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burins · 2 months

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Other Appalachias: A Booklist

As requested, the anti-Hillbilly Elegy booklist, plus annotations! When possible I tried to include books that were by Appalachians and got at lesser-known aspects of Appalachian life and identity, especially modern Appalachian life. When creating the original list I was also limited by books that were in the library network I work at, which is a) a public library and b) not actually located in Appalachia. Y’all get some bonus titles that weren’t in my library - hopefully they’ll be in yours.

A note: I have not read every single book on this list! This is the nature of creating booklists as a librarian. I trust the sources I used to find them, but if there’s something on here that you’re like “oh I read this and it sucks actually,” let me know. And if there’s a particular aspect you’d like more books on, also let me know!

General

Appalachian Reckoning: A Region Responds to Hillbilly Elegy (Anthony Harkins and Meredith McCarroll, eds)

What You Are Getting Wrong About Appalachia by Elizabeth Catte

If you read any two books on this list (especially if you aren’t from Appalachia!) make it these two. The first one is a collection of essays and photographs, the second by a single author, but both are fantastic for the basics of “hey was your entire idea of a huge stretch of the US defined by Deliverance and some NYT op-eds? perhaps it should not be”

Appalachian Fall: Dispatches from Coal Country on What's Ailing America by Jeff Young

Leans a little more “plight of the white working class” than I absolutely love, but this talks a lot about contemporary workers’ rights and local activism in Appalachia and is a good counter to Vance’s narrative of “everybody sits on their ass all the time.”

Belonging: A Culture of Place by bell hooks

Hey did you know bell hooks was from Kentucky? bell hooks was from Kentucky! As always her writing is deeply insightful about who is allowed to claim a place and what it means to have roots.

Rx Appalachia: Stories of Treatment and Survival in Rural Kentucky by Lesly-Marie Buer

The opioid crisis has defined the region (much as alcoholism came to during Prohibition); unlike a lot of writing on the topic, this lets people tell their own stories.

Race and Sexuality

Another Appalachia: Coming Up Queer and Indian in a Mountain Place by Neema Avashia

Excellent counter to the narrative of Appalachia as unrelentingly white, and also painfully good writing on what happens when the folks you grew up counting on let you down.

Loving Mountains, Loving Men: Memoirs of a Gay Appalachian by Jeff Mann

This 2005 memoir got a re-release in 2023, and thank god because it makes me cry. Really beautiful writing on what it means to come back to a place and carve out a space for yourself.

Y'all Means All: The Emerging Voices Queering Appalachia (Z. Zane McNeill, ed.)

Another essay collection! There will be more; I like an essay collection for getting a sense of a subject beyond a single voice. Touches on everything from disability to race to Mothman.

Deviant Hollers: Queering Appalachian Ecologies for a Sustainable Future, Zane McNeill and Rebecca Scott, eds.

This wide-ranging collection of essays wasn’t on the original list because it’s pretty hard to come by (academic queer theory is not a bastion of your average public library collection.) Just based on the table of contents I am going to try and get my hands on a copy ASAP.

Gone Home: Race and Roots through Appalachia by Karida L. Brown

Focuses specifically on Harlan County, Kentucky, drawing on a ton of oral history interviews of Black residents to talk about the Great Migration, Blackness in Appalachia, and identity formation in the region and beyond.

Beginning Again: Stories of Movement and Migration in Appalachia, Katrina M. Powell, ed.

This just came out in June! In a place so often defined by how many generations of your family have lived there, it’s worth considering who gets removed from that story.

Their Determination to Remain: A Cherokee Community's Resistance to the Trail of Tears in North Carolina by Lance Greene

The history of Appalachia is pretty obviously incomplete without talking about the policies of Indian Removal. Greene tackles a tangled story of assimilation and cultural survival.

Even As We Breathe by Annette Saunooke Clapsaddle

The only fiction book on this list, but the main goal of the list was to let Appalachia speak for itself. Clapsaddle is a member of the Eastern band of Cherokee; the novel, set in western NC during the 1940s, talks about (in)justice, assimilation, and belonging.

History, Labor, and Environment

You can’t talk about the history of Appalachia without talking about coal, and you can’t talk about coal without talking about labor, and you also can’t talk about coal without talking about the environment.

Ramp Hollow: The Ordeal of Appalachia by Steven Stoll

An economic/environmental overview of Appalachia covering the shift from homesteading to resource extraction. To understand what’s happening economically in 2024 you need to understand what happened economically in 1750-1850, and this gives a general and fairly accessible throughline.

The Battle of Blair Mountain: The Story of America's Largest Labor Uprising by Robert Shogan

An older book on the most famous event of the West Virginia Mine Wars, but is a very readable narrative that also touches on Blair Mountain’s wider context.

Written in Blood: Courage and Corruption in the Appalachian War of Extraction, Wess Harris, ed.

A much more in-depth look at specific aspects of the Mine Wars and labor history, rather than a general overview, but worth reading for its coverage of more recent events (it didn’t end with Blair!)

To Live Here, You Have to Fight: How Women Led Appalachian Movements for Social Justice by Jessica Wilkerson

Focusing on the 60s-70s and LBJ’s War on Poverty, a good discussion of historical grassroots organizing.

Digging Our Own Graves: Coal Miners & the Struggle Over Black Lung Disease by Barbara Allen Smith

Seminal text! First published in 1987, with an updated edition released in 2020.

Soul Full of Coal Dust: A Fight for Breath and Justice in Appalachia by Chris Hamby

After being mad about black lung in the 80s, you can also be mad about black lung today, because it didn’t go anywhere.

Desperate: An Epic Battle for Clean Water and Justice in Appalachia by Kris Maher

Very “legal thriller focused on one guy,” but extremely readable. A great book to get your liberal mom fired up.

Mountains Piled upon Mountains: Appalachian Nature Writing in the Anthropocene, Jessica Cory, ed.

This list has been almost entirely nonfiction, so here is some lovely prose about what folks love about the region with both literary nonfiction, fiction, and poetry. It’s got a wide geographic focus to boot.

Food and Culture

Appalachia on the Table: Representing Mountain Food and People by Erica Adams Locklear

Great deconstruction of how we talk about mountain food and culture (scandal! Sometimes great-grandmas used Bisquick.) Will make you hungry and also question what authenticity means and where your family recipes actually come from.

Making Our Future: Visionary Folklore and Everyday Culture in Appalachia by Emily Hilliard

West Virginia state folklorist Emily Hilliard talks about pro wrestling, Fallout 76, songwriting, and coal camps. Appalachia in the 21st century.

(Finally, a shoutout to the various bookstores whose lists I used as jumping-off points, especially Appalachian Mountain Books, City Lights Bookstore, Firestorm Books, and the Museum of the Cherokee People.)

#library haint #booklist #long post

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nickeverdeen · 21 days

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Hi could you do a five hargreeves x female!reader where reader is normal and doesn't have powers but she's a genius and basically has a photographic memory, and she meets five and he's a bit mean and snarky but eventually he starts to fall for her

I also think it would be funny if she was kinda best friends with Klaus and he kinda teases her about five, but you don't have to include that

Guns And Brains | Five Hargreeves x genius fem!reader

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x fem!reader, Klaus Hargreeves x fem!reader (best friend)

Warning: None

PS: Sorry for the unoriginal title

———————————

You were used to being the smartest person in the room. It wasn’t arrogance; it was simply a fact. Your photographic memory allowed you to absorb and recall information with an almost eerie accuracy. In school, you never needed to study, and in life, you rarely encountered a problem you couldn’t solve. You had grown accustomed to the bemused looks and occasional irritation that came from people who found your talents either intimidating or annoying.

Yet here you are, standing in the middle of an ancient-looking mansion, face-to-face with a boy who exuded an air of superiority that rubbed you entirely the wrong way. Five Hargreeves—if you remembered correctly from the vague mentions in tabloids about the dysfunctional Umbrella Academy—was a strange, prodigious enigma. He looked like a teenager, but there was something in his eyes that suggested he was anything but.

From the moment Klaus had introduced you, you could sense the tension brewing. It wasn’t just the way Five had narrowed his eyes at you, or the clipped tone he used when addressing you. It was the challenge in his gaze, the unspoken assertion that he was smarter, quicker, better. The way he practically dared you to prove him wrong.

“Who’s this?” Five had asked, his tone flat and disinterested, as if your presence was more of an inconvenience than anything else.

“This is Y/N,” Klaus had said cheerfully, apparently oblivious to the storm clouds brewing between them. “She’s got a brain like a supercomputer—remember everything she’s ever read, seen, or heard. Thought she might be able to help us out.”

Five’s eyes had flickered with something—annoyance, skepticism, you couldn’t quite tell. “We don’t need help,” he’d said brusquely. “Especially not from someone who thinks they can waltz in and solve problems that are far beyond their understanding.”

And there it was—the gauntlet thrown down. You had felt your spine stiffen, your own competitive streak flaring up in response. You didn’t like the way he assumed you were just some book-smart outsider with no practical experience, especially when he hadn’t even given you a chance to prove otherwise.

“I’m not here to solve your problems,” you replied, your tone sharp. “But from what I’ve heard, you could use all the help you can get.”

Klaus had tried to mediate, sensing the tension. “Alright, kids, play nice. We’re all on the same team here.”

But you had seen the look in Five’s eyes—a mix of condescension and irritation. He clearly didn’t think much of you, and that was something you weren’t about to let slide. If there was one thing you despised, it was being underestimated.

The first few days in the mansion were… interesting, to say the least. Klaus had introduced you to the rest of the siblings, all of whom had their own unique quirks and issues. Luther was stoic and serious, Allison was kind but guarded, Diego was intense, and Viktor was quiet, almost withdrawn. They were an odd bunch, but in some ways, you felt more at ease with them than you did with Five.

Five, on the other hand, seemed determined to make you feel unwelcome. Whenever you offered a suggestion, he’d shoot it down without a second thought. When you tried to engage him in a discussion about the theories he was working on, he’d dismiss your opinions with a wave of his hand, as if your thoughts were nothing more than background noise.

It was infuriating.

At first, you tried to stay calm. Your reminded yourself that you were here to help, not to butt heads with a stubborn man who had likely seen more in his lifetime than you could ever imagine. But as the days passed, you found your patience wearing thin.

The breaking point came one evening when you were all gathered around the dining table, discussing the latest anomaly that Five was trying to unravel. He was pacing back and forth, spouting off calculations and theories at a rapid pace. The others were listening intently, but you could see the confusion in their eyes.

“Maybe if we adjusted the parameters slightly,” you suggested, your tone measured, “we could account for the temporal flux and—”

Five cut you off with a snort. “That’s a ridiculous idea. Adjusting the parameters would only destabilize the entire equation. You clearly don’t understand the complexities of time travel.”

Your jaw clenched. “And you clearly don’t understand the value of listening to other people’s input. Just because you’ve traveled through time doesn’t mean you know everything.”

Five stopped pacing and turned to face you, his expression cold. “I’ve spent decades—decades—working on these equations. You’ve been here for a week. Don’t presume to know more than I do.”

The room went silent. The others exchanged uneasy glances, but you didn’t back down. You were tired of Five’s arrogance, tired of him treating you like you were some naive child who had wandered into his domain.

“Maybe I don’t know more than you,” you said, your voice steady. “But I’m not an idiot, and I’m not going to stand here and let you treat me like one. If you’re so confident in your theories, then why not test them? Or are you afraid that someone else might actually have a better idea?”

Five’s eyes narrowed. “Fine,” he said, his tone icy. “Let’s test it. And when it fails, you can stop wasting our time with your half-baked theories.”

You didn’t respond. You simply nodded and turned your attention back to the problem at hand, determined to prove him wrong.

The next few days were tense, to say the least. You and Five worked together, but it was clear that neither of you were happy about it. Every interaction was laced with sarcasm and thinly veiled insults. Yet, beneath the hostility, there was a grudging respect forming, though neither of you would admit it.

Despite his arrogance, you couldn’t help but be impressed by Five’s intellect. He was brilliant, there was no denying that. His mind worked at a speed that rivaled your own, and his knowledge of temporal mechanics was unmatched. But he was also infuriatingly stubborn, refusing to consider any idea that wasn’t his own.

For his part, Five found himself both annoyed and intrigued by you. You were smart—smarter than he’d initially given you credit for. Your insights were often sharp and on point, even if he was loath to admit it. But what bothered him the most was how you challenged him, pushing back against his authority in a way no one else dared to. It was unsettling, and yet… he found himself drawn to it.

One afternoon, as you were pouring over another set of calculations, you suddenly spoke up.

“I’ve been thinking,” you said, not looking up from the paper in front of you.

“Dangerous,” Five muttered under his breath, but there was no real bite to his words.

You ignored him. “You’re right about the temporal flux destabilizing if we adjust the parameters too much. But what if we didn’t adjust them directly? What if we introduced a stabilizing agent that could counterbalance the fluctuations?”

Five paused, considering your words. It wasn’t a completely ridiculous idea. In fact, it was… interesting. But he wasn’t about to let you know that.

“It’s a long shot,” he said instead, his tone dismissive.

“Maybe,” you conceded. “But it’s worth a try. Unless you have a better idea?”

Five scowled, but there was no real heat behind it. “Fine. We’ll try it your way. But don’t get used to it.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” you replied, a small smirk playing on your lips.

As you worked together, there was a noticeable shift in the air between you two. The barbs were still there, but they were less sharp, the insults less cutting. It was as if you were beginning to acknowledge each other as equals—rivals, perhaps, but with a mutual respect that was slowly, begrudgingly, forming.

Weeks passed, and the initial tension between you and Five began to ease, replaced by a rhythm of sorts. You still bickered, still challenged each other at every turn, but there was a camaraderie in it now. A strange, twisted camaraderie, but camaraderie nonetheless.

The others noticed it too. Klaus, in particular, found endless amusement in your interactions, often teasing you about your “little crush” on Five.

“Admit it,” Klaus says with a grin. “You two are just one good argument away from kissing.”

You roll your eyes, brushing off his comments, but you couldn’t deny that there was a certain… tension between you and Five. Not that you would ever admit it out loud. The last thing you wanted was to give Five the satisfaction of knowing he got under your skin in more ways than one.

But the turning point came one evening, when you were working late in the mansion’s library. The room was dimly lit, the only sound the soft rustle of papers as you pored over your latest set of equations. You were focused, your mind fully absorbed in the problem at hand, when you felt a pair of eyes on you.

You looked up, only to find Five watching you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, neither of you spoke. There was something in his gaze, something that made your heart skip a beat.

“What?” You asked, your voice softer than you intended.

Five hesitated, as if weighing his words carefully. “You’re not as annoying as I thought you were.”

It wasn’t exactly a compliment, but coming from Five, it was close enough. You felt a small smile tug at your lips. “You’re not as unbearable as I thought you were either.”

Five’s lips quirked up in the faintest hint of a smile. “High praise.”

You fell into a comfortable silence after that, the tension between you two shifting into something else. Something neither of you were quite ready to name.

#request #imagine #the umbrella academy #five hargreeves x reader #enemies to lovers #number five x reader #five tua #five hargreeves

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lime-bloods · 3 months

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I honestly didn't ever expect that I'd be in the position where I'd be using this blog not just to analyse what has come before in Homestuck, but to look toward the comic's future and do some real old-fashioned theorycrafting. but the time has come. so here goes; lime-bloods' Beyond Canon theories as of the July 6th 2024 update:

Vriska's Going to Hell

were all gonna help you! / whether you like it or not

a select few eagle-eyed readers already noticed that the sound used in last month's (Vriska: Figure shit out yourself.) is called "hell_tierwav". while it was easy to dismiss this as irrelevant composer shenanigans at the time, it's now become clear exactly what this was foreshadowing. whether it would be more apt to call this "Hell" or "Purrgatory" is probably up for debate - but whatever you call it, Vriska's been placed in a dimension seemingly tailored specifically for her personal torment.

while Vriska characteristically interprets the recreation of her childhood home as a symbol of how badass she was, the ghosts of her past - both literal, as the shades of the trolls she killed as Mindfang, and figurative, in the form of sprites wearing the faces of her dead friends - show us in no uncertain terms that Vriska's childhood home is the stage where traumas play out.

Erisolsprite puts it succinctly with his welcome to hell, but pay close attention to what exactly we're being welcomed to: this update ends on page 665. so as of this next update, we'll be starting on page 666.

Does Homestuck Have Hell?

the exact bubble of reality Vriska's currently found herself in seems to be an entirely new construction of the likes we've not yet seen in Homestuck - but that doesn't mean this kind of cosmic torment is without precedent. because while 666 is a number with Satanic connotations in the broader cultural context, it also has a very particular meaning of its own within the world of Homestuck. indeed, the latter half of the comic almost revolves around it, culminating in a climax in Act 6 Act 6 Act 6.

specifically, this repetition of a single digit is emblematic of recursive storytelling. to summarise what you can already read about in detail in my essay The World / The Wheel: when Caliborn is 'gifted' the Act 6 Act 6 supercartridge, which he is told is an "expansion" of Homestuck, it's a trick. there is no "expansion"; he's going to be trapped in a story that never ends because it keeps dividing into smaller and smaller versions of itself forever. the only way to truly beat the devil who trapped the heroes within a story is to trap him in his own story.

that's what Caliborn's "Hell" is, and that's also exactly what the Alternate Calliope achieved in Act 7 by creating the black hole which Vriska knocked Lord English into, ending Homestuck's story - something that Calliope even hints at in this very update, when she refers to the black hole as "containment"; not an accident, but a deliberately crafted prison. black holes are a symbol of recursion and regression; being sucked into one means being forced to live out your whole life over and over again, forever. so really, this is all we ever could have expected to happen when Vriska stepped into a black hole within a black hole! the presentation of the narrative even subtly hints at this; events in Beyond Canon that take place in the black hole are enclosed (in brackets), and now events that take place in a black hole-within-a-black-hole are contained within {curly brackets}, because you should always use a different kind of brackets to differentiate nested parenthesis from each other!

it is absolutely no coincidence that when Caliborn closes the curtains on his appearances in Homestuck, thinking he's won when really he's been condemned to a hell of his own making forever more, it's with a tribute to this exact same Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff strip.

IF YOU REMEMBER JUST ONE THING I SAY, OF SO MANY GREAT THINGS SAID BY ME, THEN PLEASE REMEMBER THIS. I WANTED TO PLAY A GAME.

So What Does That Mean?

one of Beyond Canon's central missions is expanding upon Homestuck's exploration of the relationships between author, text, and audience. as discussed above, a large part of Homestuck's thesis is the evil of forcing characters to live the same lives and the same stories over and over without the chance to grow or move on, and Beyond Canon picks up on this by placing Dirk in the position of trying to keep Homestuck going forever purely to appease its fans, while the Alternate Calliope continues to oppose this ideology. and while the alpha Calliope outwardly seems not to have taken a hard position on where she stands in this cosmic battle, the question posed by her device seems to be an entirely new one: can it actually be a good thing to regress, to return to ground that the story has already covered? can this path lead to something new, rather than merely stagnation?

it's so relevant that Vriska is being confronted with the crimes of her past, not only in the form of all the trolls she was personally responsible for killing but also in the form of the exact same punishment she condemned Lord English to with her heroism - complete with the herd of horses that are always present at Caliborn's demise! but where being condemned to an eternal cycle was fitting punishment for Caliborn, someone who refuses to break free of cycles of abuse and instead chooses to enact that same abuse on the world around him... if Vriska is someone who can break free of these cycles, who can change and become a better person despite what happened to her, will this punishment have the same effect? or, as Davepeta seems to believe, is forcing Vriska to reckon with her own past and traumas exactly what will allow her to break free of that cycle?

DAVE: [...] ill just be over here in the hyper gravity chamber training to beat lord english KARKAT: WE HAVE A HYPER GRAVITY CHAMBER???

it's hard not to be struck by the parallels in design and purpose between the Plot Point and Dragon Ball's Hyperbolic Time Chamber, and not just because of the Dragon Ball enthusiasts present on Beyond Canon's writing and art teams: albeit in typically Strider-bastardised form, the Time Chamber got a shoutout in Andrew Hussie's own Homestuck (see quote above), in a reference that was even picked up on by prolific theorist bladekindeyewear at the time. for the uninitiated: the Hyperbolic Time Chamber allowed its users to train for extended stretches of time, sometimes even spanning years, while a significantly smaller time period passed in the world outside - something that is actually true of real-life black holes! and with the Plot Point's own emphasis on time, represented by the hourglass included among its mechanisms, it seems to me that an essential part of making the 16-year-old Vriska ready for the trials ahead will be giving her the time to undergo the same growth her adult friends have experienced.

considering that Beyond Canon is already playing in the Ultimate Self space, where there are levels of power beyond merely the "god tiers", it also doesn't seem too farfetched to speculate that Vriska, forced to reckon with the fact that becoming a powerful Thief of Light isn't the be-all and end-all of personal growth, will take another leaf out of Dragon Ball's book here and ascend "beyond Super Saiyan". perhaps this is even the "hell tier" so cheekily alluded to in the Plot Point flash? certainly this kind of evolution would be the perfect way to challenge Dirk's belief that the Ultimate Self is the only logical final step for a character's development.

whatever the case, I believe we can take Davepeta at their word here. I don't think it's just a joke that by the end of this ordeal Vriska Serket is going to be fucking RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIPPPPPPPPPED!

#homestuck #beyond canon #upd8 #vriska #vriska serket #davepetasprite #caliborn #black holes #theory #< apparently ive used this tag before but i cant say what for. will have to check later

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milaeth · 1 year

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୨୧┊ 𝐈𝐈. 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓 𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇. ( lando norris )

ꖛ ─ you’re reading part two ∿ part one

✧.* pairings ─ lando norris x model! piastri! reader

✧.* genre ─ one-shot ⨾ slight angst & fluff

✧.* summary ─ in which Lando has to deal with the consequences of his indirect confession from a few weeks ago, and then finds out that you seem to have a boyfriend. after a crash with your brother and an annoying interaction with your boyfriend, frustration gets ahold of him and he ends up angrily confessing to you…

✧.* warnings ─ mention of crash, jealousy

✧.* mily’s thoughts ─ i got really lazy towards the end lmao but i still hope you guys enjoy <3

it's been weeks since the lie detector challenge where Lando confessed his crush on a mysterious girl, you, and he can't deny that he feels a tinge of regret. the aftermath has been overwhelming. his inbox has been flooded with messages from curious fans asking who his crush is. his friends haven't let him live it down either, teasing him relentlessly. it reached a point where he was even trending on twitter for hours, and the entire formula one community went wild. he’s been avoiding twitter and the comments section of his instagram posts ever since.

he has come across various wild fan theories, some of which are uncomfortably close to the truth. at one point, he stumbled across tweets that suggested you might be his secret crush. they even provided "evidence" in the form of photos capturing moments where he couldn't hide his interest, gazing at you as if you were the stars, no, the center of his entire universe. the sight of those tweets made him feel sick to his stomach. he didn't even realize there were photos of him talking to you, let alone ones that exposed his feelings so blatantly.

he’s incredibly grateful for these two weeks without any races, not having to face you and constantly worrying that you might have seen those tweets. the fear of your potential reaction has been haunting him throughout this entire period. would you feel flattered? no, that’s highly unlikely. you would most likely feel embarrassed. Lando has come across several pictures on Instagram where fans had taken photos of you and some random guy, and it appears that you two are quite close. he has found himself staring at those pictures for minutes on end, his eyes always drawn to the guy's arm, which seems to be permanently wrapped around your waist in those snapshots.

is he jealous? absolutely.

does he have a right to be? absolutely not.

but that doesn't stop him from constantly overthinking. is that blond man in the photos your boyfriend? you've never mentioned him, nor has Lando ever seen him by your side at the paddock before.

Lando lets out a heavy sigh, feeling a mix of anxiety and embarrassment. the last thing he wants to think about is Oscar, his teammate and your brother. the mere thought of Oscar accidentally stumbling upon those fan theories about you being Lando's crush makes him cringe inwardly. it would be beyond embarrassing for Oscar to find out through twitter that his own sister is Lando's crush, especially considering that Oscar had been encouraging him to confess his feelings.

the world of racing can be a whirlwind of emotions and drama, and Lando never expected his personal life to become such a public spectacle. the pressure to live up to fan expectations and media attention can be overwhelming. Lando wishes he could turn back time and undo the confession to save himself and Oscar from this potentially awkward situation.

but for now, all he can do is hope that Oscar hasn't stumbled upon those fan theories or the photos. the embarrassment and tension that would follow such a discovery is the last thing Lando wants to experience. he prays that this situation can somehow be resolved without straining his relationship with Oscar or, more importantly, with you.

but it seems impossible to avoid the strain on their relationship when Lando loses control during the race in austria and accidentally crashes into Oscar's car, causing a double dnf for both of them. fortunately, neither of them is physically injured, but the emotional toll weighs heavily on Lando. as he steps out of his wrecked car, he sees Oscar walking right past him with a tight smile his way. it feels like a punch in the gut, as guilt and anger wash over him like an unstoppable wave.

he can't help but feel ashamed of his stupid mistake, and the weight of it all is magnified when he sees you burst into the room after the interviews and immediately lock Oscar in a worried embrace. the sight of your worried and anxious expression hits Lando hard. it��s a painful reminder that he’s the one who caused this turmoil. he can only watch as you anxiously inquire about Oscar's well-being, and each time Oscar reassures you, telling you that he’s fine.

Lando feels a pang of stupidity as he longs for the day when you will seek comfort in his arms.

a faint smile creeps onto Lando's face as your gaze briefly meets his, and he stands there, seemingly pathetic and alone beside you both. Lando watches you break away from Oscar's embrace, concern painting itself on your features. it's as if you can sense his inner turmoil, even from a distance. he wishes he could find comfort in your arms, but the reality of the situation keeps him trapped in his own self-blame. how could he expect anything else when he is the one who caused this unfortunate turn of events? with a heavy heart, Lando takes a deep breath and tries to regain his composure.

"are you okay?" you ask hesitantly as you try to gauge Lando's well-being. you don't want to seem rude, but you sense that something is wrong. Lando, however, only manages a weak nod and is unable to return your gaze. awkwardly, he scratches the back of his neck and replies, "yeah, i'm fine."

but deep down, you both know that's not the truth. the tension in the air is palpable, and Lando's hollow assurances only underscore his underlying turmoil. the weight of guilt, regret, and unspoken emotion weighs heavily on him, and it's obvious he's struggling with it.

as the seconds pass, the unspoken words hang in the air, their presence undeniable. at this vulnerable moment, a part of you longs to reach out to Lando, to be there for him, and to create a space where he can share his problems. the genuine concern in your eyes reflects the care you have for him, and is a silent invitation for him to overcome his defenses and confide in you.

the truth is, however, that the two of you don't know each other well, exchanging only fleeting glances and making small talk from time to time. yet despite the limited interactions, there has always been an inexplicable attraction between you, an invisible thread that seems to bind your hearts.

the moment is abruptly interrupted as the door to the room swings open with a loud bang. Lando's eyes snap to the source of the noise, widening in surprise when he sees the blond guy from the photos entering the room. the guy has a smug grin on his face as he casually walks over to you, trying to lean towards you but you take a step to the side. Lando's stomach churns, and a feeling of nausea washes over him.

his gaze shifts from the already annoying guest to your expression, noticing your discomfort. Before he can even process the situation, the blond guy speaks up again, his tone dripping with arrogance. "that move you pulled back there was really risky, buddy. i thought you were a professional. be careful, or i'll end up taking your seat." the guy's laughter grates on Lando's nerves, and he clenches his teeth, unable to comprehend why you would be with such a jerk. the use of the word "buddy" only intensifies his disdain.

Lando has had enough. all he wants is to escape this unpleasant encounter, forget about this terrible day, and put the image of you with your obnoxious boyfriend out of his mind.

"well, since you seem so confident about replacing me, you should know that taking risks is an inherent part of racing, right?" Lando raises an eyebrow, waiting for a response that doesn’t come. "exactly. there are multiple reasons why i'm the one sitting in the car, not you, buddy."

his voice carries a sharp edge, perfectly matching the forced smile plastered on his face as he brushes past the guy, giving his shoulder a patronizing pat. without saying another word, Lando storms out of the room and, seconds later, out of the McLaren facility. as he steps outside, he curses under his breath. it’s raining and he doesn’t have an umbrella with him. this day can't possibly get any worse, can it?

suddenly, a voice interrupts his frustrated thoughts. "do you need a helping hand?" you're standing there, slightly out of breath, holding an umbrella. it's evident that you must have run after him, but why? Lando stammers, caught off guard by your unexpected appearance and bewildered by the fact that you followed him. "i... no, it's fine." the truth is, it's far from fine, but he's too upset and overwhelmed by everything happening around him to be in your presence right now.

you smile softly, seeing through Lando's attempt to brush off his emotions. "stop lying, i know it's not fine," you assert gently. you find yourself unsure of how to handle an upset Lando since you've never seen him like this before. it feels like he's on the verge of exploding at any moment. "come on, don't be so stubborn. you don't want to get sick, do you? i can walk you to your car with my umbrella protecting the both of us."

Lando scoffs, lightly shaking his head. "i'll pass. your boyfriend is probably waiting for you." he cringes inwardly at the bitterness and extreme jealousy that seeps into his words. there's a brief moment of silence, only the sound of rain filling the air. "why are you jealous?" you ask, genuinely curious. Lando immediately turns red, feeling caught off guard. "tch, i'm not jealous. and now, leave me be. i want to be alone after what happened."

"absolutely not. I'm helping you to your car, and now shut up," you insist firmly, your voice displaying determination. Lando groans, eventually giving in after a few seconds spent in the cold rain. you two walk closely together, somehow managing to fit under your small umbrella. there's silence for a few seconds before you break it again. "why are you jealous?"

Lando rolls his eyes, feeling overwhelmed and increasingly frustrated with the situation, thanks to your lovely boyfriend. "i'm not jealous! i'm just so confused—like, why him!?" he can feel his control slipping away, the frustration and jealousy pouring out along with the rain.

"what do you mean, 'why him'?"

"are you fucking kidding me?!" Lando laughs dryly, shaking his head. "he's an asshole. why would you be with someone like him when you could literally have anyone in the entire world?! i mean, look at you! you deserve so much better than him!"

Lando gets carried away, his voice growing louder and louder as he vents his pent-up frustration and jealousy. as you continue walking towards his car, you remain silent, listening attentively. you realize that he's finally opening up, and it's clear that this is what he needs to do to feel better. so you let him get it all out.

"why do you care so much?" you finally ask, genuinely surprised by the intensity of his emotions, your cheeks reddening. Lando stops in his tracks, searching for the right words as he gazes down at you. "are you serious? why? because... because i like you, i really like you. i've wanted to tell you in a better way, well, that was until i found out that you have this idiot as your boyfriend!"

your mouth hangs open, and you can only stare at him, speechless. "he," you finally manage to say, "he isn't my boyfriend, not anymore." you confess, and now it's Lando's turn to have his mouth hang open.

"but... but i saw so many pictures of you two being together," his voice trails off as realization dawns on him. that blond guy must be the annoying ex that Oscar always complains about, the one who wouldn't leave you alone. "those are most likely old pictures," you give him a small smile. "he's my ex."

"but why was he here, then?" Lando asks, perplexed. you shrug. "i don't know. he probably knew i would come and watch the race. he's still not over me and often tries to win me back, which tends to get really awkward." Lando's mouth forms a small 'o'.

there's a brief pause, and then you break the silence. "so, you like me, huh?" you ask, a playful smirk forming on your face. Lando's cheeks flush, and he scratches the back of his head while looking away, a bashful smile on his lips. "well, yeah, i like you."

a mischievous glint sparkles in your eyes as you continue teasing him. "so, i'm the secret crush you talked about in the recent McLaren video?" you ask, accompanied by a playful wink. you already know the answer, but you can't help but revel in the moment. Lando feels himself relaxing, and he lets out a laugh. "yes, you are," he admits with a genuine smile.

as you resume walking, Lando's car now just a few meters away, you can't resist playfully prodding him further. "so, are you gonna ask me out or something?" you inquire, grinning from ear to ear. Lando chuckles in response. "if you want me to." a chuckle escapes you as you confess, "oh, i've wanted that for months now." Lando's eyebrows raise in surprise. "really?" he asks, seeking confirmation, and you nod, your smile growing wider. there's a brief moment of contemplation before he speaks again, "your brother is gonna kill me." both of you exchange grins, knowing the potential repercussions. you laugh heartily and respond, "he's gonna survive."

∿ people who asked for part two ─ @alilstressyandlotdepressy @drunkinthemiddleoftheday @dakotali @ophcelia @be-your-coffee-pot @81astri @readinsilenceplease

don’t forget to like, comment & reblog (it’s very much appreciated <3).

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txttletale · 11 months

Note

niceys positive anon!! i don't agree with you on everything but you are so clearly like well read and well rounded that you've helped me think through a lot of my own inconsistencies and hypocrises in my own political and social thought, even if i do have slightly different conclusions at times then u (mainly because i believe there's more of a place for idealism and 'mind politics' than u do). anyway this is a preamble to ask if you have recommended reading in the past and if not if you had any recommended reading? there's some obvious like Read Marx but beyond that im always a little lost wading through theory and given you seem well read and i always admire your takes, i wondered about your recs

it's been a while since i've done a big reading list post so--bearing in mind that my specific areas of 'expertise' (i say that in huge quotation marks obvsies i'm just a girlblogger) are imperialism and media studies, here are some books and essays/pamphlets i recommend. the bolded ones are ones that i consider foundational to my politics

BASICS OF MARXISM

friedrich engels, principles of commmunism

friedrich engels, socialism: utopian & scientific

karl marx, the german ideology

karl marx, wage labour & capital

mao zedong, on contradiction

nikolai bukharin, anarchy and scientific communism

rosa luxemburg, reform or revolution?

v.i lenin, left-wing communism: an infantile disorder

v.i. lenin, the state & revolution

v.i. lenin, what is to be done?

IMPERIALISM

aijaz ahmed, iraq, afghanistan, and the imperialism of our time

albert memmi, the colonizer and the colonized

che guevara, on socialism and internationalism (ed. aijaz ahmad)

eduardo galeano, the open veins of latin america

edward said, orientalism

fernando cardoso, dependency and development in latin america

frantz fanon, black skin, white masks

frantz fanon, the wretched of the earth

greg grandin, empire's workshop

kwame nkrumah, neocolonialism, the last stage of imperialism

michael parenti, against empire

naomi klein, the shock doctrine

ruy mauro marini, the dialectics of dependency

v.i. lenin, imperialism: the highest stage of capitalism

vijay prashad, red star over the third world

vincent bevins, the jakarta method

walter rodney, how europe underdeveloped africa

william blum, killing hope

zak cope, divided world divided class

zak cope, the wealth of (some) nations

MEDIA & CULTURAL STUDIES

antonio gramsci, the prison notebooks

ed. mick gidley, representing others: white views of indigenous peoples

ed. stuart hall, representation: cultural representations and signifying pratices

gilles deleuze & felix guattari, capitalism & schizophrenia

jacques derrida, margins of philosophy

jacques derrida, speech and phenomena

michael parenti, inventing reality

michel foucault, disicipline and punish

michel foucault, the archeology of knowledge

natasha schull, addiction by design

nick snricek, platform capitalism

noam chomsky and edward herman, manufacturing consent

regis tove stella, imagining the other

richard sennett and jonathan cobb, the hidden injuries of class

safiya umoja noble, algoriths of oppression

stuart hall, cultural studies 1983: a theoretical history

theodor adorno and max horkheimer, the culture industry

walter benjamin, the work of art in the age of mechanical reproduction

OTHER

angela davis, women, race, and class

anna louise strong, cash and violence in laos and vietnam

anna louise strong, the soviets expected it

anna louise strong, when serfs stood up in tibet

carrie hamilton, sexual revolutions in cuba

chris chitty, sexual hegemony

christian fuchs, theorizing and analysing digital labor

eds. jules joanne gleeson and elle o'rourke, transgender marxism

elaine scarry, the body in pain

jules joanne gleeson, this infamous proposal

michael parenti, blackshirts & reds

paulo freire, pedagogy of the oppressed

peter drucker, warped: gay normality and queer anticapitalism

rosemary hennessy, profit and pleasure

sophie lewis, abolish the family

suzy kim, everyday life in the north korean revolution

walter rodney, the russian revolution: a view from the third world

#ask #avowed inframaterialist reading group #i obviously do not 100% agree with all the points made by and conclusions reached by these works #but i think they are valuable and useful to read

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janearts · 11 months

Note

okay but what is the state of astarion's kidneys? what has roisia observed in regards to astarion's kidneys? i must now know!

[Anon is referencing this post.]

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Who knows? Roisia's observations below the read-more.

[Just a wee reminder that I'm not a medical professional. Take everything I say below with a grain of salt as I am just as likely to be flat out wrong. I also want to acknowledge that I'm mixing in some stereotypical vampire traits with what we can figure out about vampires in BG3.]

Roisia believes that Astarion has a partially functioning cardiovascular system. That is to say, he certainly contains blood. He bruises and he bleeds. He can even perish from exsanguination himself. He can experience erections (presumably, anyway). Why he doesn't have a heartbeat is beyond her. Does his blood just sit stagnant in his arteries and veins? What the hell is going on in there?

In the living, kidneys form a pivotal function: they filter the waste (urea) in your blood and create urine to be expelled from the body via the bladder. They also perform a critical function by regulating the blood in your body (volume, pressure, acidity, etc.).

So Roisia knows, for example, that the average medium-sized humanoid has roughly 5 litres of blood in them. The kidneys make sure you stay at whatever level is natural for you, because excessive fluid will increase the pressure on your arterial walls. So the question for Roisia becomes: if Astarion drinks blood to excess, would he experience hypertension or bloating? Or perhaps both? Or maybe neither?

In some form or fashion, the waste that Astarion intakes (e.g., if you're into the vampire version of menstruation sexy times, if he drinks from Roisia's external jugular, etc.) or generates through his own bodily functions needs to be expelled. Does he piss it out? Does he sweat it out? Does he vomit it out? Does it misty escape out of his body while he rests?

The answer could simply be: the waste is magicked out of his body and that's that. If Roisia knew that Astarion urinates, then she would assume his kidney is probably functioning to some degree. If his urinary system is non-functioning, then she would be curious as to how the critical functions mentioned above are managed or if they're even necessary at all for the undead.

TL;DR: Roisia would likely have some sort of idea, but I (IRL) don't have the information I feel I need to even hazard a guess. And I must say questions like this would make Roisia want so very, very badly to take a peek at his insides or at the insides of any vampire or vampire spawn. She is not a Dark Urge character, but that is her dark urge born from an insatiable curiosity to figure out how people—living, dead, or undead—work.

Bonus Points:

Roisia would answer her own questions above with the following theories:

Digestive system could be partially functional if the blood that is consumed is sent to the stomach and then absorbed in whole or in part through the digestive process.

Respiratory system is also likely partially functional. I.e., Astarion can use his lungs (to speak or sigh, for example), but neither a vampire nor a vampire spawn requires air.

Endocrine system is likely no longer functional. (This is my own headcanon so Roisia doesn't have to worry about an unwanted pregnancy.) She knows that the endocrine systems of a Vampire lord are likely somewhat functional due to the existence of Dhampyr. His colder body temperature could be the result of the lack of function of the hypothalamus.

Integumentary system is likely functional to a certain degree. E.g., vampires and vampire spawn are naturally regenerative, but if you were to shave Astarion bald, would his hair grow back to the way it was prior to his death? Skin also helps with temperature regulation and provides a barrier from UV radiation, so it may not be fully functional if his body is a colder temperature and is extremely sensitive to sunlight. (Are his melanocytes dysfunctional or dead?)

Lymphatic system is likely functional to some degree. This would assist the blood consumption + waste removal processes, presumably. It's a bit of a stretch, but since Astarion can experience a diseased condition type (e.g., Flesh Rot, Contagion), perhaps surviving that (after 25 turns) could be spun as an indication of a non-magical immune response?

#Baldur's Gate 3 #BG3 #BG3 Roisia #Astarion Ancunin #Astarion #anon i wrote u an essay on tumblr.com and i am sorry #RIP ur dash

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undiscovered-horizon · 1 year

Text

Return to sender - Kaz Brekker x Reader

[graphic descriptions of violence/injury]

SUMMARY: Someone from your past keeps sending you unambiguously romantic letters. While you think of them as nothing beyond an inconvenience, Kaz has a different opinion.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 2.9k

A/N: I'm going through the first editorial correction for my novel and as it turns out, I can't speak my own mother tongue lmao

Kaz has an eye for details. Whether it’s a pattern or an overlooked design, he always notices. That set of skills, either he learned them or was born with them, made it painfully obvious to him that your foul mood coincided with correspondence he never saw you actually read. The letter usually ends up in the nearest fireplace, its secrets never uncovered and you maunder around the club looking for a fight or a strong drink. A much bigger problem, however, was the fact that if you were in a sour mood, Kaz would become exceptionally chippy without an apparent cause. ‘Care for my investment’ he calls it, which makes a rather amusing euphemism.

In any event, he knows that the letter should arrive today. Exactly seven weeks had passed since the last time some mysterious correspondence pissed you off and the sender, as far as Kaz has noticed, is like clockwork. Strangely enough, he can’t recall a day when the letter should arrive that you’d come to the club already annoyed as though he has become privy to a rather obvious pattern that you remain oblivious to. If so, he has even more advantage - he can solve this inconvenience behind your back, in case you’d try to dismiss him. He wouldn’t listen anyway, of course. Not when it comes to you.

Knowing very well that you have a habit of arriving shortly after Inej, he’s quick to find the thief before you even get a chance of catching wind of his scheme. She’s fixing her clothes when she spots him hastily limping towards her with his face turned nearly into a snarl. A hand brushes through his hair. He’s agitated. But Inej knows better than to make the first move against the unmovable mountain. Kaz sought her out, after all, and if he means business, he won’t waste time.

And he does just as she thought. Speaking in a low tone, Kaz makes her part of his conspiracy: “Inej, I need you to do something but no one else can know. Someone will deliver a letter today. Follow them and find out as much as you can,” his voice is stern, not accepting refusal. The matter appears urgent, of utter importance.

Her keen gaze studies his face for a moment, looking for any way even the slightest tick of muscles could reveal a further piece of the mystery she isn’t yet privy to. “Is this about the new job we’re doing?” She elegantly manoeuvres around the subject.

Kaz knows what she’s trying to do. He clenches his jaw and gives her a blank, although somewhat impatient, look before slowly answering: “It’s rather loosely related.”

This is enough to put her curiosity on hold - for now, at least. The unmovable mountain remains, well, unmovable. Inej nods. “I’m on it.”

The moment she ends her sentence, the door to the club opens with a creek echoing through the otherwise empty venue, immediately earning the undivided attention of Kaz and Inej. The sound of heels against the wooden floor is unmistakable as is the fitting, rather short, coat. Inej smiles, stifling laughter as she notices Kaz immediately straightening his back when he sees you.

There’s a certain spring to your step, one that Kaz has learned to associate with complacency. Although this joyous aura is making his mind turn into quicksand swallowing anything coherent, he’s got enough grip on his thoughts to render his theory proved - you really do not have any idea that the letters come regularly.

With a triumphant grin, you wave a scroll in his face. “I had a hunch and did some browsing at the city archives. You’re going to love it.”

Inej is gone and the only thing Kaz can do at the moment is wait along with trying his best not to think about this mail fiasco. But considering you’ll spend the entire day a mere inch or two away from him, he’s hardly going to do much thinking anyway.

“Let’s see it then,” Kaz interposes before turning around and walking back to his office.

Making his way to Brekker’s office, Jesper examined the expensive stationery from every side and angle. No matter the perspective, the cursive letters on the front still spell out your name. Truthfully, he does that every time you receive mail, mainly because of how little you talk about the possible sender. There’s always a huff, an eye-roll and the envelope ends up turned into ashes, without any further explanation. You become short-tempered for the rest of the day and go ballistic on anyone trying to inquire about the mysterious correspondence. As much entertainment as it usually brings Jesper, he’s smart enough to know when to stop poking the bear.

Jesper knocks on the door but opens them right after - announcing his arrival rather than asking for permission to enter.

“...smuggling through the sewers.” He hears you finishing your sentence.

Both you and Kaz simultaneously tear away your gaze from the maps scattered on the table and bore your eyes into Jesper with anticipation. He lifts the letter, wriggling his wrist slightly, and immediately your expression falls. You clench your fist. A contemptuous grimace creeps onto your face.

“Letter for you,” he announces.

“By the Saints, not this again,” you whisper and roll your eyes.

“What do you mean again?” Jesper asks casually, half expecting you to break his hand and half hoping for an answer. Today, as it turns out, is his lucky day.

“A friend once convinced me to go to some socialite high tea with her. I met someone there, we wrote to each other a few times and then he started to be obnoxious, the whole ‘woe is me’ lark.” The memory must still be vivid to you as you let out an annoyed sigh. “He claimed he can’t live without me while never spelling my name correctly. But since I value myself a little too much to waste my time on pity parties, I simply stopped replying. The last letter I sent him, I don’t know, three years ago? And he just keeps coming back.” You clench your jaw, clearly stopping yourself from a string of profanities considered obscene even in this company.

Jesper puts on a playful grin. “You know, you never struck me as someone who’d have a secret admirer.”

Your irritated gaze makes him equally amused and nervous. “He’s not exactly secret, is he? More of a returning cockroach infestation. Worry not, boys, I’ll just burn this one like the rest and we can all forget about this little perplexity.”

“Come on, you’re not even a little bit curious about what’s inside?” Jesper coaxes as he hands you the letter.

“Believe me when I tell you that I don’t give a rat’s bald ass about this man and his pathetic wax poetic.” You snatch the envelope, all the while looking at your friend with squinted, piercing eyes. Considering who you are, a complete lack of curiosity whatsoever might as well be a symptom of a lethal disease.

In that short moment, when the stationery goes from Jesper’s hand into yours, Kaz watches the letter as closely as he can. Smooth paper, probably expensive. Careful lettering, written with patience and thoughtfulness. An aroma of mint and tobacco lingers on the parchment. The stamp has the current date on it and the postal code is only a few numbers away from the club’s - whoever sent it is in Ketterdam and quite close by.

Kaz makes those little observations just in time because you throw the letter into the fireplace behind him, without even glancing at the paper. The flames grow for a few seconds, devouring the dry stationery. Soon, there’s no evidence that any mail has been delivered to you on this day.

“Now, where were we?” You clap your hands. “Ah, sewers.” Jesper takes the change of subject as his cue to leave but you stop him right when he pushes down the door handle. “Oh, and Jesper? If you tell Inej, I’m ripping your arm off and beating you to death with it.”

He looks at you over his shoulder, a newfound sense of anxiety turning his vivid amusement into somewhat tame courtesy, leaving his smile unfaltering but tearing away the genuine joy behind it. “I will keep this enlightening piece of advice in mind, thank you.”

The door clicks as Jesper closes it behind himself. Returning to your previous engagement, you stumble upon Brekker’s stern gaze of disapproval.

“Do not maim my investments.” Although it’s supposed to be a scolding or a threat, it comes out with a certain note of disinterest.

“Don’t try playing all nice, Kaz. You and I both know you’d watch for like ten minutes before stepping in.”

His gloved finger taps the map. “Sewers.”

You mumble something along the lines of ‘yes, sir’ and pick up the single-handed divider again. Kaz examines your face out of the corner of his eye. Judging by your casual demeanour, the palm’s length between your heads is of no bother to you. Maybe you’re just too busy counting the segments with the divider. When you’re done, you reach for the other side of the desk, for a moment leaving broody Kaz to the, surprisingly cold, lukewarm air filling the room.

This day just can’t seem to end for Burr Lowther. First, he had to take his regular trip into the filth of the Barrel, he shudders at the memory, only to then spend another ten hours at the sewing workshop. Being a foreman pays exceptionally well and perhaps this is the only reason he’s still putting up with those lazy needlewomen.

Putting his well-kept coat on the hanger by the front door, Burr lets out a sigh of relief - compared to the factory, his house is a quiet oasis. He remembers to take out a pouch and a box of expensive cigars from his coat. Without much thinking, he opens the small bag and puts another leaf of mint between his teeth. What started first as an addition to his personal hygiene, has quickly become a habit impossible to kill. Now used to the strong, chilly sensation on his tongue, he’s grown to like it.

The house is drowning in darkness. Dim, yellow light from the streetlamps crawling in through the windows is barely enough to let him make his way around the furniture. Foreman Lowther is yet to start the fire in his living room but he needs to be quick - if he stalls too long his joints will begin to hurt. Even with laudanum, the ache is bound to keep him up for hours and that’s something he can’t afford. But first, he needs some light to be able to get the necessary things.

Chewing on the herb, Burr walks to the table across the room from the fireplace. He puts the new box of cigars down and begins looking for something to light the oil lamp. Once he blindly finds a box of matches, his muscle memory does most of the job - he’s lit up the lamp far too many times to think about the actions. In swift, mechanical motions, Burr takes off the chimney, lights the wick and puts the glass part back on. The fire brightens the rest of the table, reminding the foreman that he forgot to put away the made-to-order McKinnon & Co. stationery. He pushes the paper farther away from the lamp, just in case.

Burr’s knees make a cracking noise when he crouches in front of the fireplace. Carefully, he lights a match and puts it between logs and old newspapers. The fire smoulders for a moment, balancing between starting and being put out, before a bigger flame begins gnawing at the dry wood and paper.

Foreman Lowther is about to stand up when something hits the side of his head, making his face clash with the seat of a nearby armchair. Scurrying and turning around, he sees an outline of a man, looking more like a feverish mare of the night than a real human. He’s thin and tall, dressed rather elegantly. The model crow on his cane glistens in the newly started fire.

“Who are you?” Burr’s voice cracks, giving away his panic.

“A scorned businessman, Burr Lowther,” Kaz explains slowly.

The foreman climbs backwards into the armchair. It’s difficult to look imposing while sitting beside a fireplace but his fear is far too severe to let the man stand on his own two feet.

“I’ve no business with you!” he yells. A few droplets of spit fly out of his mouth. “Get out!” Burr’s shaky hand points vaguely in the direction of the front door but Kaz, as it seems, is not going anywhere just yet.

In slow steps, Kaz gets closer to Burr, the difference in height painting him even more menacing. Lowther’s hand falls limp on a small table meant for trays with food.

“Perhaps you don’t. But I have plenty with you.”

Before foreman Lowther can ask another question, Brekker drives a sharp blade through the man’s palm, pinning it to the wooden counter. A howl of pain cuts through the night, scaring away the birds sitting outside the windows. Thick, crimson blood spills from the wound, falling to the floor in long drops. The fireplace’s flame glistens in the growing puddle, the reflection dances in morbid anticipation.

Kaz walks over to the table with the oil lamp. The first thing that catches his eye is the ivory paper. Somehow, he stifles the visceral reaction it elicits from him. Grabbing the wad of stationery, he folds it a few times and puts it in the inner pocket of his coat. Then his gaze trails towards the wooden box of cigars. The name of the company, Starling, is burned in cursive lettering on the front. In a swift movement, Kaz slides the package open, knowing exactly what he’s going to find inside - a cigar cutter. For people who can afford Starling tobacco products, it definitely doesn’t befit to chew off the end.

Firelight cascades off the metal cutter when Kaz turns back towards Burr. The man’s eyes widen in panic, recognizing the sharp device put against him.

“No, sir,” Burr begs with a frantic shake of his head. “Oh, Saints, please, no! Don’t! I’m begging you, sir! Please, please! No, please!”

Brekker’s face doesn’t change its indifferent expression. The pleading is not putting him off, never faltering his already-made decision. Perhaps, if it isn’t too morbid to consider, he’s enjoying having someone at his mercy. The cigar cutter clicks quietly as Kaz closes it a few times to check the state of the mechanism.

Kaz makes his way back to the foreman. Casually, he puts his cane against the table but away from the nailed palm, careful not to get it dirty. Then, he snatches Burr’s other hand, the swiftness diminishing all doubts that he’s inexperienced in bringing suffering.

“You have laid your hands on something that isn’t yours, Lowther,” Brekker explains as he forces one of the man’s fingers through the cutter’s opening. “Now you must pay for it.”

A muscle in his face ticks as he presses the cigar cutter. Burr howls in agony, tears streaming down his face. The finger falls to the floor with a wet slap as blood begins to pour. The white tip of the bone sticks out from the pulsating flesh, glistening in the warm, dim light of the burning fireplace.

In a feverish delirium, Lowther mumbles something under his nose, the string of incomprehensible words sometimes interrupted by sobs. Kaz can understand only two things from the ramblings of a madman: ‘wench’ and ‘reply’. Scarce information but he hardly needs more.

“Wench?” he repeats in a low voice.

With a snap of his wrist, Kaz twists the knife still residing in the man’s hand. A bone cracks. But there’s no scream this time - not an ounce of strength left in the victim. Lonely tears stream down his grey face, mixing with cold sweat as he blankly stares ahead. A gloved hand yanks his head back by the hair, forcing delirious Burr to look into Brekker’s eyes. They look darker than they should, clouded with something far too horrible to be considered human.

“Not only did you lay your filthy hands on something of mine,” Kaz’s voice is low enough to resemble a growl as though something carnal inside him has finally woken from its slumber, “but you also dare insult her.”

Burr makes a strange guttural noise, something between a gag reflex and a murmur, as another one of his fingers is cut off. Considering his vacant expression, it’s hard to say whether his consciousness even registered the loss.

Kaz tosses away the cigar cutter. It clutters and clicks falling in the largely unknown corner of the room. Reaching inside his coat, he pulls out the folded stationery. Pressing tightly on Burr’s cheeks, he forces the man’s mouth open.

“I don’t think you will be needing this anymore.”

Even if foreman Lowther was in his right mind at the moment, there wouldn’t be much he could do to prevent Kaz from shoving the dry paper down his throat. A match, a spark, a smoulder - the ivory stationery is burning inside Burr’s mouth.

Leaving Burr Lowther to his own devices, Kaz Brekker leaves the house, joining the otherwise grey and indifferent citizens of Ketterdam. The sunrise is just a few hours away. He’s making his way back to the club, uninterrupted and unbothered, to enjoy another day of your hardly divided attention.

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker fanfiction #kaz brekker fanfic #kaz brekker imagine #six of crows #shadow and bone #six of crows x reader #six of crows x you #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone x you #shadow and bone fanfic #shadow and bone fanfiction #shadow and bone imagine #six of crows fanfiction #six of crows fanfic #six of crows imagine

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doin-just-fine · 5 months

Text

MAJOR UPDATE: Questioning systems or systems in a doubt spiral pls read.

I recently told my therapist about potentially being a system. This was a scary move because she has previously had some iffy takes about systemhood. But I told her because I trusted that she would meet me where I was at and help me navigate , at the least, the general idea of not understanding my own brain if nothing else which I was ok with. I told her and it went as expected. I explained why I thought I might be a system but also the doubts I had about it and how it was distressing me to not understand myself. She agreed to use the language I was using for it and was happy to help me through (as is her job) and also because whether it was systemhood or not it was something in me that was trying to be seen and we would work on figuring out what it was.

Fast forward a few session, and I was going through another bout of "what the fuck even is my brain". I was starting to realize that my "systemhood" is very different from the things I've been seeing online. In the ways that it's different to other systems is: - I'm always in the front, always in the captains chair - I have no amnesia because I never switch out - My hyper-vigilance never lets me dissociate fully though i definitely "check out" in my own way - Head mates just feel like vague ideas or emotions

But the ways that are similar are: - These vague ideas or emotions have opinions and feelings that are different from my own. - Though they are vague, I can definitely tell they are separate from what I have come to understand as "me" - I become "a different person" in the sense of my attitude, vibe, behavior, and opinions change from where they were 5 mins ago, but I am still me, just a different me.

Anyway, I was already trying to make sense of all of this and was not planning on talking about it with my therapist because nervous... However, my therapist ask me about it first. She asked some clarifying questions about my partners system vs my own and how they are different. When I explained what I just wrote above to my therapist she said "Thats what I thought and I owe you an apology."

Basically, my therapist, like any good therapist should when confronted by something they don't know a lot about, had been doing research on complex forms of trauma and coping. Things in the same vain as CPTSD and Plurality including those two topics. She had specifically been reading a book called "The Body Keeps The Score" (TW it is a book about trauma and studies of trauma so it has details of case studies that some people may find incredibly triggering). I did some research on what exactly the book was talking about in regards to "systemhood" and from what I've found, chapter 14 at the end of a section called "Writing to yourself" and the first parts of chapter 17 have interesting information regarding systemhood and how its not entirely limited to things that are diagnosable like DID or OSDD. It seems to talk about how we all have several selves and trauma can get in the way of those selves communicating effectively. My therapist told me about this book and what she learned from it and apologized to me because the book made her realize that she was wrong and that I was in fact a system....

The session ended and I just kind of sat there... not sure how to feel but definitely feeling relief and validation.

After doing research on the book to write this I have some words of wisdom. If you are a questioning system or are doubting your validity remember this: The human brain is so incredibly complex and no one actually understands how it does anything beyond its basic physical functionality... the conceptual abilities of our mind are a mystery. How we define self is just theory. If you don't fit into boxes, labels, identities, or diagnoses that does not mean your experiences aren't real. You are going to be ok. Understand YOUR mind and how it works for YOU, not through a label or diagnosis. If those things come later, great! Do not let them destroy you just because you don’t fit perfectly. I am a system. Simply. No types, labels, or diagnosis. I am a system. I have a unique experience because my brain is no one elses. I am a system. I may not have people in my head in the traditional sense but I'm also not alone up here either. I am a system. I am a system. I am a system. Nobody has the right to deny me this for they do not live behind my eyes.

As I understand myself: I am a system.

#median system #questioning system #plurality #system #actually plural #actual system #actually median #questioning median system #plural community #neurogenic

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mncxbe · 7 months

Text

What it takes to kill an angel

𝑫𝒂𝒛𝒂𝒊 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

ღೀ๋࣭ ⭑𝒄𝒘: heavy angst, self-harm, intended suicide, blood loss, Dazai being toxic, reader is dazai's guardian angel (quite literally) please don't read if you're uncomfortable with any of these topics

It was a known fact that Dazai was passionate about death, his colleagues going as far as to call him a suicidal maniac. It was mostly a joke, really, no one truly deblieved that Dazai was going to do it, they thought it was some sort of coping mechanism, a mask he put on to keep people away– but little did they know how far his self-distructive tendencies went. No one was aware of the complete shitshow that went down every week in one of the apartments just above Ada's office.

You see, Dazai has never been a religious person, but not too long ago when he was on the brink of death– drunk on cheap booze and almost choking on his own vomit one Friday night– he spotted your shadowy figure at the corner of his eye. At first he thought he was dreaming but when you reached out your hand and ghosted it over his head he instantly felt... better? He stopped slipping in and out of consciousness, his heart regained its normal rhythm and he incessant shivering subsided. Strange, it was beyond strange, a phenomenon he couldn't explain even weeks after.

Night after night he laid awake in bed with these thoughts weighing on his mind– theories and ideas, questions left unanswered. Dazai always blamed his failed suicide attempts on pure misfortune but now that he caught a glimpse of you he was starting to doubt that. Maybe there truly was some higher being that kept him alive, or maybe he simply hallucinated you there. In any case, he needed to know the truth. There weren't many things Dazai despised more than uncertainty.

So here he was again, slumped against his bathtub with his wrists bleeding red– looking, searching for any signs of your presence. The bathroom was empty and cold, the cracked tiles under him covered in a thin layer of grime. Dazai tried to focus on anything else but the pain he felt– his wrists were hot, throbbing, aching but he simply closed his eyes and focused on the shallow sounds of traffic. He conjured up an image of the cars outside, taxis spilling fumes and people into the clammy air outside, men and women in suits driving home to their families to have dinner with their happy kids and spouses and couldn't help but laugh dryly.

Not long after he started feeling breathless, his fingers going numb from the loss of blood and turning a light shade of purple– still no sign of you. He thought it'd be quite stupid to die like this, too... unoriginal, but if that were to be his fate then so be it. Just as he came to peace with the thought and his vision blurred he felt a light touch on his wrists. Dazai did his best to focus his eyes, to see the person before him but it was hard considering the amount of blood he lost. He managed to lift a shaky hand and place it above yours– you felt cold and smooth, lacking the texture of human skin. It was as if he were touching a marble statue. By the time he started regaining his composure and strength your hand slipped away from his. The man cursed under his breath but there wasn't much he could do before he suddenly fell asleep.

The next morning when he woke up the fluorescent lamp above his sink still shone brightly. His body felt sore and he could see the faint traces of scars on his wrists as he looked down– despite all, he was happy. Happy that his suspicions have been confirmed. He touched you. You were real, not just a figment of his imagination. Getting up from the floor he quickly wrapped some clean bandages around his forearms and headed to work. He was late and as usual Kunikida gave him a long lecture about how he lacked the sense of responsability and was messing up everyone's schedule but the man's words seemed distant. All Dazai could think about was you.

A few night later he tried again, this time with a new objective in mine: he managed to confirm your existance, now he was going to talk to you. He sat himself on the floor, slumped against the tub just like before then dragged the thin blage across his wrists. The cut was deeper this time and it didn't take long for his limbs to grow heavy and he closed his eyes again, speaking in a low voice. "I'm not gonna stop doing this until you talk to me". No answer came at first, but his ears started to ring faintly. When he opened his eyes again your figure was looming over him, marble white and giving off a soft, eerie glow. What struck him were your eyes, a pale grey devoid of any emotion. When you spoke"I've rarely met a human quite as persistent as you, Osamu Dazai."

"So you're the one who keeps saving me..." he mused but you knew the meaning behind his words. You carefully traced your fingers over his wrists, sealing the deep cuts and for a moment, Dazai could clearly make out a sign of discomfort in your features. "Your time hasn't come yet. You still have many things to accomplish in life, great things."

"Great things... that's awfully vague" retorted the man. Reaching out a hand he touched your hair and you flinched moving away "I'm not supposed to interact with mortals"

"And yet you save me every time. Why?"

"I told you. It's not your time to die and it's my duty to save you"

"When will it be my time to die?"

"Not soon"

The man smiled weakly, still twirling your hair between his fingrtips "That's good to know..."

Little did you know how cruelly Dazai would abuse that piece of information. From then on meeting you became a ritual for Dazai. Every week he'd bring himself to the brink of death so he could see and talk to you again. At first it wasn't that bad, only minor wounds you could heal easily then leave, but he seemed to have caught on to how your powers worked and his wounds grew deeper: the worse his injuries were, the longer you stayed with him. It pained you to see him like this, but it was your job to keep him alive at any costs.

What was worst, you were aware of the twisted feelings Dazai harboured for you– he wanted your companionship to have a witness to his decay and demise, someone to share his pain with. He wouldn't allow any of his friends to see him like this but it was different with you. You weren't human, so he didn't feel a twinge of guilt abusing the power he had over you– not when you cried and begged him to stop harming himself, not when you told him that he was ruining both your lives and certainly not when you desperately clung to his bleeding body, trying to keep the life from seeping out of him.

No, he felt no remorse. Dazai got just what he wanted. With each time he caused you pain his beliefs were reaffirmed– he was inhuman, cruel, unworthy of being alive. It was a vicious cycle, a dark road that spiraled down into the pits of hell and every week he went down that road, dragging you after him.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈•ﾟ｡

You laid on top of Dazai in the dirty tub, breathing slowly. The man outdid himself this time– you'd seen serial killers go lighter on their victims' bodies. 12 stabs to the gut. You barely managed to save him. You felt weak and helpless as you listened to the rhythmic sound of Dazai's heartbeat. The man ran his hand along your hip, chuckling softly. How could he laugh? How could he possibly be so joyful at a time like this? You've used up almost all your powers trying to save him and were almost as weak as him. Despite that, it was in your nature to love all souls, especially those under your protection, that's why the feeling was so sickening. You were bound to love someone who wished to die, someone who mocked the Gods every other Thursday and held you in his arms only to make you crumble "Angel..." he eventually spoke in a weak voice "How long do I have left?"

That question again, a sour reminder of what's to come. For once, you couldn't contain the tears that brimmed in your eyes and let then fall down your cheeks and onto the man's bare chest. Still, you couldn't lie "Twelve years" you babbled out in a broken voice. Twelve years of this hellish nightmare, 625 possible attempts, getting worse and worse with each passing week.

Dazai sighed, running a hand through your damp hair before tilting your head up to look at your face. Beautiful, you were so painfully beautiful. Seeing you like this, knowing that he was the one to cause you pain, made him feel oddly satisfied. He wasn't alone anymore. He gently cupped your cheek, brushing your tears away with his blood-stained thumb. His touch left a red, smudged mark on your cheek "I didn't know angels could cry"

You simply looked up at him in defeat, feeling yourself break down all over again. "We do, Osamu. We're more alike humans than you may think." "That's interesting..." he hummed, thinking of all those times he wanted to cry but couldn't. Not after Oda's death anyway. He looked down at your trembling body again– the glow you had the first time he saw you was almost gone now, your skin ghostly white and face shallow. He winced when one of his poorly healed wounds reopened and your sobs grew louder as you pressed one of your hands on the gash. This wasn't your usual divine, healing touch– it was the touch of a desperate person trying to save someone from bleeding out. The sheer pressure applied on his wound made him dizzy but it was nothing compared to the pain he felt when he saw the distraught look on your face; your features morphed into a mask of fear and madness, your eyes unfocused, like a deer caught in a trap. And he played the role of the sharp metal teeth tearing you apart.

For the first time since he met you, Dazai had a revelation: he felt guilty. Guilty that he let his selfish desires ruin a pure soul like you, that he was dumb enough to think he could break the laws of the universe. You were right, you were human, more human than he will ever be. There was no taking back the awful things he did but he could start by taking good care of himself and the precious gift of life you granted him– if not for himself, at least for you.

His vision blurred again as he began silently crying and he picked up his phone from the edge of the sink. Tapping a few keys he held his phone to his ear as he ran his free hand along your hip, trying to soothe you "119, yes. I need an ambulance at Ada's office. I've got some pretty nasty injuries that need to be treated"

#i won't overthink this #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd angst #dazai bsd #dazai x reader #dazai angst #bsd dazai #bsd x reader

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 7 months

Note

Hi! Have you seen the new Mickey Mouse Rebrushed trailer??? Twitter is goin crazy over it and how it’s related to twst 😭 just wanted to hear your thoughts on it

I did spot quite a few parallels with TWST from the Rebrushed trailer! I'm not familiar with Epic Mickey at all, so I'll just be commenting on what I noticed right away. You'll have to excuse my limited knowledge.

Firstly!! This design of Mickey is the exact same as the one we see in TWST. Most noticeable is his white face, which is a fleshy peach color in most modern iterations.

Mickey is reading Alice in Wonderland’s sequel, Through the Looking Glass. Of course, Twisted Wonderland has Wonderland in its title, and even opens with an Alice in Wonderland inspired dorm. Yuu and Mickey also connect via their dreams and through the mirror shared in their rooms.

The theme of dreams is very present and upfront here; Mickey wakes up from sleeping and then creeps to his mirror, which appears to be a portal into another world. Hmm... dreams, mirrors, and traveling to other worlds, now what does that remind you of? You'll also notice that Mickey's room is the exact same as Yuu's room in Ramshackle, right down to the "inverted" room that appears when Mickey passes through the mirror. Everything up until this point is very similar to what is depicted in the 1936 short, Thru the Mirror.

Next, Mickey spies on a wizard carefully using a magic paintbrush over what seems to be a diorama of a bunch of buildings on a plot of land. When the wizard leaves, Mickey fiddles with the paintbrush, causes a mess, and calls forth some kind of black ink monster with green light coming from within it. This seems to be a very close parallel to Overblots, particularly since the most recent OB has a signature neon green color. If we really are to connect Epic Mickey to TWST, this scene also seems to allude that Yuu, Mickey, and/or the "wizard" have parts to play in bringing these Overblots to life. And who do we know that is a powerful wizard that is aware of the corrupting power of blot and runs a large chunk of land... say, a campus? Crowley. This goes hand-in-hand with the theory that Crowley is intentionally allowing these OBs to happen or is even puppeteering his students into OBing.

I find this visual in particular to be very ominous; again, we have the colors that match a certain OB dragon fae but also the map itself reminds me of Twisted Wonderland's and the eerie visual of Malleus's thorns digging into Sage's Island and aiming to go way beyond it.

Anyway, the ink monster is temporarily contained while Mickey returns to his own world. We then get a montage of various Mickey media passing by, as well as a lot of imagery that would imply the passage of time (clocks, the date on the calendar changing, etc.). So... what? Is that implying not only parallel worlds, but also a time skip? Or maybe a time... loop? Like time loop theory???

The ink monster somehow eventually escapes and makes it to Mickey's world, with the blot dripping from the ceiling waking Mickey up from his sleep. It drags Mickey away into a hole drenched in ink. Kind of foreboding when you realize Yuu has also had prophetic dreams... Not of OBs, but of the events leading up to them. And being dragged away into an inky... opening? Like an... abyss? Like book 7, Ruler of the ABYSS?

That's how the trailer concludes!! Gotta say, there's definitely a lot of shared elements between this and TWST. If I recall correctly, Epic Mickey was a game that existed on the Wii waaay before TWST. It even has largely the same cinematic trailer (just with older graphics), so to me it feels like TWST probably took inspiration from Epic Mickey rather than the other way around. There are definitely too many parallels for it to be a coincidence. If that's the case, then we can probably pull some hints for what awaits us in the rest of book 7 from these cinematics. (This is a video comparing the two side-by-side if you think that might be of use!)

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #epic mickey #epic mickey rebrushed #question #notes from the writing raven #Mickey Mouse #Alice in Wonderland #Yuu #Dire Crowley #Malleus Draconia #spoilers #twst theory #twisted wonderland theory #twst theories #twisted wonderland theories #Thru the Mirror

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whoopsyeahokay · 4 months

Text

October Sun

summary: Wally hadn't been able to make sense of what you'd said. How had it been possible that he and the others had been trapped for so long without knowing it? With that truth out for him to examine, Wally hadn't been sure he'd wanted to look any closer. He'd felt violated. Betrayed. Lost. What other lies had he been unwittingly a part of?

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

bon reading

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.14

The world fell away as your words penetrated. Wally stilled, didn't breathe, didn't blink, didn't make a sound. As if he could delay the impact of that truth if he shut down critical functions.

Weakly, "What do you...mean?" Wally croaked, but something deep within himself had always known.

Known it like common sense; the feeling like looking at a green sky and knowing it was supposed to be blue. Like being sick since birth yet knowing that that wasn't what healthy felt like. He'd known and yet never questioned it because he and the others had had no way to be sure their situation was terribly, tragically wrong.

In the earliest days succeeding his untimely demise, Wally had tried to leave the school.

Not to follow his mother home after she'd donated his trophies, helmet, and jacket to display in the stadium entrance. Not to join his friends in Rodney's basement to get stoned after his memorial service. Not to break his own heart by stalking Jenny to the motel where she and her second choice prom date, Gary fucking Reid, lost their virginities together.

Rather, to go for a walk for the sake of getting some air. Despite having been flung back to the field multiple times by then—a lesson that had drilled into him the habit of remaining perpetually vigilant of his surroundings—Wally had had this intrinsic understanding that he could roam beyond what the barrier permitted.

So much so that, one evening, he hadn't kept track of where he'd been going (partly because he'd trusted himself to veer away from the perimeter, but mostly because he'd been relaxed. Not actively chasing down a loved one). It'd been an unconscious series of actions; one foot in front of the other, listening to Eddie Money's Can't Hold Back on a Lost & Found walkman, strolling into the thin smattering of trees on the edge of the grounds, and then wham—

Back to Start.

It had happened a few times after that, too. Rhonda would cackle around her lollipop du jour, roll her eyes, and tell him to, "Get smart, Jockstrap."

When Charley had come along, he'd experienced the same thing. And then Ajay and Katelynn. Learning the lesson after the lesson had been learned. Mr. Martin had calmly and wisely informed them that it was merely the result of not having internalized being dead yet.

But that hadn't sat right with Wally, similar to having been given the excuse of roughhousing when he'd caught his parents in a compromising position one innocuous summer-break afternoon before he'd aged into double digits.

"Babe..." Wally croaked, just above a whisper, the weight of what you'd unveiled slamming into his chest and leaving him winded, "What are you saying?"

Your eyes, marbled and bright—though not outright glowing like they had in the theater—stared right into him for a moment. You were obviously calculating what it meant that Wally couldn't leave the high school, all the hows and whys flittering like dust motes between you and him.

"Unless you're a residual haunter, like Mina or Yuri, you should be able to go wherever you want. How long have you been stuck?"

Wally's throat clicked when he swallowed, "Since I died."

You pressed your forehead to his, hands slotting under his jaw, and, voice laced with grief, said, "That's not possible."

"I mean, maybe it is?" Wally tried to reason, slumping back in his seat and staring at the 5-yard line as he stitched together his own theories based on what he'd learned as an actual dead person. "It's not like ghosts wrote those books you read. Maybe whoever wrote them got it wrong."

Shaking your head, "Actually, they did. Not the physical copies, obviously, but those authors collaborated with ghosts to write those books."

Wally didn't know what to say to that. Didn't know if he could answer a lot of things anymore. Did he even know what it meant to be dead?

You seemed willing wait him out as he turned everything over in his head, one hand on his shoulder, the other lifting the one he'd had on your calf so you could string his arm through your legs and cradle his hand on your belly, your thumb rubbing soothing patterns between the bones.

"What does it mean?" He asked, distant.

Wally could feel himself slipping away, the revelation frosting him from the inside and making him numb. He'd had a similar experience when he'd been fourteen and had broken his collarbone. The pain so intense that his brain had immediately severed its connection to the feeling.

Shock.

"It means that something doesn't want you to leave." You answered once he'd returned his eyes to yours. Your features creased, "Or someone."

Wally felt that statement like a nail through the chest. "How?"

You stared at him helplessly, caressing his cheek and then tilting forward to press your foreheads together again. The action worked to ground Wally, reeled him back from the edge of an existential crisis he wasn't ready to have.

Regretfully, "I don't know, Wally. But we'll figure it out, okay?"

He nodded against you. Closed his eyes and absorbed the warmth of your nearness, the solidity of your touch. Allowed those things to calm him.

"At least we can rule out Mr. A having anything to do with that, right?" Wally snorted in an attempt to lighten the mood.

You pulled back, smiled gently, and nodded, "Right. But he could've used it to his advantage. With her soul stuck here, Maddie wouldn't be able to get back into her body and then go to the police. It also means that he could've safely stashed her body anywhere, so long as he has access to life support."

"You think he dropped her at the hospital?"

"Not here." You said, "Split River isn't big enough to pull that off. He could've driven her to another state? Dropped her off at a big city hospital as a Jane Doe?"

Wally grimaced, shaking his head at the depravity, "That's messed up."

"God, her body could be in Detroit for all we know and it wouldn't get back here until someone in the hospital there made the connection. Unless Sheriff Baxter decides to widen the search."

"Couldn't you ask him? It's like you said, Xavier's your brother from another mother. Wouldn't the sheriff listen to you?"

You didn't seem convinced, reciting in a satire of an upbeat tone, "Hey Sheriff, I think my teacher knocked Maddie out of her body and took it to another state all so she wouldn't tell you about the money he's hiding in his classroom. We should totally look into that."

Wally responded in a responsible manner, "That sounds like an awful idea, let's not do that."

Curling against the back of your seat, voice slightly strangled, you uttered, "So, Maddie's stuck in an In Between 'til I can find her body and bring it back to her."

Wally sensed the granite mass of the pressure you were already putting on yourself. Choosing to steer you out from under it, he diverted the conversation, "Still haven't told me what an In Between is, by the way."

It did the trick, at least for the time being. Your lips quirked up at the corners and the wrinkle between your brows vanished as you informed him, "It's exactly what it sounds like. A plain between plains."

"Yeah, pretty thing, you're going to have to dumb it down more." Wally said, willing to sacrifice his dignity for the sake of making you smile.

Grinning, you set the stage, "Think of plains like different worlds. I'm in the living world, you're in the dead world, right?"

"Got it."

"Now, pretend there are doorways into those worlds. In Betweens are the spaces between the doors." You nibbled your bottom lip and Wally's attention immediately slipped, the urge to lick into your mouth making him twitch. Sweetly unaware, you back-tracked and tried a different avenue, "Not doors...maybe glass walls?"

"The door thing made sense. I mean, I think I get it. In Betweens are those places that anyone can access, whereas the living world is just for the living and the dead world is just for the dead. Am I close?"

"Yeah, you got it." You praised and Wally had to stifle the desire to puff out his chest and preen. "Well, not anyone can access In Betweens, but if your soul can Travel, that's where you go."

"So, when you project, you're in an In Between." Wally stated, though he was hedging for clarification.

"Exactly."

"And you said Maddie's stuck in an In Between, too, right?"

Wally saw the moment you clocked where he was going with that train of thought.

With a lamenting sigh, you said, "Unfortunately, In Betweens are complex. They're unique to all kinds of things like bloodlines and soul-ties—" Wally opened his mouth to ask, but you got there first, "—incredibly deep bonds you make in life with another person." He closed his mouth and listened as you elaborated. "So, me and my great-aunt enter the same In Between and can see each other. But Maddie..."

"Isn't blood?"

"And she and I weren't close enough to form the type of bond you'd need to Travel the same In Between. Either she'd have had to invite me into hers or I'd have had to invite her into mine. It's extremely intimate. Not something you do with someone you only hang out with in a group." You perked up and finally gave Wally a full, supernova smile. "I actually wrote you some notes."

The implication conjured an image of you scribbling notes for him under light cast from a laptop screen, kicking your feet as you lay on your bed like a schoolgirl. All so that he could understand the twisty, twiddly secrets of the universe...

He swooned, barely holding back a wistful exhale.

And then his brain ticked back a few frames to you on an unmade bed. The collar of the oversized t-shirt Wally hoped you owned bearing one shoulder, and the smooth skin of your legs on display.

He couldn't care less about the state of his deadness now, and what it meant that he couldn't leave the school grounds. Instead, he let a slow, devilish smirk slant across his mouth, emboldened by hormones and how receptive you were as he leaned into your space.

He slid his hand from yours and placed it on your thigh, "Gonna let me copy your homework, baby?"

"Gotta get those grades up before the big game." You played along, "Don't want you kicked off the team."

Without hesitation, Wally struck, halfway out of his seat, hand gripping the armrest behind you to hold himself up. He loomed over you, little thing that you were, squished into your seat and completely caged in by him. He hovered, heard your breath hitch, and watched your gaze go hazy.

"Lucky to have a girl like you on my side, then, huh?" Wally said, voice rough, tightly controlled, closing the distance between your lips in increments.

You reached up, wrapped your arms around his neck, "Damn right, big shot," and dipped in.

A throat cleared somewhere over Wally's shoulder, from behind and moderately above, and drove him back into his seat at Mach speed, his hold on you resituating to a socially acceptable place on your ankle. The interruption was accompanied by that arcing of gravity that emitted from a living body which meant Wally was once more on the outside looking in.

"Okay there, hot shot, time to get moving. Students aren't s'posed to be up here outside'a game time." The maintenance worker said, illicit cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth.

Wally noticed the man wasn't quite looking at you, and, for the first time, he had to wonder what the hell people saw when you and he were together while you were still in your body.

You pulled yourself up as fast as the angle allowed you to without injury, foot still tucked in Wally's lap. As soon as your head peeked above the back of your seat, the maintenance worker clutched a hand to his heart and plucked the cigarette from his lips.

"Jesus, girl, you can't do that to folks." He scolded you, southern accent thickening, "Lookin' like a zombie comin' out the grave or what."

"Sorry," You said and sounded as puzzled as Wally was by the man's overreaction.

"Just hurry up and get goin'." His eyes swept in a strange pattern, away from you then back then away, fixing on a point that would have been Wally's nose if he weren't invisible. "You kids these days thinking you can be wherever you wanna be, huh? Ignoring the rules, like they don't apply to you..."

God, this guy. "Can it, asshole. Give her a minute to get up." Wally snapped, bolstered by the fact that the man couldn't hear him. "Bet you're bent outta shape because all that nicotine makes your dick about as useful as a wet napkin."

He heard you choke on a laugh that you quickly masked under a cough.

The man squinted, lips pursed in aggravation. Surprisingly, he departed with no more than a gruff, "Get gone!" and stuck his half-burned cigarette back into his mouth.

Wally glared after him as the man marched up the stairs toward a ladder open beneath a curtain of cables and metal that spilled from the ceiling. Clearly, the man had been in the middle of fixing something when he'd seen you.

"Fucker." Wally grumbled. He patted your leg, pressed a kiss to your knee before he released you.

"I appreciated the support," You giggled, "Even if it doesn't do much on my side of things, it's nice to know you have my back."

"I've always got you, baby." Wally vowed as he unfolded himself and rose to his feet. He couldn't help tacking on, "Every bit of you," with a wink that made you pink up so prettily.

You wetted your lips, ducked your face into your shoulder; shy after you'd been caught in what might’ve been a very awkward position. "I'm starting to get that."

Wally let you take the lead, enjoyed how you brushed up against him as you shuffled out of the row and onto the stairs. He shot the man one last angry look as he grabbed his jacket and then turned to trail you across the field and out of the stadium.

At the top of the grandstand, feet from the ladder, the man examined his cigarette through a profoundly glum expression.

With a grunt, he dropped it to the ground and crushed it under the thick sole of his work boot, simultaneously pulling the crumpled, two-from-empty pack out of his breast pocket and whipping it into a nearby trashcan.

💀___________________________

PART THIRTEEN - PART FIFTEEN

also available on AO3!

MASTERLIST

#Milo Manheim #Wally Clark #Wally Clark x Reader #fem!reader #Wally Clark smut #Wally Clark fanfiction #Milo Manheim fanfiction #School Spirits #zed necrodopolis #Disney Zombies #October Sun

105 notes · View notes

blackypanther9 · 6 months

Text

If you had a girlfriend and came out to Alastor – Father!Alastor x Teen!Daughter!Reader

To Anon: Hi there, Nonny ! You see I did some research and apparently in the roaring 1920s there was a “Pansy Craze” (a period of increased LGBT visibility In American culture and New Orleans belonged to the USA since 1803, so it could have also affected them in my researches). From the 1920s to 1933 people from the LGBTQ community performed on stages in Cities around the world. So I thought, maybe they knew and I decided to make a TWO in ONE Oneshot, just to make it a bit fair. One where Y/n found out she was lesbian when she was alive and one when she was in Hell. Just in case someone wants a Human Version too. I hope that is not an issue for ya ! ^^’ Without further ado and my nerdy, scraping over the surface knowledge....I hope you enjoy this Oneshot and I hit your expectations with this ! QwQ

TAGLIST: @meg-giry1 @wen01203

(Drawing belongs to rightful owner)

Words: 6 864

Human Version:

You were nervous beyond belief. Why ? Your Father, Alastor Hazbin, the infamous Radio Host, wanted to meet your Lover. Many would be excited, of course, but your case was different. VERY different. Your Father assumed that your Lover was a man, that you somehow got without him knowing, but it was a woman...just like you. You were so very scared of your Father’s reaction.

For weeks you could hide it from him, your dirty little secret. At least you hoped you could, but he knew you were sneaking out a lot, lying into his face with where you went, you were bad in lying. He could read you like an open book.

For three years you knew that you were a lesbian. Men never interested you in any way that would have screamed love. But females ? You saw one once and she was so pretty that your heart started to do flips, when you talked to a pretty girl, you would stutter which you usually never did. These signs were enough for you, to test something and the results showed, that you were indeed...attracted to woman. Your own gender. Fuck.

Your beloved partner, took your left hand into her own, gently. You looked at her and she gave you a smile, to try and encourage you. After you finished your test, by asking her out, just to test a theory, the two of you became actual Lovers and you were happy, just sneaking around and stealing kisses. Now this could all end abruptly. You took a deep breath. You tightened your hold on your Lover’s hand, to ground yourself.

“Here goes nothing...”, you muttered.

You lifted your hand and knocked at the door of your home. Alastor practically locked you out and said he will only let you back inside again, if you let him meet your Lover. No talking yourself out of it.

So you went to her place a scared mess and explained the whole situation. She calmed you down and agreed to go instantly. The faster this is over and done with, the less you can work yourself up about it.

The door swung open and the face of your Father greeted you both, big smile on his face, which dimmed as he saw you and your partner, assuming she was just your friend.

“Cher...who is this ?”, your Father asked, never having met your Girlfriend before.

You took another deep inhale, while your Lover continued to hold your hand and squeezed it affectionately, supporting you the best she could.

“D-Dad...C-can we c-come in ?”, you asked in a nervous stutter.

Alastor looked at you both in concern, knowing this was something heavy and serious to you, so he stepped aside and let you both enter the house. You both just stood in the living room after you took off your shoes. Alastor gestured to the couch, while he went to the kitchen to make some tea and a coffee for himself.

The both of you sat down and you started to shake and sweat. Your partner gave you an affectionate hug.

“Calm down, Love. I’m sure he won’t hate you.”, your Girlfriend said softly.

You looked at her, shaking like a leaf.

“W-what if he...disowns me...? I-I just want his support. W-what if he won’t...accept me ? Accept you ? Accept us ? I love you, but I also love him. I don’t want to lose my Papa. He raised me for years, Darling.”, you whispered shakily.

She hugged you tighter and ran her fingers through your hair, kissing your cheek.

“Don’t draw crosses on the walls just yet, Love. You told me so many stories about your Dad, that I am almost certain, that he will at least try and adjust to this. You said he always made sure that no man will hurt you, never let any of them take you out on a date...maybe he will be glad you are not into men anyways.”, she tried to comfort you.

You looked at her and kissed her lovingly. She really was your rock right now. You were so scared and nervous, that you didn’t even think of that possibility. Your Pa was always gentle with women, but rarely with men. Maybe he will accept this... Hopefully...

Soon enough Alastor returned with two cups.

“I made Peppermint tea. I hope it will calm you down, Cher. You look ready to bolt away and cry.”, your Father said gently and set the two cups down in front of you and your Lover.

“Th-thanks...Papa...”, you got out.

He saw how much you shook. You looked like you were about to cry for hours and it worried him deeply. Did something happen ? Was your friend with you, because your Lover decided to dump you ? Was he abusive ? Did Alastor have to go on another killing spree ?

He returned with his cup of Coffee and sat down in his armchair. He looked at his daughter with worried eyes, still filled with adoration and love for his little girl.

“Mon ange (My Angel), what happened ? Why are you so nervous ?”, your Father asked gently.

Your Lover squeezed your shoulder gently, encouraging you to come out to him.

“Y-you wanted to m-meet my L-Lover...right, Papa ?”, you stuttered out, wringing your hands in an aggressive manner.

Your partner took your hands into hers and squeezed them, trying to avoid it that you hurt yourself. Alastor nodded.

“Did he hurt you ? Do I have to get police involved ?”, he asked you.

You shook your head and then clammed your mouth shut. Your anxiety was skyrocketing.

“Drink a sip of your tea, Cher.”, your Father suggested gently.

You shakily reached out for it and as you took it, Alastor saw how violently you shook. You almost spilled your drink while you sipped on it. After you sipped enough, you felt a bit calmer, but still very scared. You looked at your partner, who nodded and gave you and encouraging smile.

You looked at your Father again, took a deep breath and then tried to not look so scared. He admired your urge to try and act fearless, but he knew how spooked you are, so he didn’t understand, why you steeled yourself so.

“Pa...I never courted a man.”

Relief and confusion rushed through him at that. No one hurt his little girl, then why were you so scared and here with your friend ?

“Then why are you so spooked, mon petit (My little one) ?”

“I...I said I never courted a man...I didn’t s-say that I was-wasn’t courting someone though, Papa...”

Your hands were clammy and sweaty, the urge to run, cry and vomit was so strong. But SHE grounded you. Your Lover grounded you. This was your Dad. He was always there for you. He might understand... You hoped.

“Then who are you courting, Cher ?”, Alastor asked a bit confused.

You took another deep breath, griped your partner’s hands tighter in your own, sat up straighter pushing your chest out a bit to try and show your confidence and gave your Father a determined look. He was surprised by how strong you try to be now, as if he will yell at you any second.

“Papa...You wanted me to introduce you to my beloved. I introduce you to my Lover. Her name is GF/n and she makes me happy.”, you blurted out, looking from her to your Father again.

His eyes were wide, his smile closed. His eyes swapped from you over to your Lover, then back to you. He looked at his Coffee.

“Am I really drinking Coffee right now ?”, he asked himself.

“You are, Papa. I’m serious.”, you told him, voice a bit weaker, lacking some confidence.

He looked at you again and your Lover.

“How long has this been going on ?”, he asked you, his voice a bit...off sounding.

You started to freak out on the inside, your confidence falling apart. He didn’t take it well, did he ? He is angry... He will kick you out. He will yell. He will shout. He will disown you. He will-

Your Lover squeezed your hand gently and you looked at her. She gave you her charming smile again, nodded gently and flicked her eyes from you to your Father, motioning you to answer him.

“We...we have b-been together fo-for...6 w-weeks.”, you stuttered out.

Alastor looked at you and set his Coffee down, not drinking it at all. He leaned forward.

“How did it start ?”, he asked.

“I-it started as an ex-experiment, r-really. We-we didn’t ex-expect the re-results...”

“Cher, stop stuttering so much. Now, tell me what experiment that was.”, he pressed.

He was actually curious, but his little girl was such a mess. Maybe he sounded a bit...cross ? He really didn’t mean to come off like that, but he was still processing all of it and he wanted to know everything, to see if you were forced into this or not.

You suddenly clammed your mouth shut, looking away, scared. You couldn’t say it, you weren’t brave enough. You tapped your Lover’s thigh gently, telling her to tell him. You were unable to.

She looked at your Father and lifted her hand softly, catching his attention.

“If I may...Y/n’s nerves are all over the place, which made her shut down on us. If you wish, I can tell you how it happened, what the experiment was about, Sir. Only if you wish to. Y/n...she is very nervous and scared.”, your Lover said.

He crooked his head to a side.

“Why would she be nervous and scared ?”, he asked.

“Well Sir, as you may know...not many approve of people like us. I tried to encourage her that you won’t be angry with her. I mean...she told me many stories about you and they were all good, you two barely argued about serious matters, you protect her from many things, you help her out with many things, which she returns as a favor and more. I tried to tell her that you most possibly won’t disown her, for being attracted to the same gender. Now that the cat is out of the bag, she is afraid what your reaction will be.”

He leaned back into his armchair and looked at you. So you were scared that he will yell at you...or worse. He sighed gently and looked at your partner, gesturing for her to tell him what the experiment was about. She nodded.

“Your daughter noticed small signs of her...sexual attractions. She was never interested in men, which she found odd, because no matter what type of man walked up to her, she found no interest or appeal in them, but with women...it seemed different. Quicker heartbeat, stuttering, finding interest in some women, finding them pretty in a different, less appropriate way...you name it. One day she met me and she wanted to experiment around with me. I work in a small bar and some knew that I was just like your daughter, not interested in men, but women. She heard about it and she found interest in me, so she asked me if I would be willing to help her in her own experiment. I agreed and we started to go out together a few times, each time it was beautiful. The more we continued her experiment, the more we fell in love with each other, until she asked me, formally, if I would do her the honors to court her. She was so shy and adorable about it too, some flowers, a package of chocolates and a small handmade scarf. I said yes and we have been courting formally for 6 weeks now.”

Alastor looked at her very interested as he heard her side of the story. You smiled gently at the memory, blushing slightly. Your Father noticed, but decided not to point it out. His smile didn’t drop, but it was a bit more genuine. He looked at you again.

“Cher, how long have you known, that you were interested in women ?”, he asked gently.

You wiggled around on the couch, uncomfortable.

“W-well, with all the signs I had...I suspected it already. If we would go only after the time I assumed this case, then it would be three years by now. When it was fully confirmed...since three months now. I experimented around with GF/n for two months, before I asked for her courtship.”, you answered, still awaiting his shouts and anger.

You were surprised as you heard your Father chuckle in amusement. You looked at your Father and saw his genuine smile, warmth and love in his eyes.

“Now, Cher, why would you ever assume that I would yell at you, for finding Love ? It may be frowned upon in the open, but for Heaven’s sake, if you love her, then you love her. What’s the big fuss about anyways ?”, he said with warmth in his voice.

“Wait...so you...you support me ?”, you asked with shyness.

“Indeed I do ! If she makes you happy, then who am I to stand in your way of your Love life, Cher ? You may be my child, but I am not controlling your life and what you fall in love with. Look at me, Cher ! I am not even married, never found the right one for me ! Hahaha !”

A big smile grew on your face. Your Lover smiled happily as she saw you light up, which also made your Father smile wider. He stood up and opened his arms for you.

“Come here, mon petit.”, he said.

You got up and ran into his arms, hugging your Papa tightly. He wrapped his arms around you too and swayed a bit back and forth, something that comforted you all the time. Happy tears escaped your eyes.

“I love you so much, Papa. You are the best.”, you said into his chest.

He smiled warmly at that and looked at your partner. He opened one of his arms and smiled gently.

“Come on, join in !”, he encouraged her.

She got up and joined into the hug. You felt so full with love and affection from the two people that meant the world to you.

“But just so you know, GF/n...you hurt my little Angel and you will have to answer to me.”, Alastor threatened.

Just because your Lover is a woman, doesn’t that mean he will be nice, if she breaks your heart. He will kill her and you knew that. You knew that you had to make sure you can trust her with that information, so she won’t spill. Because if anything happened to either of you, your Father would make sure they will be dead.

She would find out eventually, so you needed to make sure that she can be trusted with this.

Alastor would look after you and your Lover.

He fully supports you two.

If you would ever want to marry, he would give his blessing.

If the two of you ever argue and you tell your Dad, he will try to help you both sort everything out. He would calm you down and then talk with your beloved, to try and get you two back together and whoever was in the wrong, would get a scolding from him.

Your Father would never force you to marry a man for reputation, status or anything else, not even to cover up your relationship with your beloved.

If someone ever forces themselves on either of you, he will kill them, you just need to tell him.

If anyone finds out about it and wants to use it to their advantage to break you two apart, soil your names or even force one of you to marry them and have children, he will murder them in the most brutal way possible.

He will never arrange marriages with anyone for your hand, no matter what. He rather dies.

If anyone that was close to him knows about your sexual attractions and tells Alastor, he would kill them, after proudly admitting that he knew and supported it. He only left those alive, that didn’t mind it and were happy for you, just as he was.

He would fully support you and your significant other to adopt a child, if you two felt ready for it. He would even gladly help you two out.

At some point the three of you would sit down and Alastor would confess with you that he was the Bayou Killer.

Your Lover would swear secrecy and help if they needed it, after hearing that Alastor only killed those that deserved it. She also might have admitted that she already knew with the few kills that happened to certain men that harmed the both of you.

After Alastor would die, the two of you would continue his work and keep your children safe, if you have any. Otherwise it is to protect each other and other people that were innocent and would get tainted otherwise.

When the two of you die and land in Hell, you would actively hunt down your Father, while he did the same. His Father senses would immediately pick up on your arrival in Hell and he would start a search party.

You would all happily live together and catch up on what you missed from one another’s lives. You three would never split again and Alastor would help the both of you to become Overlords.

Hell Version:

You had no idea that you were lesbian, when you were alive. You just always believed what your Father told you. That you hadn’t found “The right one” yet, like him. But it was so much more complicated.

If you thought back to the past, you should have realized it way sooner. How you felt drawn to other females, how you were suddenly such a mess when you talked to a beautiful woman. You never felt attracted, nor interested, in men when you were alive. Yu thought you were straight, but actually...you were homosexual.

Just to make sure, you started to date a Demoness, behind your Father’s back. After all....what would he think of you, if you got together with a Demoness ? A darn woman ? You didn’t really wanted to find out.

The Demoness you dated was beautiful. She was caring, loving and sweet to you too. She didn’t give a fuck who you were to the public, nor who your Father was in public. Sure, she was hesitant when you approached her and told her about who you were and who your Father was, but she still accepted to help you with figuring your sexual attractions out.

The more you two bonded, the more you two fell in love with one another. You shared stories with her about your Father, which made him sound like an absolute Sweetheart in private, so she was more intrigued to meet him one day, than scared. You said you want to keep it a secret from him, which she softly agreed to, seeing your worries. But...all things must come to an end... Which lead you to a few months later.

You never told your Father, you were sneaking around. The two of you worked in the Hazbin Hotel and you would usually just sneak out at night, when the Hotel was closed, without your Father interrogating you.

You were scared beyond belief, by just thinking of telling him that you are a lesbian. He accepted Charlie and Vaggie as a pair, sure, but none of the two were HIS kids. You were his Daughter and he probably expected better of you, than to fall in love with the same gender as you.

Who was your Father ? Alastor, the Radio Demon.

You knew that your Father was an Ace, or better an AroAce, you found that out a while ago with Rosie by your side. He was never straight. He was Aromantic and Asexual, which, honestly, didn’t help you to be brave enough to tell him that you were Homosexual. It actually made it even harder.

Your Dad doesn’t even know he was an AroAce and he still had no idea what that term even meant. Rosie told him only once that he sounded like and AroAce and he asked her what that was supposed to mean. She never elaborated and you felt awkward telling him, so you didn’t.

The day had been stressful and you were already looking forward to sneaking out that night, just to see your Lover, GF/n. You just wanted to cuddle with her and tell her all about your stressful day, then fall asleep in her arms.

It was 1 in the morning ad you decided to leave. You left your room and tiptoed through the halls, to the stairs, tiptoed downstairs and then to the front door. You left quickly and quietly. You didn’t use your powers, because your Dad would have picked up on it and then could have tracked you down.

What you didn’t know, was that you weren’t as sneaky as you hoped. Alastor knew you were sneaking around at night and that night he sent his shadow after you, to spy, while he read a book in his room. He was concerned what you did at this unholy hour and why you didn’t tell him.

You walked for a while, until you were in Zestial’s turf. Then you stopped at a house and climbed through an open window, landing in the living room. You looked around and then closed the window gently, sneaking into the hall and then up the stairs, stopping at a door, opened it and entered. Inside the room, was your Beloved, reading a book. She stopped reading and looked up, smiling happily as she spotted you, which made you smile brightly too.

She closed her book, put it on her nightstand and got up. She rushed over and hugged you tightly, which you returned.

“Love ! How are you ?! You are late, I was worried you won’t come over today !”, she chirped, happily.

You chuckled and squeezed her gently.

“My Father was a bit longer than usual in the main Lobby and I can’t use my Magic to sneak off, he would track me down, Love. I’m so sorry.”, you answered her.

“It’s okay ! So ? How was your day ?”, she asked and lead you to her bed to sit down, next to her.

You groaned.

“Stressful. I don’t know how Father managed today, honestly ! Charlie had us all running around like headless chicken and the new exercises she wanted to do, were so many at once and so chaotic ! To top it all off, Pentious’ egg boiz blew holes into the ceiling and almost destroyed the roof ! Angel decided to get so wasted that he kept bothering my Father, who was close to blow a fuse and Vaggie is still staring daggers at me, because I am brutally honest with Charlie ! To end my charming day, I was left with a lot of paperwork, from Vaggie, for talking her Girlfriend down, even though I just tried to help and be honest ! It was the double amount my Father had gotten !”, you complained.

Your Lover frowned at that and started to sit behind you, massaging your shoulders, who were stiff and tense. You sighed and hummed, as she tried to loosen up your muscles.

“That really didn’t sound good. Nor is that Vaggie fair. She needs to understand that her partner also needs harsh reminders about reality. She is the Princess of Hell, but she is way too kind to get anywhere. She isn’t using her authority, nor her Power to make people stop seeing her as a joke. Coddling her won’t help her.”, your Beloved said gently.

“That is what I told her TWICE this week ! She doesn’t give a fuck ! Everyone is making fun of Charlie and she still coddles her, instead of telling her to be a bit more aggressive ! If this continues then they can shut down the Hotel entirely !”, you groaned.

She continued to massage your sore muscles and hummed gently.

“How is your Dad fairing, Love ?”

“He is managing better than me, I can tell you that. I was about to blow a fuse as Vagatha threatened me with her spear and cussed at me in Spanish. He was just so close to blow one today, that he decided to hide in his room and get to work on the papers, he is assigned to. Sometimes I am at a loss that he can still keep his smile up ! In his eyes stood pure annoyance today, while in mine was rage to see that I barely kept at bay ! Honestly, at this point I am unsure if I want to keep helping ! I just get backlash anyways !”, you scoffed.

Your Lover hugged you tightly from behind, calming down your boiling anger.

“I feel so bad for you two, Love.”, she said softly.

You sighed.

“There is not one day where we have some peace and quiet. How am I supposed to come up, with a speech, like that ?”, you said in defeat.

“You actually plan to tell him ?”, your Beloved asked you gently.

“I can’t hide this from Papa forever. I am surprised that I got away until now. But I have zero time to ready myself for the possible heartbreak I will go through.”, you muttered out.

She let go of you and kissed your neck.

“I think he will accept you still, even if you are...different.”, she tried to cheer you up, “After all, he accepts Vaggie and Charlie too, right ?”

“Hun, that is different.”

“How so ?”

“Vaggie and Charlie are not his children. I am his Daughter and I feel like I will disappoint him, when I tell him that I know now....why I was never interested in men. Yes, my Papa can be very laid back about a lot of things, mostly when it is me. But that doesn’t mean that he is alright with everything that I do and say. You have to remember that we lived in the 1920s, he lived through the late 1890s until the early 1930s, while I lived in the late 1910s to the late 1940s. Anything besides being straight was heavily frowned upon back then. Either you were straight, or you were a dysfunctional human being to the society.”, you reminded her.

“And you think your Dad will hate you for being...you ? He is an AroAce, that is what you said, with the Overlord of Cannibal Town, Rosie.”

“Cher, he has no idea what an AroAce even is.”

“Wait...none of you told him ?”, she asked in shock.

“Rosie didn’t elaborate, hoping he would research the terms himself, now that he has a label on him that he doesn’t know the meaning of and it was too awkward to me, to tell him. He always thought that he just didn’t find the right person. Imagine his world falling apart when he finds out that he was AroAce the whole time. I didn’t want him to have a breakdown about it. I can only imagine how sad he would be.”

“Now, now. Just because he is AroAce, doesn’t that mean he is incapable to be happy.”

“I know, but...at some points he HATES being different from others. I know so. I was there and at nights he thought I was asleep, he was crying. GF/n...he was hurting often and hid it behind a smile. Earth wasn’t kind to him...nor is Hell. He tries to hide it, but I know his big heart. I know that he is hurting even more and I am worried about him. He is my Papa, I love him very much. I hate to see him hurting so much.”

She gave you a sympathetic look and then a kiss on your cheek. You looked away and took a deep breath.

“As much as he would HATE to hear it...I wish he would have gone to Heaven after death. Heaven would have been kinder to him, he could have reunited with Grandma and...he would be carefree now. Here in Hell...he has to be the opposite. Hide behind smiles, show no weaknesses, be coldhearted...All this...isn’t my Papa. He is a very kind soul, but he can’t show it. And I hate that so much. He is always full of worries and fears, but he never lets anyone know. Not even me. It frustrates me, because I can see the pressure he is trying to carry on his own shoulders, all alone. He refuses help and he tries to do everything alone. He is going under in all the stress he tries to hide, he is suffering so much from it that it makes him a little crazy. I have no idea how to help him out.”, you vented.

“Have you ever asked him ? Spoken about these matters ?”

“I tried. Every time he avoids the subject ! He shuts down as soon as I try to get him to talk to me, so I can help and don’t have to watch, helplessly, how he slowly falls apart !”

Alastor’s smile was small and strained. You knew that he was very troubled. He thought he hid it well from you. He should have known that you could read him easily. After all, you grew up around him, as his Daughter.

But now a lowlife Demoness knows this too, the one you vented to. That won’t do...

He still didn’t pick up on you being Lovers. He couldn’t look through his shadow’s eyes, only listen in. He had to go and kill her when he has time.

“I tell you what. Tomorrow, I will come over to the Hazbin Hotel for a visit. You and I will tell him together about you....issue and then we try to make him open up about his own problems. It is not healthy to carry all your troubles on your own. You always need others to be stronger. Your Pa is making himself an easy target. The mind is a fragile thing, even down here.”

“Are you sure that he won’t...hate me ?”

“You told me so many stories about him and what a Sweetheart he can be in private, that I am determined to say that he won’t hate you. I am 100% sure he will still love you.”

Alastor tuned out after that, already planning her death, while the two of you made out and then decided to go to sleep.

-The next day-

You teleported back to the Hazbin Hotel, appearing in your room, after you gave your Lover a kiss. Venting to her yesterday helped you immensely. You took deep breaths, to calm down and then got ready for the day.

Charlie had you running some errands to get food stocked up, which took you a few hours. As you returned you were just informed that Charlie needed you to fill out important formulas for the Hotel, as the door opened. Everyone turned to the door in the Lobby and saw your Beloved.

“Oh my gosh ! A new guest ! Hello, I’m Charlie ! Do you want to get rehabilitated ?!”, she swarmed your Beloved and not letting her come to word.

“Actually, she is here to visit me.”, you said, coldly, to Charlie, not liking her hands on your Lover’s shoulders at all.

Charlie’s smile dropped and she sulked a bit.

“Oh...”

You approached them and pulled her into your embrace, giving Charlie a possessive glare, as you held your Beloved.

“Mine.”, you said.

Your Lover blushed and smiled brightly.

“Hun, please....”

“As if she would be willingly with you ! You are an Overlord and the Daughter of the Radio Demon ! You don’t have a heart that shows love ! What did you do to her ?!”, Vaggie accused and you glared at her, tightening your grip on your Beloved.

Your Partner glared at Vaggie.

“How about you shut your mouth, before I shut it for you, Vagatha ? Don’t you DARE to speak to me Beloved in that way !”, she snarled in anger.

Everyone stared in utter shock at the two of you. You smiled happily and kissed her cheek. As soon as you two parted from one another, your Father appeared in the Lobby. You looked at him in nerves, while your Lover kept a cool head.

“What is all this commotion about ?”, Alastor asked with a laughing track.

“Vagatha was a bitch towards your Daughter, is all, Sir.”, your Lover answered him politely, still glaring at Vaggie.

He looked at Vaggie.

“Is that so ?”, he asked dangerously calm.

Then he turned to your Lover again.

“And who might you be ?”

“My name is GF/n, a pleasure to meet you, Sir.”

“The pleasure is all mine ! The name’s Alastor, the Radio Demon !”, he greeted back happily.

Until now it seemed to go just swell. You cleared your throat.

“Papa...can we talk in private ? You, GF/n and I ? It is...urgent.”

“Why, of course, mon petit !”, he said happily and then teleported the three of you to his Radio Tower.

“So, what do you want to talk about, that is urgent ?”, he asked you.

You wrung your hands in nerves.

“W-well....you remember when we talked about my disinterest in men, when we were alive ?”, you asked nervously.

“I do, indeed ! I said you just didn’t find the right one yet ! Why ? Have you found him ?”

“W-well...it’s more...complicated, Papa...”

He cocked his head to the side in confusion.

“Oh ?”

“You see...I am...not straight...?”

Now he got nervous. What do you mean you are not straight ? He knows you meant that you aren’t Heterosexual, but what are you then, why are you so scared to tell him ?

“Continue...”, he said, his voice softer.

“I never noticed the signs when I was alive, Papa. I found it all out here in Hell and GF/n helped me to figure it all out. Along the process...we fell in Love and it had been going on for months now, we trust each other deeply, so please don’t be mad when I tell you that she knows about you a bit. I always snuck off at night, because I was scared you will be angry with my sexual orientation, so I wanted to keep it a secret until I knew how to approach you. The Hotel didn’t make it that easy and GF/n offered to support me today to tell you, because I vented to her all my worries yesterday and all my stress and Iamalesbian !”, you quickly ranted out, too nervous to speak calmly.

There was a deadly silence in the room, after you finished. Your Father was trying to catch up with everything you just ranted out so quickly. As his brain caught up with what you just confessed to him, there was a loud record screeching sound and he stared at you in shock.

“You are a WHAT ?!”, he asked in shock.

He wasn’t angry, just shocked that you found it out earlier than he did. He didn’t even know until now. You flinched.

“I...I am a Lesbian...Homosexual...”, you got out shakily now.

Your Father sprung up and rushed to you, before you could react and hide somewhere, he pulled you to his chest into a almost bone crushing hug, which shocked and surprised you.

“Oh, Cher, those are such WONDERFUL news ! You finally figured yourself out ! I’m so proud of you !”, he said happily.

“Wait...you...aren’t mad ?”, you asked in awe.

“Why would I be, mon diable (My Devil) ?! These are the best news I have ever heard ! You found love, my Dear ! And you found out your taste ! Who cares if you like the same gender ?! Why were you so afraid to tell me that ?”, he asked, his real voice coming out.

“W-well...we both lived in times where it was heavily frowned upon... I thought you wouldn’t be happy with me and so...I was too scared to tell you. I feared you would disown me...”, you said softly.

“Mon petit diable (My little Devil), I would never disown you, for being yourself. You don’t have to hide anything from me, Cher.”

He then looked at your Lover.

“Can I be assured that you won’t use anything you know against us ?”, he asked her.

“I would never want to hurt my Beloved. I love her with all my soul.”, she told your Father.

He hummed.

“Alrighty then. I am glad that I don’t have to kill you then, for knowing too much.”

“Daaaaaaaaaaaad !”, you moaned out annoyed.

“I had to make sure that she knows that she isn’t safe just because you two are courting.”, he defended himself.

“Don’t chase my Lover away, Papa !”, you scolded and smacked his right arm, playfully.

He chuckled.

“I would never, mon petit. Now ! Would anyone explain to me what in everything unholy and AroAce is ? And why I am supposed to be one ?”, he asked.

You shifted around uncomfortably.

“I will gladly do so.”, your Beloved answered and you all sat down.

Alastor would be shocked from the news.

He would be delighted to see you finally had a Lover.

Would be happy that you finally figured yourself out.

Would support you.

Alastor would be very protective of you and threaten your Lover that she isn’t safe from him, if she fucks up.

He would keep an eye out on you two.

He would never hate you for coming out to him.

Anyone tries to hurt you two, they will answer to him personally.

If the two of you argue, he will try to find the root of the issue and try very subtly to get you back together.

He would support the both of you through everything and anything.

Alastor would help your Beloved to become and Overlord after she proved herself to be worthy of you, to him.

If you two want a biological child, he will help you two out with his Magic. All he would need is a small doll, crafted to look how you want the child to look like and from each of you a vial of blood, then his Magic would do the rest and you would have a Hellborn child.

He would help you raise your kids and be a great Grandpa.

Alastor would rope Rosie in to be their Auntie. Best friends and all that, plus, Rosie loves kids.

If you want to ever marry, he would give you both the green light, as long as he can lead YOU to the altar !

If anyone has a problem with you two being together, let him know. He will gladly have a snack~

You would warm up to your Girlfriend/Wife and show his softer side to her, just give him time. After all he knows you want her to be treated like Family, he just wants to make sure that she is the right one for you.

He would fool around with your Beloved after he warmed up to her and get very protective of her, just like he was with you.

Alastor would help her out in surprising you with small to huge things.

He definitely would gossip with her about anything and everything, even talk about his past with her.

Your Father would put a lot of effort into getting to know her, her getting to know him and to bond with her.

Best Dad in the world, even if he planned to kill your Lover in the beginning.

A/N: I hope this is good and you won't be mad that I also made a Human Version ! At least then no one can demand for it, because it already exists. *Lol* Two flies with one smack !

Masterlist HERE !

#fanfiction #fem!reader #Hazbin Hotel #alastor x child!reader #alastor x reader #alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #If you had a girlfriend and came out to Alastor – Father!Alastor x Teen!Daughter!Reader #Daughter!Reader #Father!Alastor #Alive!Alastor #Alive!Reader #Demon!Alastor #Demon!Reader

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