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drdemonprince · 1 year ago

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potentially triggering but ultimately harm reductionist statement about how people treat those with suicide ideation below, just a warning!

it's pretty fuckin rich that people tell suicidal people that they're "being selfish" by wanting to die, because it could not be more selfish to expect someone to just continue suffering through a life they do not want simply because their death would make them sad.

the people who say that kind of thing never want to offer any genuine help to the suicidal person that will change their life circumstances in a lasting way. they never want to house them, get them medical care, pay off their debts, introduce them to new friends, nurse them through a years-long trauma recovery process, get them a pet, drive them to a support group every week, buy them their groceries, clean their house, listen to them talk about their tough feelings for the millionth time.

lasting healing within a dramatically different and better life is never what they want for the suicidal person. they just want the person to not do anything that would make them sad. and not look too sad when they are around them, either, because even if they do white-knuckle their way through a painful existence, they are expected to also make it look easy.

but it's funny, isn't it, that by pushing away all thoughts of sadness, all thoughts of suicide, the person who says such a dismissive thing to the suicidal person is revealing how much they are on the brink of despair themselves. if, when faced with a suicidal person, your number one goal is to prevent their suicide for the sake of your own emotions rather than to improve circumstances for the suicidal person themselves, well, your own emotional grip on reality must be quite tenuous indeed. if you think the most important emotionally reality about a suicide is how it impacts you and not the person that has done it, well, you really must think that it's normal to expect other people to just constantly silently suffer for one another.

there's almost a bit of sick envy that i sometimes hear when people claim that they suicidal are "selfish." the statement almost seems to betray that everybody thinks of suicide at one point or another, that everyone has been in enough pain before that they've wished for it to end, but that since they have endured, they expect everyone else to endure the same for them, so that they don't slip into despair again as well.

it's so offensive because it is such a deeply missed opportunity. instead of batting away the statements of a suicidal person as if they were the greatest, most evil taboo, a person could really sit with them in their despair and say hey, I have felt that way too.

If only we lived in a world where acknowledgement of suicide ideation was not so taboo. Even psychologists and psychiatrists treat it as this untouchable thing, they freak out and jump into action and rob you of your body autonomy if you are willing to voice that you have thought of it. but virtually everyone has thought of it at one point or another, and some live with thoughts of it all the time forever but still have basically decent lives that they experience as worthwhile.

the legal apparatus that exists to prevent suicides at all costs have made it too risky for any kind of healthcare professional to allow the frank acknowledgement of suicide ideation to happen. hell, even the protections that have evolved online to supposedly "protect" suicidal people by filtering out content about suicide and redirecting those browsing for information about it to suicide prevention resourcse has, counterproductively, served to make the state of suicidality even more unspeakable. it cannot be spoken about, cannot be posted about, cannot be acknowledged, is not permitted, is never allowed to just be.

and that harms suicidal people so much.

we are so deeply selfish and cowardly in how we approach suicide and suicidal people.

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k0nanharv3y · 5 months ago

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Am I giving Tim too much power and making him almost untouchable with many plot holes, and in fact, nothing you read will make sense? Yes, I am doing that, is there a problem?

Robin Hood AU Part 1

Tim Drake Saved Gotham from Batman. Yeah, but lets say that he didn't do it becoming Robin

He Saved Gotham by becoming the focus of attention and method of anger release for Batman

///

And then there was a new rogue in Gotham. Batman didn't know who they were, what did they wanted, and why they seemed to be targeting only him. Inside and outside the mask, as Bruce Wayne and as the Dark Knight

He didn't have time for this, when he had them, when he found out who they were, he would destroy them, if necessary he would burn the world down, because his world burned with his son in that warehouse. Whoever the guy behind the attacks was, he would know the full wrath of the Dark Knight

But Tim was already hiding well from Batman right under his nose, Tim grew up following, watching and absorbing everything from the adults around him. But most of all he learned not to make mistakes. Tim would use the mistakes of the Joker, of Riddle, of each and every one of Gotham's rogues and learn not to leave clues, not to get caught, to hide right next to Batman, because it's a popular lie, Batman doesn't have eyes in the back of his head. The extra eyes he had died in Ethiopia

Tim had resources, time and only 12 years old, he was still moldable, he could fill any mold to perfection, so he forced himself to fit the mold of the rogue that Gotham would love. Because Tim wouldn't go for the city, he loved Gotham too much to destroy it trying to save a man who seemed to be digging his own grave, one in which he was dragging the city with him. Tim strategically targeted Bruce Wayne and Batman so that the man would get a slap in the face for his behavior. And if a building exploded, Tim would make sure that the people who worked or lived there would have good insurance and new jobs and compensation from Wayne Enterprises.

And Batman turned against the rogue who forced him to bury his own pain with his son and went to fight this guy who seemed to be virtually and physically everywhere. Batman knew the guy knew his identity, because the attacks were personal, lethal in any case, he was playing with him, mocking him. Until he seemed to stop

One day a letter on his door telling Batman how sorry he was and that "I had done what had to be done" and "I'm sorry for your loss, Mr. Wayne, but you were destroying the city with you" was all he got before the depressing silence of a quiet city -No, not a city, of Quiet Gotham-

The world kept turning and both lives continued

One next to the other

///

Steph became Robin long before because Batman was trying to open his heart to another child, Cassandra arrived just as she was supposed to, Steph never died because Batman was there and Dick made peace with the brother he could never love and loved his sisters and when Jason came back to life there was no vengeance in his blood because Batman never replaced him 10 minutes after Jason died. Yes, he was angry at the Joker and Batman's inability to kill him, but someone else did and Jason will embrace whoever did it. And when Damian got home everything was fine and he didn't steal the mantle from anyone because Steph was eager to give it to someone else and get Batman off her ass.

And Tim's life was lonely. His parents never stopped being absent, and the plane crash still happened because that wasn't because he was Robin, but because he was simply a living being. (Yes, I'm changing things up here) Janet was left in a coma and Jack died and in the end he was just a kid in a mansion that was too big, but so afraid of depending on someone (the last time he saw someone depending on someone else he had to blow up several buildings and cyberbully them to calm them down) who took the reins of Drake Industries and invented an uncle just to not be put in the system and still be off the bats' radar

And then Batman died

///

Hey you!, Yeah you!, Imagine that in the middle of the Bats' life, every time someone (a rogue) attacked Gotham, Tim would appear out of nowhere and digitally betray them to the Bats, and if Oracle isn't mentioned here, it's because you and I know that she would dismantle Tim from day one, so shut up, she's busy with her Birds of Prey or something, I DON'T KNOW, I'VE BEEN AWAKE FOR 26 HOURS

Part 2 of this bullshit

Part 3 cuz somehow I manage to make another one of these

Part 4

Part 5??????? Why????

Part 6 ma british accent write this

Part 7.5 We've gotten fanciers

Part 8 It took more than a while

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caramel1mochi · 2 months ago

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Two Koi [ Husband!Sukuna x F!Reader ]

words: 1k+ / Please refrain from stealing my work.

note: I know this is random but I just watched the first season of JJK and honestly I would die for Sukuna, no questions asked. Like why is he so perfect??ㅤ

The special grade that stood in front of Sukuna was at its wit’s end.

It had been fighting the King of Curses for a while now. And while Sukuna looked tireless, like he had just gotten out of bed, the creature was just moments away from collapsing.

It lifted its distorted, shaky hands; all twenty-seven of its white fingers lit up by the afternoon sun. Then, it clenched its fists, and the emergence of more cursed energy made the other perk up.

ㅤㅤ

“Still up for more?” Sukuna called out. “Fine… Let’s make this interesting.”

ㅤㅤ

Sukuna lifted both of his hands and brought them together. The pads of his middle and ring fingers pressed up against the other. With a sadistic grin, he subsequently gazed upon the weak cursed spirit. The atmosphere between them shifted. It was as if this very gesture injected an unfathomable amount of dread into the air that plagued the empty, destroyed streets.

ㅤㅤ

“Domain Expansion: Malevolent Shr–”

Burst!

…

ㅤㅤ

“…Hm?”

ㅤㅤ

The cursed spirit's unnatural stillness was preceded by an awry jolt; it completely stopped moving, almost as if it somehow died. But how? He didn’t even use his technique.

Slash!

With a flick of his hand, Sukuna tore the cursed spirit in two, revealing its innards with one clean swipe. He promptly sensed the cause for its death; an external force made its heart explode. Someone was bold enough to cut his entertainment short, he thought. To put it simply, whoever did this wanted to die a very painful death.

Sukuna perked up at a few audible steps behind him.

ㅤㅤ

“Lunch is ready, honey pie~” A feminine voice followed. “And clean up before you sit at the table, okay? I don’t want asphalt on the food like last ti–”

ㅤㅤ

Slash!

Sukuna didn’t hesitate to cut through the woman. He closed his eyes and waited for the aftermath. Usually, it would be the graphic squelching of insides being parted, or just the gurgling from some victims whose throats were sliced.

But nothing.

He turned and looked at you out of the corner of his eyes. As angry as he was, he couldn’t help but ogle a bit at his wife’s beautiful, untouched appearance. Sukuna sliced your neck with his cursed technique, but it had as much impact as a bunny trying to viciously bite through a wall made of pure metal. A grin revealed your pearly whites.

ㅤㅤ

“Oh… Is my handsome king angry I ended his fight?”

ㅤㅤ

Warmth enveloped him as you wrapped your arms around his waist from behind. Sukuna, however, glared at you with his red eyes as you rested your chin on his shoulder, your jaw gently pressing up against his muscles.

ㅤㅤ

“Did you honestly think I’d accept this interruption? And what did I tell you about using that stupid nickname?”

ㅤㅤ

“Don’t you remember, snookums? You said, ‘I’ll let you call me anything if we stay in bed a little longer’.”

ㅤㅤ

…

He did say that this morning, didn’t he?

ㅤㅤ

“Only you would hold these pointless words against me.”

ㅤㅤ

Sukuna muttered as he crossed his arms. If he wasn’t a thousand-year-old sorcerer and made of nothing but pure evil, he would have a slight blush on his cheeks.

ㅤㅤ

“You really look upset about this… Oh no, have you finally replaced your wife with a cursed spirit, Sukuna?”

ㅤㅤ

You noted with a pout. Sukuna’s heart skipped a beat once you said his real name.

ㅤㅤ

“Fighting a woman with your techniques gets boring. And I want something that begs and bleeds. You don’t do either of that, do you?”

ㅤㅤ

The sound of your cheeky titter filled his ears. Since you two met, he found out very quickly that he couldn’t slice you. And, like everything else about you, it very much angered him. But you still became his wife, so he had virtually no platform to stand on. A smile painted your lips as your hands traced his sharp jawline. You promptly stopped at his cheeks, which you were quick to caress with your fingers.

ㅤㅤ

“Can’t the King of Curses handle a little boredom every now and then?” You clasped his cheeks with a feather-light grip. “Oh, and you won’t be getting dessert.”

ㅤㅤ

He perked up at this.

ㅤㅤ

“And why not?”

ㅤㅤ

“I made the most delicious cheesecake before I arrived. But now, for trying to cut my throat, none of it is for you.”

ㅤㅤ

Sukuna scoffed.

ㅤㅤ

“Like I’d let you get away with that, woman.” He firmly clutched your wrists. “We fight after lunch. If I win, I get a slice, whether you like it or not.”

ㅤㅤ

“I like that. But let’s pick a crowded place; this time, I want at least a thousand casualties.”

ㅤㅤ

A sly grin twisted his features; he specifically focused on the ‘crowded’ aspect of your words. Like you said, crowded meant many innocent deaths in a fight. And if there was something Sukuna loved more than his own wife pleasure, it would be chaos.

ㅤㅤ

“A thousand casualties? I can make that happen… Alright. We fight in Chiyoda.”

ㅤㅤ

The discontent frown on your face immediately made him rethink his suggestion.

ㅤㅤ

“So picky. Fine, Roppongi? I’m sure you will have fun destroying that one.”

ㅤㅤ

You pulled him close and deeply pressed your lips on his cheek with a loud muah. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes, all while he completely revelled in the sensation of being so lovingly kissed. Then, you pulled away.

ㅤㅤ

“Now we’re talking. Looks like my king still knows how to keep his wife happy. What would I do without you, handsome?”

ㅤㅤ

“I don’t know. What would humans do without water?”

ㅤㅤ

You couldn’t help but laugh whilst briefly pinching his cheek. ㅤㅤ

“Oh, you.”

ㅤㅤ

Your words were clearly inflating Sukuna’s self-esteem. But it’s not like either of you didn’t welcome it; you loved his haughtiness, and he loved how you fed into it.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #jjk sukuna #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen men #jjk fanfic #fluff #fanfiction #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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falllight · 22 days ago

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you were doing so well. did the dog eat your homework again?

↪ satoru x suguru x shoko x gn! rdr, angst with slight comfort, slow burn && realisation, slow paced from rdr. ep 3 yet to come.

days blurred together, but the strings only continued to snap against your fingertips, and you couldn't help but look back on the memories you once made with your bandmates. now ones that were rising to stardom. or doom. you saw in suguru too, once, the darkness. the bleariness of the days in foggy lens was a dissociating feeling; maybe that's why he first came at your side.

after the beach day-out that satoru had managed to remarkably pull off, everyone went to their designated rooms. although they had a mini arguement about who'd get to share the room with you, the virtual randomised wheel eventually landed on suguru's name.

which led you here, in a bedroom with two separate beds, and suguru. although hydrotherapy does do wonders, it can only benefit for so long. so, you did what you'd do as you did in your teenage years: grab noise-cancelling earphones, and plug them in; drown out the world, even if it's temporary paradise.

it's been awhile since suguru's been watching you. glancing at you. taking in you. what makes you you, and why he thinks that, just perhaps, that part of you is missing. he's known you since he first brought you that electric guitar you adore and hold onto with pride.

a quiet yet valuable beyond words can convey ( through shared expressions of happiness and dedication ) les paul special-II E1, in the very own colour his own hairlocks were. he'd been there to first help you tune it, to learn how to work your way with wires and chords, and sheets. the way your pupils glimmered with curiosity and interest, was a sight he'd never get sick of seeing.

now, he wishes to see that spark ignite again in you. the light you helped rekindle in him? he wants to see that in you too. he wants to be that person for you too.

he knows of the other two's interests in you too, but they all silently agreed to keep quiet. because they had plans. a bit faraway, but it was planned. but he'd never tell you it was from way back when the three of them realised it was way too.. barren with all of them together, which included you. that night where they were all drinking ( asides satoru, he'd helped himself to a cream soda ) and there was an untouched soda pop on the table.

so, he leans in when he sees you relax. slowly, so that you're aware of him moving closer and don't get startled, and he places a gentle hand on the back of your head, easing you into his chest— aka an absolute vrooming tranquiliser.

he'll ask the questions tomorrow morning. he'll wait for you to let it out this night.

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c0smiclatt3 · 11 months ago

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SATORU GOJO: i need you (like i need a broken leg!)

after you started securing your role as a healer at jujutsu tech, satoru quickly learned that the surefire way to get close to you was to conveniently 'get injured'. (wc: 1k)

☾₊ ⊹ TAGS: fluff!, sfw, satoru is just an attention seeker, descriptions of blood and injuries, x reader

Of all people, Satoru Gojo has no reason to be coming to the infirmary. He is completely capable of avoiding any and all injuries on his missions and is, for all intents and purposes, untouchable. Invincible. He was the strongest after all, wasn't he?

And yet once you started displaying an affinity for complex RCT and dedicating your time working in the infirmary, he'd mysteriously return from missions with angry gashes along his back, scrapes along his forearms, and bruises down his legs, moaning and whining like a baby as he hobbles into the infirmary like a wounded animal.

"Fuuuuuck, he'd groan, dragging his feet on the tile as you look up, unamused, from your seat by the window, "that huuuuurt..."

Admittedly, the first few times this happened you immediately rushed to his side. What in the world could possibly be so strong as to overpower the Satoru Gojo?

That first time had been a complete accident, back when you both were just teenagers. You began your apprenticeship as a healer and dedicated less time to being deployed on missions, more time in the infirmary. And as strong as he was, Satoru was still a sixteen year-old, and had yet to perfect his technique (and his attention span), which earned him a clean slash to the chest and a blast out from under his feet, sending him rolling down the concrete.

He had stumbled in the infirmary, weakly raising his hand to knock on the doorframe to get your attention. "... Yo." That's when you saw the blood on his chest.

Your mouth fell open. You virtually shoved him straight into the infirmary bed.

"Calm down woman, it's just a scratch-"

"Oh my god -" your hand lightly dabbed the blooming wound through his jacket, "oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," you muttered under your breath. Hovering your hand over the wound you focused your energy to the source of the bleeding, your brows knitting together and lips pulled in a tight line.

"Damn it," you hiss, "I can't penetrate the fabric," you reach for the buttons of his jacket, tugging it open, hands so jittery you virtually tore the thing right off. He flashes a wolfish grin.

"Heh, at least take me out to dinner first."

"Can you shut up?!" you snap, exasperated. "Be serious, Satoru, you're hurt!"

You set your hands on his chest, solid and firm under your trembling. You tried to focus on the wound, but seeing the blood blossom from his chest -from Satoru's chest - made you queasy and terrified.

You were all sorcerers here, but your early years of sparring were small potatoes compared to the proper missions Yaga was sending the team out on now. In all fairness today's curse was a little bit above the team's pay grade, but Satoru knew he'd be just fine, anyway. Whether or not you believed that was another story.

Satoru watched your eyes flit from his chest, to his scratched arms, to his bruised abdomen, and your eyes were wild, frenzied, as if completely overwhelmed by the sheer extent of what you were seeing on a body you never imagined could even be touched. You grit your teeth. "Damn it," you hiss. You squeeze your eyes shut, shaking your head. "Damn it, Satoru."

Satoru blinked, his expression softening while he watched you, lips parting. You usually hated his guts. This was quite a change of pace for you two.

He could get used to this.

And so since then the visits became more frequent. An odd scratch or bruise on his arm or leg. A slash on his shoulder. Scraped knees. And since they became more frequent you realized... That little shit is doing this on purpose.

So now when he walked into the infirmary, bitching and moaning about some painful wound he'd picked up on today's mission, you barely even looked up from your phone as he slumped into the infirmary bed himself, falling over backward onto the pillow like some kind of princess. "Oh, my shoulder," he'd sigh, "won't someone take pity on this poor, injured sorcerer?"

And you'd sit there in your corner, feet up on the desk, idly scrolling your phone as if you hadn't even noticed his presence at all. So he'd walk up and collapse behind you, drawing his arms around your neck and pulling your back to his chest. "If only some kindhearted healer could help me out of the goodness of her pretty soul!" he declared to 'no one in particular', sighing dramatically and resting his head on your shoulder, flashing his eyes at you, innocent like a little puppy waiting to be pampered.

Noticing your concentration on your phone, he used his technique to lift your phone from your hand. "Hey!" you huffed, "I was watching something."

"Me first. Watch later." He has a pout on his lips like a toddler deprived of attention. You roll your eyes and raise two fingers to his forehead, gently pushing him off your shoulder. "Hey!"

It almost makes you want to laugh. He wasn't fooling anyone. Not even his students, who he often accompanied to the infirmary when they got injured (and who also noticed that he'd then get a little too excited seeing them get hurt). Your lips curl into a smile you hope he doesn't notice.

"Alright. Get on the bed."

He chuckles, leaning by his elbows back on the bed as you pull up a chair like you've done all these years. "Easy tiger."

"Don't test me, Satoru."

"Yes ma'am!"

EPILOGUE

Nobara, Yuji, and Megumi knew their teacher was kind of a wackjob but this was something else.

Satoru Gojo had his arms crossed, levitating the cursed spirit they were meant to be fighting in midair, his face right up to the thing's grotesque 'fist'.

"You can't be serious, right? You've gotta be able to hit me harder than that!" Satoru groans, "that was, like, nothing!" He turns off his infinity, grabbing the thing's hulking arm, miming the arm socking him in the face. "Like this, see! Preferably on my mouth," he flashes a wide grin.

His students stand back, dumbfounded. Yuji lowers his fists. Nobara lowers her hammer. Megumi shoves his hands in his pockets and frowns, unamused.

"... What's he doing...?"

"... No clue."

writing masterlist | bot masterlist

☾₊ ⊹ AN: this is a rando headcanon i've had about gojo for a long time hehe. thought i'd write something short about it.

#satoru gojo #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk imagines #jjk fic #jjk fanfiction #jjk x reader #gojo #jjk fluff #writing by junie #jujutsu kaisen #jjk

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the-riders-quadrant · 6 months ago

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Secret Solstice Masterlist!

Here is the complete list along with pairings from the RQ solstice exchange! Thanks so much to everyone involved for your enthusiasm and excitement, everyone put so much love and effort (and sneakiness) into their fics 💕🫶🏼

Enjoy!

Amuse Bouche by Ubiquitously_ubiquitous for Siobhanwrites Bodhi / Tyvon/ Ridoc/ Liam Mairi

Aretian Snowfall by justanothersarah for Tegantales Liam/Violet

Best Kept Secret by Mint_chocolatechip for Hoellix Bodhi/Ridoc

Burn it all down by Hliz for Pillow Violet/Xaden

Complementary by Kobo for Thoughtsaboutshows Violet/Xaden

Dancing in the dark with you by fantasy_bookwyrm for Caeli Violet/Xaden

The Days of Draecember by ACourtofLadyDeath for Saranova Drake Cordella and Cain Aetos

Defying Gravity by Copperfirebird for TheWrittenMaze Violet/Jack

Dragonback Boink by yanny77 for millie Bodhi/Ridoc

Ego Tripping at the Gates of Hell by almond_bonbons for lovemedarkly - Sloane/Aaric

Happy Birthday, Dain Aetos! By overjoyedisland for junespumpkin Dain/Cat

If the Fates Allow: A Solstice Anthology by thoughtsaboutshadows for kobo Violet/Xaden

in the eye of the beholder by caeli for overjoyedisland Mira POV, Violet/Xaden

Liam's sweetness by pillow for NIv Liam/Sawyer

Life, Love and Other Four Letter Words by TheWrittenMaze for Hliz Liam/Jesinia

like shadows in a faded light by alltoowellread for aspensquake Violet/Xaden

Memories Consume by lizardrunclub for amberswansong Brennan/Naolin, Violet/Xaden, Imogen/Garrick

Mistletoe and Misery by hoelixx for fantasy_bookwyrm Brennan/Naolin

The Music Of The Night by saranova for silverlude Violet/Varrish

Nakey & Bakey siobhanwrites for yanny77 Bodhi/Ridoc

Of Third Year Shenanigans by we were beautiful for almond bonbons Bodhi/Reader

"Please just go along" by korrina for headcanoncase Sloane/Aaric

Remember we die by zhenya naleva for we were beautiful Garrick/OC

Rewritten by lovemedarkly by lizardrunclub Sloane/Aaric

Shining Through the Stormy Dark by amberswansong for subs Liam/Xaden/Violet

A Shock of Curls by nivaria for Ubiquitously_ubiquitous Bodhi/Garrick

Shut Up and Fly with Me! by yanny77 for mint_chocolatechip Xaden/Garrick

Sloane and Aaric's Excellent Adventure by aspensquake for korrina Sloane/Aaric

Someone to Save You by lydibug522 for I_am_art Liam/Xaden/Violet

This Walk That We Shared Together by tegantales for zhenya Liam/Xaden

Tropical Temptation by Saranova and Tegantales for Shipmistress Liam/Xaden/Violet

Untouchable (Sloane's version) by Headcanoncase for alltoowellread Sloane/Aaric

Virtually Tame Xtra Snuggles by shipmistress for copperfirebird Violet x Tairn x Xaden x Sgaeyl

Warming Up by junes s pumpkin for Jules Dain/Xaden

What He Should Have Been All Along by suebswrites for lydibug522 Liam/Xaden

Worlds Collide by ACourtOfLadyDeath for Saranova Drake/Dain

Your memory feels like home to me by alexandia03 for justanothersarah Imogen/Garrick

#2024 rq gift exchange #solstice exchange #fourth wing fic recs #fic recs #fourth wing fanfic

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krahk · 1 year ago

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Blood for Ruin

(Or, Alastor and That One Time He Got Drunk and Forgot He Tried To Make a Black Magic Agreement With a Radio Only For It to Come Back to Him in the Worst Way)

Masterlist

Pairings: Alastor x Reader (She/Her/OFC) as reluctant semi-soulmates via non-consensual deal (on both ends). No use of Y/N.

I understand he is aroace, but I couldn’t stop thinking about this idea so here it is.

Eventual smutty smut happening, but be kind dear god am I rusty.

_________________________________________

Exhausted was simply not what you were - you were so past that, your brain so fried out that you didn’t even know what word you were.

Because if you were seeing smiling figure-like shadows on the walls with long dark tendrils wrapping around your surroundings, and radio static from nowhere, then yea. You were fried.

But hey, it had been a crazy long weekend. You’d just spent the last 4 days cleaning up your hoarder of a great aunts shack in the Bon Temps bayou with the other scattered remainder of her family, rooting through about 4 unidentifiable rooms with confirmed animal carcasses and straight up trash-garbage piled to the ceilings. But since your mother died, any family connection at this point was appreciated, right?

‘Couldn’t be more wrong, but it’s too late now’, you think. It was way too late to back out now, you had something to prove. Your Great Aunt’s remaining son had called you ‘slicker’ because you lived in a town with more than one lighted intersection for Christ's sake. And because you used ‘whom’ in a sentence, that opened up an entirely new thrush of nicknames from your distant cousins. You wouldn’t be beaten down, you guys were almost all done with the cleanup anyway, the only remaining items being that of actual use or salvageable material. A couple family members had taken a few items home already, and since you weren’t particularly close with these relatives you weren’t about to ask for anything until-

Well until the little radio was brought out.

For some reason, the craftsmanship of this radio caught your eye. It was a beautiful dark wood, with intricate swirls carved around the speakers - the entire thing was shaped like a miniature church cathedral window. It was clearly vintage, basically a historical piece, you thought - and you did ask quietly if you could keep it. Your uncle fiddled with it to make it work but it needed some attention. It looked virtually untouched otherwise. It was a gorgeous piece, and it looked like it was a new acquisition to the deceased woman’s collection - there wasn’t a spec of dust visible on it. Your uncle figured it wouldn’t be able to pick up football (and also “why would I listen to football when I can WATCH it?”) he let you take it with you.

So you brought it back to your temporary home, the little motel at the outskirts of town (the only motel even close to the town) and set it on the little desk. And there it sat for 2 days before you finally dove in, trying to figure out what was going on with it. You had deduced it was likely the wiring, and after watching 5 or 6 videos on wiring repair on YouTube (good old YouTube) you were fairly confident a simple repair would take no time at all.

But things made in the 20s were a lot sharper, and more metal based, compared to the newer plastic models of recent years. So when you undid the back panel and attempted to unscrew a fastener around the side of the main component, you had successfully sliced your palm open on an errant piece of metal. And holy crow did it hurt AND gush blood immediately. Even though you had whipped your hand close to your chest almost as soon as you realised what had happened it was too late, there was a fair amount of blood that got on the inside of the machine.

Uttering curses, you’d rushed to the bathroom to grab a couple threadbare cloths and sop up some of the larger drops on the desk. Moving around the radio to the light, you had a clearer idea of where your blood landed. Palming one cloth in your wounded hand, your other one attempted to clean up the mess within the radio. Which is where you noticed the funny little symbols written on the inside of the back panel of the radio, which had lain facedown on the desk as soon as you had removed it. These little symbols looked like runes of some sort, unidentifiable to you. They almost looked like they were written out of blood themselves. It was clearly dried now, but the jagged nature of the strokes and brownish un-ink like material that was used to leave the symbols certainly looked like dried blood might look like on old wood.

You wiped your blood off the radio, and ran the cloth right over one of the runes, making it glow briefly with a green light. Maybe.

Well, that was what you thought you saw. But it was so brief you would have missed it with a well timed blink. The sun was setting, light streaming through the window in hazy little streaks, maybe you saw some prismatic effect? Or maybe, maybe you needed a shower and bed. Clearly if you sliced your hand open on a little radio you were tired. Sloppy coordination indeed. You reattached the back panel to the radio and decided to ignore it until you were in a better headspace.

Radio abandoned, you went and started to clean yourself up and get ready for sleep. But when the lights in the bathroom started to flicker, only to stay on slightly duller than before, paired with a strange static that scratched the inside of your eardrums, you decided to end your shower quicker than ever. Exiting the bathroom, you were chilled to realise that the main room had the same ambient experience waiting for you. And if you focused on the moving shadows from what you hoped were passing cars (electric, judging by the lack of engine noise) there was a solid larger mass lingering on the wall with the dresser and broken TV. One that looked like it had a smile, and glowing red eyes (from a car's tail lights, duh!). Yes, yes. Tired. SO tired.

Calling the front did not help, since the static was so loud when you lifted up the receiver you slammed it back down. Your own cell phone was still charging on the side table, flashing the little dead battery symbol to let you know you needed to be more responsible with your charging habits in the future. It could be another 15 minutes before it was ready to turn on.

So, obviously tired, it was time to attempt to sleep. Hopefully. If you were lucky. It wasn’t enough that the bayou was creepy all on its own, the evening took a sharp turn into scary-town after you started messing with the little radio.

Pyjama-clad and ready to sleep you decided that the hallucinations were exactly what you thought they were - hallucinations and nothing more. Nothing spooky, or supernatural, or dangerous.

But you had been wrong before.

It was the initial crashing sound of the motel room door hitting the wall that woke you up first, screaming male voices really kicking your brain into high alert as you scrambled out of bed. Ending up in the corner facing the opposite corner where the door was, you took in what was happening. 2 men, yelling at you for whatever you had - but you were screaming louder than they were, scrambling for anything in your grasp - just that stupid, fucking radio - but judging by the hot impact of a projectile hitting your chest they were not thrilled you weren’t immediately cooperating. Hand clenching around the radio’s cord you hit the corner and slumped down to the floor, lungs burning and immense pain taking over your consciousness. As your mind faded, you could hear the two men bickering, freaking out over the turn their burglary took. Oh, you being shot was an accident? Stellar. Your vision became hazy, it even looked like shadows were overtaking the men as their arguing turned into painful screaming. Whoever came to your aid was simply too late, though you could appreciate the gesture as you died.

You always thought that you would end up looking down at your dying body when the time came, but from the forceful pull downwards your soul felt, it was clear the afterlife had different plans for you.

Now you weren’t really sure what the hell, like actual, literal, hell, was going on. The impact you felt from your sharp tug into the afterlife, landing on a very detailed rug at what looked like the lobby of a hotel was one thing. The tiny radio following your fall shortly after, merely denting a corner of the wood with a loud thunk was another, cord still clenched in your hand. Oh good!

Dazed, you were immediately hoisted up and hugged - yes hugged - by probably the tallest women you had ever met, and the fastest talking one as well. Rambling about “welcome”, “hell rehab”, something or other about redemption - honestly the look of relief you gave the shorter woman who approached and reined in the other made her smirk as she introduced them in a much clearer manner.

Vaggie and Charlie. Vaggie was a resident of the hotel with her girlfriend, the owner and operator of this ‘Hazbin Hotel’, Charlie, both working at redeeming the souls of sinners and getting them into heaven. There were 2 residents, Angel & Sir Pentious, who were not present, a Janitor Nifty (currently wiping your landing spot with a cloth) the bartender, an angry bird-cat man Husk, and the host (also missing) Alastor. Your open mouthed confusion clearly made Charlie snap into attention (finally) because she finally morphed into a being that was capable of conversation.

“So, new to hell?” She inquired.

Well. Duh. “Um yes. I think I was just shot? Am I actually dead?” You asked, hopeful this was a very vivid nightmare.

“As a doornail!” She exclaimed, chipper with positive energy, “Not that doornails are dead, they don’t have souls like you or Angel but really-”

“Yes. You’re dead. And a sinner, which is why you’re here.” Vaggie cut in, patting Charlie on the back. Charlie smiled brightly and nodded at you.

“Yes, and here you can redeem yourself and hopefully make it to heaven! I have faith in our program.”

Oh god this was too much. The sound of a door opening and closing was faintly heard in the background, but that didn’t stop you from being a speedy spiral into mania.

“So. One, I’m dead. Two, why am I in hell I am pretty sure I was a decent human? I didn’t go to church, sure, but I had very little control over my working schedule. Three, is it supposed to be so freaking loud down here? I’m-“

Intense breathing interrupted - yes, breathing. It was the janitor, her one eye staring at you while she lifted the little radio. ”This is diiiirty” she semi-sang. A horrific giggle was lingering under her breath. You grimaced at her behaviour and dropped the cord immediately, avoiding any contact by proxy with this creature. What a creepy little -

“Did that come with you?” Charlie asked, looking confused as you answered with a nod. “Strange, usually possessions don’t follow a soul into the afterlife…” She trailed off, finger tapping her chin with a frown. Everyone turned to look at the manic janitor essentially vibrating with the radio in her hands.

“Interesting! What has inspired us all to gather this fine evening?”

”Alastor!” Charlie greeted an individual behind you. ”This might be our newest resident…she’s just arrived!” Her hands wildly gestured from you to whoever was behind you. You could see the shadow of the person on the floor, stretching into a long figure that looked vaguely familiar. You were certain your eyes were burning a hole into the carpet beneath the shadow. If the shadow was this frightening what exactly was behind you? The shadow appeared to smile wider as you stared at it.

“Hmm!” Alastor, you supposed, responded. “What an exciting new development why - Oh!” Something had caught his attention. He walked towards the janitor, and you glanced at the back of his figure as he walked past you towards the tiny creature. He was tall, very tall, and slender. There was an ominous presence around him, even the nature of his clothing was fashioned in a way that seemed off. It was unnerving. Broad shoulders tapered into a very slim waistline, his jacket flared out behind him in a style reminiscent of a different time. Head to toe red and black, which was also just…something else. But the other patrons also had an interesting approach to their wardrobes as well, save the 2 women. Maybe that was just…how it was here.

“Now where did you find this delightful little item, Nifty?” He said, his profile coming slightly into your view. Dear god, terrifying. You couldn’t even begin to describe his appearance. Chills ran down your back, and suddenly you remembered you were still in very thin pajamas.

“Eh-hehe a dirty radio sir!” She answered, thrilled with herself. “it came with our new guessst” her eye switching from the tallest, creepiest creature you had ever set your eyes upon to your gaze. You swear you could hear the bones crack in the man's neck as he fired his gaze to yours. You were trapped.

“Is that so?” He began to slowly walk towards you, the room filling with a static hum similar to what you felt in the motel room, your skin tingling as he got closer. It was getting harder to hear the others try and talk to the approaching figure, the hum was getting louder.

“And what,” he started, “are you doing with my Radio, my dear?” His eyes were radio dials at this point, sharp jagged teeth glowing alongside them as his head tilted in an inhuman manner, the cracking from before louder than before.

What? Oh for fucks sake. Fuck your backwater, bayou-residing, rude, nasty, hoarder family-

As your eyes rolled back into your head, your body went limp and you hit the foyer carpet. Hard. For the second time that night

Part One : Part Two : Part Three : Part Four

#Hazbin hotel #Alastor x reader #Alastor smut #Hazbin #alastorxreader #Alastor x off #Alastor x you #angel dust is the best supporting character #eventual smut #Alastor

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sgiandubh · 7 months ago

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Flaunting the narrative

I just came back from a nice dinner & drinks in town, with friends who visit from Athens. Lo and behold, my DMs are on fire again, but my (in)famous Inbox is, as expected, resoundingly quiet. [Later edit: not for long].

It would seem S's latest interview for yet another one of those glossy magazines one usually spots untouched in any random Main Street dentist's cabinet or real estate office did manage to raise a couple of eyebrows, after all. With very few data publicly available, Flaunt Magazine is the kind of media outlet with four times less Instagram followers than S, so this begs the question to whom the murder interview really profits:

There is very little out there about Flaunt Magazine, indeed. Other than it was founded in September 1998 by three amigos (Alex Barajas, Jim Turner and Long Nguyen), all of whom were also part of the editorial team of the (now defunct?) Detour Magazine, there is virtually nothing else. This does or should ring a bell about the real importance and relevance of this media stunt - not much to add here, either. Other than that, past issues of Flaunt seem to be traded between fans of celebrities who (more or less) regularly grace its pages, in what I do think are paid/in kind op-eds written by people with no clear professional print, in agreement and by prior arrangement with the talent's PR:

Compared to Flaunt, a real lifestyle press behemoth such as Harper's Bazaar (this blogger has subscribed to for many years, ahem) has a quite different audience level and marketing approach:

Six times more Instagram followers and a clearly more friendly pricing policy:

[Sorry, what I managed to find is the UK offer - blame it on their regional settings, I suppose: however, I think the US offer might not be that different].

In other words, I am beginning to suspect more and more Flaunt is that kind of vanity/hybrid press product, where costs and risks are more or less evenly split between the printer/publisher and the client. Therefore, you would be naive to expect anything else than some tightly controlled, neat-o narrative aligned content. Especially considering the targeted audience, which is (of course) the American fandom, albeit with a tinge of 'sophistication' and a totally artificial 'whimsical twist' (California, here I come).

Onwards to the candid bullshittery.

The article opens with a precise timeline reference:

[Source: https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/cy0g2p47xd5o]

Therefore, the interview happened somewhere between 11 and 14 October 2024, just about the time S was overseas and C was spotted having dinner in London with the Rothschilds and no Tracula in sight. And there is another thing that immediately screamed at me from that pixelated page: George Mallory. Which brought me exactly here:

Yes, absolutely. The Golden Goose that never was. That still hurts, judging by the melancholy with which S talks about Everest, not climbing it after all, still planning to visit next December:

Perhaps with Jake Norton, a reputed Scottish American mountaineer (I think you were right on the money, darling - you know who you are, 😘😘❤️), S met and stroke a friendship with since 2023:

The December reference is not innocent at all. It is there to sparkle endless speculation about what S will be doing on Xmas and Hogmanay, too (and with whom, of course - and there you have all the factions dutifully served with an extra side of bullshite to dissect). Fan wars galore, fuming and flaming DMs and inboxes to boot. He/his PR know that and apparently they still need that Idiotenspiel at play for a while. Also, December's got 31 days, something that Stans worldwide seem to suddenly ignore.

Once the proper tone is set and given, the rest flows almost naturally: zero reference to C (1500% expected) and what is a clearly tailored, yet fizzling, bomb:

'I'm really on the precipice': now that is some extraordinary choice of words, isn't it? This and the 'I don't know' are probably the only authentic reactions in the very strange quote I underlined.

'Being on the precipice' is almost always negatively connotated. It logically has nothing to do with the idea of starting a new journey, but it has everything to do with the idea that he is now confronted with the lack of security and comfort and with the potential loss of notoriety the end of OL might bring. Something he very clumsily tries to disguise as 'I feel I'm no longer tied by Outlander', which must also be the counterfactual understatement of the year, really. There is legally and factually no way he wouldn't still be tied by Outlander, irrespective of how tedious that might feel. He still needs the Mommies' hardcore clientele pool, while he is commendably trying to diversify his sales and marketing strategy. These things do not happen in the blink of an eye and he knows it very well. However, he also really needs to portray himself as something else than a one trick pony, in order to remain bankable in Hollywood and elsewhere. Hence the 'I am not tied to OL anymore', I am able to do bigger and better things, and in the long run I would also like to make a springboard, not a dead end out of it.

Finally, there is no way he would be legally untied from OL. Contracts are still contracts. They include clauses and obligations that will be enforced most probably until after the show's last season will be aired. There is very little to zero leeway around it, for the time being. By the time those clauses and obligations will be rendered obsolete, very few of those Anons and Stans and Mommies and Onlies will still be around to even give a flying duck about the whole life situation.

And then, we have the 'maybe I'll start a family'. Despite what all of my Anons are shrieking right now in my inbox, this is not even the first time he hints at it, and I seriously do not understand why the sudden hysterical surge. Anons probably think I am amnesic, or something:

That is a direct quote from Waypoints. He announced nothing. It's been there, in plain sight, for a long time already and if anything, it is consistent with the narrative.

The rest is borderline irrelevant, visually and conceptually incoherent ('nude scenes are difficult and even dangerous to shoot, when dealt with in a non-professional way, but here is a shirtless bucolic pic that will make my Onlies drool and buy collector's issues at extortionate prices'). The overall impression it gave me was of a hastily cobbled and not very clever circumstance paper. Nothing more, nothing less.

There is no amount of wishful thinking that is going to immediately and magically change the current state of play. Reasonable people should expect mild, but constant turbulence ahead, with a sprinkle of cuteness and innuendo just to keep all the fandom's factions engaged and present, which translates to S/C/SC being relevant for potential employers, agents, the press, etc. In a nutshell, absolutely nothing new. You can screech, you won't change an iota of what I know is true and my position is firmer than ever, no matter how ridiculously hard you try to intimidate or harass me. That's all.

#fandom #shitshow #The Flaunt interview November 2024

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cordyceph · 10 months ago

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one big thing about iwtv i like is that Every character has flaws. even characters we're meant to unapologetically sympathize with in other medias

paul, for example, is a very clearly sick man whos sickness weighs on his family. in any other media, hed'd be virtually untouched by any flaw other than being tragically sick. in iwtv, the first time we see him he's harassing louis' prostitutes (and we Know its harrasment because she tells louis he wont leave and paul isnt listening when she tells him she isnt interested.) we also see paul detest levi- who he views as having taken away his sister- and then act borderline hostile to lestat- some weird white man who's come to take his last sibling away, by attacking something he Knows he can win (religion, implying that lestat is either a blasphemer or gay) (either way, living in sin)

i think the only character who is like not an asshole without reason to be is grace? because shes generally kind and understanding until louis endangers her kids, literally disappears for months, years, until their mother dies, until she has to 'kill' him in her mind. sure, she was aggressive and insulting at their mother's funeral, but like... i would be too. if my brother fucked off for who knows how long, comes back Wrong and more of an asshole than before, literally breaks a door down, threatens me? id be way more upset than she was. like shes kind of a saint compared to literally everyone else. armand? armand. need i say more. louis? half the show is 'look at louis be unnecessarily cruel to those around him' (claudia, daniel, armand, lestat) lestat. oh my god lestat. i want to study his brain and be like brother how do you have every disease.

claudia is kind of a special case because for as much as she acts grown shes permanently stuck in that fourteen year old era. i know i, when i was an unsupported mentally ill teenager, said horrible things i deeply regretted later on. claudia goes through that too, just by like... a hundred or so years more. its not until madeline really treats her like another adult woman that she acts more like. well. an adult. louis didn't treat her like an adult ever (as much as lestat did wrong by her specifically, i do think he treated her like an adult, but never a child. but thats for another ramble) anyway, claudia says awful things and does awful things because shes fourteen and being treated like a child, but shes an adult, but no one treats her like one. like babydoll from batman animated

daniel . daniellllllll. olllllld man. i lost my steam thinking about that old man im gonna be real. hes just really funny and pretty and smart and cool okay im gonna jackhammer that guys pelvis

#amc iwtv #oooo #character analysis #sort lf #lestat de lioncourt #louis de pointe du lac #claudia de pointe du lac #paul and grace mention #grace :)#shes like honestly my favorite on the grounds of i would like to talk to her i think. i would want to meet her kids and share stories #be generally nice to her in honesty #my fav on dissecting levels is lestat #something WRAUNG with him

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your-resident-boat-person · 6 months ago

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I'm building a catamaran-style steampunk crane vessel based on sort of a 1920s ocean liner style. Any recommendations to better understand the internals and layout of the ship?

This ask has been sitting in my inbox for MONTHS and I'm DEEPLY sorry it took this long to respond.

So, the thing about the 1920s in regards to ocean liners is that it was a VERY strange era. Almost everything ocean liner related ceased during World War 1, and none of the existing liners were back in service until around 1920 or 1921. The “newest” liners by this point were 10 years old, and it was the Balan trio: Imperator (now Berengaria), Vaterland (now Leviathan) and Bismarck (now Majestic). They were German liners, and they were handed over to the US and Britain as war reparations. They were renamed and renovated to varying Degrees. Majestic was virtually untouched, and Vaterland was basically a brand new ship after the renovations. The first new “big players” on the Atlantic were the Bremen and the Europa, from 1928. They're much more associated with the 30s, though. So, in regards to stylings, most 1920s ocean liners were extremely reminiscent of the 1910s. And one of the most beloved ships of the 1920s was the RMS Olympic, sister to Titanic. So, in regards to your questions, here is what I think would work best.

First, to get a good idea of the interior decor and layout of a ship from this era, I would recommend downloading the free demo of Titanic: Honor and Glory. Titanic was almost identical to Olympic, and had she not sunk, she would have served through the 20s alongside her. So this will give you a really good perspective on what a passenger would experience on one of these voyages. Getting to walk around and explore these areas in first person will give you a really good perspective on what you're looking for. Furthermore, in terms of construction and design, Olympic and Titanic are very similar to the RMS Baltic, RMS Cedric, RMS Celtic, and RMS Adriatic, which all entered service between 1901 and 1907. So exploring Titanic will give you a really good idea of how most White Star liners were laid out and decorated between 1900 and 1930. All White Star liners were also built by the same company, Harland and Wolf, so it makes sense that they're all so similar. The only thing to remember is that Olympic and Titanic are about twice the size of most other White Star Liners, and much more extravagant. If you want a good idea of how the smaller liners were decorated, I'd recommend just looking up “(ship name) interior” on Google or something. Along with these liners, I'd also recommend looking into the Cunard liners, like Lusitania, Mauretania, Carmania, Caronia, Aquitania, etc. These ships were built by many different ship yards, and the interiors were designed by totally different people, so these ships are much more diverse in terms of styling and Decor. Lusitania and Mauretania, for example, barely resemble each other on the inside. They're sisters, so they have the same rooms and deck plans, but Lusitania Was full of bright white plaster with gold accents, and Mauretania was paneled in lots of dark wood. None of the ships I have mentioned thus far were scrapped until the mid 30s, so they all served between 1920 and 1929.

So here's my list Of the liners most popular between 1920 and 1929, in no particular order:

RMS Olympic (1911)

RMS Mauretania (1907)

RMS Aquitania (1914)

RMS Berengaria/SS Imperator (1913)

SS Leviathan/SS Vaterland (1914)

RMS Majestic/SS Bismarck (1914)

RMS Adriatic (1907)

Now, what I said above is how to do it in a historically accurate way. However, lots of people associate the 1920s with art deco, even though the art deco movement in decor didn't kick off until the 30s. Another good resource for the interior layout of ocean liners of this era is the RMS Queen Mary, currently docked permanently in long Beach California, serving as a floating hotel. She was built in the 30s, but many passengers remarked that her layout was remarkably similar to the RMS Aquitania of 1914, even if the decor was completely different. If you can't go to California, I'd recommend looking up a tour on YouTube. Her art deco interiors are GORGEOUS. The most famous and prominent Art Deco liners were The Queen Mary, Queen Elizabeth, Normandie, and Caronia (not the one from 1905, this one was built in the late 40s and they share a name), and I'd also reccomend looking into the Bremen and Europa. They came a bit before art deco became popular, but they still featured a lot of the decor that would ultimately Popularize art deco.

Thank you SO much for your ask. If you have any more questions or need more detailed advice, PLEASE reach out to me! Send another ask or a DM! I love helping people with this kind of stuff!

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optimisticgrey · 3 months ago

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"The Choice That Wasn't Mine To Make"

virtual library |playlist | ao3 |

summary: Gale convinces the others that using the orb is their only way of defeating the Netherbrain. Celeste finds out too late.

author's note: The birthday of a dear, deceased friend nears. I do not handle it well, no matter how many years have passed. I miss him deeply, every day. To break a pattern, I thought I’d channel my grief into something new. This is a pointless story about pointless deaths. You have been warned.

content warning: Pointless death, pain, loss, suffering, grief

taglist: Thank you, @monowires for beta reading

word count: 5,7k

Theme song: Apocalyptica - Faraway

AO3 Link

The explosion tore through the city with a violence that rattled the bones of the earth, the air itself quivering in the wake of its fury. It was not the physical destruction, the falling stone and shattered glass, that sent Halsin tumbling.

No, it was the fracture he felt, not within himself. The kind that could not be mended by magic or the will of the Oakfather. This was a wound to the spirit, a crack that could never be sealed, no matter how hard one tried.

As the city trembled, he turned in time to see Celeste. She did not scream, did not collapse with the weight of realization. No cry escaped her lips, no sound to signify the depth of what had just been torn from her.

Instead, she sank to her knees, sword slipping from her grasp, her eyes wide and unblinking, locked on the devastation before her. The explosion’s root cause itself had dwindled the very light from her soul.

And in that stillness, one word, so soft, so fragile, fell from her lips. "Gale."

Halsin had imagined that victory would feel different.

Quietly, in his most hopeful moments, he had dreamed of a time when the world would right itself. When the great enemy fell and the shadows that clung to them would finally dissipate. And nature would find time to heal.

He had hoped for relief, for something to heal the wounds that had plagued them all. But when the Netherbrain’s great form plummeted from the sky, the ground splitting beneath its weight and the fire in her eyes dying along with it, all he felt was a suffocating guilt.

A mistake, a deep mistake. Perhaps the greatest of his life.

Celeste had endured so much. Her strength had always been silent, in her ability to stand tall in the face of everything, to fight when all hope seemed lost.

But when Karlach’s body had faltered, consumed by the flames of Avernus’s call, Celeste did not flinch.

She did not cry out. She spoke with a tenderness that should have been filled with life, but it was empty, hollow, a mere repetition of actions once full of meaning. She held Karlach, ignoring the flames, and Wyll for a heartbeat longer, the motions familiar, but the heart of it was lost.

And then, they were gone, and Celeste did not move, did not weep.

There was no reaction when Astarion vanished into the shadows, no cry of his name, no search for him. She stood still, unmoving, as if she had already known this was how it would unfold.

As though it no longer mattered to her.

In the quiet that followed, in the unbearable stillness that settled over them all, Halsin saw it. The mistake that none of them had anticipated in their desperate fight to preserve life, in their frantic calculations to save the world, at any cost.

They had won. But in winning, they had lost her.

The thought gnawed at him. He could feel the pull of it, a deep ache in his chest, something darker than even the sting of his own self-doubt.

Halsin had failed her.

And though he clung to the faith that Silvanus would guide him through even the darkest moments, he wondered if he, too, had been wrong in his decisions. If the Oak Father’s wisdom had led him astray in his hope to preserve what had been good, what had been true.

Rescue efforts began at once, people coming together to help, to rebuild, but Celeste remained untouched by it. She moved through the work with quiet efficiency, tending wounds, offering aid, ensuring others were cared for. Yet when the day’s labour was done, she withdrew, always returning to the room she had once shared with Gale, as if the world outside no longer held anything for her.

The city’s jubilation rang out, its people raising goblets and voices in a wild celebration, their cheers vibrating in the very air as though the earth itself could not help but join in their euphoria. The streets thrummed with life, the sounds of triumph echoing through every corner. But Celeste did not join in.

She turned away.

Not just from the festivities, but from everything. She did not linger among them, did not share in their triumph. There were no shouts of joy, no smiles from her lips.

Only quiet, resigned steps as she climbed the stairs to the room, her hand resting for the briefest moment on the door before closing it gently behind her.

And no one followed. No one dared.

That night, she had spoken only once. Her voice, stripped of its usual warmth, came as nothing more than a whisper, a sound barely audible amidst the silence of the room.

"When do we leave?"

The words hung in the air, unanswered, a question without hope, a statement of finality in its fragility.

Now, in the dim candlelight of the Elfsong Tavern, Celeste stood before them again. Her gaze swept over each of them, lingering, as though she were committing them to memory. As though this moment, this farewell, was the only thing left to her.

Karlach and Wyll were gone, lost to Avernus. Astarion stood apart, his posture tense, his expression unreadable. Their rooms, once alive with laughter, with the clink of tankards and the exchange of stories in fleeting moments of peace between battles, felt empty. The space stretched too wide for the few souls that remained.

Then, at last, Celeste spoke. "Were you aware?"

There was no anger in her voice, no sharpness, no accusation. Only quiet devastation, a sorrow so deep that it seemed to suck the very air from the room. Every word she spoke felt like a weight that pressed on him, suffocating him.

Silence fell between them. And in that silence, the truth that none of them had dared speak, hung thick in the air. It was unspoken, but undeniable.

Astarion was the first to break it, his voice softer than usual, stripped of its usual sharpness. "Darling—" His tone was no longer teasing, no playful edge. "It was a unanimous decision. We—"

Celeste did not respond. She simply looked at him, her gaze heavy with sorrow. No fury, no outrage. Just sorrow. A sorrow so profound it left him speechless, the words faltering in his throat.

Her eyes shifted to Halsin. And in that moment, the weight of her gaze hit him with the force of a blow. Her grief, her quiet pain, her loss - all of it reflected in her eyes. It was as if she could see straight through him, to the heart of the choice they had made without her.

Halsin’s chest tightened, his breath caught in his throat.

"Did you know?" The question came, not with malice, but with a quiet, aching devastation.

He had not wanted to tell her. He had hoped, foolishly, to shield her from the truth - that this decision, this impossible choice, had been made for her. That they had acted because they feared she would never make it herself.

But now, with her eyes fixed on him, her sorrow so palpable, he knew the truth was already written in his eyes. His silence betrayed him long before his words could.

Celeste turned, not waiting for his answer, and left without another word. The door closed softly behind her.

Halsin exhaled, the sound heavy and weary, but the weight in his chest did not lift. It only grew heavier, suffocating him.

"I should never have allowed this to happen," he murmured, the words feeling empty as they left his lips. "I should have seen it sooner. I should have stopped it before it reached this point. I should have understood what was truly at stake."

They had thought they were protecting her. They had themselves in their desperation to give her a future, that they were doing right by her. But what was a future without its heart?

Gale had promised her that this was for the best. That she would survive. That she would find a way forward.

But none of them had truly asked her what that future would look like. None of them had considered the toll it would take on her, the weight it would place on her spirit. What was a life without the very person who had given it meaning?

Halsin could see it now, in the stillness she carried with her, the deep silence that seemed to surround her like a cloud. The unbearable weight of a future she had never chosen.

A future without Gale.

He had held her once, when she had been broken, when her body was frail and her soul barely clinging to life, and he had feared he would lose her. But now, staring at the door she had disappeared behind, he feared something deeper.

He feared that the loss was only just beginning.

Astarion exhaled beside him, his gaze still fixed on the door. "What is done is done. We have all paid our prices." His voice had softened, no longer laced with the usual sarcasm. "This is Celeste’s."

A heavy silence filled the room, oppressive and unyielding. It was a silence no one could escape from.

And then, Astarion spoke again, his voice quieter now, more solemn than Halsin had ever heard it. "She did not deserve this." Continue on AO3

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg 3 halsin #halsin bg3 #halsin fic #halsin x dark urge #oc: celeste

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katelynnwrites · 2 years ago

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All I Want For Christmas (Is You) | Laura Freigang

warnings: f for fluff and c for christmas

word count: 2176

summary: you surprise your girlfriend for christmas

a/n: merry christmas folks, have a good one 🎄❤️

Lucas thinks his sister is sulking. Correction, he knows she is sulking.

The blonde has been sitting at their family table, staring at her phone silently with a small frown on her face.

Her breakfast has been left untouched and he kicks her shin under the table to get her attention.

‘What?’ Laura snaps, setting her phone down and leveling her brother with a glare.

He simply asks, ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Lau come on.’ He tries although he’s already pretty sure he knows what’s wrong.

His suspicions are confirmed when his sister lets out a quiet sigh.

‘I miss her.’

The forward looks so sad at the thought of your absence that Lucas can’t help but feel sorry for her.

Luckily, he knows something she doesn’t, something that will definitely make her feel better.

******

Letting your girlfriend think you both would be spending Christmas apart has been one of the hardest things you’ve ever done.

The German woman had been eagerly planning on spending her holiday with both you and her family back in Kiel when you told her about your grandmother asking you to go home to Sweden.

Laura knows how close you are to your grandmother and with you playing in Frankfurt with her, knows how much you have missed her.

So she had insistently told you to go despite your protests that you didn’t have to because you’d already promised to go to Kiel with her.

At the very beginning of your relationship, the blonde and you had already decided to take turns spending Christmas with each other’s families.

It was meant to be Laura’s family’s turn to have you both over this year.

Celebrating the holiday apart had never been an option until now.

It still isn’t to you.

But you had let the striker believe that you were going back to Sweden, taking the chance to surprise her.

Surprising Laura is a rare thing for you. It’s not for a lack of trying but rather your girlfriend simply knows you too well.

It’s awfully hard keeping your secret, especially when the Eintracht Frankfurt player was nearly in tears as she saw you off at the airport.

‘I’ll miss you so.’ She had whispered, tucking her face into the side of your neck and holding you close.

You had given her heaps of kisses, pressing them onto her cheeks, her nose, her forehead and her lips.

Enough to cause the German woman to smile when you finally stepped back.

‘I’ll see you soon Lau. Promise.’

‘I’m going to hold you to that.’ She’d softly answered, linking her pinky with yours for a brief moment.

Then it had been time for you to go and Laura had stood at the departure hall as you went through airport security till she couldn’t see you anymore.

Her brother had been right when he said his sister was a big ‘anything for my person’ kind of girl.

******

Lucas had been brought into your plan as soon as you had thought of it and he had readily agreed to help.

He did however, count it as his Christmas present to Laura.

Your time back in your home country was enjoyable, filled with helping your grandmother to bake Christmas cookies and spending time with your other family members.

Your girlfriend video called every day, blowing kisses hello and pouting a little every time the call had to end.

She sends you photos of everything, be it the small snow man she had made or the supermarket nearest her family home, all decorated for the holiday.

It’s sweet how much she tries to make sure you don’t miss out on anything.

As the days go by back in Kiel though, Lucas does begin to get a little annoyed at his sister’s ability to look at virtually anything and think of you.

But he cannot fault her for it, not when you both have been together for six years already, ever since Laura had asked you out shortly after you met on Penn State’s college team.

Being the only Europeans on the team, it made sense for the two of you to bond. What you hadn’t anticipated was how quickly the blonde had made herself a place in your heart.

Now you can easily say that your heart belongs to her.

Your girlfriend says the same for herself, occasionally dramatically claiming that you stole her heart the second you walked into the locker room back in Pennsylvania.

She’s a unique one for sure but she is your Laura and you wouldn’t change her for the world.

******

If Lucas thought his sister had been sad on Christmas morning, it’s nothing compared to how she is now.

It is nearing evening and she’s quietly sitting on the couch, holding her phone in her hands and staring at its blank screen.

You haven’t called or answered any of her texts and frankly, that is so unlike you that the blonde is seriously considering getting on a plane to Sweden.

She is weighing the pros and cons of the decision when her mother sits down beside her, pulling her into a side hug.

‘I’m sorry. I know the holiday doesn’t seem right without her.’

‘I miss her. More than I ever thought possible.’ Laura chokes out, tears springing to her eyes at the admission.

‘I know honey I know.’

The older woman strokes her hair gently and the striker sniffles.

Your girlfriend is subdued as she mumbles, ‘I wished her Merry Christmas hours ago and she still hasn’t answered…’

‘She’ll reply to you. You know she will. Now why don’t you come with me and your father to the Christmas market while you wait for that? You’ve always liked it there and you can pick out a little something for my future daughter in law.’

The Eintracht Frankfurt forward is not upset enough to miss her mother’s less than subtle way of distracting her.

She rolls her eyes, wiping at them with her sleeve as she composes herself.

‘Is Lucas coming?’ She asks after a moment, her voice significantly steadier.

Laura’s mother keeps her smile hidden as she answers, ‘No. He has an errand to run.’

******

His errand is in fact, to pick you up from the airport and smuggle you into his bedroom before your girlfriend gets back.

Lucas manages to do so and you thank him gratefully, only for him to teasingly say that he only did so because his sister wouldn’t stop moping.

‘She’s making Christmas depressing.’ He complains.

You laugh.

‘I miss her a lot too. She’s my other half and I don’t remember how to properly celebrate Christmas without her.’

‘Oh not you too.’ Lucas groans.

‘Sorry.’ You say, with a grin.

‘My sister should be back anytime now so just wait here for a while, until I can sneak you down as my present.’

Hugging your girlfriend’s brother tightly, you murmur your thanks again before he leaves.

******

You know the moment Laura comes back because your girlfriend is far from the quietest person. Even with the room door closed, you can hear her.

The sound of her laughter makes you smile softly. It’s only been a week since you’ve last heard it in person but that’s too long.

You swear that even in the midst of a crowd, you’ll be able to pick out your girlfriend’s laugh every time.

It is your favourite sound.

You have missed the blonde so much that having her just downstairs and not being to go to her immediately makes you impatient.

Fiddling with the gift you had chosen for Laura seems like a good distraction.

You hope she likes it because it certainly wasn’t easy to find.

******

Just when you are beginning to wonder if Lucas is ever going to come back, the door opens.

‘Come on. Mom’s in the kitchen distracting Laura.’

He hurries you down and leads you through the living room and out the front door, which he promptly closes in your face, with a mischievous smile.

You giggle softly when seconds later, his raised voice can be heard ‘Laura! My Christmas present for you is outside!’

You can picture your girlfriend’s suspicious look and know that she’ll be grumbling to herself.

There’s a little smile on your face as you hear her footsteps as well as a not so quiet, ‘I swear Lucas if this is some joke of yours…’

The striker is taking her time and her brother tries to get her to speed up.

‘Laura, your present is getting cold out there!’

‘How can it possibly be getting-’

The door opens and your girlfriend’s words trail off.

‘Merry Christmas schatz.’ You greet cheekily, holding out the wrapped gift you had brought for her.

Your favorite person flings herself at you and you giggle as you catch her, stumbling backwards slightly.

The blonde wraps her legs around your waist, pressing her face into your shoulder.

‘Lau. I love you but you gotta get down. I’m going to drop your gift. You breathlessly say.

‘Drop it.’ She mumbles.

Even with the German woman’s hair in your face, you can see her parents chuckle. They’re watching you both from the doorway, along with Lucas who rolls his eyes fondly.

‘You really don’t want me to do that. It’s fragile.’ You try but your girlfriend stubbornly refuses.

‘Schatz just a second okay?’

Laura frowns but relents reluctantly.

Her beautiful claret grey eyes are sparkling and you lean in to kiss her gently.

‘I love you.’

‘Love you too.’ She whispers.

The striker is still in somewhat of a daze, staring at you in disbelief.

‘How are you here? Why are you here?’

Her family laughs at her words and you shrug with a smile.

‘Couldn’t spend Christmas away from you. Also your brother mentioned something about you being a bit of a Grinch?’

‘Was not. And I was only sad because I missed you so much.’ Laura defends.

You chuckle, placing another delicate kiss onto her lips.

‘I’m here now.’

******

Your girlfriend sticks close to you, absolutely refusing to let go of your hand.

The only exception is when she opens the present you give her.

She’d been eyeing the box ever since you passed it to her.

‘Is it a camera?’ The blonde hopefully asks.

‘Possibly.’ You smile.

Laura’s excitement increases and she carefully undoes the tape holding the wrapping paper close.

Your grin grows as she opens it, the striker’s jaw practically dropping open as she sees it.

‘I’ve been looking for this forever.’ She whispers.

‘I know.’ You tell her.

It’s a vintage Leica analog camera. One that your girlfriend has been searching for to add to her collection.

‘You’re incredible. Thank you.’

Your girlfriend can’t stop smiling long enough to kiss you properly but she tries to anyway.

‘Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.’ She says as she peppers your face with kisses.

‘You’re welcome.’ You get out, in between bright giggles.

Laura’s happiness is radiant and you find yourself captivated by it.

‘I love you.’ The German woman tells you.

‘I mean it.’ She adds after a moment.

The way your gaze on her softens lets her know that you get it. That you get what she’s trying to put into words.

It’s a moment that you want captured, one that Laura’s father is more than happy to help with.

******

Your girlfriend pulls you out onto the porch of her family house after the rest of her family have finished opening their presents.

‘You okay?’ You ask in concern.

‘Yeah. More than okay. I just wanted to be alone with you for a while.’ The striker explains.

Your heart practically melts and that reflects in your body language as you lean into Laura’s arms, letting the German woman press your back flush against her front.

She kisses the shell of your ear affectionately before resting her chin on your shoulder.

‘Are you sure that your grandmother is okay with you being here?’ She murmurs quietly.

You squeeze Laura’s hand lightly, ‘She is. She even insisted on me packing you a box of the Christmas cookies that we made together. It’s in my suitcase upstairs.’

‘Oh good. I like those.’

You laugh a little and soak in the embrace, the blonde’s presence alone, making you feel content.

She smells like home, home is wherever she is.

Your girlfriend takes in a deep breath before letting it out in a huff.

‘I left your present back home in Frankfurt.’ Laura dejectedly says.

‘That’s okay schatz. I was meant to surprise you after all.’

Your favourite person kisses the top of your head.

‘You’re the best Christmas present I’ve ever received.’

‘Does Lucas not get credit for it?’ You tease.

The forward sighs, ‘I’ll thank him but can we please have a few more minutes where it’s just us first? I don’t want to share you yet.’

You giggle, turning around to kiss her senseless.

‘Of course. I love you Lau.’

‘I love you too.’ She breathes, pulling you impossibly closer and pressing her own lips onto yours.

German Translation:

schatz - sweetheart

#laura freigang #laura freigang x reader #laura freigang imagine #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #gerwnt x reader #gerwnt imagine #dfb frauen #gerwnt #dfb frauen x reader #dfb frauen imagine #uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #katelynnwrites

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gasp-hehe · 5 months ago

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Hamilton x JJK

This is 1000% brought on by me consuming those edits again, but Burr and Alexander are Satoru and Suguru if Suguru didn't defect. Hear me out, Hamilton didn't know how Burr felt. The inferiority, the jealousy, he to an extent always considered him a better half. In the musical we witness how excellent he was, leagues above everyone else, not cut from the same cloth, yet we have the musical because people never acknowledged him compared to some other founding fathers. Akin to how Gojo didn't even get a funeral, he altered the balance of the world when he was born just to die the same as you and I. Burr truly never held any ill will towards Hamilton in the beginning, their paths aligned, they became acquainted, but he did not excel. If it's sad that a founding father's legacy is a musical, is it not sadder for Burr to be remembered as the man who isn't Hamilton? If Geto had not defected but still harboured the same feelings and went through the same trauma, yet saw Gojo overcome and "win", then what's the difference? I think when you take songs such as 'Wait For It' or 'Non-Stop' this is better shown. The obsession Hamilton had with writing the same as to how Gojo exceedingly became so far above everyone he wasn't human, he is literally untouchable. He fought, took mission after mission, works 21hrs a day, he could theoretically handle it all alone. How Burr wasn't willing to back up the constitution, how Suguru didn't defect immediately, a year passed. The hatred brimming and boiling, him hoping it'd subside just for the wait to result in a different outcome. How the only time Burr did not hesitate was for that final shot, contrastingly enough, the only time Hamilton did. Satoru has always hesitated in taking Suguru's life, yet Suguru was truly happy when he was away from Jujutsu society. Honestly, JJK is ripe with symbolism, excellent re-read material in the sense that everything comes together so beautifully with certain characters. Gojo's ability being unbeatable, being his only weakness, how him messing with the fabric of reality impacted his life and the consequence of being untouchable. How regardless of the strength he has never got what mattered, just like his domain. Toji deciding to risk his life by fighting Gojo a second time just to prove to the people he hated that he was good enough, yet if he had won that fight there'd be no difference between him and the Zen'in clan. He died for the same people who wished he was dead anyway. And if Geto Suguru didn't wind up hating non-sorcerers he'd end up hating Jujutsu, believing the world would be better with 0 cursed energy. To dismantle Jujutsu can be done in multiple ways, but perhaps the most effective would be to take down the pinnacle, i.e Satoru Gojo. I will one day draft an entire character study and analysis on Satoru (because clearly I cannot shut up and I have too many thoughts), but when SatoSugu were like Lafayette and Hamilton just to technically wind up in the same fate, is post hidden inventory Geto the real Geto or did he die in that fight against Toji? If he didn't, was hidden inventory Geto the fake one and the racist the real one? This is also interesting because say Geto tried helping, pushing it down, not going insane. Would he be Jefferson? Would Satoru be Jefferson? Would Geto/Jefferson view Satoru as Washington?

You could say the trio ended up becoming like John Jay, James Madison, and Hamilton. What with Shoko never being recognized, John Jay recovered after writing four to write the fifth. James Madison writing more than their agreed upon original limit simply by himself but never given value, like Suguru being a special grade that came from no resources. Him having virtually no weakness. And of course, Hamilton going insane and losing everything in the pursuit of his 'dream', I wonder if anyone has ever randomly hugged Satoru and told him they love him. He never had an Eliza after all, fuck did he even have an Angelica? A Maria Reynolds? Yet Suguru had Theodosia. This is such a niche but goddamn do I love to yap.

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