savagewildnerness · 3 days ago
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O Earthly Lestat, I see now the trouble I’m going to have with S3 is I may have to defend Nicolas a lot…. And I don’t even know how he’ll be written for TV. But I know he means too much to me, and that’s just that. In a way Nicolas means the most to me. Not that he means more to me than Lestat. But that the elements of Nicolas that I relate to (& importantly as you can never get over this feeling - that I related to as a 12-year-old) I cannot think of any other instance in literature or any other fictional character I could relate to or who so exactly articulated something about me. And so I cannot help but always fight for Nicki 100% (even though I am not like Nicki in all ways.)
I want to CLARIFY! This is not some “Nicolas was Lestat’s actual great love” point of view in ANY WAY! LOUIS, is Lestat’s great love!
But this is: Nicolas loved Lestat. It wasn’t only Lestat who loved Nicki. And Nicolas loving Lestat enabled Lestat to love Louis.
I find it beautiful. YES, Nickistat ended AWFULLY! (And that there was mutual love makes it all the more tragic and beautiful to me!) But I just need to say here…
People acknowledge how much of Louis’ words in IWTV are shaded by his own struggles…. So I can’t understand why so many people seem to take Nicolas’ words in his final argument with Lestat (by which point, with whatever nuance you cut it, Nicolas is as described by EVERYONE as a mad vampire, his mind lost!) as 100% his always-truth!!!?! I just cannot comprehend it!!!?! I’d love if anyone would like to explain how you can see it that way, especially after reading the actual way Nicolas was pre-Paris, in Paris, when Lestat was stolen away… all until the moment he witnesses Lestat be shot. THEN it shifts for Nicki!
I’m also not one for blaming Armand for Nicki’s demise. The tragedy of Nicolas is, Lestat is very responsible for Nicolas’ demise, and simultaneously all Lestat did, he did through love. There are a thousand ways Nicki’s tragic demise is Shakespearean inevitable resonance… and yet…
But yeah, it’s actually primarily because of his music & things around his music that Nicki matters so much to me. But nevertheless, he matters & I shall fight for him!!! Lestat and Nicki's conversation matters deeply to me too, and what Nicki is for Lestat in that conversation. But where I connect with Nicki is in his music and how he feels about his music. I personally connect with Lestat's worldview on the other hand. Although in my personality, I am my self, of course, I also relate to some elements of each of them.
The thing with Nicolas I suppose for me though is there are various aspects of his self I relate to that I have never felt anywhere else except in my own self. Not in fiction & not in anyone I have ever known in reality either. And I guess that’s why I will always fight for him. Also, because most people should understand Lestat - we’re so in his heart & head 💛. But we don’t hear the story from Nicolas’ point of view, yet for me, at times it is like he is absolutely in my own mind & heart or I am in his, or it’s the same thing in some odd way I can’t quite articulate. I feel seen by him, and I see him. I understand some parts of him, reflecting how by existing in fiction, he has understood me.
Back to Nicolas. He kept Lestat’s dressing room at Renaud’s as a literal shrine to Lestat. He fought with his friends over Lestat’s moral integrity after Lestat went missing. Even when Lestat was gone, Nicki was still loving him, fighting for him, staying at Renaud’s, wearing rings Lestat sent him. If he felt as he said in his final argument, why did Nicolas even stay working at Renaud's at all? Why was Nicolas so distressed when Lestat sent him lots of money and gifts but didn't ever contact him?
I just list these things, which are just a few ways we see Nicki's feelings through his concrete actions. Nicolas truly did resent Lestat in the end. Just as Lestat couldn’t stand the sight of vampire Nicolas. But even that doesn’t negate love.
Mortal Nicolas DESPERATELY needed Lestat’s light. Vampire Nicki doesn’t. And I see his cruelty in the final argument (while not being entirely absent of truth) as being partly founded in love…. Nicki knows the dark thing he now is & he knows, even in his addled mind Lestat won’t leave him… and he knows Lestat. He knows Lestat must leave him or he’ll take Lestat to his death with him.
It’s ok that love was once & isn’t eternal. It’s ok that Nicki’s love for Lestat did exist, but turned to hate & yet was never entirely lost. It’s ok that Lestat’s love for Nicki never diminished even though he couldn’t stand the sight of him as a vampire. These things don’t negate love. Hate can be part of love. It’s ok that their worldviews were fundamentally different. It’s ok they were not each other’s eternal loves. There was love. Deep and mutual love.
As I see it, we can accept & enjoy that they BOTH loved each other, and that fact only deepens Loustat.
By which time, Nicolas is long dead.
But I genuinely believe when they were mortal, Nicolas’ love for all of Lestat (even when envying him too!) meant Lestat could later love the all of Louis so unconditionally, as he had been loved that way before.
It’s an unpopular opinion, I know. But it’s mine. I express it with acknowledgment I can’t be objective about Nicolas. But that doesn’t lessen the strength of my truth!
In all honesty… we are all subjective humans. Can we be objective about any fictional character we have an emotional connection with?
And that’s the crux of it: when you CARE so much, ultimately it’s about whatever truth you need.
Maybe we ought to think on this on all of our favourite characters & imagine how it might apply to others for any character we love less unconditionally ourselves…?
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kaces-graham-crackers · 10 hours ago
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Trick or Treat, Kiss or Keep - Halloween Special
Astrid Deetz x Reader
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Warning: The following themes appear in this story: Bullying, Slight Swearing, Lots of Emotional Stress, and themes leaning towards psychological horror (Please be wary if you read any further!)
Summary: You and Astrid Deetz were once close, but everything fell apart. Now on Halloween night, both are left vulnerable, forced to confront the past. Old feelings resurface, secrets are revealed, and you must navigate the emotional fallout. Be careful what you wish for—everything can change in an instant.
Word Count: 7.4k
Miss Shannon’s School for Girls was buzzing with excitement as Halloween approached. The grand halls were filled with the usual chatter. You were at the center of it all—popular, outgoing, and well-liked. People gravitated toward you, and it wasn’t something you thought too much about. It was just how things were.
But in the midst of all the noise, there was one person who barely seemed to exist in the social sphere. 
Astrid Deetz.
You glanced over at her as you walked down the hall, noticing her sitting quietly by herself at the far end of the courtyard, scrolling through her phone, her headphones on. She was always in her own world, a stark contrast to the person she used to be. Once upon a time, she was your best friend. You used to share everything—laughs, secrets, and the occasional mischievous prank. But that was before everything fell apart.
Before her father died.
You sighed and turned away, focusing on your friends as they talked about the big Halloween party that everyone was buzzing about. But no matter how much you tried to stay engaged, your mind kept drifting back to her—to the person Astrid used to be, and the person she had become.
She pulled away, you reminded yourself. I tried to be there, but she didn’t want me around.
At first, you hadn’t understood why she distanced herself. You had offered her comfort, a shoulder to lean on, but she walked away. And after a while, you gave up. What was the point of trying when it seemed like she didn’t want you in her life?
But what hurt more than the loss of friendship was the realization that your feelings for her had shifted. That the crush you had ignored for so long had always been there, lingering beneath the surface. You were so used to pushing it aside that when the distance grew, it felt like you had lost more than just a friend.
Now, as you climbed the stairs toward your next class, you saw Astrid again, walking toward you, head down, focused on her phone. She wasn’t paying attention, her mind clearly elsewhere, and before you could step aside—
Crash!
The two of you collided, sending her books and papers scattering across the floor. You stumbled back, barely catching yourself as you looked up, your heart racing.
“Sorry!” you blurted out, immediately crouching down to help her pick up the things she had dropped.
Astrid didn’t even look at you, her dark hair falling over her face as she mumbled something into her phone. She seemed annoyed, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt.
The girls nearby—your friends—began to laugh, thinking it was all some kind of joke. Julia Ripley, ever the instigator, smirked and leaned in closer. “Nice move, Y/N. Didn’t know you were so eager to knock her down.”
You shot Julia a look, feeling the embarrassment creep up your neck. “It wasn’t on purpose,” you muttered, picking up Astrid’s phone and handing it back to her. “Sorry, Astrid.”
Astrid finally looked up, her gaze hard and distant. She grabbed the phone from your hand, barely acknowledging your apology. “Watch where you’re going,” she said, her voice sharp.
Her words cut deeper than you expected. It wasn’t like you meant to bump into her, but the coldness in her tone stung, bringing back the old wounds you thought you had buried.
“I wasn’t the one on my phone,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.
Astrid’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, it looked like she might say something, but instead, she just shoved her things into her bag and stood up, her body tense. The girls around you snickered again, feeding off the tension.
You felt something inside you crack. It wasn’t fair—you had always been there for her. You had been the one to stand by her when her world fell apart, but she had pushed you away, and now she acted like you were nothing.
“You know,” you said, your voice louder than you intended, “I was always there for you. You’re the one who didn’t seem to want me around.”
Astrid’s face hardened, her eyes flashing with a mix of anger and something else—something you couldn’t quite place. “I don’t need you,” she spat, her voice dripping with bitterness. “I never did.”
The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You could feel the hurt bubbling up inside you, but you refused to let it show. Not in front of her. Not in front of everyone else.
Your heart shattered, but you didn’t let it show as you muttered, “I was always there for you, Astrid. Always.”
She turned to leave, her head held high, but before she could take more than a few steps, you noticed something taped to her back.
Kick Me.
Your stomach dropped as you realized what had happened. The girls—the same ones laughing at you now—had probably put it there without Astrid noticing.
You pulled the sign off her back and crumpled it in your hand. “Well, I’ll keep that noted,” you said quietly, holding back the anger that was building inside you. You pulled out a small box from your bag—the one you had been holding onto for years, unsure if you’d ever give it to her. “I promise I won’t bother you again.”
Astrid stopped, turning slightly, her expression confused as she glanced at the box you were offering. You handed it off to her and for a moment, it looked like she might say something, but she stayed silent, watching as you walked away, leaving her standing there, the crumpled sign still in your hand.
Without you there to shield her from the worst of it, the bullying came back with full force, creeping into every corner of Astrid's life. It started slowly at first—a whisper in the hallway, a subtle snicker behind her back. The same girls who had once stuck close to her, laughing with her at lunch, had turned on her, mocking her with cruel smiles. They no longer treated her like one of them. Instead, she became their favorite target
"Bad friend." "Such a freak." "Dick."
The names came faster, louder, no longer just murmurs. They trailed behind her as she walked to class, a never-ending barrage of taunts and jeers. Each one stung, each word a reminder of how quickly she had fallen from whatever thin pedestal she had once stood on. The girls would throw fake smiles her way in passing, only to tear her down the second she was out of earshot. 
In gym class, they’d intentionally leave her out, pretending not to see her as they picked teams. At lunch, the spot they had once saved for her at their table was gone, replaced by smug looks and snide comments.
"Guess you're sitting alone again," Julia Ripley sneered one day, loud enough for everyone in the cafeteria to hear. The rest of the group erupted into laughter, their eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
Astrid clenched her fists, her stomach turning as she moved to the far corner of the room, sitting at a table by herself. It wasn’t like she was ever one to seek attention, but the isolation stung in a way she hadn’t expected. It reminded her of everything she had lost. Of you.
You were the one who had kept the worst of this away from her. You had stood between her and their cruelty, even when she didn’t notice it. Even when she had been too blinded by her grief and her anger to see that you were protecting her all along.
The realization hit her hard one evening, as she walked through the hallways after class. She overheard one of the girls laughing with her friends. "God, remember when Y/N used to hang around with her? I swear that's the only reason people didn't mess with her back then."
Another voice chimed in, "Yeah, totally. Y/N was the only one keeping her from being a total loser."
Astrid’s heart sank. It wasn’t just their words—it was the truth behind them. You had been her shield, the one person who had protected her from the relentless bullying that was now pouring in from every direction. And she had pushed you away, thinking she didn’t need anyone. Thinking she didn’t need you.
But now? She was alone.
The girls who once stood by her side had turned into her tormentors, and the rest of the school followed suit, treating her like an outsider. The isolation weighed on her more than she ever thought it could. She found herself dreading every moment at Miss Shannon's, wondering when the next sneer, the next insult, would come. She had no one to turn to now—no one to sit with at lunch, no one to talk to during class. The people she once thought were her friends had abandoned her the moment it became convenient.
And you? You were the only one who had ever been real. The only one who had cared, even when she didn’t deserve it. Even when she had lashed out, pushing you away with cruel words. The memory of the argument echoed in her mind, the way you had looked at her with hurt in your eyes, the way she had said things she could never take back.
"I don’t need you. I never did."
The words tasted bitter now, and the weight of what she had done gnawed at her. How wrong she had been. She didneed you—she always had. But she had thrown that away, and now she was facing the consequences.
Every cruel word, every mocking glance, every laugh behind her back—it all felt like punishment. And she wasn’t sure how much more of it she could take.
One evening, as Astrid sat at her desk, the weight of the last few weeks pressing down on her, she noticed the small box you had given her earlier that week. She had shoved it aside after your argument, not even considering opening it at the time. But now, with everything swirling around her—guilt, regret, and the growing realization of her mistakes—her curiosity got the better of her.
With trembling hands, she reached for the box, her fingers brushing against the lid. A part of her didn’t want to open it, knowing that whatever was inside would only remind her of what she had lost. But another part of her—a part that missed you more than she cared to admit—couldn’t ignore it any longer.
Slowly, she lifted the lid.
Inside was something she hadn’t expected. It wasn’t just any piece of jewelry or a token of the past—it was a small animal tooth, crafted into a pendant. The sight of it hit her like a wave, memories flooding back instantly.
She remembered the day you had found it, the two of you exploring the woods near the school, laughing as you pretended to be on some grand adventure. You had stumbled upon the tooth—an old keepsake of the forest, worn and weathered—and immediately decided to keep it. She hadn’t thought much of it back then, but you had been adamant, saying it would bring you both good luck.
And now, etched into the bone, were the letters “Y/I/H x AD 4Ever.” A promise, a bond that had once seemed unbreakable.
Astrid’s fingers traced the engraving, her heart sinking as the weight of the memory settled over her. The late-night conversations, the shared laughter, the sense of belonging she had only ever felt with you—it all came rushing back, tinged with the bitter sting of regret.
Why did I push you away? she thought bitterly, gripping the bone tightly in her hand. Why did I let this all fall apart?
She clenched her jaw, trying to hold back the wave of emotions crashing through her. She had been so angry, so hurt after her father’s death, that she had pushed you away without a second thought. She had convinced herself that she didn’t need you—that she didn’t need anyone. But now, looking at this simple, meaningful piece from a time when things had been so much easier, so much better, she realized how wrong she had been.
You were always there, she thought. And I threw it all away.
Astrid’s grip tightened on the pendant as her guilt deepened. She didn’t deserve your friendship. Not after everything she had said, everything she had done. 
Later that night, as Astrid sat at her desk, her thoughts clouded with memories and guilt, she heard a faint rustling at her door. The soft sound barely registered over the hum of her own mind, but when she glanced down, she saw an envelope—plain, black, and unmarked—slipped under the doorframe.
Curious, she picked it up, turning it over in her hands. There was no name, no sign of who it was from. She opened it slowly, pulling out a glossy, printed invitation:
Halloween Party at Julia Ripley’s House This Saturday—Be there or be forgotten.
Astrid scoffed under her breath. Of course, it was from Julia. It was always her, throwing lavish parties and acting like she owned the school. The thought of going made her stomach turn. The idea of being surrounded by people who whispered about her behind her back, who made her feel like an outsider in every room she entered—people like Julia and her friends—it was the last thing she wanted.
She tossed the invitation aside, rolling her eyes at the pretentiousness of it all. What’s the point of showing up to something where you’re only going to be mocked?
Astrid hadn’t been to a party in ages, and she had no interest in the social scene anymore. Not after everything that had happened. The halls of Miss Shannon’s were already hard enough to navigate, and the idea of facing the crowd outside of school, where the insults weren’t whispered but spat directly in her face, was exhausting.
But then, a stray comment floated through her memory—something she had overheard in the hall earlier that day.
"Yeah, Y/N’s definitely going to Julia’s party," one of the girls had said, laughing about how they couldn’t wait to see what costume you would wear.
Astrid’s heart had lurched at the mention of your name, and now, it did again. You were going.
She bit her lip, glancing at the small black box still open on her desk. The pendant inside—the one with the animal tooth and your initials intertwined with hers—sat there, a reminder of what she had thrown away. The realization that you had never really given up on her, even when she had given up on herself, had shaken her to her core.
The guilt had been gnawing at her for days now, ever since you had walked away from her after your argument in the hallway. She hadn’t wanted to admit it then, but it hurt, knowing how badly she had hurt you. She had pushed you away in her darkest moments, convinced she didn’t need anyone, least of all you. But now, she couldn’t stop thinking about what she had lost.
You were always there for me, and I was the one who left you. The thought kept repeating itself in her mind, over and over again, a painful truth she could no longer ignore.
And now…you were going to be at that party. The chance to see you, to explain, to finally apologize for everything she had done, made her heart race. Maybe—just maybe—this could be her chance to make things right.
She stood up from her desk, pacing her small dorm room as she debated what to do. Part of her wanted to forget about it, to hide away in her room like she always did these days, to avoid the crowd and the stares and the inevitable whispers. But another part of her—a deeper, more desperate part—wanted to see you. She needed to see you.
What if this was her only chance? What if you never spoke to her again? What if the door she had slammed shut so long ago could finally be cracked open, even if just a little?
The thought of you, of the friendship—and maybe more—that she had ruined weighed heavily on her chest.
She sighed, running a hand through her hair, her heart heavy with indecision. Could she really face you after everything?
The memory of your face, hurt and betrayed during your last confrontation, flashed in her mind. She had been so cruel, so blinded by her own grief and anger, that she hadn’t realized how much she was hurting you in return. But you had never stopped trying. You had never given up on her, even when she had been at her worst.
And that necklace—the pendant—it was proof. Proof that, even now, you still cared.
Astrid looked at the invitation again, staring at it for a long moment. She had no idea what she would say if she saw you, no idea if you’d even want to hear her out. But she couldn’t hide forever. She couldn’t keep running from the mistakes she had made.
Her fingers tightened around the invitation, determination creeping into her chest. She would go to that party. She would see you. She would find a way to apologize, to make things right, no matter how difficult it might be.
But what she didn’t know—what she couldn’t have known—was that the party wouldn’t be what she expected. Nothing could have prepared her for what was waiting for her when she walked through the doors of Julia’s house.
The night of the Halloween party arrived, and Astrid found herself standing at the bottom of the grand, sloping driveway of Julia’s house. She looked up at the looming structure, her heart pounding with a mix of anxiety and dread. The house, which always had an air of old-world elegance, had been transformed for the occasion. Black and orange streamers lined the walkway, fake cobwebs clung to the trees, and glowing jack-o’-lanterns grinned wickedly from every corner.
The house itself was a strange sight—a looming, gothic-style mansion with towering spires and a stone façade that seemed to absorb the moonlight. It looked like it had been plucked straight from a haunted movie set, with vines creeping up its walls and the shadow of bare, twisted branches looming overhead. The front porch had been decorated with fake tombstones and skeletal figures, and the grand windows glowed brightly from the lights inside, cutting through the eerie atmosphere.
Despite the elaborate decorations, it was the sheer size of the house that made it unsettling. It felt as though the windows watched her, almost as if the house itself had its own pulse—one that beat in time with the heavy, thumping bass of the music coming from inside.
Astrid hesitated, lingering at the edge of the driveway. She could hear laughter and chatter filtering out through the open windows, the muffled sound of party-goers enjoying themselves. Everyone was probably in some over-the-top costume, laughing and taking pictures, oblivious to the person standing outside, contemplating whether she should go in.
Her grip tightened around her phone, the weight of the invitation pulling at her again. You’ll be there, she reminded herself. Maybe this is my chance.
Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself and made her way up the steps. The porch creaked beneath her feet as she approached the door. A skeleton animatronic on the porch swung its bony arm, a hollow, mechanical laugh escaping its jaws as it greeted her arrival. She forced herself to ignore the knot of unease forming in her stomach and pushed open the door.
Inside, the party was in full swing. The interior of the house was just as elaborately decorated as the outside—blood-red lighting washed over the grand foyer, casting long, eerie shadows against the walls. A giant chandelier hung overhead, draped in fake cobwebs, while ghostly figures dangled from the ceiling. The air smelled like a mix of too-sweet candy and perfume, and the sound of people talking and laughing filled the space, almost drowning out the pulsing music that seemed to shake the floor beneath her feet.
She stood just inside the doorway, scanning the room for a familiar face. But she didn’t see you. Instead, all she saw were people dressed in elaborate costumes—vampires, witches, zombies—mingling in groups, none of them even noticing she had arrived. A part of her wanted to turn around and leave, but she stayed, rooted in place, determined to find you.
Astrid kept to the shadows, moving along the walls to avoid drawing attention to herself. She wasn’t here to socialize or make small talk—she was here for one reason, and that was to find you and apologize. The weight of everything she had done, everything she had said, hung heavy on her chest. She didn’t know if you would forgive her, but she needed to try.
Suddenly, the music cut off.
Astrid froze, her heart skipping a beat as the house plunged into silence. The chatter of the guests grew quieter, murmurs of confusion rippling through the crowd. For a moment, all that could be heard was the soft rustle of costumes and the shuffling of feet. Then, the lights went out, plunging the entire room into complete darkness.
Gasps echoed around her, followed by the sound of people shifting uncomfortably. There was an eerie stillness in the air, as if the entire house was holding its breath. Astrid felt her pulse quicken, her hand instinctively reaching into her pocket for her phone.
Suddenly, the sound of a recorded voice crackled through the speakers, filling the dark space. It wasn’t the music that had been playing before. Instead, it was the sound of people gasping and whispering, their voices faint but filled with an edge of fear. It was as if the very walls of the house had come alive, replaying the reactions of the party guests as they stood in the dark.
Astrid’s breath caught in her throat. She didn’t like this—not one bit.
She stood in the corner, frozen, unsure of what to do as the whispers and gasps continued to play on repeat. For a moment, she wondered if it was just part of the Halloween decor—some kind of haunted house effect Julia had set up to scare the guests. But something about it felt off.
She pulled out her phone, turning on the flashlight to cut through the darkness. The bright beam of light flickered as it swept across the room, illuminating the faces of mannequins—twisted, grotesque mannequins—that had been scattered throughout the house. They stood motionless, positioned in strange, unnatural poses, their faces twisted into eerie, silent screams. Some had limbs missing, others had blood-red paint dripping down their plastic faces. Each one had a sign hung around its neck, scrawled in dripping red letters.
Bad Friend. Liar. Asshole.
The words stared back at her, harsh and biting, like cruel accusations carved into the very mannequins themselves. Astrid’s stomach twisted with unease. The mannequins hadn’t been there before, had they? She would have noticed. Right?
As she swept her phone’s light across the room, her breath quickened. More mannequins lined the walls, their distorted figures positioned in grotesque mockery of real people. It was as if they were watching her, judging her. And the worst part? Every single mannequin bore a name—her name.
Astrid Deetz.
It was written on every sign, alongside the cruel words: Bad Friend. Asshole. Dick.
Astrid felt a lump form in her throat, her heart racing as panic began to settle in. This wasn’t just part of the Halloween decor. This was something more. Something meant to get under her skin, to humiliate her in front of everyone.
Her hands trembled as she turned in place, the light from her phone casting long shadows on the floor. She could hear the recorded voices growing louder now—mocking whispers, cruel laughter, as if the house itself was laughing at her. The walls seemed to close in around her, the once festive atmosphere now twisted into something sinister.
Astrid’s breath came in ragged gasps as the reality of the situation sank in. This was a prank. A cruel, calculated prank, meant to make her feel like she was nothing. And it was working.
She stumbled backward, her legs shaky as she tried to move away from the mannequins, her light flickering as it caught more of the red-painted words.
BAD FRIEND. ASSHOLE. YOU DESERVE THIS.
The whispers in the recording grew louder, harsher, until they were ringing in her ears, drowning out her thoughts. She pressed her hands to her ears, trying to block out the noise, but it only seemed to get louder.
And then—right in front of her, projected on the wall—was the worst thing of all.
A photo of you, standing with Julia Ripley, her arms draped over you, leaning in as if to kiss you. You were blurred, but the image was clear enough. It was meant to look like you and Julia were together—meant to hurt her, to break her down even more.
Astrid’s knees buckled as she collapsed to the floor, her heart shattering at the sight. Her chest heaved as she gasped for breath, tears stinging her eyes. She wanted to scream, to tear down the image, to run. But she couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe.
She could only sit there, frozen in place, as the world around her fell apart.
The party had dragged on, and you were on the verge of giving up. Astrid hadn’t shown, and as the hours passed, the hope you’d been clinging to slowly dissolved. You were about to grab a drink, resigned to the idea that maybe tonight wasn’t the night to fix things, when something strange caught your eye.
A crowd had gathered around the large TV in the corner of the room. It wasn’t the usual video games or party antics playing on the screen—it was something different. Something wrong. The air in the room felt heavier, the laughter quieting into hushed whispers, and you pushed your way through the crowd, anxiety creeping up your spine as you tried to get a better view.
And then, you saw it.
On the screen was a live feed of Astrid, kneeling in the middle of some dark, abandoned room. Her body was shaking, her hands covering her face as she sobbed uncontrollably. In front of her, projected on the wall, was a cruel, photoshopped image—you with Julia Ripley, standing too close, her lips almost touching yours. The sight of it hit you like a punch to the chest, the knot of horror tightening in your stomach. This wasn’t some innocent prank. This was deliberate. This was cruel.
Your heart pounded in your chest, and the reality of what was happening crashed down on you all at once. They had set her up. This wasn’t a party invitation—this was a trap, designed to humiliate Astrid, to break her down in front of everyone. Julia Ripley was behind this.
You whirled around, scanning the room, your blood boiling as you spotted Julia, sitting comfortably in a lavish chair she had dragged out—her "prom queen" chair, a symbol of her self-obsessed reign over the social scene. She was sitting at the front, watching Astrid’s breakdown on the screen with a smug expression plastered on her face, completely unaware of the rage building inside you.
Without thinking, you stormed toward her, anger boiling over with every step. Julia saw you coming, and before you could even speak, she reached out, her arm moving to wrap itself around you in a flirtatious, almost possessive way. She looked at you with a sly grin, as if she expected you to join her in her twisted satisfaction.
But you were beyond furious.
“You went too far,” you said, your voice low and sharp, your hands clenched into fists as you shoved her hand off you, disgusted. “When you said you invited her, you meant to a prank party, didn’t you?”
Julia’s smirk faltered. Her hand recoiled, but she tried to play it off, huffing in annoyance as she leaned back in her chair. “She deserved it,” she snapped, her voice dripping with condescension. “After the way she treated you, how can you still defend her? You deserve better.”
You couldn’t believe the audacity, and the rage inside you boiled over.
You clenched your fists tighter, every muscle in your body trembling with anger. “Deserve better?” you echoed, your voice shaking with barely controlled fury. “I could never be your girlfriend—I’m in love with Astrid! I always have been, and I always will be.”
Julia’s eyes widened in shock, and a hush fell over the room. The words left your mouth before you could stop them, but you didn’t care. You had held it in for too long, and now it was out, ringing in the air for everyone to hear.
“I’ve always been in love with Astrid Deetz,” you repeated, your voice firm, filled with emotion. “Because unlike everyone else in this room, she’s real. She’s the realest fucking person I’ve ever met. Yeah, she can be a dick sometimes, but she’s mourning. She’s going through life with a mother who is too busy to acknowledge her and a father who was the only person who ever truly understood her, now gone forever.”
The room was dead silent now. You could feel every pair of eyes on you, but all you could think about was Astrid—how broken she had looked, sobbing on her knees in that abandoned house.
“At least Astrid’s dad loved her for who she was, not for what she could do for him,” you continued, your voice growing louder, more passionate with every word. “He didn’t need her to win some meaningless trophies to impress other middle-aged women going through their midlife crises.”
Julia’s smug expression melted away as your words hit her like a sledgehammer, her face paling as tears welled up in her eyes. The entire crowd stood frozen, the weight of your words settling over them like a heavy cloud.
Everyone was silent. The only sound that remained was the faint, echoing sobs from the live feed of Astrid on the TV.
You turned back to the screen, the tears now welling up in your own eyes as you heard the sound of Astrid’s broken confessions playing over the speakers. Her voice, fragile and filled with regret, crackled through the room, cutting through the silence like a blade.
“Where is she?” you demanded, your voice shaking. You turned back to Julia, who had nothing left to say. She stared at you, tears streaming down her face, but you had no sympathy for her. You didn’t care about her tears.
All that mattered was Astrid.
Julia stammered, trying to pull herself together, but she was too flustered to form words. You couldn’t wait any longer. You needed to find Astrid, and you needed to find her now.
Without another word, you rushed toward the door, your heart racing as you prepared yourself for what came next. Astrid was out there, alone, broken, and you weren’t going to let her suffer any longer. You had to save her.
As you sprinted through the streets, your heart racing, you couldn’t stop thinking about Astrid—how broken she looked, how badly you needed to find her. You heard snippets of her confession playing on the live feed, her voice choked with emotion as she admitted her guilt and sorrow.
“I was a terrible friend,” she sobbed. “I didn’t deserve her… She was always there, but I pushed her away. I didn’t know how to handle it… And now, it’s too late. I’m so sorry.”
Tears pricked at your eyes as you heard her words. You had to get to her. Now.
Miraculously, You had found the abandoned building. This was the second option for the Halloween party if Julia’s dad wasn’t leaving for a yacht trip. You vaguely remember the room Astrid was in and raced through the abandoned house, your heart pounding. The air was thick with the smell of decay, and the dimly lit hallways were littered with mannequin limbs and scattered decorations. The floor creaked beneath your feet as you pushed open a cracked door, your chest tightening with fear.
“I don’t deserve her… I pushed her away because I didn’t know how to deal with it…,” Astrid’s voice, thick with emotion, echoed through the room as you sprinted through the dark hallways of the abandoned house. Her confession played on the live feed, each word pulling at your heart. Tears pricked your eyes as you heard the depth of her regret, and with every step, the urgency to find her grew.
You finally pushed through the door, in the center of the room, under the faint flickering red lighting of the chandelier, Astrid was kneeling. Her face was buried in her hands, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed uncontrollably in front of the photoshopped image of you and Julia. You could feel the anger bubbling inside you, wanting to scream at Julia for orchestrating this awful setup, for making Astrid feel so broken. But as soon as you saw Astrid, all that mattered was getting to her.
You knelt beside her, gently placing a trembling hand on her shoulder. Astrid flinched at the touch, her body tensing, but when she looked up and saw it was you, her devastated expression deepened.
“Why are you here?” she whispered, her voice cracking. “You shouldn’t have come… You don’t need to see me like this.”
Your throat tightened as you fought to keep your voice steady. “I’m here because I care, Astrid. I’ve always cared.”
She shook her head, her eyes filled with regret and self-loathing. “I don’t deserve your care. I don’t deserve you.” She let out a broken laugh, her voice raw with guilt. “I’ve been horrible to you. I said… I said I didn’t need you, but I didn’t mean it. I was just so angry at everything—at the world, at myself.”
Her words cut deep, but you could see the pain behind them. The guilt had been gnawing at her, consuming her from the inside, and now, as you knelt beside her, you realized just how much she had been carrying alone.
“I know,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “ I know you didn’t mean those things. You were grieving, and I should have understood that. But I never stopped caring, Astrid. I never gave up on you.”
Astrid looked at you, wide-eyed and tearful, her breath catching in her throat. “But I was so awful to you…” she choked out, her hands shaking.
“You were hurting,” you said, gently wiping the tears from her cheek. “And I know that now. But I’m here, Astrid. I’m still here.”
Her sobs began to quiet against your shoulder, her body trembling as the weight of everything she’d carried finally seemed to lift, if only slightly. For so long, she had been drowning in her pain, and you could feel the relief in the way she clung to you, her fingers gripping your shirt like you were her lifeline, afraid to let go in case she sank back into the darkness.
You stayed like that for what felt like forever, letting her sobs subside into quiet, steady breaths. Your hand moved gently through her hair, offering her the comfort she had denied herself for so long.
“I’ve been so stupid,” she whispered eventually, her voice hoarse and heavy with regret. “I pushed you away because I didn’t know how to handle anything anymore. I was angry. I was scared… and instead of asking for help, I turned into someone I hate.”
Your heart ached at her words, hearing how much she had struggled, all the while shutting you out. But now, here she was, vulnerable, her walls crumbling around her as she finally let you in.
“You were hurting, Astrid,” you said softly, pulling back just enough to meet her gaze. “I didn’t understand it then, but I do now. And I forgive you. We can fix this.”
Her eyes searched yours, wide and tear-filled, as if trying to grasp the truth of your words. “But how can you forgive me after everything? I treated you like you didn’t matter. I threw away our friendship, pushed you out of my life… How do we come back from that?”
You smiled gently, brushing away another tear that escaped down her cheek. “We come back from it by starting right here, right now. You’re not alone anymore. I’m not going anywhere.”
Astrid’s lip quivered, and she leaned forward, pressing her forehead against yours, her breath shaky as she let out a soft sigh. “I don’t deserve you,” she murmured, her voice breaking with emotion. “But I’m so grateful you’re here.”
You smiled, tightening your embrace around her. “I’m right where I’m supposed to be, Astrid. With you.”
She closed her eyes, resting her head against your shoulder again, her grip on your shirt loosening as she let herself relax for the first time in what felt like forever. The tension between you faded, replaced by the quiet comfort of being together—finally, after so much time and distance.
As the sound of her steady breaths filled the room, you realized that it wasn’t just the apology or the confession that mattered. It was the fact that you were still here, together, ready to rebuild what had been broken.
“We’ll figure it out,” you whispered, your voice gentle but firm. “We’ll take it one step at a time.”
Astrid nodded against your shoulder, her body calming as the weight of her guilt began to lift. “I don’t know what I did to deserve a second chance with you,” she said, her voice raw but grateful. “But I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right.”
You pulled her even closer, holding her tight as your heart swelled with love and relief. “You don’t have to do it alone,” you whispered softly. “We’ll do it together.”
And for the first time in what felt like forever, Astrid let herself believe that maybe—just maybe—things could be okay again.
After a long, tear-filled confession, you and Astrid left the abandoned house. The chilly night air hit your skin, the weight of the tension left behind in that eerie place still hanging in the air. The house itself, with its broken windows and crumbling walls, seemed to watch you both as you walked away. Its dim, flickering lights and twisted mannequins were now just a distant memory, but their haunting presence clung to you. The cracked door creaked one last time before closing behind you.
The air felt heavier, but for the first time in a long while, there was also something new between you—hope.
You guided Astrid back to your place, her hand tucked into yours. She was silent most of the way, her fingers tightening around yours every so often, as if she was afraid you might disappear. The long walk through the dark, empty streets felt almost comforting after the night’s emotional chaos, the streetlights flickering softly, casting long shadows on the ground as you both walked side by side.
When you finally arrived at your house, the warmth of the familiar environment enveloped you. Your parents were already asleep, the quiet hum of the house wrapping around you like a protective blanket. You led Astrid to your room, offering her a soft smile as you turned on the small lamp by your bed.
“Come on, let’s get you settled,” you said gently, watching as Astrid glanced around the room with an almost shy expression. She looked so different now—vulnerable in a way you hadn’t seen before. But there was also a kind of peace in her eyes, like she was finally letting herself breathe again.
You both climbed into your bed, wrapping yourselves in the warm blankets, and for the first time in what felt like forever, things felt... okay. You lay next to each other, sharing quiet conversation as the weight of the night slowly faded away.
At one point, you admitted, “I heard most of your confession, you know.”
Astrid stiffened beside you, her eyes widening as she turned to face you, clearly embarrassed. “You did?”
You nodded, your gaze soft. “I did. And I’m glad I heard it, Astrid. I needed to know how much you’ve been hurting.”
Astrid’s face twisted in regret, but before she could speak, you gently wrapped an arm around her. “It’s okay,” you whispered. “You don’t have to say anything else. I’m just glad you’re here.”
She held onto you tightly after that, her body relaxing against yours as the tension melted away. But then, as you shifted slightly to make room, Astrid’s hand gripped your shirt, stopping you from moving any further. You blinked, confused for a moment, until she pulled you back toward her.
And before you could even react, she crashed her lips against yours.
The kiss was soft at first—gentle, almost hesitant as if she was testing the waters. But soon, it deepened, growing more heated and passionate. Her hands tangled in your shirt, pulling you closer as her lips moved against yours, and you responded in kind, matching her intensity.
The kiss turned sloppy, her fingers curling around the fabric of your shirt, tugging you closer. The heat between you both was palpable, the passion years in the making, but just as things started to intensify, there was a sudden creak at the door.
Your mother.
The door opened slightly, and Astrid, in a panic, shoved you so hard you fell right off the bed with a soft thud.
“Oh my goodness!” your mom squealed from the doorway, her eyes bright with surprise. “Astrid, honey, is that you?” She didn’t seem to notice you, sprawled out on the floor, as she focused entirely on Astrid. “Are you staying over tonight? I’m so glad to see you back!”
Astrid, flustered and embarrassed, stammered, “Uh, no—no, ma’am. I’m not staying.”
Your mom beamed, already half out the door. “Well, you must stay for dinner. You’re looking a bit thin! I’ll go tell your father to break out the good china tonight! It’s so good to see you again, sweetie!” With that, she closed the door, leaving the two of you in stunned silence.
Astrid peered over the edge of the bed, looking down at you with wide eyes. “Are you okay?”
You, still dazed from the sudden shove and your mother’s enthusiastic surprise, could only mutter, “You kissed me…”
Astrid burst out laughing, rolling onto her back as she covered her face with her hands. Her laughter was light and mischievous, her embarrassment melting away into something playful. “Duh,” she said between laughs. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”
You stared up at her, feeling a mix of disbelief and affection swirl in your chest.
“Now,” Astrid said, her laughter still bubbling in her voice, “come on back up here so I can ruin your dinner with some more sweets.”
Grinning, you scrambled back into bed, leaning in to kiss her again, the warmth of her lips meeting yours once more. This time, the kiss was slow, sweet, and filled with everything you hadn’t been able to say before. It was perfect.
The next day at school, the change was obvious. People stared as you and Astrid walked through the halls hand-in-hand. The whispers didn’t bother you. They couldn’t. Not when Astrid was right there beside you, holding your hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.
You walked her to class, stealing a quick kiss before she disappeared inside. She blushed slightly but smiled at you as she waved you off.
As Astrid made her way through the day, she started to notice something—the bullying had stopped. There were no cruel whispers, no mocking looks. Instead, people seemed wary, like they knew something had shifted but couldn’t quite place it.
Later, after classes, Astrid found you waiting for her by the lockers. She was curious, the confusion evident on her face as she asked, “What happened today? Did you… do something?”
You shrugged casually, pulling out your phone and showing her a video. It was of you, roasting Julia Ripley in front of everyone at the Halloween party the night before. You had confronted her, tearing into her with the same fiery passion that had always defined you.
Astrid’s mouth dropped open, completely gobsmacked as she watched the video. “You did this?”
You smiled, shrugging nonchalantly. “I just kept it real. Like you would.”
Astrid’s shocked expression slowly morphed into a smirk. She leaned in and kissed you on the cheek, whispering, "Guess I’m rubbing off on you...knew I would eventually." leaving you blushing as she walked ahead, as you followed suit.
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xclowniex · 3 days ago
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"calling any jewish person who doesn't agree with their specific idea of peace but still wants peace, a Nazi."
Actually no you're not a Nazi simply for not agreeing with a specific idea of peace, you're a Nazi because you support the people running concentration camps and claiming all the innocent people being tortured in them are "terrorists" and all their torturers are the real victims (assuming if you actually acknowledge the existence of those concentration camps and don't call the whole thing "blood libel")
Antisemites stop doing holocaust inversion challenged failed
*flips the days without incident counter back to zero*
Anyway, sadly another daily reminder that Nazi is a specific brand of anti jew fascist, it is not a catch all term for bigot.
Also another reminder that if you claim I think things without ever reading my blog, you just show how antisemitism is rotting your brain <3. I have never once said that I support the war and from the beginning of my blog have said that I do not support this current war. I have never once called all Palestinians terrorists and have made more posts than I can count separating hamas from your average Palestinian. This just reflects on you that you think that all Palestinians are rapists and murders, which is awfully racist of you. You thinking those actions are morally okay doesn't remove the racism.
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my-castles-crumbling · 21 hours ago
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Hi! I'm new-ish to the jegulus/rosekiller ships and gonna be honest I'm really struggling to romanticize and ship characters that were/are death eaters, so I want to hear you takes on it and how you think it should be approached. Love the mini fics, they make up about 90% of my feed lol and I'd love to learn your approach! Thank!
Hi!
Well first I just want to say that you for like respectfully asking because so many people are so rude about it honestly.
Second, I think it's also important to say that you don't have to ship someone or force yourself to like anything! If you don't like a ship or can't understand it, it's totally okay to not read it!
I guess for me, it's many things:
I think this fandom has morphed into it's own entity outside of canon. I think that's both because that happens with most fandoms and also because of JKR and everything she's done. So now it's kind of at the point where canon Regulus exists somewhere, but not here, not to me. Same with Barty and Evan. I've created my own version of them, and I don't think James would ever be with a Death Eater. But he would be with my version of Regulus (and the version a lot of other people write). I skip over those fanfics where he is, and that's the best part about fandom- if you don't like it, you don't have to read it. But fandom is used to reimagine canon, so it doesn't have to be canon. You can reinvent anything you want.
I think it's important to recognize that we actually know very little canon info about these characters. The only character we spend a lot of time with in canon is Barty. Evan is mentioned once and Regulus is only mentioned a few times. So we simply don't know a lot about them. Yes, they are canonically Death Eaters, but we also know that canonically, Regulus was a defender of house elves and left the Death Eaters to try to destroy Horcruxes. We also know that Barty was very unloved by his father and joined the Death Eaters very young. These are flawed characters, not inherently evil characters.
People often use fanfic to explore characters- their flaws, motivations, backgrounds, and more. I think most depictions of these characters don't show them as perfect. They explore those flaws.
The fics that I read and write feature a Regulus, Barty, and Evan who either are in an alternate universe and are not Death Eaters, or a version of these characters that does not want to be a Death Eater. Other people might read different things and I respect that, but in my headcanons, Regulus, Barty, and Evan are NOT blood supremacists. I know they are in canon, but I don't like reading canon- that's why I read fanfic!
I think there's something to be argued about the fact that a lot of people accept Drarry as a morally acceptable ship, even thought Draco was a Death Eater. And I think the reason why is because we get Draco's redeemable qualities. We haven't gotten them from Regulus, Barty, and Evan but the people who ship them imagine that those qualities exist.
I think it's important to acknowledge though that all of this does not excuse the canon ideals of Death Eaters. It also doesn't mean everyone should ship these ships. Some people can't, because of their canon origins, and that's completely okay and valid! The thing that's not okay is sending hate to people about who they ship, and that's what tends to happen in this fandom, especially with the jegulus v jily debate.
Let me know if you have questions!
Also a reminder that any hate in the comments/reblogs/my inbox will be deleted!
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bogkeep · 2 days ago
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once again bravely attempting to continue my readthrough of Robot Book.
when it's not doing backstory exposition, it's actually not so bad. there's a very fun dynamic between the protagonist and another robot who tried to poach her for parts, and who are now forced to work together. like that's genuinely compelling and i want to see where it goes.
Unfortunately the backstory exposition chapters make me wanna scream into a pillow. the book tries to be smart and clever but is deeply unaware of like... people and dynamics that exist in the real world. it could have done many interesting things with the world building, but it can't, because it wants robots that act and speak like cowboys and talk of god and heaven and hell. that could have worked if it had just handwaved the past away and didn't go into the backstory of how we got here. maybe this whole thing is like an alternative history thing a la fallout where the robot revolution happened in the early 1900ds or something, because at this point it's the only thing that could make sense.
weird backstory thing #1:
so the protag, pre apocalypse, belonged to an old man who dies in his sixties. he had a wife twenty years his junior who he had married twenty years prior, which most people in our world acknowledge as Kinda Creepy and Mayhaps A Red Flag. but okay. then we find out that this wife, while admiring how her husband chose to age, used anti-aging technology on herself so that she looked like a twenty-something year old for the duration of the marriage. it is described as "a gift she gave to her husband" which is such a chillingly creepy sentence it literally gives me goosebumps. it's says her husband never asked for it and also that she was not a type to care about what others think. i think this book is trying to portray this as romantic, that she loved her husband deeply and thought of him often and fondly after her death and never remarried. THIS IS KINDA WEIRD RIGHT. like the way it is presented without zero awareness of real life dynamics is weirding me out. will this be brought up later with sinister implications or are we just accepting this????? time will tell.
weird backstory thing #2
i already complained about the robots choosing to have genders despite the robots also not caring about "human values" anymore. this book is from 2017, so i get that it isn't like, particularly aware of transgender philosophies, but it also Could have been. anyway, there was another passage about Robot Gender. with warning for transphobia:
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head in hands. didn't even try.
there's so much interesting commentary ripe for the picking but this book just Doesn't. just will not
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takingchences · 3 days ago
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𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐩𝐭. 𝟏𝟖
A descendant of a legendary quirk longs to separate herself from her family name, but first she'll have to confront villains, ghosts from the past, and her growing attraction for Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight.
Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x fem!oc
Warnings: mature language
series masterlist + my masterlist
It was nearing midnight as Sana sat in the floor of her bedroom, her half-empty suitcase sitting abandoned off to the side as she stared down at the two letters in her lap. One was her letter from U.A informing her of her recommendation. The other letter was from Monoma. Or, to be more specific, Monoma's mother.
Or, to be even more specific... her aunt.
She'd finally gotten around to reading it, having rediscovered its existence as she packed for the internships, then reread it again about half a dozen times as she tried to process the news. Despite the boy's claims that it would tell her everything she needed to know, she felt more confused than ever. The woman introduced herself as Kurumi Monoma, formerly Kurumi Takahashi.
Her maternal aunt.
Until that moment, Sana had no idea she even had an aunt. Her mother's side of the family—much like the woman herself—was a complete mystery. She'd never met her maternal grandparents, nor did she know their names. Her father and his family refused to even acknowledge that Suzume had existed... or that at one point in time, she'd been a Sakano herself.
We really are cursed. Sana almost laughed at the irony of it all. They were famous for their light powers, but there was so much darkness surrounding her family's history. It was just as Monoma said at the festival.
"It's kind of ironic, isn't it?" He'd laughed. "That the brightest lights cast the darkest shadows."
It sort of made sense now, why he'd taunted her like that during the cavalry battle. He must've thought she was aware of their connection and been offended by the fact that she refused to acknowledge him or his family even when they were standing face to face. Sana was still upset by some of the things he'd said, especially since he'd made such crude comments in front of her friends as well as his, but she could understand where he was coming from. Tensions were high the day of the Sports Festival and emotions ran wild with the adrenaline coursing through their veins.
Kurumi had gone on to explain in her letter how she'd recognized Sana while watching the program and had asked her son to reach out to her. The woman seemed nice, even including her phone number so that Sana could contact her if she wished. She was hesitant to use the number, not sure what she would even say.
The strawberry blonde couldn't fault the woman for wanting to get to know her. Maybe they both needed the closure, so that they wouldn't have to constantly wonder what might've been. Or maybe it was out of a sense of duty. If they were truly family as she claimed, then maybe the woman felt responsible for her. Maybe she wanted to see if she was well. The Sakanos were severely lacking in the loving family department. As her sister, Kurumi must've heard stories about what they were like from Suzume.
Maybe this could be something good. Sana reread the letter for what felt like the hundredth time. I could finally learn about my mom.
The solar girl was so afraid to hope, to move on from all the heartache and one day be happy. Katsuki and the others pulled her out of that lonely place. Her friends from U.A accepted her when no one else did, not even Shoto. To now learn that there are people out there that might care about her—not for press coverage and appearances, but real, genuine affection... It was terrifying. Because she'd experienced that feeling before, long ago, and having it all ripped away so suddenly had nearly destroyed her.
Setting the personalized letter aside, she turned her attention to the recommendation letter.
Dear Ms. Sakano,
We are writing to inform you of your status as a recommended student. The hero that sponsored you has asked to remain anonymous for the time being. As a recommendation applicant, you will be required to-
Sana sighed, tossing the paper away. The letter went on to tell her the date and time of her exam. There wasn't a single clue in the letter indicating who had recommended her to U.A. It wasn't like she knew that many Pro Heroes besides Endeavor. Her father's low opinion on the hero profession was made very public very early on in his career. She assumed that as his flesh and blood, the heroes would not take kindly to her either.
Except one did.
And she had no idea who or why.
What did they have to gain from recommending her? Why would they help her achieve her dream when her own father actively fought to end theirs? She groaned, running a hand through her hair. "Time for bed," she sighed, eyeing the clock. "I have a long day ahead of me."
¸☾⋆*・゚¸☾⋆*・゚¸☾⋆*
The entire class of 1-A was gathered at the train station with their belongings. It was the wee hours of the morning, the sun hadn't even fully risen yet. They collected their train tickets from their teacher and were grouped accordingly by their destinations.
"You all have your costumes, right?" Mr. Aizawa somehow looked even more haggard than usual, probably because of how early they had to meet at the train station. After all, some of them would be riding the train for hours to get to their agencies. They would be traveling all over the country for their internships: Tokyo, Kyushu, Hosu, etc. It was better to send them off all at once. "Remember, you aren't allowed to wear them in public. Don't drop them or anything."
"Yessir!"
"Speak clearly! It's 'yes, sir,' Ashido." Their homeroom teacher scolded with a tired sigh.
"Yes, sir..." the pinkette slumped in defeat. Sana nudged her with a small smile, which Mina eventually returned.
"Make sure you mind your manners with the heroes at your internships!" His hair stood up and his eyes glowed as he activated his quirk threateningly, then he jerked his chin towards the trains, letting his hair fall back down. He rubbed his bloodshot eyes. "Now, off with you."
"Yes, sir!" They yelled, breaking off in different directions to find their boarding stations. Mina and Sana squeezed each other tightly before parting ways, promising to text and video chat when available.
The internships would last exactly one week, and it was strangely thrilling to think how different they'll all be when school starts back. In the next few days, they'll grow and develop under the supervision of real pros. It wasn't the same as learning from the heroes of U.A. Those lessons, while practical and informative, are conducted in a classroom in a controlled environment. This time, they would be actively patrolling the streets and gaining on-hand knowledge and experience.
The Sakano girl couldn't wait to get started.
A certain ash blonde stood off to the side with his hands in his pockets, purposefully avoiding her gaze. Sana stopped next to him and tilted her head. "Are you waiting on something?" She lifted herself on the tips of her toes with a cheeky grin. "A good morning kiss, perhaps?" She whispered.
He scoffed, pushing off the wall to walk away. "Shuddup and grab your shit."
The pastel-haired girl easily caught up to him, practically skipping with excitement. "So... Best Jeanist, huh?" He arched a pale brow. "I just never pegged you for a fan." Sana innocently shrugged. "He's so polite and charismatic and you're so..." Vermillion eyes narrowed the longer the silence dragged on. "Not."
Bakugou tched, observing the passing commuters as they took their seats by the window. Their overnight bags and costumes were loaded into a compartment above their heads. "It's not about being a fan, idiot. He's ranked in the top five. If anyone can teach me something, it's him." Sana nodded, leaning back in her seat as the train slowly pulled forward. He turned away from the window to face her. "Why did you pick Mirko, anyway? Your quirks couldn't be more different." He knocked on the side of her head with his knuckles, making her hiss. "You were supposed to pick someone that could help you, dumbass!"
She glared at him, rubbing the tender spot. "Your quirk is just as different compared to Jeanist's! Besides, I wouldn't say there was a specific reason," she tried to explain. "More like, when I really thought about what I wanted to get out of this experience, she seemed like the best choice."
Bakugou perched his cheek against his fist as he gazed through the window, watching the sky go from a dusky purple to a hazy peach. Soft golden rays slipped through the gaps between skyscrapers as the sun crept higher in the sky. "What about your stupid drawback?"
Sana shrugged. "What about it?"
"You told Aizawa. You gonna tell her too?."
"I told Aizawa because he's my teacher and his quirk could help if something went wrong. Mirko's can't."
"If you'd gone to Endeavor's-" he grumbled.
"There's nothing for me there, Katsuki." She sighed, pulling her phone and earbuds out of her pocket. "No one knows how to deal with my quirk. I've accepted it and so should you." He begrudgingly dropped the subject, aware of her feelings towards the less glamorous aspects of her quirk.
"Where the hell are you even staying? She doesn't have an agency."
"We're at the same hotel as you." She stated like it was obvious.
He whipped around with furrowed brows. "HUH?"
Sana paid him no mind, her eyes trained on her phone as she played Candy Crush with one earphone in. He could faintly hear a Britney Spears song and he rolled his eyes. The peach-haired girl glanced up at him as her score was tallied. "What? It's like you said. She doesn't have her own agency, so Jeanist is letting us use his." The glint in her eye was wicked as she leaned over the armrest. "Just think, Katsuki. You'll get to wake up to this gorgeous face all week long." She pointed at herself with a gleeful grin.
He palmed her face, shoving her away with a grimace. "Fuckin' Hell."
She cackled, settling back into her seat. He turned back towards the window, frowning at the passing scenery. He didn't move as nimble fingers slipped an earbud into his ear. Didn't protest or make a fuss as girly pop music infiltrated his brain. Sana leaned into his side as she continued to play games on her phone, humming along softly under her breath.
And if anyone watching the two saw the tiny upward curve of his lips as he watched the oblivious girl with hopeless affection in his eyes... well, it was none of their damn business.
¸☾⋆*・゚¸☾⋆*・゚¸☾⋆*
The Genius Office was very modern compared to Endeavor's. Here, everything was brightly colored, the layout was more open, and the atmosphere was much more inviting. They were quickly ushered into changing rooms to wear their costumes. Jeanist was waiting for Katsuki in his office, but Mirko was nowhere to be seen. While Katsuki was escorted upstairs to meet his mentor, Sana was given a tour around the agency by some of the sidekicks.
"And this is-"
"THE HELL DID YOU CALL ME, YA DAMN FURRY?" Loud, boisterous yelling echoed down the long hallway, gaining their attention. Sana's head whipped around, immediately identifying the voice as Katsuki's. She hurried towards the lobby, the startled interns following after her. When they arrived at the scene, a woman with warm brown skin and long white hair stood smirking in front of a seething Bakugou. The boy was restrained by denim fibers as Jeanist stood behind them shaking his head in dismay.
Mirko's rabbit ears twitched and swiveled, her red eyes narrowing gleefully as she spotted her protege. "There she is!" In one mighty leap the pro landed right in front of the young girl. "Well?" Mirko tapped her foot, gloved hands on her hips. She twirled her finger in the air. "Turn and let me look at ya. I need to see what I'm working with." Sana did a slow, sarcastic spin with her arms out by her sides. Mirko smirked, crossing her arms with a snort of approval. "You're a little on the scrawny side for my taste," she scrunched her nose up. "But I can fix that no problem."
Sana huffed out a laugh. "Vlad King is scrawny compared to you, Mirko."
The rabbit hero pointed at her with one eye closed, her shit-eating grin widening. "Oh, this'll be fun, girlie." She threw a muscular arm around Sana. "See ya around, Number Four." Mirko saluted the man with two fingers, swiftly lowering one of her fingers to flip Bakugou the bird. "Teach that little runt some manners, would ya?"
Bakugou's fierce comeback was muffled as the threads wrapped around his arms and torso shot up to cover his mouth as well.
"Please refrain from such crude behavior, Mirko. You're setting a terrible example for our young guests." Best Jeanist swept his hair aside with a sigh.
The woman shrugged, unbothered by her coworker's mild scolding. "He can't get much worse, can he?" Sana covered her mouth to suppress her giggles as she was steered towards the back of the building, leaving Bakugou's muffled shouting behind them. She hadn't gotten to this portion of the tour yet, having been distracted by the arrival of her mentor. Mirko pushed open a set of heavy metal doors and strutted inside with Sana trailing behind her curiously. It was a massive room divided into sections by plexiglass. The farthest room had a large swimming pool, while the room next to it was equipped with weight lifts and workout machines. The rest of the gym was bare apart from the heavy padding on the floor and walls and long, padded benchs lining the walls. Another door was left unmarked, though it was most likely a locker room.
A training facility, Sana realized instantly. She was very familiar with the setup, having spent most of her free time in Endeavor's.
Mirko plopped down on the closest bench, crossing her ankles. "So," the older woman leaned back against her arms. "What made you pick me? And don't tell me it was because of my rank."
The light user was briefly reminded of Katsuki. She wondered if he was beginning to regret his decision. Best Jeanist was in for a hell of a week, but if anyone could get through to the bombastic blonde, it was him. "No, nothing like that."
Mirko cocked her head, scrutinizing her harder this time, as if trying to peer into her soul. "From what I saw of the Festival, you already have a pretty clear understanding of your quirk. It's useful for a variety of situations and it's super flashy, so you could go mainstream pretty easily if you wanted to. I guess the underground could work too, though Eraser would know more about that. You're good-lookin', too. That's good. A pretty face means more endorsement deals and merchandise. You're from a well-known family, though..." Mirko shrugged. "I can't say that will help you much in the ratings."
Sana rolled her eyes with a scoff. "Tell me about it."
Mirko snorted, bobbing her head in agreement. "What I'm left wondering, kid, is... what's the problem?"
"Problem?" The peach-haired girl repeated. "I don't understand-"
"C'mon, girlie. You wouldn't have come to me if you didn't want my help with something. Our quirks are incompatible, so I have no idea what made you decide to intern with me. Wouldn't someone with a similar quirk have been a better fit?"
"Maybe," Sana admitted. "But I didn't make my decision based on my quirk." The older woman sat up straight, intrigued. "I wanted someone I could model myself after. When I think about the kind of hero I want to become, I picture a strong, confident woman who doesn't take shit from anybody." Sana arched a brow. "Sound familiar?"
Rumi's lips curve into a smirk. "You don't seem like a pushover to me, kid."
"No, but I know what it's like to live in the spotlight. My ancestor is considered a historical figure, which means everyone thinks they're entitled to know every detail of my personal life. Anything I say in an interview or press conference will be twisted and warped to fit a narrative. Even now, people don't see me. I'm a Sakano—a cog in the machine, a part of the whole instead of a whole in my own right. The public already has a preconceived notion of who I am thanks to my old man. I can't have my public image tainted by the connotations that come with the name Sakano."
The bronze-skinned woman tugged on her snow-white ear. "Why choose the hero path, then? You're setting yourself up for a world of hurt."
Sana's answer hadn't changed since the first time Touya had asked her that same question all those years ago. "What about you, star? Why do you want to be a hero?"
Sana had beamed proudly, as though she'd been waiting for him to ask. "To protect Touya!"
The boy's ears had burned bright pink. If anyone else had said that to him, he would've gotten upset, insisting that he was more than capable of taking care of himself. He knew Sana wasn't calling him weak when she said that she wanted to protect him. They were strong—much stronger than his father gave them credit for.
It was that strength that became their downfall.
Sana thought of how he'd been doomed from the start. No one had been there to save him in his time of need. Just like when Katsuki was held hostage by that Sludge Villain, people had gathered to watch Sekoto Peak burn with rapt attention, unwilling to step in and help.
No one had reported Touya's situation to the authorities despite the constant injuries along his arms and torso. Sure, they were self-inflicted... but shouldn't that have been a sign that something much darker was going on in the Todoroki household? No one had questioned the boy's mental state or why such a young child was stressed enough that his vibrant red hair faded into white in just two months.
Touya's own family couldn't do anything to stop it. Who protects you when it's a hero that's hurting you? Someone who protects strangers every day while also bringing such pain and turmoil to the ones they're meant to love.
"To protect the ones that go unnoticed."
Rumi sensed there was more to it than just a nice sentiment, but who was she to judge? She'd only become a hero to prove her strength. Sana crossed her arms. "What about you? Why did you pick me?"
Mirko shrugged. "That's easy. I want to fight you."
"... Huh?"
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redroomrecord · 6 months ago
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oblique-lane · 8 days ago
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THE TF2 COMICS MIGHT BE AN UNRELIABLE NARRATOR!!!
What I mean by this. I personally don't really like the comics. While I'm grateful about certain aspects and some character study it provides, I don't exactly believe their narrative; I don't believe the story as it is.
Just– look at this:
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↑↑↑ this is so meta?? Comics referring to itself as the comics?
So it says this story isn't what ACTUALLY happened, it's quite literally an overdramatized (and quite censored) in-universe comic about something that did happen in-universe.
But do we know what exactly was that? Well, no? All we have is this. If you want to see a non-meta story about mercs, well good luck staring at the void. Maybe fantasize about what the Adult Swim show might've been like. I dunno.
I know tf2 wasn't planned to have lore at it's launch, the characters themselves had their story embedded in them.
And you know what? I love it that way.
The characters are so self-sufficient, you don't really need to read the comics to understand them. The game / gameplay itself holds so much for thoughts.
It just lacks details, that's what. And comics were made to patch it with it's own fix-it interpretations of what was there in the beginning.
And well. The comics story IS good in its own way. But I don't like this particular interpretation. I personally don't like the story itself (except some character study aspects like Spydad, Administrator/Pauling character study, existence of Bidwell??)... I see they were going for the goofiness of tf2 everyone loves but... For me, the comics goofiness feels a little bit... foreign?
I don't think you need to go for over the top absurd for it to stay loveable tf2.
The comics lore is basically "Adventures with reunited colleagues to haunt the precious Australium to save the world (?) while wacky side things happen along". They didn't even address the RED and BLU team issue, how disrespectful?!!
The original game lore was "Different colored yet otherwise identical teams partake in corporate driven meaningless fights, escaping death with a respawn machine". Just the sentence alone evokes so much hidden dread about it?
And they can't exactly coexist.
Like, you see why I like the second version more, that's where all the angst things in my head come from! Yes, it's still goofy wacky in it's own way but you know what? So was Portal 2, yet we cried over it. Wacky doesn't mean some hi-fi soul crushing shit can't happen.
So when people try to bring up EVERYTHING what's considered official about tf2, and everything obviously starts to geet loose and inconsistent and filled with plot holes? And people have nothing else to do but ignore those inconsistencies? It makes me gnaw on walls. It took me a while but I've learnt that simply taking comics out of the equation just makes it magically work again. If you prefer consistency over the colorful lore (I do).
So. Yeah. I'm disliking the thing for what most people fell in love with. Just parallel playing here. With my own cryptic visions.
I know it's probably stupid to ask or expect something like this from tf2. It was never meant to be this way anyway. It was meant to be enjoyed as a silly little game. So why am I SUFFERING?
#unpopular opinion??? huhh?..#this is not a personal attack to anyone I'm just ranting#love your tf2 the way you want and be free#tf2#team fortress 2#tf2 analysis#if tf2 was stated to exist in half-life universe that would make things so much easier#honestly. i think it does.#but aaahh when people try to bring that up there's always a guy who says BUT THE ROCKET JUMP LINCOLN STAIRS?? THE GOOFY WACKY???#like. the rocketjump lincoln wasn't even exactly IN universe? this was form an item promotion written in Soldier's language#when soldier said Sun Tzu beat the shit out of every animal on the boat you didn't think he was stating the actual lore right?............#either way WHY PORTAL 2 CAN AND TF2 CAN'T???#Portal 2: our CEO got his wealth from selling shower curtains. moon rocks are a good portal surface. also we're mantis DNA into humans#audience: awww what a sweet sad story you totally deserve to coexist with hl2#TF2: we taunt when killing eachother and were practically immortal and there are probably clones of ourselves in the other team wtf#audience: this is SO SILLY 😁😁😁 wait WHAT??😨 they DARE to ask for some SERIOUSNESS???🤬🤬🤬 HELLO HUMAN RESOURCES??#okay that's just my personal little want. but like??#Look at Portal 1 and 2. Greasy hl2 graphics and glowy tf2-esque everything. The stories are directly connected#I'm thinking it's not about that hl2 is strictly sad and tf2 is strictly goofy so they can't coexist#it's probably just the narration style choice#OKAY I'M RAMBLING#uuuhhhh. I'm mourning over all the existential horror potential tf2 is losing!!#The respawn?? the clones?? (CLONE THEORY FUCKING WORKS IF ONLY SOMEONE ACKNOWLEDGED IT...)#respawn is canin btw it was mentioned in the sentry manual of 2008. valid enough for me.#THE PHILOSOPHY. WHAT DOES IT MEAN TO BE HUMAN? THE THESEUS'S SHIP PROBLEM??#Why if half-life raises the question about Freeman not being a free man nor a man at all. Why can't tf2 have the same talk about#what it means to be a corporate cog. when your life literally doesn't belong to you. so neither is death.#you'll keep respawning and fight until they're done with you#*looks at emesis blue*........ no not you either sorry#sad to say but emblue didn't answer those questions either. it wasn't enough for me.
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syn4k · 1 year ago
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to be, or not to be (romanticization of the inevitable)
#ray's tag#keys' art#undescribed#skeletons#ok to reblog#the skeleton model that i traced for this was provided by the incredible kiku @kikunai whom you can find right here on tumblr!#so uh. This is a piece about chronic fatigue although the original idea i had for it drifted a bit as soon as I started coloring the linear#(i really enjoy shading and lighting things and got a bit carried away here but i stand by my choice because this is my favorite thing#that i've ever drawn)#anyways. i often feel especially lately with school being back in season that my bones are leaden with this sort of. weariness. theyre heav#it weighs on our mental health and energy a lot and although there's a couple of reasons we have been given for it#that doesn't remove the fact that this is still a thing that affects us in a very real way day to day although we are good at masking it.#often i come home to find that i do not have the physical mental or creative energy to work on things i really want to#especially project: nexus which i feel extra bad about even though i can't help it because i just started it so recently#it is a mild to moderate struggle to make it day to day and i just. wanted to represent this somehow#my original concept for this was a skeleton with some black goop gunk whatever leaking from its joints#but as i started adding the cracks and coloring them gold (a personal touch; kintsugi is a concept that is very dear to us)#i realized that the focus here was less on the condition itself and more on the body that it afflicts.#so i put it into a spotlight.#ironic i know since very little people acknowledge this irl or even know it exists at all but i added rim lighting. I added color gradients#I colored the lineart and made it all fancy and even added a flare for the head to get the point across that even at its core; disability i#a performance. this is not implying that disabilities are fake in fact this is the opposite of that. i wanted to show that with disabilitie#especially i think in my personal opinion the invisible ones#we are all masking at least a little bit during the vast majority of the day. humans are social creatures and it is only when we are alone#or with someone we deeply trust where we allow ourselves to be who we truly are without fear and even then that can be rare#so i wanted to show this bit of the soul in as broad a limelight as i could. idk this is a really abstract piece and i dont know if anyone#will even get it but it matters to me at least. and even though we've been largely bedridden for the past week i think that's okay#we will get it figured out. all of us. okay? okay. i love you. i fucking love you. we are going to fucking make it#(also the xes over the eyes are because i thought they looked cool they have no deeper meaning at least i think they dont#actually i think they do but i cant put it into words idk. Art is subjective assign your own meaning i'm gonna go get a shower)
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fire-fira · 1 month ago
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Me when looking for neurodivergent representation in fiction:
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Also me when I come across "all neurodivergent people do X" posts/videos/etc.:
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When I tell you, this shit is infuriating...
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epickiya722 · 4 months ago
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There's always gonna be like one or two characters that I'm a fan of, but dislike some of their fans and out of all characters in BNHA... I never would have thought it would be Spinner.
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tiffanybluesclues · 5 months ago
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Every week someone makes a post about how annoying it is that Dick Grayson fans don't acknowledge his flaws, and every week someone replies with an explanation that the flaws OP listed are entirely fanon and inconsistent with canon as it actually happened and at this point I have to assume that none of those explanations are ever going to stick because clearly some people just want the fanon to be true.
Anyway, I'm just putting this here for me to edit and add relevant-to-the-topic links later so I'll have them nicely at hand to read and sooth my frustrations when it gets real bad out there. (Echo chambers are good when we use them to drown out character mischaracterizing fanon.)
#dick grayson#canon vs fanon#yes this is about 'dick was a bad brother to jason' yet again#😮‍💨#super problematic how dick didn't pack up his life & become a devoted big brother to the new son of a man who had already disowned dick#like in-universe he is respectfully supportive of the kid who's wearing his name and uniform#but he was also a 19 year old living in a different city and not given any indication that he was a member of bruce's family so...?#dc comics#this fanon tendency to try to cram nuclear family dynamics and angst onto relationships that do not fit that mold arghhh#add to that how real-world knowledge makes it extra ridiculous to act as if 'omg dick was such a jerk for not being there for jason!!!'#yes their interactions were minimal - I'm pretty sure that keeping dick as a titans character was the entire reason jason existed!#let's be real about jason: his character & what led to him being robin were completely different pre-crisis + his post-crisis run was brief#understandably there are 'flashback' stories to flesh out his time as robin. the worst of these disregard characterization from that time#but even with flashbacks the worst that canon actually shows would be that they weren't close? which...okay?#idk what kind of expectations some people have for the former-ward so sort of foster kid who was explicitly kicked out of bruce wayne's lif#apparently he should've 1) begged his former guardian to acknowledge him as family & 2) assumed the role of bestest big brother either way#i'd ask people to stop and really think about the 'family' structure that existed in this time period where they insist dick was the bad gu#but at this point it's clear that people who want him to be the bad guy truly don't care about why we think it's absurd#anyway i'll end this with a reminder of what I'm pretty sure were the ages etc of the parties involved:#jason (12) gotham. adopted son of bruce.#dick (19) nyc. former ward of bruce. fired from role as partner to batman.#bruce (30+) gotham. raised dick as his ward → fired dick as a partner → never indicated dick still had any place in his life → adopted jaso#oh so my tags just cutting off the final letter like that? i will not be correcting them 😡
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jabeur · 4 months ago
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i wish we'd call transphobia what it is: transphobia more often and more comfortably tbh
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anastacialy · 9 months ago
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i do not know how to explain to people that "transmisogyny" is the specific transphobia that trans women + transfems face (often but not exclusively at the hands of cis people), and "transandrophobia" is the specific transphobia that trans men + mascs face (often but not exclusively at the hands of cis people), and that they all come together under the umbrella of "transphobia." these are not opposing concepts nor are they mutually exclusive, to believe in one does not mean non-belief in the other. is there a simpler way of phrasing this. can i be clearer.
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six-of-snakes · 1 year ago
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somtimes a boy's just gotta recognize the girl he used to be and acknowledge what she did for him and then move on to keep living his life knowing she's watching proud of what he's done
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honeypleasejustkillme · 2 years ago
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tomorrow is my nineteenth birthday. i can’t believe i’ve lived this long, i didn’t expect to live past sixteen yet alone get to nineteen. this is a crazy thing to process, i still can’t buy anything i want to, still can’t rent a car, still can’t buy a hotel room, still can’t do literally anything but to me it’s still a milestone of how strong i am for continuing to live despite everything.
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