bonesandbellflowers



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  1. Public Bookmark 20

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    Hey ho! My name's Hammie, she/her, 26, thiiiiiis is my blog where I post about true crime! I write a bit of informational posts, a bit of theories, and generally have a lot of fun! My favorite thing to talk about is the Cradle Case, and you can find the big write-up I did on it last year HERE. Have fun, be nice, and don't forget to stay weird!

     

    [The story of the Nonary Games as told through news articles, bad Netflix documentaries, and one insane blogger's own theories.]

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    03 Dec 2024

  2. Public Bookmark 16

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    Felix sighed, his frustration audible. “Were you planning on getting this healed at all?”

    “Sure,” Sylvain lied.

    Felix looked at him again, longer. There was something rotten in Sylvain’s chest. That wasn’t new, really, except that five years of war left it darker and heavier than ever.

    “For once, you could be honest,” Felix said finally, his voice rougher than Sylvain was expecting.

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    29 Oct 2024

  3. Public Bookmark 31

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    He’ll consider this trip a success if nobody dies and nothing ends up on fire.

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    31
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    23 Mar 2024

  4. Public Bookmark 22

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    What becomes of a father who's lost his only child? What does he become?

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    16 Feb 2024

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    Bakugou is sitting in the police station.

    Time isn’t moving forward with him. It has a hand over his mouth holding him back, holding him down, beneath the surface of the unreal waters which suspend him. All sounds reach his ears muffled. The phone ringing, and the station hand answering. Chatter, officers exchanging details, Bakugou winces at the utterance of the word “explosion”. None of it is real. None of it can be happening to him.

    He jangles the handcuffs on his wrist, and this attracts the weary attention of the station hands. The cuffs aren’t necessary. He is not going anywhere. He sits, and he stares forward, and his ears ring.

    Bakugou has fucked up. Bakugou understands for the first time in his life the sensation of fucking up beyond repair. He is watching dreams evaporate in front of his eyes, staring forward unseeingly at the pallid white floor tiles around him. His eyes trace their lines. He does not see them. They are not real. He is not real. He has fucked up. He has fucked up.

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    14 Feb 2024