before you can stop them.

“You were in Ibiza,” you say flatly.

Nico blinks. “What?”

“You were in Ibiza,” you repeat, voice sharper now. “On a yacht. With some girl.”

Realization flickers across his face, followed quickly by something else — guilt, maybe?

“That’s what this is about?”

You scoff. “Are you actually surprised?”

“You ghosted me for months over a tweet?” He shakes his head. “Jesus, you could’ve asked me instead of shutting me out.”

“Why would I need to ask?” You cross your arms tighter over your chest. “We weren’t exclusive, remember? You didn’t owe me anything, I didn’t owe you anything. That was the deal.” You force yourself to meet his gaze. “So I didn’t ask. I just… moved on.”

His jaw tightens. “With Marino?”

You don’t look back toward John, but you don’t need to. “Yeah.”

Nico lets out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair. “So that’s it? You’re just done?”

“What else is there to say?”

“Maybe that you actually gave a shit” he snaps “Because if you didn’t, you wouldn’t have been so quick to cut me off. You wouldn’t be looking at me like that right now.”

Your breath catches.

You don’t know what he means by that, but you don’t ask. You don’t want to ask.

Because maybe he’s right. Maybe you cared more than you should’ve. Maybe you still do.

But that doesn’t change anything.

You inhale deeply. “I’m happy with John.”

Nico flinches, just barely. “Right.” He nods, slow and deliberate, like he’s convincing himself to believe it “If that’s what you want.”

You swallow. “It is.”

He watches you for a long moment, searching your face for something — doubt, hesitation, anything.

You don’t give it to him.

Finally, he nods. “Okay.”

You don’t say anything else. You just turn and walk back to John, ignoring the way your heart clenches in your chest.

Ignoring the way Nico’s eyes burn into your back the whole way.

Ignoring the nagging, unbearable thought that maybe, you didn’t move on at all.

#nico hischier x reader #nico hischier imagine #nhl imagine

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l0singsdogs · 2 days ago

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batfam ! alternative universe, no powers.

I've had this idea for a while now. Spending so much time on social media, reading different takes, I started wondering—what if the Batfamily woke up in a completely normal universe? No aliens, no magic, no villains trying to take over the world every other week. Just… normal people, living normal lives—going to college, having relationships, working regular jobs. For a group of people used to fighting monsters and stopping world-ending threats, that kind of life would be unsettling.

read more, because this is long like really long.

But how did it happen? The usual way. A battle. A teenager getting their hands on something they shouldn’t have. Powers spiraling out of control. And, of course, the Batfam stepped in to fix it, because you know everything weird is always happening in Gotham.

Batman calls for backup, but the family is still working through their issues. Dick and Jason barely talk, though they’re trying—because, at the end of the day, they’re still brothers. Then, suddenly, it’s just them. Just the Batfamily, thrown into this bizarrely ordinary world.

Duke sees the light first. Then Steph. Even Cass. And then—nothing.

They wake up somewhere else.

Bruce, as always, is the first to regain consciousness. But something is off. His mansion isn’t quite the same. It’s warmer, cozier. There are more pets curled up around the house. His bedroom is a mess—lived in. The walls are covered with photos of his kids. There are even pictures of him and Selina, scattered among them.

And then, he realizes just how wrong everything is.

His body aches, but not like it used to. There are no scars from old battles with the Joker. No lingering wounds from alien invasions. He still feels exhaustion in his bones, but it’s different—just the tiredness of a man his age, not the crushing weariness of a vigilante running on fumes. Even his reflection looks different. Relaxed, almost. Like he’s lived a life that wasn’t defined by war.

And that? That’s unsettling.

The next to wake up is Jason. And it's weird—because for the first time in years, his body doesn’t hurt. The familiar, constant pain is gone. The scars from his autopsy, from all the things that marked his past, aren’t there. He doesn’t feel the echoes of old wounds anymore. And where he wakes up doesn’t look like any of the safe houses he has scattered around Gotham. The last thing he remembers is fighting—arguing with Grayson over something stupid. Then the light—just for a second, he thought he was dying again. But, you know… in a way that wasn’t as catatonic? Then… he wakes up. The bedroom is unfamiliar, but somehow, it feels like his. Bookshelves are packed with novels of all kinds. Posters cover the walls—bands he actually likes: Rammstein, Linkin Park, System of a Down. A collection of motorcycle helmets is neatly displayed on a shelf. The whole place is put together, calm.

And then, the worst part. When he looks in the mirror, a scream rips from his throat.Because the thing that haunts him, in his life and in his dreams—his autopsy scars—are gone. Completely erased. All that remains is a single, unfamiliar scar near his heart.

Strange. The worst part? He has no idea why his head is pounding so hard. No clue why memories, both complicated and good, flash through his mind—but waking up from the dead isn’t one of them.

Dick is next.

And he wakes up pissed. Because, you know? He was in the middle of fighting with Jason. Jason, who treats everything like a joke. Jason, who doesn’t take things seriously when he should. Trying to fix things with him is exhausting—because Jason is too Jason. Stubborn, impatient, infuriating.

Then suddenly—this. The room is unfamiliar, but not completely. There’s a framed picture on his nightstand—him and Starfire. Kori Anders. His walls are lined with posters, some from his past. The Flying Graysons. His family.

It feels wrong. Off. Because he doesn’t live in the manor anymore. He doesn’t have photos of Kori in his room. And—most importantly—his bedroom has never looked this neat.

Not ever. There are no scattered pieces of his suit on the floor waiting to be washed. No mess of training gear dumped in a corner. Just sneakers. Gym clothes.

Then he hears it—a scream.

Jason. Dick tries to get up, but his body is too damn exhausted. It feels like lead, weighing him down. He can’t move. And for one horrible second, he wonders—maybe he died. Maybe he died and somehow took Jason with him.

The next to wake up is Tim—

Tim, who was already frustrated, tangled up in his own emotions. He had too much on his plate—leading his own team, growing distant from the manor, finishing his GED to leave high school early. Too many things were happening.

He wakes up to the sound of screaming.

For a second, he thinks he’s still in Gotham, still in the middle of that fight. But when he blinks, he’s somewhere else—another bedroom. And this one is a mess. Clothes on the floor, sneakers everywhere, a couple of skateboards tossed in a corner, video games and comics scattered around. The kind of room an eighteen-year-old should have.

Slowly, he opens his eyes.

He doesn’t feel the aches from past fights. He feels… lighter. His memories are hazy, and he can’t lie—this is weird. The light streaming through his window feels too warm, too bright. But the last thing he remembers? He was in Gotham, in the middle of a brutal winter.

And then—the worst part.

When he fully opens his eyes, he sees it.

A uniform.

One he knows from his nightmares.

Gotham Academy.

His blood runs cold. He’s convinced he’s trapped in a time loop. That somehow, he’s been sent back to high school.

And when he stumbles out of bed and catches sight of a framed photo—one of him and Conner Kent sitting on a shelf—he promptly passes out.

Yeah, sure, maybe the others think they’ve died.

But Tim?

Tim is convinced he’s in hell.

The last to wake up is Damian Wayne.

And he wakes up full of irritation, because the last thing he remembers is yelling at Drake, Jason, and Grayson—calling them idiots for letting their emotions get in the way of the fight. Telling them they were acting like children when they should’ve been handling the real problem. But now? Now he’s lying in bed, surrounded by warmth. His cat is curled up at his side. His dogs—Titus and Ace—are sprawled across the floor. Even Grayson’s new puppy, Haley, is nestled beside him. A tiny, scruffy thing missing a leg, one that Damian had reluctantly (not really) half-adopted in his head.

It’s the screaming that wakes him. That, and the warmth.

Because it doesn’t make sense. Why is the sun streaming into his room? Why does it feel like July when they were just in December? They were days away from the holidays.

And now this. The first thing he sees are his animals. Did the fight end that quickly? Did he lose consciousness? His body isn’t injured, his skills are intact—nothing about his reflexes feels off.

But the room?

That’s what unsettles him. The walls are covered with things—art, sports memorabilia, books, musical instruments. A guitar. Sure, he knows how to play, but he’s never been the kind of person to keep one in his bedroom. And speaking of his bedroom…

This isn’t it.

It’s missing things. His weapons. His swords. The League of Assassins insignias. His belongings. But what truly throws him off?

A framed photo. One of him and his mother.

Talia al Ghul never took photos. Not with him. Not with anyone. The League of Assassins didn’t believe in cameras, in preserving memories like that. And yet, here it is.

And that’s when it finally sinks in. Something is very, very wrong.

That’s how it happens. A wild fight. A teenager with uncontrolled, inexplicable powers. And just like that, the Batfamily wakes up in another universe.

A universe with no powers. No aliens. No world-ending crises. Just an ordinary life. And the only thing they know for sure?

Five of them find themselves in a living room. A living room that is distinctly not theirs. Because their living room is grand, filled with history, with antique furniture and endless shadows.

But this? This looks like something out of an interior design magazine. Minimalist. Sleek. A massive TV taking up the wall.

The others? Duke, Steph, Cass?

Yeah.

Their experiences waking up are even worse.

So, yeah. This is what I have in mind. I don’t know if I’ll keep writing—it depends on how this goes. These ideas just keep coming to me, and I’m debating whether to drop all of this as a one-shot or turn it into a full fic on AO3.

I’d love to hear thoughts on it—believe me, I have a lot more ideas.

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baffledandbewildered · 13 hours ago

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“Evi4 - can you kill me with the mace at some point?” Betty asks.

“Yes!” Evi says immediately.

It’s been an eventful week - few weeks, honestly - and - well.

Betty’s been scared of the mace for a while now… it’s a terrifying weapon, and whenever Evi’s used it before she’s always skittered back, all nervous laughter and shaking hands - she remembers that weapon crashing against her helmet, Chips yelling at her to run, be afraid -

And she has been. It’s been months and honestly - she’s sick of it. Especially after what Chips said to her the other day, after Nara - Betty knows Chips is hurting, that they probably didn’t mean what they said, she understands that, she’s not mad - well. She is. A little. The feeling will fade with time, she knows, but for now…

“I want to know what it feels like,” Betty explains. It’s true, but also - I want to stop being afraid.

Evi giggles. “I understand!” And he probably does, even the stuff Betty isn’t saying out loud. He’s always been good at that.

“Should we - now?”

“Yes yes yes yes!”

To make room in her e-chest, Betty hands Evi one of her shulkers - it’s a far cry from where they were a few months ago, when anything left in the vicinity of Evi4 had to be carefully watched for fear of theft - it’s nice, to be able to know that Evi won’t take anything from her without it first being offered. It’s nice to trust.

Evi suggests setting her spawn here - Betty, once again, refuses - her spawnpoint isn’t too far away, and while it’s not the most secure it’s still better than, well - spawn itself. But Evi doesn’t take the refusal personally - Evi knows where her spawnpoint is currently, and really that probably says enough about how far they’ve come as a relationship.

Then she removes her armour, e-chests her gear, and Evi builds a short tower into the sky -

“Ready?”

“Yep!”

There’s not even time for the sound of their laughter to fade before the mace is crashing against her head and she’s gone, respawning in the deepslate box - she really needs to change her spawn point.

Wow. That was - something. But not as terrifying as she expected - if anything, the tightness in her chest is from laughter. She picks up her communicator, still giggling - Evi’s complaining about how far away she is as she starts putting her armour back on.

Yeah. That wasn’t scary at all - it hurt, sure, but all deaths do and she doesn’t mind that so much - especially when it’s Evi, that’s…

“I’m kind of scared you’re going to kill me,” Betty had said, long long ago, when she was still alone and scared and felt she had no one to turn to.

And Evi had stopped her pacing of spawn, sword disappearing from her hand in less than a second. There’s not much Evi took seriously, or so Betty had thought at the time, but she looked… concerned, before her face brightened.

“I would never hurt a BettyisBaffled!” Evi4 said, grinning, dancing forward into her personal space a little.

“Oh!” Betty said. “Really? I - uh. Thank you?”

She hadn't believed it then. It took a while, multiple murder attempts on the people around her but never coming close to touching her before she realised Evi was telling the truth.

She’s still not sure why.

And then they became allies and then they became more and this time Betty offered her life - “You can kill me! I don’t mind -” … I kinda want you to.

(Yeah, Betty’s a little weird about the. Dying thing.)

And then one thing had led to another to another, to murder plots and engagement and secrets shared, and all that led to today.

The mace feels… like the same sort of power of a lightning strike, inescapable, deadly. A force of nature. Not necessarily bad, not necessarily good.

Not something to be unreasonably scared of, and she giggles again. Wow.

She digs her way out of the room, through the tiny box in the wall Evi made himself so he could watch Betty and Nara kill each other - there’s still some of her and Nara’s blood on the floor, she notes - she really needs to change her spawnpoint, she keeps meaning to, Nara and Aster keep reminding her to and she keeps forgetting.

Then she flies back to spawn. Evi’s been rambling in her communicator the whole time, and when Betty lands in front of them they’re beaming at the sight of her - gods, Betty is so lucky.

This is her fiance - the label makes her a little giddy. “Hiii - I love you by the way,” she says breathlessly, and Evi buries his face in his hands - she can see the blush on his cheeks and it makes her giggle, lean up to kiss him on the forehead before turning to the chest beside them.

Betty grabs the rest of her stuff she wasn’t able to fit in a shulker, then -

“Oh, can I have the heart back?” she says.

“Yes!”

Evi jumps up from the shulker box they’d been sitting on - they’re so much taller than her damn - then they’re leaning down to kiss her, and that’s hardly unusual but what has her gasping is the feel of the heart passing between their lips, travelling down her throat and settling along her collarbone with only the slightest flicker of pain as it joins the others.

She laughs. Wow. Wow.

Her fiance. Yep.

“I love you,” Evi says shyly, and Betty echoes it immediately, beaming.

Evi presses another kiss to her forehead, then is pacing spawn again - “Wait -” they say, spinning back to her. “Let me try to mace you again it won’t kill you I promise -”

Betty laughs. “Okay! With the armour?”

Evi nods rapidly, once again climbing the carpet tower. “Heartcount test!” Evi yells, giggling, then jumps -

Betty respawns in the deepslate box again. “What the fuck oh my god how were you on full health how did you die -” Evi4’s saying through her communicator, and Betty can’t stop laughing.

#divorcesteal #uhhh #divorcestealshipping #shoutout betty4 #we're so gay #straight?#many debates over this #either way i love evi4

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amuseintime · 1 day ago

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A Stage of Healing

The Play is Over but the Script Remains/Scriptfrin Saga

For anyone who doesn't know, "Scriptfrin" is a Siffrin who sometimes goes semi-verbal after the loops, (mostly) only able to repeat the "script" from his time in there. I have a bit of it up here, but most of it is in this series on AO3 (though for the general concept, you can just read "Line, Please.")

Months after the loops, Siffrin and their family are walking around a town and Bonnie happens to notice samosas in the window… the thing that they had basically every blinding night in the loops. Siffrin is clearly bothered, but not in the way you'd expect. All this leads to a long talk, a one man performance, and a lot of laughs. Humor and Hurt/Comfort (heavier on the comfort).

Crossposted here on AO3.

(And always, if you like what I do, reblog, leave a comment, or maybe buy me a Kofi?)

“Oh oh oh! Guys! Look, this place has samosas!” Bonnie said, tugging them through the streets of Bagon. Even amongst Vaugaurde, the area was known for its cooking. The smells of food filled the streets, enough to make even the pickiest child consider trying something new, and the outdoor market was in full swing now that it was warming up again!

It was that perfect time of year where spring made it warm enough to travel, but still cold enough to enjoy some nice, hot food (and oh Change, being medicated again made her hungry!), or at least Mirabelle thought so! It was still too cold for Bonnie and Odile, and Siffrin kept pretty warm with his cloak, but she and Isabeau seemed to like it!

And speaking of Siffrin, he was staring at where Bonnie had seen samosas on the menu. While they were all getting better at reading Siffrin, sometimes it was still a little difficult. This was one of those times. His head was tilted, an odd look in his eye. Not necessarily upset, but not exactly happy either. He opened his mouth like he was about to say something, but only a breath came out.

It wasn’t just her that noticed. Isabeau put a gentle hand on their shoulder, not minding that Siffrin jumped before settling into the contact. “You alright, Sif?”

“Huh?” Siffrin blinked owlishly. “Ah, sorry. Was just remembering something.”

Odile’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh? Remembering what?”

“Remembering loop stuff…

Loop stuff? From samosas?

Bonnie jolted. “OH RIGHT!!! Crab, sorry Frin! I forgot that’s why I stopped making Samosas! ‘Cause you had ‘em every day in forever school.”

Oh that’s right! Mirabelle had forgotten that Bonnie made samosas that day, but makes sense Siffrin wouldn’t have…

Bonnie took Siffrin’s hand to start tugging him away. “We can go somewhere else-“

“No.” He said it a bit too seriously, which he must’ve noticed as he smiled and mussed up Bonnie’s hair. “I can’t deny my Bonbon TWO of their three favorite foods!” He looked back to the shop. “Besides, I’m pretty sure they sell more than JUST Samosas. Though they might not be as… as…” They scrunched up their eye, glaring at the sign for a moment. Then their eye widened and they puffed themselves up as they said, “DE~LI~CIOUS as yours would be.”

“Why’d you say it weird?” Bonnie asked.

“I was trying to sound like Isa? It’s, uh… been a while. Since I heard that.” He trailed off again, staring into space…

Odile went over to the door and said, “Would you like to have this talk on a chair with some hot food, or would you rather keep staring through the window like an incompetent stalker?”

“Madame!” Mirabelle squealed. You can’t just?! Say that?!

But say it she did, and everyone else was laughing, even as Siffrin also tried to sink into his cloak like a turtle.

“Yeah yeah, we should go in. But, um… I need time. To get thoughts together first? And not do this in public?”

“Reasonable enough. Now get in, I’m cold.”

They all filed inside. Only Bonnie ended up ordering the samosas, but none of them entirely missed the way that Siffrin eyed them.

————

They were all back at the nearest inn… which was fairly packed, given that spring was here. Mirabelle wasn’t the least bit surprised. After all, Spring was quite important in the Change religion! A time for new growth, a fresh start, and a reminder that while Change was destruction, it was creation too! A lot of people celebrated by picking up new hobbies, clearing out some space for those hobbies and just tidying in general (Spring Cleaning!), travel, and bonding ceremonies.

All of this to say, there was only one room available… but Madame Odile was pretty insistent on NOT having only one bed, and somehow they ended up with three. Mirabelle made sure to slip extra tips to the poor staff, that was mortifying! Though the space was nice…

“I call Mira!” Bonnie said, grabbing her hand. She could only yelp in shock as they were both catapulted to the nearest bed, making it thunk against the wall.

“Can I call Sif?” Isabeau said, chuckling at the not-actually-a-question. Even in the days before they saved Vaugaurde, it was rarer that they didn’t sleep together.

Siffrin stuck his tongue out and, “Nah. Isa…” they trailed, took a quick breath in, and smirked, “Isa has to sleep on the floor.” They looked over to Odile for a moment, then jumped a few inches when Bonnie laughed instead.

“FINALLY! No more being gross!” Bonnie cheered.

“I was just joking,” Siffrin said.

“BOOOOOO!”

“Yaaaaaay!” Isabeau said, even clapping his hands and looking all sparkle-eyed at Siffrin (how had she missed that they liked each other?!)

“Heh! Heh…” Siffrin trailed off again.

Oh Change. “Hey, Siffrin? Are you okay?” Mirabelle walked over and… wait, crab, what does she do with her hands now? Um… “Pat Pat!” Head pats, sure! Wait… Oh Change, he actually leaned in that’s??? So??? Cute?!?!

Siffrin smiled, eye shutting, and let out a sigh. “I’m alright, just…” He shuffled his feet, looking down, then up again, staring at the ceiling.

“Is this related to earlier in any way?” Odile asked.

Siffrin looked aside. “… maaaaaybe…”

“We aren’t doing anything too close to the loops, are we?” Isabeau said. “I’m willing to actually sleep on the floor if-“

“NO! I mean, kinda, but also no? You don’t have to sleep on the floor, Isa. And it’s, um… weird.”

“Yeah, well, you’re weird! And we like you that way,” Bonnie huffed. “So out with it!” They scampered over to the door and held their arms out. “No escape!”

Siffrin blinked dumbly. Once. Twice. “Snrk-“ He plopped down on bed and started laughing. “Oh come on! I’m not that bad at talking…” he looked around the room and added, “…anymore!”

Odile nodded, “I will concede, you’ve gotten better. But Boniface, stay there.”

“Sorry ‘Za! I’m the Defender now! Ehehe.”

“Oh nooooo!” Isabeau said, dramatically swooning onto the ground in exaggerated defeat. Everyone laughed. Some a little, some a lot, but they all laughed, even Isabeau!

Change, she loved these people.

“So then… Siffrin…” Mirabelle stepped closer with the utmost seriousness. Siffrin trembled before her! “You will…” Pause for dramatic effect, hand on her currently missing sword (she was in pajamas after all)… “Talk about your feelings!!!”

“NOOOOOOO!” Siffrin moaned, collapsing onto the bed and snickering. Though he sighed and rolled to look at all of them. “… but okay. Just… promise you won’t find it weird or wrong?”

“Of course, young one.”

“Sif, we aren’t going to judge you!”

“Never! Never ever!”

“I mean, you are weird, Stupidfrin, but tell! Us!”

Siffrin squeaked and rolled into a ball like a little hedgehog.

Mirabelle couldn’t help but giggle, “Oh no! We came on too strong!” She sat down in bed next to him.

“Scared like the stray animal he is,” Odile tutted.

Maybe it was a little mean to poke this much fun when he was having problems… but it seemed to relax him, actually? She could say from experience that treating it too seriously was anxiety inducing itself!!! A cornered animal bites!

Siffrin pushed himself up, shuffling close enough that their knees and elbows bumped together, but not much else. “Thanks guys.” In… out. “I dunno how you guys are so sweet when I’m so weird…”

“Like Boniface said, we already know that. It’s going to take more than a few new quirks to scare us off.”

Blushing, Siffrin tried to bury into their collar, but he was in night clothes. No cloak! So cute! Everyone was nice enough not to mention it.

They continued, “It’s just…” He looked around as though looking for a distraction, but no one was interrupting. “With the samosas, it, uh… Took me a moment. To remember. What you guys said.”

Odile raised an eyebrow. “And that’s… bad?”

“It shouldn’t be…?” Siffrin squirmed. One of his hands found one of Mirabelle’s. She gave it a little squeeze, and he gave one back. “I mean. I… Let’s talking about something. Stars-!”

Mirabelle squeezed his hand again. “There’s no rush.”

In… out. In. And out. “Thank you.” One more time. Big breath in… big breath out. “I guess it surprised me more than anything. Which is? Kinda dumb???”

Isabeau tried to cut in, “It’s not-“

But Siffrin kept talking, “I was careful! No wishes! No ‘Hi Isa, I need to do the Favor Tree thing!’ Even though I thought I wis- though I wanted to forget. But I didn’t mean those parts!” He held tighter to her hand, breath quickening. “I wanted to forget the King and the Sadnesses and the Head Housemaiden! Not you guys!”

Everyone tried to act at once, tried to protest, but Mirabelle was closest. She took his face in her hands—ignore the way he jumped, the moment of panic, the memory of a slap—and made him look her in the eyes. “Siffrin. You are NOT forgetting us! We’re right here, okay?”

Bonnie barreled into him, Isabeau showed a little more restraint and just opened his arms for the group hug, and Odile messed up his hair a bit from the side.

“Yeah! No way you can forget me!!!” Bonnie shouted.

“I would hug the memory back into you,” Isabeau said.

Siffrin snorted, relaxing into the group hug. “Thanks guys, heh. Sorry, like I said. It’s a little bit weird, but I guess…” he had to stop to breathe again. “I guess a lot of things. I don’t want to forget more. Some part of me’s scared I’ll somehow forget my scripts and just go entirely mute. And it’s- it’s the only proof I have that it happened, because it didn’t! It didn’t happen to anyone else. Not on the loop that stuck!” His grasp on them tightened. Not painfully so, not when spread out across three people, but it was noticeable. “And it’s kind of not blinding fair! I- I… ‘I’d rather you ask everyone else if they need help, first.’ And I did! And- and THANK YOU SNACK LEADER FOR THIS DELICIOUS MEAL! and Fromage and… and it… How can I help you on this wonderful new loop…”

He let out a bitter laugh. “… it didn’t happen.”

No one knew what to say. What even could they say? There was a heaviness in the air, an oppressive silence. It felt like if something broke it, everything might shatter…

But Change is destruction, and Mirabelle was a Housemaiden. “It happened to you.”

“But-“

“No, Mirabelle is right,” Odile said. “Even if it didn’t technically happen to anyone else, it happened to you for the equivalent of months. And if I recall correctly, you’ve mentioned before that that was your rock bottom, as it were.”

“I don’t think anyone blames you for feeling cheated, Sif,” Isabeau said. “Or for missing good memories, or, uh… wishing things went better.”

Siffrin sighed, resting his head on Isabeau’s shoulder. “I just, I just wish- wait! No. I want you guys to remember too. But I know that can’t happen without, um, actually wishing it. And no thank you. I think sharpening my dagger is the most wishcraft I want anymore.”

“Fair and valid,” Isabeau said.

“Yeah… though I feel like it’d get confusing, having two memories of the same day,” Mirabelle said.

Siffrin gave her the most deadpan look and-

“Oh Change, I guess you technically do have a lot of the same day huh,” Mirabelle said one quiet breath.

Siffrin chuckled, “Understatement. Though for better or worse, the fact that I, uh, didn’t change much made parts of it less confusing? Like…” He looked around and his eye widened. “Y’know, if you push that bed off the far wall to be more in the middle, it looks like the clock tower…” He trailed into mumbles as he just… apparently decided to do that! Without much issue! Sometimes Mirabelle forgot how strong they were now.

Isabeau, regardless, decided to pick up the other end and help. “Uh. I am going with this because you started it, but why are we doing a thing that seems kinda tailor made to trigger you, Sif?”

“I have, like, half an idea. Working on it,” Siffrin said as he set the bed down.

“Curious as I am, I’m with Isabeau on this one. This seems ill-advised,” Odile said.

“That took, like, five seconds. We can move it back!” Siffrin huffed, sitting on the newly moved bed. “Besides. They’re way closer.” The room was quite a bit smaller than the clock tower after all, not really meant to shove all five of them in there.

“Oh! Are we making one BIG bed?” Mirabelle said. “Ultimate bed!!!”

“Gross, Frin! I don’t wanna be next to you and Za KISSING!”

“I agree with the preteen,” Odile said. “Veto’d.”

“That’s not-!” Siffrin huffed and pulled his legs in to sulk.

Oh no! “C’mon, we should probably let Siffrin think! And then tell us, um, what he’s thinking,” Mirabelle said.

“Thank you!” Siffrin said, flopping onto his back with an overdramatic huff. There were a few chuckles, but then they let the poor guy think.

Siffrin took a deep breath. “So… I know I’ve been, uh, a little skittish. With play stuff.” They’d tried to see one once or twice, but he couldn’t step foot into a theatre without looking like he was just… empty. “But maybe I could act it out…?” His voice hoy quieter until it was a near whisper, eye averted…

And she couldn’t blame him. Isabeau and Odile both looked like he’d suggested going to swim with Sadnesses, and Bonnie looked to Odile and tried to mimic it.

“Sif, I don’t think-“

“Don’t be stupid, Frin-“

“Young one, this might not-“

“I THINK IT’S A GREAT IDEA!” Mirabelle shouted… and jumped, surprised at just how loud that came out. And oh Change, all eyes were on her now! But… oh, just pretend they’re in their underwear… hmm, that doesn’t work as well when you’ve had to wash clothes and bathe in rivers and have actually seen that.

Deep breath, like Siffrin! They’re her friends, and it’s her turn to help. She walks over to Siffrin, sitting beside him and pulling them up enough to take their hands in hers. “I know it might sound a little counter-intuitive, to do something relating to what scares you, or, um, trauma in your case, but sometimes it’s good to? In little ways where you have control!”

She rubbed the backs of his palms with her thumbs. “It’s kind of like reading horror books? Getting to be a little scared, but safely? Or, hmm… no. Not reading… writing fanfiction! All the control is in my hands! I can make it horrible if I want, or can make them live happily ever after, or can have them face my greatest fears in front of an audience and make out over the gorey remains! And yeah, maybe it’s scary, but it’s safe scary? My, um… some of the other Housemaidens who are good at medicine and therapy and stuff recommended it, actually.”

She smiled at Siffrin, putting a hand on his cheek. The rest are probably staring at her, but this is no grand stage. It’s… “It’s us, our family! Not a whole theatre, not Dormont, or a House or anything like that. You’re safe here with us, and you can stop or break the script whenever you want, okay?“

He was looking at her like she was the one who made the seasons change and sun move across the sky. “Okay.”

She stood up and clapped. “Good!” And then dared look around. Everyone was staring!

“So, did you take a class on psychology, then?” Odile asked.

“Three. One of which was actually theatre related!”

“Crab yeah Mira!” Isabeau pumped his fist for her.

“You guys are nerds,” Bonnie said.

They couldn’t refute that!

“Snrk- yeah, we can’t all be as cool as you, Bonbon,” Siffrin said. “So… if we’re good, do I just, like, do it…? I mean, the scene setting is already here.”

“What, by yourself?” Odile said.

“I’m not writing you a script and having you do it. If I see you guys say and do those things again, it might actually give me a panic attack,” Siffrin said. He stood up on the bed. “Sorry guys! One man show!”

“One! Man! Show!!!” Bonnie cheered. “Should I make popcorn?”

“I mean, yes, always,” Isabeau said. “But how long should this take?”

“Not long. Two minutes or so? Provided you don’t combust, Isa~”

“Wait, why would I combust???” Isabeau was already blushing some, holding his hands up defensively.

“EW! I don’t wanna hear you pretend to be Za being mushy! We get enough of that!”

Siffrin smirked. “Okay, but, then you can laugh at me being Isa being mushy. And you’re in this scene too!”

Bonnie’s eyes went wide, mouth open in childish awe. “Am I yelling at you?”

“Mmmmmmaybe~” Pause. “Yes.”

“I KNEW IT!”

“Oh I’m going to have to give the neighbors something to make up for this,” Mirabelle whispered to herself. It wasn’t too late though, so hopefully they weren’t in, or at least weren’t trying to sleep.

“Dile! Get the tea heater!” They pulled out a small pan and lid from their bag. “I’m making POPCORN!”

“Guess we’ve got a few minutes before the show. Everyone take your seats~”

“There is only one chair, and I claim it,” Odile said.

“Overbooked! A tragedy!” Isabeau said with an exaggerated gasp and hand over his heart.

Mirabelle, meanwhile, felt some of her theatre classes coming back. Just the rehearsals though! There was a play, but she panicked so hard that poor Junette had to just throw on the bonnet she was supposed to wear and, well, improving that that mother requesting help was the secretly the villain in disguise was sheer genius, actually!

Wait… “Oh!” She pulled an extra bow from her bag and gave it to Siffrin. “Here! To play me! Um, assuming I’m here?”

“You were!”

“Hmm, probably better than you attempting to do accents. Because, young one, if I didn’t know you, I’d think your attempt at mimicking me was offensive on purpose,” Odile said, smirking at Siffrin.

“Sorry Madame.”

“Here,” she passed him those weird, opaque glasses that they’d… wait… when did she get those???

“What about you, Bonbon. Should I steal your hat~?” Siffrin teased, inching to where it was piled atop their things.

“No. Borrow a spatula.”

“Bon yes bon!” They pulled a spatula. Brilliant!

“Wait! What can I give you…?” Isabeau said, making a sad puppy dog face. And that was fair! Siffrin’s ears weren’t pierced, and putting earrings on and off would be a chore anyways. And Isabeau’s gloves were just too big for Siffrin’s hands!

It apparently stumped everyone as they just stared…

Until Bonnie said, “Make your hair stand up like a bird’s.”

That alone got a chuckle out of some of them, and it turned to outright laughs when Isabeau fake cried, “So MEAN! I’m not a bird. I’m buff!”

“The buffest of birds,” Siffrin said, pressing again Isa and standing on tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

Bonnie threw some corn at them.

“Worth it!” Isabeau chirped.

The popcorn was ready shortly afterwards, salted and put in a little bowl in front of everyone. Siffrin was on the bed, stage right. He spit in his hand to spike up his hair, like a bird!

“Sif…” Siffrin deepened his voice, prompting snorts from all of them at his attempt to sound like Isabeau. “Hey… hey Sif. Siffrin. Siffarooni.”

Siffrin then scooted over and tamped his hair down just to look behind him then quickly scoot back and fluff his hair again. If the ridiculousness of such an act weren’t silly enough, it was clear he was aware of this, trying not to laugh.

He took a deep breath and got back “in character,” looking at the empty space in front of him with the biggest, puppiest eye he could muster. “Um… Sorry? To wake you? I just have to tell you something. If that’s okay?”

“Oh crab, I didn’t!!!” Isabeau groaned, pressing his hands into his eyes.

“In front of my Belle?!” Bonnie said, gesturing to Mirabelle like she was an art piece.

Siffrin once more played “himself” and nodded before doing his silly little scoot back to being Isabeau. “Okay, okay, okay. Then I shall tell you the thing! The thing I woke you up to tell you!”

“Siiiiiif I take it back let’s end this!” Isabeau groaned.

“Quiet, I’m watching the show,” Pdile said, taking a handful of popcorn.

Bonnie seemed considerably more interested in laughing at Isabeau, but Siffrin didn’t seem to mind.

Siffrin continued, unmoved by the begging. “Haha! Um. So.”

“The thing I have to tell you. Is. That…” Siffrin looked off to the side, a snort escaping as he caught Isabeau’s clearly shaded face. Still, he delivered his line. “I don’t have anything to tell you right now. But I will, when, uh, we beat the King, okay?”

“Oh Change and I said this every night, didn’t I? Aaaaargh that must’ve gotten so crabbing annoying!” Isabeau moaned.

“Now you know how I feel!” Bonnie said.

Siffrin was back in his place, but… “Uh… hmm. Breaking character of, uh… myself? A sec? Eventually I just got quiet but that’s more sad than funny, so we’re doing the funny one. Okay back to it!” He cleared his throat. “That is still SO ominous, Isa.”

Back to Isa and oh Change he actually did a really good impression of Isabeau’s flustered face! “I, uh, just don’t wanna tell you right now when it might distract you! Wouldn’t want that! So, uh, I’ll tell you when we beat the, um, King, okay?”

Siffrin looked at them, opened his mouth to say something, then it split into a head manic grin as an idea hit. Oh Change here we go.

Siffrin bolted up, snapped, grabbed the spatula and a pillow, threw it, dropped the spatula, and lunged for the bed so it hit him in the face.

“SIF?!”

“Pfffft, hahaha!”

“PILLOW! THROW!”

“Hahahaha! Oh noooooo!”

They had to take a short intermission from everyone laughing too hard. Once, even twice it almost ended, but someone snickered and started it again! But third time’s the charm.

Siffrin picked the dropped spatula back up, “I’ll wash this after,” and then got on the middle bed and pointed accusingly at the empty bed, “SOME PEOPLE ARE TRYING TO SLEEP!”

“HEY I DON’T SOUND LIKE THAT!” Bonnie huffed.

“Oh he’s trying,” Mira said. Though truthfully, the squeaky voice Siffrin had chosen was awful.

“You hit me with a pillow?!” Isabeau said.

“I would’ve used a book,” Odile said.

Siffrin hit the bed and set the bow on his hair. “YEAH ISABEAU! SOME PEOPLE ARE TRYING TO SLEEP! CLOSE YOUR MOUTH AND SLEEP!”

“PFFFT, Belle sounds like a mouse!” Bonnie said. “Belle’s on my side Belle’s on my side!”

Then Siffrin rushed over to stage right once more, slicking hair in the midst of a fit of giggles. “CLOSE YOUR MOUTH HOUSEMAIDEN! YOU’RE GONNA WAKE UP M’DAME ODILE!”

“How could I have slept through this?” Odile said.

Siffrin went to the far bed, stifling giggles behind his hand before putting on the dark glasses and somehow managing to be utterly serious as he said, “I’m already up.” He didn’t bother with a voice, but got the tone scarily serious.

“Oh, so I didn’t,” Odile remarked.

“And if the noise continues, I will stand up. You do not want to know what will happen if I stand up.”

Aaaand right back to the energy. He looked exaggeratedly spooked as he picked up the spatula and dove under the covers. “Sorry.” Then tried to roll over, presumably to be Mirabelle, and-

THUMP! “NYA!”

“Did you-?”

“Did he-?”

“Did Sif-?”

“Did they-?”

“Stars- YES I JUST SAID NYA!” Tangled in the sheets, Siffrin had hit the floor, and now was hiding in the covers, wiggling futilely for a few seconds before giving up. “… for the record. That did not happen. Uh… crew? A little help? Rather not cut these.”

Mirabelle giggled as she got up, helping get the sheets off without having to resort the scissors craft.

Siffrin brushed the dust off of him, held the bow up, and gave a quick little, “Sorry.”

Then went back to be Isabeau. “Sorry m’dame…” He looked appropriately abashed, but the look turned into one of a familiar, adoring smile. “Good night, Sif!”

“Aaaaaand scene!” Siffrin said, standing back up and giving a little bow.

They all clapped for him, even if Bonnie was breathless from laughing and Isabeau was still dark-cheeked.

“Good job, Siffrin!” Mirabelle said, going over and playfully spinning him… and forgetting their current lack of space, squawking as they both tumbled onto a bed, laughing and breathless.

Isabeau must’ve gotten jealous as he scooped Siffrin into his arms and started kissing his cheek! “Mwah mwah mwah mwah mwah!”

“GROOOOOOSSSS!” Bonnie whined.

Siffrin was laughing so much that both he and Isa had to sit down a minute, but eventually Siffrin got back up to put the bed back, then munch on some popcorn. “Mmmmm, good as always, Bonbon~” They mussed up Bonnie’s hair with a smile as more salty snacks disappeared into their mouth.

“I AM the best chef cooker after all!” Bonnie said, little chest puffed out.

“You are!” Siffrin said. He went a bit quiet for a moment before saying, “Speaking of that, we’re near a market anyways… wanna try making those fritters again? Maybe with a few spicy peppers?”

“YEAH!!!”

“We might wanna grab something for the neighbors too, if only to apologize…” Mirabelle said.

“And we haven’t been kicked out yet, so to bribe the inkeepers as well,” Odile said.

“MADAME!”

They went into another bout of giggles and finished up the popcorn before going to brush teeth and settle in…

And in the dark and quiet, as she was starting to drift off to sleep, she could hear Isabeau say, “And hey Sif, just gonna tell it this time… I love you!”

“I love you too!”

Mwah!

And that night, everyone slept well.

-----

I prefer tea, but buy me a Kofi?

#isat fanfic #scriptfrin #the play is over but the script remains #in stars and time #isat #fanfic #isat siffrin #humor #hurt/comfort

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multi-fandom-imagine · 2 days ago

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Possibly but of a strange request but Charlie’s half blood partner explaining to his dad how planes fly and the function of a rubber duck?

I distinctly remember him asking at least one of these to Harry in the movies and it actually made me look up the answer as well lol

A/n: He did 🤣 , Arthur is so pure and adorable.

Arthur Weasley’s fascination with Muggle inventions knew no bounds, and as Charlie’s partner, you had long since accepted that part of your relationship meant answering his father’s never-ending stream of questions. Today, you found yourself in the Burrow’s kitchen, explaining two very different, yet equally perplexing, Muggle objects to Arthur—airplanes and rubber ducks.

Arthur sat across from you, eyes gleaming with excitement, as he eagerly leaned in. “Now, tell me again—how does a plane fly? There’s no magic involved, and yet it stays in the air?” His voice was filled with pure wonder, as if the concept itself was more impossible than dragons breathing fire.

You smiled, exchanging an amused glance with Charlie, who was barely holding back laughter. “Right, so airplanes rely on something called aerodynamics. The wings are designed in a special shape that helps create lift. When the engines push the plane forward, the air moves over and under the wings at different speeds. This difference in pressure makes the plane rise.”

Arthur gasped, gripping the edge of the table. “Fascinating! The air lifts it? But… how does it stay up? Surely it should fall at some point?”

“Well, as long as the engines keep providing thrust and the wings keep generating lift, it stays in the air,” you explained patiently. “Of course, when it needs to land, the pilot reduces the speed, and the plane comes down gently.”

Arthur’s mouth opened and closed, his brain clearly working overtime to process this completely non-magical feat. “Incredible. Utterly incredible! And you say Muggles travel in these all the time?”

Charlie finally spoke up, grinning. “Yeah, Dad. And they don’t even think twice about it.”

Arthur shook his head in pure amazement before his expression shifted into one of equal seriousness. “And… what of the rubber duck? What function does it serve?”

You stifled a laugh, having expected this question at some point. “Well… it doesn’t really do anything. It’s just a bath toy for children. You know, something to make bath time fun.”

Arthur frowned deeply, as though this answer troubled him on a profound level. “So… it has no purpose?”

Charlie groaned playfully, rubbing his face. “Dad, you’ve asked this for years, and the answer hasn’t changed.”

“But surely,” Arthur insisted, eyes darting between you and Charlie, “there must be some hidden use. Perhaps a clever storage device? A method of detecting magical interference? A secret message carrier?” He looked utterly scandalized at the idea that Muggles would create something purely for fun.

You chuckled, reaching over to pat his hand. “I promise you, Arthur—it’s just a toy.”

Arthur sat back, still looking dubious, as if he refused to believe Muggles would make something with absolutely no practical function. After a moment, he sighed dramatically. “Muggle ingenuity never ceases to amaze me. Planes that defy logic and ducks with no purpose. Truly, they are a remarkable people.”

Charlie burst out laughing, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “You’ll never convince him, love. Just accept it.”

You grinned, shaking your head as Arthur Weasley sat back, utterly delighted by the mysteries of the Muggle world, even if some of them would always remain completely beyond his comprehension.

#blurbs #blurb #charlie weasley #charlie weasley x reader #charlie wealsey x you #charlie wealsey x y/n #hp x reader #hp x you #hp x y/n #HP #JKR is a hoe

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redcamellia13 · 3 days ago

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What the. What the actual hell. I- could somebody explain to me how the heck a throw-away blog made just over two months ago has somehow amassed 1,000 likes?

Just like last gratitude post, I’m so sorry if I seem like I’m dissatisfied or disappointed with this milestone, it’s simply because I’ve run out of ways to express how thankful I am.

😅😅😅😅😅

I’m really not sure how to express my gratitude anymore, so I’m going to begin listing all of my strongest supporters.

Yes, that’s you, @theducklord5, @aheartfullofquestions, @musicalmoritz, @frogwithaflowercrown, @blondesillyboylover, @itzyukoo, @lavender-peach-tea, @neversam, @nam-the-nacho and probably several others I am neglecting to mention (sorry! Please bear with me, my sanity’s hanging on my a thread- I’m basically running on caffeine and sugar)

I am so, so grateful to all of you for your help and patience with my spotty upload schedule, and generally low quality posts. Seriously, how do you people still support me despite my never ending struggle with constant reblogs, unoriginal ideas…

Nevertheless, I am still just in awe of this huge number. I think I’m going insane!

Now, onto the blogs that are the standard I hope to live up to, the people that are so kind, passionate, respectful, intelligent, and charismatic you sort of have to question if they’re real. (I mean that in a good way.)

I hope to have reflected some of your wonderful qualities in my own posts, and I sincerely hope you understand my pure admiration for you all.

To @god-damnit-vinne, how could I start this dedication with anybody else? The amount of charm and enthusiasm that pours out of your posts is astounding, and you are actually my first Tumblr… friend(?) Mutual? I still remember when you replied to my post, the first I had ever received- it made me so happy I spent the rest of the day smiling until my face hurt. Honestly, you are the one of the nicest guys I’ve met, period.

To @pollen-blogs, we probably aren’t exactly friends, but I do hope you remember my username. Your writing style is so clear and crisp, it makes your posts and fanfics simply fun to read! Also, your art is impeccable- truly, the whole package.

To @sakuraswifee, I am simply in awe of the amount of passion in your posts. I’m not sure if passion is the right word, but reading your posts always brings a smile to my face since you always seem to love what you’re talking about :).

To @thelunarfairy, I realize that you definitely don’t know me, but I certainly know you. Your posts and analyses are the gold standard in my mind, something all my other posts should live up to, and the way you state things makes it so easy to understand.

To @itzprismosblog, you were the second interaction I’ve had on Tumblr. You probably don’t remember, but it gave me motivation to keep posting, since at the time I was getting used to an extremely demanding new routine. Your art is stunning, and your blog never fails to make me laugh :)

To @cupidsappllie, even if your blog wasn’t one of the most entertaining I’ve seen here on Tumblr, you would probably make it here on kindness alone. If I had to shoot a guy every time you single handedly pulled me out of a posting slump, I would be arrested for murder.

To @saturnssky, my second Mutual on Tumblr. Everything on your blog feels so genuine, like I’m sitting across from you at a cafe having coffee together, and it’s this wonderful feeling of closeness that I feel really makes your blog special, and it’s something I can only hope to replicate. Additionally, you’re one of my greatest supporters, so I’m so thankful for your unending patience.

To @ocelotlesbian, merely interacting with you online has sometimes made me happier than I have been during the entire week. The way you write feels like I can hear your voice flowing through your posts, and you just seem like a nice person I’d be lucky to befriend in person.

And to all the people that didn’t get specific mentions but have still supported my blog in any way, please know I am still so thankful for everything you’ve done.

My head is still spinning from the realization that I’m not just screaming into the void anymore, people are actually seeing what I’m writing.

As always, here’s to more poor writing, badly constructed theories, and character analyses that make no sense.

#1000 likes #tumblr milestone #thank you #this took me so long #thank you so so so much

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mytragedyperson · 2 months ago

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Did I ever talk about the horrific body horror type shit I found in a BNHA x OC fanfic? Like I wasn't prepared for it but it was really cool but also just horrific to think about? Well allow me to discuss than now. If body horror type things disgust you, maybe skip this post. Like I'm not going into too much detail but, you know, it's fairly gross so if that's not for you, maybe skip this one. If you've ever read Freeze Frame by good old Strawhat_Pirate, who I've mentioned before because I love their BNHA fics, you may know where this is going. Hint: Monoma. Congratulations, you now have a memory that you may not have thought about since reading it, unless that didn't help at all. Again I may have discussed this before but, well, its time to discuss it again.

So let me paint a picture for those who haven't read Freeze Frame or did reas it but need their memory refreshed. Freeze Frame is a BNHA x Female OC fanfiction. There's a lot that happens in this fic, a lot of it traumatising for the characters and its fairly angsty. At first, it seems like the OC is going to get with Shinsou but she ends up getting with Bakugou instead. The friend group is the OC, AKA Lillian Faust, shinsou Hitoshi, Neito Monoma. Todoroki, Bakugou, Deku and denki later join the friend group. There are also adults involved, but most of them are OCs or would spoil other things, and I really want there to still be surprises for those who choose to read it.

So it's time for the apprenticeships. And Monoma, in this fic, likes boys and likes Hitoshi. When he first starts exploring this, the apprentice ships are coming up, he applies to join Jay (I believe his hero name is Songbird or something), an openly gay hero. At first, things seem to be going well for Monoma, he seems to be learning about his sexuality and having fun, he even goes to a pride parade with Jay and meets his husband. I'm sure the husband is named but I can't remember his name.

Then, for a few chapters, nothing. No Monoma POV. The only mentions of him come from his friends who haven't heard from him. Other than that, he's just gone, until he drags himself into a hospital. Now he is dead, or at least he should be, bit then it turns out he's not. Turns out Jay, and everyone in his agency, were killed, including Monoma, who I'm pretty sure was decapitated. "Well, mytragedyperson, what happened? How is he still alive?"

Let's turn our attention for a moment to Jay's husband, shall we? Jay's husband has a very interesting quirk. He can essentially make people immortal, as long as he's in contact with them. And he's been missing since the attack on the agency. "So what? Was Jay in contact with Monoma when he was decapitated or after?"

Technically, yes. See, Jay's husband, along with about four or five others, have been turned into nomus. Now, let's recall, Monoma's quirk, shall we? He can temporarily copy the quirk of anyone he touches.

What does this have to do with body horror? Well it turns out, someone had a little fun with Monoma's organs, as each of the people turned into a nomu has had one of their organs put in Monoma, and I think, recieved one of Monoma's in return. Including Monoma now having Jay's husband's heart. So Jay's husband's heart is, technically, always in contact with Monoma, who is constantly copying his quirk and, in turn, keeping the nomu alive. And he can hear Jay's husband and possibly the others in his head. So the nomu are immortal and also Monoma is functionally immortal but also kinda technically a zombie. This, right here, is a horrifying thought. And the thing is, with a shitty writer, it would sound dumb. But because it's revealed piece by piece and treated seriously, it becomes yet another traumatic event.

Also it's a really cool idea even if the idea does give me some sort of crisis. And it's stupidly smart in the villains' part.

#bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #neito monoma #i dont even know what to tag this #seriously i should not still remember this #like i didnt read it long ago #but i shouldve forgotten more #i have not #just another example of strawhat pirate being great #makes me concerned where the other stories i like will go

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hinamie · 6 months ago

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thank u canon plant nerd megumi for my life

bonus:

#my art #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #megumi fushiguro #itafushi #fushiguro megumi #yuji itadori #fanart #jjk fanart #jujutsu kaisen fanart #itadori yuuji #megumi #yuuji #middle one FOUGHT oh my god #angle/arm position/watering can/expression NONE of it wld go right #took 2 hours to get the lines only to realize upon laying down flats that it was still Completely off #so i took a break to bake an entire cake came back n finally it started cooperating #tbh idk if im still shaking off ytd's weird funk or what but this took ages longer than it should have #but its ok bc florist/botanist/general plant nerd megu is free serotonin 2 me #i could not decide on one apron 2 give him #but then i remembered he is th type 2 take his hobby Very seriously of course he would own multiple #looks at the hydrangeas listen . listen I Know i ws bemoaning having 2 draw so many cursing their name etc etc #but u dont understand he had to be holding one he just had to. he told me so. he held a gun 2 my head and said U Know What To Do #and i said ok ok ok ok #there r only 2 i survived #and i wld do anything fr him as we well know . cuffs his jeans puts leaves in his hair <3 #jjk may have given me trust issues depression anxiety etc but it Also gave me flowerboy megu and i think that balances it out :)#edit added the bonus here bc reblogs dont show up in the main tags enjoy itfs gross flirting mwah <3

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anotherhumaninthisworld · 4 months ago

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Historians having takes on frev women that make me go 😐 compilation

Sexually frustrated in her marriage to a pompous civil servant much older than herself, [Madame Roland] may have found Danton’s celebrated masculinity rather uncomfortable. Danton (1978) by Norman Hampson, page 77.

The Robespierres sent their sister to Arras because that was their hometown, the family home, where they had relatives, uncles, aunts and friends, like Buissart who they didn’t cease to remain in correspondence with, even in the middle of the Terror. There, among them, Charlotte would not be alone; she would find advice, rest, the peace necessary to heal her nervousness and animosity. Away from Mme Ricard, who she hated, away from Mme Duplay, who she detested, she would enjoy auspicious calmness. It is Le Bon that the Robespierres will charge with escorting their sister to this neccessary and soothing exile. […] If there is a damning piece in Charlotte Robespierre's case, it is this one (her interrogation, held July 31 1794). She seems to be caught in the act of accusing this Maximilien whom she rehabilitates in her Memoirs. She is therefore indeed a hypocrite, unworthy of the great name she bears, and which she dishonors the very day after the holocaust of 10 Thermidor. Charlotte Robespierre et Guffroy (1910) in Annales Révolutionnaires, volume 3 (1910) page 322, and Charlotte Robespierre et ses mémoires (1909) page 93-94, both by Hector Fleishmann.

Elisabeth, as she was popularly called, was barely past her twelfth birthday, younger even by three years than Barere’s own mother when she was given in marriage. On the following day the guests assembled again in the little church of Saint-Martin at midnight to attend the wedding ceremony of the handsome charmer and the bewildered child. Dressed in white, clasping in her arms a yellow, satin-clad doll that Bertrand had given her — so runs the tradition — she marched timidly to the altar, looking more like a maiden making her first communion than a woman celebrating a binding sacrament. Perhaps the doll, if doll there was, filled her eye, but certainly she could not fail to note how handsome her husband was. Bertrand Barere; a reluctant terrorist (1962) by Leo Gershoy, page 32.

The young nun who bore the name of Hébert did not hide her fate. She did not wish to prolong a life stifled from her childhood in the cloister, branded in the world by the name she bore, fighting between horror and love for the memory of her husband, unhappy everywhere. Histoire des Girondins (1848) by Alphonse de Lamartine, volume 8, page 60.

Lucile in prison showed more calmness than Camille. Before the tribunal, she seemed to possess neither fear nor hope, she denied having taken an active role in the prison conspiracy. What did it matter to her the answer they were trying to extract from her? They said they wanted her guilty? Very well! She would be condemned and join Camille. This was what she said again when she was told that she would suffer the same fate as her husband: ”Oh, what joy, in a few hours I’m going to see Camille again!” Camille et Lucile Desmoulins: un couple dans la tourmente (1986) by Jean Paul Bertaud, page 293.

What did it matter to Lucile whether she was accused or defended? She had no longer any pretext for living in this world. She was one of those heroines of conjugal love who are more wife than mother. Besides, Horace lived, and Camille was dead. It was of the absent only that she thought. As for the child, would not Madame Duplessis act a mother's part to him? The grandmother would watch over the orphan. If Lucile had lived, she could have done nothing but weep over the cradle, thinking of Camille. Camille Desmoulins and his wife; passages from the history of the Dantonists founded upon new and hitherto unpublished documents (1876) by Jules Claretie.

Having been widowed at the age of 23 [sic] years, Élisabeth Duplay remarried a few years later to the adjutant general Le Bas, brother of her first husband, and kept the name which was her glory. She lived with dignity, and all those who have known her, still beautiful under her crown of white hair, have testified to the greatness of her sentiments and austerity of her character. She died at an old age, always loyal to the memory of the great dead she had loved and whose memory she, all the way to her final day, didn’t cease to honor and cherish. As for the lady of Thermidor, Thérézia Cabarrus, ex-marquise of Fontenay, citoyenne Tallien, then princess of Chimay, one knows the story of her three marriages, without counting the interludes. She had, as one knows, three husbands living at the same time. Now compare these two existances, these two women, and tell me which one merits more the respect and the sympathy of good men. Histoire de Robespierre et du coup d’état du 9 thermidor (1865) by Louis Ernest Hamel, volume 3, page 402.

Fel free to comment which one was your favorite! 😀

#frev #french revolution #frev compilation #hampson: if women were uncomfortable around danton it’s because they were sexually frustrated!#fleishmann: two men in their 30s can ultimately decide what’s best for their sister who’s also in her 30s #also it’s totally unreasonable for charlotte to disown her brothers after their death when her life was possibly in danger #(and even though they pretty much disowned her while they were still alive)#lamartine claretie bertaud: françoise and lucile wanted to die since there was no longer any point to their lives after the husbands died #hamel: a good way of finding out which side was bad and which side was good is to look over how slutty the women on each side were #wow are you seriously surprised the view of women held by 19th century authors isn’t exactly top modern?#…no comment #claretie should technically get a pass since he thought the journal of sanson was an authentic source #But it was so spectacular i couldn’t contain myself #also a shame i couldn’t remember where i read the interpretation that the reason simond évrard was wary of charlotte corday #was bc she might seduce marat when alone with him

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