#source: angels in america

[rockabye-billy]

Somewhere amidst post-Starcourt recovery...

[magnvmopus]

we have reached a verdict, your honor. this man's heart is deficient. he loves, but his love is worth nothing.

prior.

[angelhareincorrectquotes]

*Cut dialogue from Case 3*

Jonah: I don’t think we’ve been introduced. I’m Jonah.

Zag: I don’t care.

[writersmess]

DEATH WISH LOVE | EVAN BUCKLEY

gif credit

Pairing: Evan Buckley x fem!reader

Summary: Buck never thought he could love someone like that. Especially not someone with the same death wish love as him.

Warning: Anxiety crisis, near-death experience, hospital, crying, ansgt.

Word count: 2.5K

a/n: My God, I can't believe it's taken me over a year to get back. I missed this place so much. It's been an intense, crazy year. I finally got my dream job at the best hospital in Latin America. I'm so happy, but at the same time it's demanded everything of me, working long shifts almost every day, but its the price I have to pay. I hope you like this one, it was based on the song Death Wish Love by Benson Boone, which as soon as I heard it I immediately imagined something with our dear Buck. I confess I thought I'd do something angsty, but I don't think I have that capacity, he already suffers so much that I just wanted him to have a happy ending this time.

Masterlist

................................

You were the new firefighter in 118, and also new to the city. In order to follow your dreams, you left your hometown with everyone and everything you knew. You craved for bigger things, you wanted the big city, you wanted Los Angeles.

The team welcomed you with open arms, which was unusual to you. You weren’t used to this or neither known by your affectionate gestures, but apparently everything was an excuse for a hug at the station. It was a bit hard to get used to all this affection, especially when you came from a place where you were always by yourself.

That was one of the main reasons you became a firefighter, you have walked through fire every single day of your life, why not make it your profession?

You were a source of curiosity between the team, always so quiet and so resistant to everyone's affection. It was hard to win you over. Especially because you had a rather difficult personality, you were fearless at work, you weren't afraid to go into the fire to save lives, you did it without thinking twice.

To Bobby you were a cause of concern, and sometimes the reason why he was having trouble sleeping. He knew this personality very well. It was the same one he had struggled for years to learn to deal with, the one he had to fight with so many times, he was very familiar with this death wish love, it was the same as Buck’s.

The blue-eyed man on the other side, couldn't understand why he couldn't take his eyes off you. Ever since you arrived a few months ago, your image has been running through Buck’s mind. You've become a challenge for him. But not in a bad way, he wanted to get to know you, he wanted to understand you. But you didn't make things any easier for him, especially when today was the first time he'd seen you laugh.

"You're drooling" he snapped back to reality when he heard Eddie mocking next to him.

"Shut up" Buck said, turning his gaze back to you playing with his niece.

You had a beauty he couldn't explain, an angelic one. You had this steely gaze and looking at you felt like suicide. He would fall to his knees if you asked him to. How could someone so delicate also be so dangerous?

The way you were reluctant to follow Bobby's orders, you'd walk into the fire without a second thought. You would take risks without thinking about your own safety, just thinking about everyone else. He saw how hard you worked, he saw how mad Bobby got when he ordered the building to be evacuated and you were always the last one to leave. You were intriguing and he was fascinated.

It was so strange for you. Being in Maddie's living room, with everyone gathered together like a big family, laughing and telling funny stories. The team met once a week, with all the families together, the children running around the living room, the smell of food in the air, the voices, the laughter.

You accepted the invitation after a few months of refusing, and now you spent the week looking forward to the moment when you would be together again.

Sometimes when you got home from a meeting, you cried. You cried because you never had that, you never had anyone who cared about you. You were an unexpected pregnancy, your parents didn't planned you, they didn't want you and that was never a secret to anyone.

And that's why you were surprised when one day you arrived early at the station and Hen had a cake for you that you had once said reminded of what your grandmother used to bake.

Or when another one Eddie handed you a drawing that Chris made specifically for you. Of the two of you playing together.

Or when Maddie sent you, through Chim, the cookies you said you loved one day while you were having coffee together.

Or when Bobby invited you to have lunch with him and Athena on a Sunday ‘cause he knew you were going to do it alone.

Or when Buck gave you a book he'd heard you say was your favorite during a conversation.

*

It was mid-afternoon on a Sunday. Your hands were shaking, your heart pounding. The words your father had once spoken echoed in your mind. "You will never be loved". But you were at a table with 118's entire family, and you felt loved. Maddie told you about the gossip from her work. Karen hugged you from the side every time you passed by her. Hen included you in every conversation. Athena calmly answered all the questions you were curious about her work. So why did you feel like an imposter? Why was your father's voice echoing inside your head? Why were you on the verge of an anxiety attack?

"I'll be right back" you muttered to the girls, but you realized how shaky your voice sounded. You were pathetic.

You barely made it to the bathroom, your legs buckled and you sat down in the corner of the room. You could hardly breathe, it was hard to pull in the air. Tears streamed down your face. Your heart was racing. Your hands were shaking.

You heard your voice being called from outside. Damn. You couldn't calm down, your hand was on your chest as if it could make the pain go away.

"Hey, hey. I'm here. Calm down, I’ve got you" it was Buck.

His voice was just a whisper in your ear. You let a sob escape your lips. Pathetic. You felt his arms around you, until you were all wrapped up in his arms. Why was he doing that? Why did he care?

He stayed there until you stopped crying. You were still in his arms, and it was so warm, so safe. Sighs came from your lips, and you couldn't imagine what a mess Buck's head and heart were in. He wanted you in his arms, not just now.

"I'm sorry," you whispered and tried to pull away, but he wouldn't let you, so you stayed.

"You don't have to talk about what's going on in there, but the day you feel like you need a hug to cry into, you've got mine" your eyes filled with tears again. "And don't ever apologize for it"

*

The smiles on your lips were becoming constant. And it was Buck's favorite image. You were letting people through your armor, you were letting your guard down, and it felt good. You now baked pies and cakes for the station on your days off, recipes learned from the girls after a few long afternoons of chatting and coffee.

Your laughter was contagious, and the boys would always crack little jokes to get them out of you.

Your eyes were now looking out for a pair of blue ones, all the time, everywhere. Eyes that were always looking back at you. Your hands were always looking for an excuse to bump into Buck's, just to feel that shiver run down your spine every time. And he would find any reason to text you, until the excuses became routine. You woke up every day with a good morning message and went to bed with a good night one. The little touches now became big gestures, Buck loved to brush your hair out of your face and tuck them behind your ear. And you loved to run your hand over the birthmark above his eye. You loved when his warm lips traveled up your neck to your lips. You loved when his hands ran over your body always so slowly and so gently, bringing goosebumps wherever they went. You loved making love with him. How he worshiped your body, how much he worshiped you. The way he made you feel loved.

You had a hold on Buck, and you didn't even know it. He had become attached to you, attached to the idea of having you by his side. The nights with you were the ones he could truly rest in, the mornings where he woke up to your soft kisses on his face, were the ones he would keep forever in his mind.

But he could feel that you were still resisting his feelings, and he was terrified of losing you. Buck was in love with you. It took months for him to realize that, but he did it. He loved you.

But one thing has never changed. And as Buck followed the loud murmurs coming from Bobby’s office, where he knew you were at, he kept in mind the danger you were in at every call. He couldn't lose you.

"Hey, what happe-" he couldn't finish the sentence when he saw you walking out the door, since you brushed past him, bumping into his shoulder, without even looking him in the face.

Buck made his way to the room, where he saw his captain wiping his hands across his face, letting out an exhausted sigh.

"She'll end up dead if she keep acting like this, Buck"

"I know"

"After the last call, if she doesn't change her behavior, I'll be forced to suspend her."

"I know."

Buck couldn't lose you.

You couldn't talk to Buck yet, you were so nervous after your conversation with Bobby. You were trying your best, how could he tell you that you had a death wish love? You were saving lives, and it didn't matter if it cost you your own. You didn't care.

A new call ecoed through the station. It was something big. A fire in a shed. People were working at the time, so there were many likely victims. You were anxious, just as you were before any call, but you were ready for it. You were born ready.

"Be careful," Buck told you before you got off the truck and you nodded. You were always careful "I love you"

You turned surprised to Buck, you'd never said that to each other before. It disconcerted you.

"Buck, I-"

Before you could say anything, you heard Bobby calling you to give instructions and you had to run.

I love you.

The words echoed in your head as you entered the burning building. No one had ever said that to you. You didn't even know the weight those words carried.

"Sir, follow this path and the fireman will take you to the exit."

It was so hot. You'd already lost count of how many people you'd pulled out of the line of fire. Your head was heavy. It was getting hard to breathe.

"Evacuate the building now," you could hear Cap saying over the radio. Everyone agreed and gave their location. You were about to respond when you heard something.

It was a call for help.

You could have sworn it was a call for help.

"Captain, I'm in the east side, I hear someone screaming for help. I'm close, I can get them out"

"Negative, the building will collapse at any moment. Get out immediately"

Your vision was blurred.

I love you.

You couldn't go out and leave those people to die, so you went ahead. The way to the door was difficult, there was a lot of rubble, and when you opened it, you froze in place.

It was empty. The fire danced in front of you, mocking you. But the cries for help... you've never been so wrong before.

I love you.

“It’s empty” you murmured at the radio.

Bobby was shouting your name from the other end of the radio. You turned around, but it was so hard to breathe. You tried to find your way back, but everything was spinning. Buck was now calling your name.

I love you.

His words were running through your head. Your steps were now slow. The way out, you couldn't find the way out. You could hear the fire laughing at you. Stupid. Pathetic. You heard an explosion behind you, and it threw you off balance, bringing you to the ground. You'd been walking through fire all your life, and now it would finally take its place back. Your siren buzzed in your ears. That would be the end of you.

I love you too, Buck.

The moment Buck came out of the building and didn't see you outside, he tried to go back. But hands held him in place.

This couldn't be happening. No, no.

Bobby called your name on the radio and you didn't answer. It's empty. That was the last answer they got. You weren't answering. An explosion. On the east side, where you were.

Buck's knees gave way, and he went down. All eyes were on the exit of the building waiting for you, waiting for a miracle. But it never came.

Buck screamed, and he would scream until his lungs gave up.

Time seemed to stop. Buck's screams were the only noise to be heard. And another explosion. Tears rolled down trough some faces. No one could believe it. This couldn't be happening.

Buck couldn't lose you like this.

"We found her" some voice echoed over the radio.

Buck's heart could stop any second now.

But the building was collapsing.

He broke free from his friends and ran into the building, dodging all the fallen and burnt obstacles, and he saw you. You were in the arms of a fireman. He ran up to you and carried you out of the building. As soon as you stepped onto the sidewalk, the building collapsed. Buck held you in his arms with all his strength and ran, feeling the debris fly past you.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry" was the first thing that came out of your lips when he put you on the stretcher and he shut you up, pressing his lips to yours.

Buck analyzed each of your wounds alongside Hen and Chim and you could see the tears streaming down Buck's face, the ones that were also streaming down your own.

You were still struggling to breathe, every inch of your body ached, and you felt on the verge of losing consciousness. Until you succumbed to the darkness that was calling your name.

*

You woke up a few hours later in hospital. Your hands were being squeezed and you could feel something wet running down over them. Tears.

Buck had his face in your hands, he had never felt so afraid before. And when he heard your voice calling him, it was as if he could finally breathe.

"I'm sorry, Buck, I-I don't know what happened-"

"I almost lost you today"

Your heart broke into a million pieces. You did this to him, your recklessness, your impulsive behavior. It was your fault.

"I'm sorry"

Tears were now streaming down your face and he moved closer, running his hands gently down your cheeks.

"I was terrified of losing you. I'd die if I do."

"I would never leave you"

"Promise?"

"I love you, Buck. And I'll love you to death"

"Please don't let it be soon"

You smiled. No one had ever loved you like that.

"It won't."

[mrslectermoriarty]

sources: 1 2

I almost screamed and threw my phone across the room. Seeing this guy on Nov 5th is fucking terrifying... like, YES, SLAY ANGEL, but then again...Dean loved you too.

@mishacollins you really scared me for a second. But you look amazing in that outfit and I love your Election Content! Go blue America! 💙

[transit-fag]

Source used to get the list

[jockoppressor]

Population data source.

[raginglesbian2006]

Ne Me Quitte Pas

Alastor x angel!reader

Chapter 1: The Song is Ended (But the Melody Lingers on)

Chapter Warnings: Murder, Mentions of rape, Death

The song is ended

But the melody lingers on

You and the song are gone

But the melody lingers on

Masterlist

"Have you ever been in love, Alastor?"

The radio static screeched to a halt. Charlie winced at this, covering her ears.

"What brought you to question this, dear?" Alastor asked after recovering from the initial shock, his ever-present grin looking a bit strained.

Charlie chuckled awkwardly. "Well..," she pointed at the pendant that hung around his neck, sitting atop his garments, "I see you with that beautiful pendant around your neck all the time and you're very protective of it.... so I was just wondering," she trailed off.

Alastor let out a laugh, "Oh my dear, this is nothing," he lied, "Love. What a ridiculous notion!"

Charlie could not help but not believe him, but she let it go anyway; bidding farewell to the radio demon to search for her girlfriend.

Alastor was left alone in his thoughts. His hands reached up to touch the little trinket he sought to wear religiously around his neck.

No, this wasn't nothing. This was everything.

As he walked through the halls of the hotel to reach his room, his mind lingered on you. You were the one who gave him this pendant. You were the one who stole his heart.

Yes, he was in love once. Still is.

He remembers the time he met you- when you became his safe haven. He remembers when you had to leave, far from him and he could do nothing about it.

He also remembers meeting you again- the memory etched in his mind.

It was a bright sunny morning in Louisiana. Alastor was in his studio, narrating the tragic news of the New Orleans Boogeyman striking again. This time, hunting down and killing the nation's "hero", the son of a military veteran. Arnold Miller had followed in the footsteps of his father and had joined the army. His brilliant feats of achievements served as a source of inspiration for every lad in America, more importantly in New Orleans, since it was his place of origin. To everyone else, Arnold was a good soul, always ready to help out people, never backing down from serving the nation he loved so much.

Everyone, except Alastor. Alastor knew of his true nature. Arnold was accustomed to luring in girls - often against their will- taking their dignity, ripping them to shreds, and leaving them to pick up the pieces in front of the ever-scrutinizing society. He used to brag about his "escapades" to his pals, unafraid that anyone would turn against him. Everyone loved him after all. Moreover, he saw no fault in his actions.

Alastor was more than willing to show him his flaws. He regretted not taking care of him earlier, jeopardizing the safety of so many women. But at least he was gone, having faced the end of Alastor's blade. No one would have to deal with another scum like him anymore.

His radio show went on as usual, after the initial murder reports.

He talked about the daily humdrum around the locality, cracked a few jokes on the ever-changing economy, and suggested stores that sold excellent formal wear. This was a routine he'd come to love during his time as a radio host. He was satisfied with the predictability of his shows, and his life by extension.

All in all, he was happy with the hand he was dealt with.

"That is all for today, folks! Be sure to lock your doors tonight and refrain from walking alone at night. You never know when the Boogeyman might jump up behind you!" he chuckled, "And don't forget to smile! You're never fully dressed without one!"

He turned off his feed and sighed as he slumped against his chair. He couldn't wait to go back home already. His ma, although sick, had pestered him to never skip a day of his work. She'd told him he looked miserable whenever he did skip work and she wished nothing but happiness for him.

He assured her that he was happy to stay at home to take care of her but her stubbornness knew no bounds.

"I suppose I do get my grit from her," he wondered.

He took off his headphones and stood up from his chair, stretching his long limbs in the process. He started cleaning up his station, when suddenly he heard a knock.

"Come in," he said, not looking up at the opening door.

"Mr. Alastor!" a chirpy voice greeted him.

It was the young lad he had hired for the smooth running of his little business. Oliver had been thrown to the streets having been unable to pay his rent and Alastor had found him shivering in a corner of the street. Taking pity on him, the radio host offered him a job and a place to stay near the studio. Since then, Oliver had become a rather loyal help to him. Had it not been for his astounding marketing skills, Alastor's radio show would've been far from popular.

"Ah, Oliver!," Alastor hummed, still not looking up at him. He was rather busy making sure his studio was left prim and proper, "Do tell me, how can I be of service?"

Oliver was jumping with excitement, "Well, remember we were having a chat on how the radio station needed a few more hands to handle it, given its booming popularity?"

Alastor hummed as he repositioned the antiquities his mother had gifted him when he opened his studio.

"Well, I found someone willing to take on the ever-daunting task!" Oliver exclaimed and stepped aside, "Meet our newest employee!"

Alastor, still stuck in his own world didn't look up until he heard a sweet voice ringing through.

"Greetings, Mr. Alastor!"

His hands paused for a second. This voice... he'd recognize it anywhere. He turned around abruptly and finally looked at his overexcited acquaintance and the recently recruited employee.

It was you. His breath got caught up in his chest.

"Salutations," he said softly, his mind still not having caught up with the fact that you were in front of him, alive, "May I ask what your name is?"

You uttered what he had wanted to hear. His eyes could not believe it. After all these years, he was finally able to see you. The very person who'd become his safe haven when he was young, the person who'd comforted him during those dark times- when he ran away from home, when he felt scared and alone, the person who'd given him the pendant he wore religiously around his neck before they left.

"Oliver, " he glanced at the boy, "Do go get them a drink. It is quite unsightly for us to not treat the newest addition to our business."

Despite your protests, Oliver nodded his head and ran out the door, eager to please his boss.

When the door closed shut, Alastor let out the breath he was holding in since he saw your face.

He muttered your name, "Dear, is it really you?"

Your eyes blinked for a few seconds before they scrunched up with your growing smile, "I was wondering if you'd forgotten me, Al."

Alastor laughed in disbelief, "Forget you? What utter nonsense. Forgetting you would be a sin so great that even Lucifer would shy away from it."

He slowly approached you, "Besides, " his hands went up to the pendant, "How could I afford to forget when you gifted me this?"

Your eyes shone and you giggled, "You still have that!" Your hands reached out to touch the pendant, but you hesitated and they stayed frozen in the space between the two of you.

Before you could apologize for invading his personal space, his hands drew yours closer. You stumbled forward, placing your hands on his chest, right over the pendant that lay atop it. You blushed at the sudden proximity. His hands slid up to your waist, holding you close. You dared to look up at him.

"By golly, you seem to have gotten much taller," you chuckled, pushing up his glasses that had slid down the slope of his nose, "Last I remember, you were still shorter than me."

His eyes and smile had grown softer, far from his usual demeanor.

"And you still look as beautiful as the day I lost you."

As if your face couldn't possibly get more heated, he managed to make it boiling hot. You tried uttering a response but stuttered halfway through. Taking pride in how he made you speechless, Alastor asked, "When did you arrive here?"

You finally found your voice, "O-oh, I just moved in yesterday! I needed a fresh new environment after having finished my schooling and I decided to come here. I was looking around for a job this morning when I stumbled upon Oliver and he offered me a position at your radio station!"

Alastor tsked, still holding you close, "Cher, you cannot just accept some stranger's proposal for a job. What if he lured you into something dangerous?"

"He told me about your radio show and I trust you with my life so...." you trailed off, looking sheepish.

Alastor chuckled as he shook his head. Letting go of you, he stepped back to pick up the coat that was hanging on his chair. Just as he was doing so, the door burst open to reveal Oliver with a piping hot kettle and a mug.

"I do apologize. Mr. Alastor here only likes drinking coffee so we have no other beverages available," Oliver explained, as he placed the utensils down on the nearby table.

"That won't be necessary now, dear boy," Alastor continued, "I'll be showing them around our city. Do keep the studio prepared and the articles ready for the evening broadcast."

And with that, he offered you his arm, "Shall we?"

You grinned and looped your arm around his and the two of you walked out, leaving behind a very confused Oliver.

"What just happened-"

Alastor's smile widened at the memory. He vividly remembers spending every waking hour with you beside him, now that he'd found you again. He had grown terribly attached to you, but you did not mind it one bit. You enjoyed the attention he showered you with and his company was something you looked forward to each day.

Oliver always joked about the two of you getting together. So it wasn't a surprise to him when you two eventually started courting each other. All he did was lament about being the miserable third wheel.

Alastor remembers how his daily "escapades" had reduced significantly with the more time he spent with you. He did not even realize that fact until the newspapers reported on the disappearance of the New Orleans Boogeyman.

His smile had strained when he'd read the article, his anger growing by every second. How dare they think of him as a coward?

However, all those thoughts dissipated at the sound of your voice. Oh, how you had captured his mind, body, and soul.

He introduced you to his ma soon after he started courting you. Although she couldn't see you properly, given her ailing health and age, she still welcomed you with open arms.

As he stopped going on his "hunts" frequently, his relationship with you grew stronger. You were there with him in every new chapter of his life. When he celebrated his 100th broadcast, you were there celebrating with him. When he experimented with his own twist on his mother's jambalaya, you were right there tasting his creation. When his mother eventually passed away, you were right there comforting him as he sobbed into your shoulder.

On his 30th birthday, you gave him a gift he'd treasure for the rest of his life. He had been complaining about how only one of his eyes had problems with vision and that wearing a pair of glasses proved to be detrimental to his other healthy eye. Taking that into consideration, you had gifted him a monocle. You apologized for how small the gift was and told him that he could return it if he wasn't pleased with it. He had silenced you with a kiss.

You were all he thought about. A life with you beside him was everything he wanted. That is why, he stood there in front of the jewellery shop, inspecting and choosing the perfect ring to propose to you with.

When he was satisfied with his pick, he had stored the little box inside his coat pockets. Oh, how he wished his ma was there to witness all of this. She had always wanted to see him married to someone, happily living the rest of his life under the love and care of his spouse.

Things were just perfect, more than ever before.

Until karma came knocking on his door. Literally. His dead heart still pains at the memory.

Alastor had never lost control of his life after he "took care" of his father. He prided himself on that. It was the control he was after, once he landed in hell and that is what made him a formidable overlord.

But the day he lost you? He'd never felt more helpless.

Alastor brushed some dirt off his clothes as he hummed to the tune of the radio playing in the background. His calm demeanor would fool most but he was undeniably nervous.

Today was the day he would ask you to be his, forever.

Alastor had called you to the little cabin he'd bought in the forest, which also served as his hunting ground- be it for deer or despicable humans.

No matter the atrocities he committed, one could not deny how beautiful the forest looked at night. Fireflies would scatter across the expanse of the land, making nighttime all the more lovelier.

Alastor had planned to get down on one knee with the night sky lit by stars and the glow from the fireflies. He believed it would be the perfect romantic atmosphere to propose to you.

Not long after, he heard a knock at the door. His smile grew impossibly large as he giddily opened the door. Instead of seeing you, however, his face was met with the end of a gun.

"See you in hell, murderer."

Alastor quickly ducked out of the way, letting the bullet whiz past him and hit the wall. The man who held the gun let out a grunt, displeased that his shot missed. Although the man was twice his size, Alastor was able to tackle him to the ground. Still, the man would not let go of his gun, leading the two of them to struggle for the weapon.

"You fucker- you deserve to die for what you did!" screamed out the man.

Alastor let out a laugh, his face looking strained, "I just did what those scums deserved."

In the middle of their struggle, the trigger was pulled once more and Alastor heard the gunshot. The bullet missed him again, this time shooting toward the entrance of the cabin. He hadn't looked away from his opponent for a moment, fearing he'd take advantage of the situation and kill him. However, his ears picked up a singular gasp.

His eyes widened as he looked towards the door, left ajar.

It was you.

Bleeding out of your skull.

Your eyes were wide as saucers, staring at Alastor. Your body trembled as you slid down the door, blood profusely dripping from your head and onto the wooden floors of the cabin. Then, with a loud thump, you fell back, taking your last breath.

Alastor felt his soul leave his body.

no...no...surely this was a dream, right?

Taking advantage of Alastor's vulnerability, the man shoved him aside and got up on his feet, pointing the gun at Alastor.

"Too bad the little missus had to go. It wouldn't have happened if you did not do what you did," the man sneered.

Just as he was about to pull the trigger, Alastor took ahold of his gun and with all the strength in his body, pushed it out of the man's grasp. The gun flew to the side of the cabin, leaving the man unarmed.

Alastor stood up slowly, his facial muscles stretching in a maniacal grin. The man backed down slowly, his body trembling slightly.

"YOU. MADE. A. GRAVE. MISTAKE."

With that, Alastor pounced on the man and started beating him relentlessly, laughing all the while. He did not stop till the man's face had become red and blue beyond recognition and his chest stopped heaving.

Silence enveloped the cabin. In it was Alastor- his hands covered in blood, and two bodies. Alastor walked away from the dead body of the man and moved towards your lifeless figure.

Despite his maniacal grin still present, his eyes welled up with tears as he held your body close. His heart throbbed with immense pain and his mind turned foggy. All he could do was cry into your shoulder, wishing this was all a dream.

The night he was supposed to end with you as his spouse-to-be had now turned into him burying the love of his life. When he was done, he reached out for a stone and carved your initials on it, placing it atop your grave. He sat there for a while. His hands reached into his pocket and he pulled out the ring. He placed it on the stone.

His chest pained as he walked away from your grave. He would come back soon, he just had to dispose of the scum that decided to take his light away from him. Just as he started to turn the wheelbarrow that contained the remains of the man, he heard another gunshot.

This time, it did not miss.

Alastor fell to the floor of the forest. He sidled up to your grave painstakingly, abandoning the wheelbarrow. Blood poured rapidly from his head. Those god-awful hunters had shot him under the cover of this grim night. He somehow managed to rest himself against the tree that was situated right beside your resting place.

"Oh cher, " he wheezed out, "I suppose I wouldn't mind dying next to you."

As if things couldn't get worse, he heard the growls of the hunting dogs close by. His grin widened. So this was how karma came around, taking everything away from him. All that was left was himself.

His bleary eyes followed the imposing figures of the hunting dogs as they surrounded his dying body.

He reached out his hand towards the pendant.

Alastor couldn't even scream when the beasts tore into his body.

"Alastor?"

The radio demon turned towards the princess of hell, her hands laden with plans for the hotel.

"Yes, dear?"

Charlie hesitated, "You seemed a bit lost there. Are you ok?"

Alastor let out a laugh, "Just as jolly as the day I came to hell. Haha!"

Taglist: @yumiburrito , @candyladycry , @sleepykittycx

[lillygamine]

𝐿𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑎 𝑏𝑜𝑦 𝑖𝑛 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒.

♡ Warning: Female!Reader,Avengers Agent!Reader, Age Gap(Reader is in her early twenties), Lustful Thoughts, veiled desires, small misunderstanding, a little nsfw, Steve Rogers x Female!Reader,Steve Rogers x Reader.

♡ Note: I don't speak English so I'm sorry for any mistakes in writing.

♡ Note 2: This week I haven't stopped thinking about Steve Rogers, it's been a long time since I watched the films, I didn't intend to write anything about Marvel due to my lack of knowledge about the MCU but I wanted to put this into words because I can't stop thinking about this man, I hope that like

Steve Rogers, Captain America, the golden boy of the United States, a source of inspiration for many, an example of a man! But here he was, sitting next to you, completely still as a rock, nervous as a boy going through puberty!

This felt so wrong! You were part of the Avengers, the youngest of them. You joined the avengers when Loki began his attempted invasion of Earth, he vividly remembers your shy and embarrassed image when he saw you for the first time. You were divine, like an angel sent straight from heaven! You looked like a scared little bunny, but you was so willing to do your best to help them, it was admirable!

After that, Steve couldn't stop thinking about you! Thoughts about you flooded his mind, he thought about you basically all the time! Your eyes seemed to transform him into his old self, before the serum, he felt so embarrassed to maintain eye contact, he tried his best not to talk too much because he knew he would stutter! He looked like a teenager in love!

And as if things weren't bad enough, he started dreaming about you… Dreams so inappropriate that Steve felt ashamed of himself, whenever he dreamed about you he woke up covered in sweat, with a painful erection and often cold showers weren't enough. find a way, making him resort to…dealing with it alone.

After these dreams started, he couldn't come near you, be in the same room with you, or talk to you! Whenever you spoke to him, he could only stare at your lips, wanting to kiss them so intensely until you were both out of breath! Whenever you get close to him, he wants to touch you, explore every inch of your body! Whenever you're in the same room, he can't stop thinking about having sex with you right there! He feels like he is completely out of control! And that's why he always seems to be running away from you like the devil running away from the cross! And that resulted in the situation he finds himself in now!

You came to confront him! Your eyes were teary, you looked so hurt, Steve felt his heart hurt so intensely that he thought it had broken! He was walking down the hallway, returning from a tiring mission, when you met, but when you saw him he turned his back and started walking in the opposite direction.

-Mr Rogers!

-Y/N, this is not a good time!

Steve was trying to avoid you, he hates it! But he doesn't think he can control himself any longer! You run and stand in front of him, your eyes are filled with tears, your lips are pursed in an involuntary pout.

-It doesn't matter if it's a good time! You can't ignore me forever!

Steve wants to move away from you, but your hurt eyes make him freeze in place

-Mr. Rogers, I know I'm not the best agent that could have joined the Avenger, I know there were many who are stronger or more experienced than me, but I'm trying to the bone to not be a burden!

Steve feels a tightness in his chest, do you think it's a burden?

-Y/N, you are not a burden…

-So why do you hate me so much Steve?!

-But I don't hate you!!

The two of you raised your tone, a few people in the hallway stopping to stare, by God…

-Let's have this conversation somewhere else!

Steve grabs you by the arm and starts basically dragging you to the dorms, straight to his room.

You are sitting on his bed, in total silence. Steve lets out a sigh, as if he had been holding his breath for hours, gathering the courage to start a dialogue.

-I don't hate you Y/N…

-So why do you always avoid me? When we bump into each other you move away from me so quickly, as if breathing the same air as me would poison you to death…

Steve turns to you so quickly that it feels like his neck almost broke.

-Never! I just…

He turns his face, trying to escape your gaze

-I felt like I was making you feel bad…scaring you and I thought keeping your distance might make you more comfortable…

Oh God, what a ridiculous lie! But please believe it!

-I never felt uncomfortable with you! I'm sorry if I made you feel that way Mr.Rogers!

-Steve, I would like you to call me Steve

Steve looks at you again, meeting your beautiful doe eyes, shining and looking at him so sweetly, your face turned slightly red, you…were blushing?

-I…I like spending time with you, Steve…I really like it!

You placed your hand over his, your hand was very small compared to his, it was warm and soft. Steve feels his dick start to harden in his pants

Damn, not now!

-I, well…

-Please, you don't need to stay away from me, I promise I feel good around you! I promise I'll behave well so you don't feel like you have to keep your distance from me!

You get closer to him, looking deep into his eyes, trying to show that you're serious, but the only thing you do is make Steve's situation worse.

His cock is completely hard now, aching and begging for attention, your attention

-I… sorry for the inconvenience, I'm glad we clarified the misunderstanding… Um, I need… a minute alone, I'm a little tired…

-Oh! - You walk away -Okay!Sorry, I'll leave you alone!Have a good rest Steve!- You get up and leave the room, closing the door behind you.

Steve gets up, quickly going to the door and locking it, leaning his back against the door and sliding until he sits on the floor, he unbuttons his pants, freeing his erect cock and dripping precum, his hand wrapping around it in a firm grip.

-Fuuuck Y/N, what did you do to me? Why do I need you so much?

[thesecondshow]

Change Will Come; It's Up To You To Do The Stitching

[id in alt text, sources below]

sources

image one: Stone Butch Blues by Leslie Feinberg

image two: Coffee's for Closers

image three: Angels in America Part 2: Perestroika Act 3 Scene 3

image four: Sending Postcards from a Plane Crash, Wilson (Expensive Mistakes), The (After) Life of the Party

image five: The Kintsugi Kid

image six: Angels in America Part 2: Perestroika Act 1 Scene 1, Coffee's for Closers

[rockabye-billy]

I’ve no idea in what circumstances these two could meet, but the urge to give Billy more of Prior’s lines was too strong. 💜

[lotstradamus]

i'm loving all your vampire posting lottie! if you're ever so compelled i'd love to hear what you make of the books vs the show and if there are any book things you'd especially like to see done on the show! (also, bookwise, are you a lestat girl or an armand girl or a louis/marius/david/akasha/claudia girl or or or)

as someone who tried to read Interview with the Vampire thrice (THRICE!!!) pre-AMC show revival and simply could not get through it (it is melancholy), I cannot BELIEVE how down bad I am for these books right now. I keep seeing bad reviews on goodreads and girding my loins for each new book expecting the quality to nosedive, but 1 star bitch WHERE? WHERE??? I AM HAVING THE TIME OF MY GODDAMN LIFE

in terms of books vs show, honestly after a point the books are kind of Unadaptable unless they radically change the main cast, vibe and format of the show every single season, and the changes they made to IWTV were good to the point of sending me fucking insane so they can just keep on doing whatever their little hearts desire with the source material imo!!! howmever I DO have some suggestions for the upcoming seasons:

Lestat crying twice an ep (non-negotiable)

I would kind of love it if Lestat is the only character who tells the truth. the most reliablest narrator and normal girl to ever live. and yet every time he says something like "I killed a pack of wolves single-handedly" or "I woke Those Who Must Be Kept by playing violin" or "I snog my mother with tongue" Daniel is just sitting there like "............riiiight."

Gabrielle. Gabrielle Gabrielle Gabrielle. mainly I would like to smash cut to Gabrielle in the middle of really intense Lestat/everyone else scenes and she's just like peacefully sleeping in the ground... strolling through a distant jungle... sitting on a mountain looking at the stars in silence...

EXCEPT that one scene where she pulls up to Lestat's concert like she's in 2 Fast 2 Furious

it'll be interesting to see how they adapt Queen of the Damned because so little of it is actually from Lestat's pov, and all of it is amazing and cannot be cut out: [Stefon voice] the Twins, Jesse, specifically Jesse being haunted in Louis and Lestat's old New Orleans house, everyone hanging out/playing out terrible interpersonal dramas at the Sonoma compound, NIGHT ISLAND...!

I cannot stress this enough: GHOST CLAUDIA.

I want them to do Body Thief. fuck it, why not. must haves are Mojo, a random hunk with a PhD in Sam Reid's mannerisms playing Lestat for 6/8 episodes, Lestat nearly dying 25 times cos he pilots his human body like a drunk muppet, and, most importantly, Lestat BEGGING David Talbot for some old man pussy

oh and an entire episode set on a cruise ship

my favourite scene from the whole of Body Thief was Lestat turning David at the end against his will cos it was genuinely quite awful and frightening but also. um. you know. awooga

if they include Gretchen, then I would like the opposite of my Gabrielle request for everything post-Body Thief: whenever there's a peaceful, quiet scene it smash cuts to the wilds of South America where Gretchen is absolutely stark raving mad on the floor of a chapel with stigmata

I can't even begin to think about how they'd adapt Memnoch, but regardless I want them to keep the scene where Lestat drinks someone's period blood. thanks

also his cunty little lilac-tinted sunglasses that he will not fucking stop talking about

and finally, human Armand getting drunk and falling into the Grand Canal

bookwise, I am a Lestat girl the house down boots... I love his over-dramatic idiot crybaby ass!!!!! although the final page of Memnoch the Devil made me burst into tears and cry my whole face off until I confirmed that Lestat comes back as the narrator in future books soooo maybe like calls to like. self recognition through the other, etc. I do also get a shot of pure joy every time Armand shows up, especially in Lestat's pov. 'ah, there he was, the Botticelli angel, so beautiful. I fucking hated him. we kissed.' sis THEE dopamine.

currently suffering because I want to a) stop reading the series immediately so I can go back and reread The Vampire Lestat, and yet also b) never ever stop reading the series for love nor money. please help me budget this my family is dying

[weeb-polls-with-pip]

Autistic Anime Boys Prelims - Propaganda Division - Group 1

Propaganda:

Rintarou -

"Has a special interest in science and will do anything to indulge in it. Has many strange mannerisms and will only drink his favorite drink."

Baki -

"Special interest in fighting and doesn't give a fuck about anything else except for his friends. Kidnaps fucking George Bush and asks him if he can put him in the biggest prison in America because he wants to fight people there. Literally goes to jail for his special interest. Autism."

Yoshi -

"look at him. he is Autism: The Character. The game deals with how he was ostracized for "weird" behavior and it got down his self esteem so bad that he calls himself trash and if you look at how he struggles to interact with others i.e. low social stamina (game's hit points are literally his psyche), struggle to control his emotions intense passion about subjects of interest etc etc he reads as immensely autistic and his arc of learning to love himself and find people who love him for who he is is so. very important to me <3 my dear favorite autistic scrimblo.

also look at him. his design is the trans flag colors. what's not to love here!! he likes bunnies!! he made those bunny ears himself, even. in 1BeatHeart, he made cat ears for his friend. i love his 1BeatHeart design also because in that game he's an Adult and STILL unabashedly himself, showing that he took those lessons from his childhood to heart! an autistic adult having some degree of pride in himself, being renowned even if he's still seen as odd, and being content and having friends. aurgh."

Steve -

"Uses his autism for evil! Is obsessed with vampires and wanting to become one but has so many compiling issues that he eventually becomes a key player in a supernatural war. Took it as a personal betrayal when his best friend had to become a vampire to save his life."

Yuuto -

"source: trust me bro."

Hatchi -

"Has a special interest in food and often lets it cloud his judgement. Is very bored of life at the beginning of the story but doesn't understand why. Does things others see as strange or reckless because he thinks it would be fun."

Keiichi -

"He is surrounded by people who speak in codes and euphemisms that he cannot understand based on social rules that he is not privy to."

Ayato -

"evil autism (/pos)"

Yuzuru -

"he is best boy!!!"

Amuro -

"Being a Newtype is just space autism to me. But also he sucks at falling in line in a structured environment, would rather work with machines than talk to people, and is only allowed as a child soldier because he's the bestest at big robots."

[thecrazyalchemist]

I've recently seen a post on Tumblr that just, 'broke' something in me (for a lack of a better term).

So I just want to vent about it and another thing that's been bothering me.

(Disclaimer: this is a vent post. I am not an expert in the topics discussed. What I say is knowledge that I have learned from all kinds of places (school, history classes, researching for history projects, reading first hand written material from archives, and other places) and I don't have much the energy to compile everything source into a list (if I can even remember them). However, if you want to add, argue against, or argue in favor of something said here, correct me, you're welcome! Although, please act civil and cite your sources please. (I know I didn't and I'm sorry, but also please remember this is a vent post.) so anyways, here we start)

So, first of all:

Let's talk about Zionism. What does it mean?

To me, it seems that a lot of people think Zionism is something along the lines of 'racist bloodthirsty monstrous baby murderer and cold blooded killer and a rapist pedophile' since I keep seeing the word 'Zionist' in DNI lists next to 'nazis', 'pedophiles', 'minor attracted people', and other stuff like that.

I would love to hear what you think its definition is and I would love to hear where did you learn it, or perhaps any sources for such a definition.

Here's a brief recap of how Zionism was formed and what it is:

Zionism means the desire for Jewish self determination and self governing to exist/continue in the land/country of Israel.

It is an umbrella term, like the term queer, for example.

Zionism has deep roots in Judaism. A lot of practices and rituals in Judaism involve or are related to Israel. The name Israel comes from the name Jacob got from the angel he defeated, and after him the whole tribe of the Jewish people and the area are called Israel. The name Israel is in one of the most basic Jewish prayers - Shema Israel. Also, at the end of every pesach (Passover) Seder we say "Leshana habaa beyerushalaim habnuia" - next year in built Jerusalem. Jewish people have said so ever since the diaspora started.

Before the state of Israel existed, Zionism was about how to create and build Israel.

Three examples:

Political Zionism - create Israel by first getting a charter and international recognition and funding.

Practical Zionism - create Israel by first buying land, building settlements and developing the area.

Synthetic Zionism - a merge between the two movements above. Afaik most of the early political leaders of Israel were from that movement (for example, the first Israeli prime minister - David Ben Gurion).

Nowadays, Zionism is more vague. The reason for is that Israel already exits. The different movements on how to create Israel are kind of irrelevant now, because it exists now. The discussion on how to run Israel is perhaps what one may define as different movements within Zionism in modern time, however yet almost always when one says they are a Zionist, they mean they desire/want/believe that Israel should exist. That's it.

As such, Zionism alone doesn't say almost anything about the political view of the person who identifies as a Zionist.

Afaik basically 100% of Israeli Jews and around 80% of the Jews in America identify as Zionist. Under *this* definition.

Now because Israel exists, it's much harder to talk about different movements within Zionism which aren't basically political movements within Israel.

That leads me onto Kahanism.

Kahanism is an extremist far-right nationalist-racist religious Zionist movement (that I completely do not, I repeat: **do not** agree with). It was founded by the rabbi Meir Kahane, which believed that Jews should rule the whole area which was the kingdom of Israel in the days of the Tanach and should kill anyone who's an enemy of the Jewish people (which according to him, is basically everyone).

Here's an article that sums up some of my feelings about it in relation to the current events:

[https://archive.ph/2024.06.10-191347/https://www.haaretz.com/opinion/2024-06-10/ty-article-opinion/.premium/forget-being-anti-zionists-lets-be-anti-kahanists/00000190-0228-d660-af95-6fbed3e60000]

Now on to the post that 'broke the camel's back', per say.

The post said “I think that all Israelis should go back to Europe” and that it would solve all the problems here.

Let's try to break down the sentence “all Israelis should go back to Europe”. That sentence implies that that's where *all* Israelis came from.

What's "Israeli"? Afaik, since Israel is a country, Israeli is anyone who has Israeli citizenship (and some may even add 'and/or everyone who was born here').

What's Israel's population demographic? According to official government surveys, Israel has around ~9.9 million citizens, out of which ~73% (~7.227 million) are Jewish, ~21% (2.079 million) are Arab and the rest ~6% (0.594 million or 594 thousand) are classified as else.

The Arab population of Israel (which has equal rights as the Jewish population in Israel) and the Arab population of Gaza and the West Bank originate from the same group of people. Some of them originate from Arab people who had been here for hundreds of years (since the empires age) and many originate from Arab immigration between the end of the WW1 and the establishment of Israel.

Even if you claim that the Arab population of Gaza and the West Bank are the actual indigenous population of this area (despite numerous archeological and historical evidence pointing otherwise, although they do have a long history here), you cannot claim that just because a person was born or even just lived on the other (wrong, in your eyes) side of a border they aren't indigenous to the area!

In Israel, there are also a lot of minorities who are persecuted in other parts of the middle east. Such as: Druze, Armenians, Circassians and more. They have to go to Europe too? No, just the Jews? Surely this isn't antisemitism!

And let's talk about the Jewish population in Israel. MOST JEWS DID NOT COME FROM EUROPE! There are Jews who came from diaspora in Iran, Iraq, Yemen, Saudia, Ethiopia and a whole lot other countries through the middle east, south west Asia and north Africa. They have to go to Europe too?

And that's beside two other important facts: first of all, the Jews are indigenous to the levant. We are indigenous to the land of Israel.

And of course, do you now what happened to Jews all over the world, and especially Europe?

To name a few very notable examples: *The Spanish inquisition*, Kishinev pogrom, Jedwabne pogrom, *The Holocaust*, what that happened in the Soviet Union and many more pogroms, expulsions and massacares. (There were of course also pogroms in the MENA countries, however *I* haven't learned about them. Two examples I am told is notable is the farhood pogrom and the Holocaust in North Africa).

All throughout history, the Jews were expelled and massacred from almost every place. You then expectus to just come back to those places as if nothing has happened?

You want us to come so badly. Can you prove that we are safe to come? That we *have a place to come to*? Because so far you haven't shown that.

That when you and the people around you see a Jew, you won't immediately turn them into the scapegoat of every problom you have and then rape and/or expell and/or kill them.

And also, how would that solve more problems than it will create? Exchanging around ~2 million refugees for ~9.9 million refugees? How would that help? And even if you only mean the Jews (which I can't see how it isn't antisemitic) it's ok cause it's Jews? (which is even more antisemitic)

So no, it would not solve any problems. The country of Israel won't go anywhere, the Jews won't go anywhere, because we don't have anywhere to go - we were born here and we are staying.

However, yes, just as well, the Palestinians will probably not go anywhere (*not talking about Hamas and other similar groups here*). The only way to solve the situation is to unpack and deescalate those decades of conflict and escalation and hate, which will take a lot of work.

[hellishattempt]

𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐭 - the girl in new york

cr sybbatra on twitter, sourced from pin

🢥 summary : celebrity!au gojo satoru and rumours swirling around your established relationship, 3.1k words 🢥 series includes : choso, fushiguro toji, geto suguru, gojo satoru and nanami kento, part one of five 🢥 content : celebrity!au, gn reader, angst mostly, established relationship, cheating, paps being an ass, lying, use of baby/love/darling and other pet names, song cr goes to nessa barrett, not proofread lol kinda just wrote this instead of studying for exams. don't like the ending, but i never do. 

 . . . GOJO SATORU SEEN WITH ANOTHER WOMAN AT NYFW was not the headline you wanted to wake up to. it was a lazy saturday morning, and you didn't have any plans for the day. your boyfriend, the prominent gojo satoru, was currently in new york for fashion week. you had been dating for almost a year, having met a little over six years ago at club heaven in los angeles on his birthday by pure accident. the japanese born model had been dragged to america for his twenty first birthday, and spilled his drink on you. he hasn't left the states since. he's established himself in the modeling world, and fashion week was the busiest time of year for him. being a singer / songwriter yourself, you had quite the busy schedule. your bustling schedules were part of the reason it took so long for you and satoru to get together. there was mutual pining, but you both spent so much of your time in different cities and airports, that there seemed to be no point in it. but geto made a joke that if satoru didn't bag you, then he would, and that about did it for satoru. sure, dating hasn't been easy, but you've made it work. satoru had moved in with you in your luxury apartment in the hills of los angeles, though neither of you were there often. after all, you were both a lister celebrities. everyone knew your names, especially the paparazzi. 

neither of you were big fans of the paps, satoru especially. you tried to show grace, after all, they were just trying to do their jobs. but their jobs were to be nosy and wrongfully invade your privacy. there were always headlines about you and satoru, the rumours and scandals never seemed to end, but for some reason, this one hit home. your phone read 10:01 a.m. you were in your los angeles apartment, so you were three hours behind satoru. you didn't have any notifications from him, which was weird, because he usually made a point to send you a good morning text before you woke up, no matter what timezone you were in. even if it meant satoru had to set an alarm for two a.m. so that you would wake up with a "good morning, baby," then he would set an alarm. in fact, the only notification you had was a text from shoko, with a link to the article. "have you seen this??" her text read. you clicked the link and it opened a separate page for people magazine. it took all your strength not to roll your eyes. people was your number one enemy when it came to tabloids. they always fabricated such stupid things, so you didn't think much of it at first. still, you read the article word for word. 

"gojo satoru was seen today eating lunch with fellow model, iori utahime, at new york's own per se. gojo and iori have been friends for a while now, but are they more?" you scoffed, adjusting yourself in your large bed, continuing on. "gojo and irori are currently in new york for fashion week, and were photographed outside per se for a late lunch before tonight's opener. the photos were quickly posted, and the response was a mix of emotions. in the string of photos, we see gojo and iori sharing a laugh... while holding hands? in a few, his arm was tightly wrapped around iori's waist as he escorts her out of the restaurant. a few nights prior, photos had of gojo and iori sharing drinks at an elite club on eighth had been released, where they seemed more than friendly. that same night, the took shared a taxi, stumbling into the hotel together. social media shares our reply: has gojo's partner seen this and what do they have to say about it?" the article was short and sweet, but it did the trick. the photos had been attached, as well as a slew of twitter posts. #satohime was the third trending tag on twitter. tears stung your eyes as you white-kunckled your phone in your hand.

you were torn between believing and not believing the article. you knew satoru would never cheat on you, but the evidence was right in front of you. he was out with another woman, someone he's known longer than you, holding hands and wrapping himself close to her. you'd never met utahime, but satoru always returned from fashion week, brimming with stories about her that made him laugh until his stomach cramped. you knew they were close, despite only seeing each other twice a year, they'd grown up together. you tried to tell yourself that maybe it was just a rumour, photos taken out of context. after all, it wasn't anything drastic, like a vulgar makeout video, but it still made you sick. so you did the only thing you knew hot to when it come to your emotions: you wrote a song.

. . . NEW UPLOAD : THE GIRL IN NEW YORK flashed across gojo satoru's screen. it was a youtube notification for your channel. he frown slightly at the words, wondering what you were thinking about when writing this. he was at work right now, so he silenced his phone. satoru would listen to the song on the cab ride back to his hotel. he hadn't heart about the people's magazine yet, despite it being published six hours ago. satoru had been so busy with the fashion week presentations and rehearsals, that lunch with utahime had been the first time in a few days he'd left skylight clarkson. in fact, he'd been so busy, that he'd forgotten to charge his phone the night before. it was currently charging, thanks to utahime letting him borrow hers. satoru felt bad for failing to send you a text, but surely you'd understand if it was just one time. utahime wasn't a model like satoru, instead a manager for one of the labels. fashion week in februar and september were some of the only times they saw each other anymore. every february they swore they'd try to see each other more that year, but sepember would always be the second time they saw each other that year. their schedules just didn't allow for it. and even though satoru was a major pain in the ass to utahime, she prized his friendship. they made a point to spend as much time together during fashion week as possible, hence the drinks and lunch.

when the night had finally ended, satoru was exhasted and couldn't wait to return to his hotel bed. it wasn't as good as sleeping next to you, but he could fall asleep on a bag of dirt at this point. satoru stumbled into a taxi, giving the location of his hotel, and pulled his phone from his bag. it was charged now, and your youtube notification sat prettily on his lockscreen, which was a picture of you laughing with your head thrown back. satoru fumbled in the dark of the cab to find his headphones, finally pairing them to his phone and playing the song. "bags in your hand as you kiss me, tellin' me you're gonna miss me. promised me you'll be on you best behavior." your sultry voice entered his ears as the song started slow, a gentle piano and slow guitar riff. "gave me your flight information, call me when you land, say you made it. sweet little me told you, 'go have a good time.'" the song picked up the pace, transitioning into the pre-chorus and chorus. "i didn't mean forget about me, riding in a yellow taxi. who the hell are you on your way to?" satoru was almost too tired to notice the lyrics. almost. "you said i was yours, but maybe just on the west coast, cause as soon as you left home, you got wandering eyes.

"so i guess you lied when you called me special. you're not as smart as you think you are. who the hell is she, taking you from me?" as the song continued, he was more awake with every bar. "fuck you for making me crazy, while you buy her drinks out on eighth street." were you talking about utahime? wait, did you think he had done something? satoru was so confused, consumed by your obscure lyrics. the song ended too soon for his taste, none of his questions being answered by your final line. "baby, i know about the girl in new york..." your voice faded, his headphones going silent. having reached the hotel, satoru rushed to his room, immediately opening his laptop to do some digging. his phone had been silence all day, and when satoru opened his messages app to see if you had said anything, he was instaed hit with over three hundred texts from shoko and suguru. neither sounded happy with him, while satoru still had no idea what he did. before even acknowledging their texts, he went straight to your conversation. "darling, what's going on with your new song??" he typed out quickly, then added, "not that i don't love it! just kinda confused." he watched as delivered turned to read, which resulted in those damn three dots making two additional appearances before completely disappearing. satoru let out a groan of frustration, going to google and searching your names together. the first thing that popped up was an article from people magazine. "gojo satoru seen with another woman at nyfw." the headline read. fuck, how he hated the paparazzi.

satoru skimmed the article, not pleased with what he was reading. his confusion dissipated into annoyance, both towards you and the fucking paps. you always told him to be nicer towards the media, they were just trying to their job, but these fucking rumours were getting out of hand. how dare they make you think he would ever cheat on you? satoru didn't suffer a friendship with you for five years while being enamored with you every action for one damn article about him and utahime. all of those pictures had been taken out of context. the one where they were holding hands? utahime had tripped on a sewer grate and satoru had reached out so she didn't fall flat on her face. the one with his arm around her waist? they were both completely shitfaced and barely standing on their own. the ones about them at the club and the taxi? satoru can handle a drink or two, but uta gets hammered after two drinks, so of course he was going to take her back to her hotel and make sure she got up all right. that's what friends are for. but now, thanks to the media, he's got a lying article, pissed off friends and a song tearing him to pieces written by the love of his life, who may not ever want to see him again. great, just fucking great.

he dialed your number. you declined it before the first ring. he did this four more times, with you rejecting the call instantly. on the sixth call, there was no rings, and an automated voice responded, "i'm sorry, the number you are trying to reach is not in service or temporarily disconnected. please try again later. good bye." oh my god, you fucking blocked him. irritated with you, the media and with himself for making you feel so insecure, he scrolled to his group chat with shoko and suguru. neither of them were happy with gojo. he didn't bother to read all their messages, he got the gist of it. satoru hastily responded, "i didn't fucking cheat. the article's lying. one of you need to tell them that because i'm fucking blocked." he sent the message, standing in a silent fury. a moment later, satoru threw his phone at the wall with a yell. the device bounced off, falling onto the hotel bed. there was a small dent in the wall nothing extremely noticeable, and his phone was fine. "fuck," satoru breathed, sinking into one of the chairs in his room. he held his head in his hands, mind racing with what to do. an idea formed in his frustrated mind. it was stupid, but it was something. satoru grabbed his jacket and his phone from the bed, storming out of the hotel.

. . . THE SOUND OF SOMEONE POUNDING ON YOUR DOOR pulled you from delirium. groggily, you checked your phone. it was just past four am. who the hell would be at the door at four in the morning? you rolled over in bed, hoping whoever it was would go away. they didn't. they just kept beating at the wood. with a groan, you rose from the mattress. a headache slammed into you as you stood, and you had to sit back down to steady yourself. the last eighteen hours hadn't exactly been fun. after you uploaded "the girl in new york", you had turned your notifications for everything off. although, every five minutes you checked if satoru had texted you. when he finally did, you didn't know how to respond, the images from the article flashing across your mind and filling you with sickness and sadness. you had been out all day, drinking and trying to forget. after getting kicked out of two bars, you went home, where you drank more. throughout the night you emptied the contents of your stomach and eyes, vomiting and crying more than what felt humanely possible. it felt like you had barely lied down when the knocking began.

when you had mustered the strength to stagger your way to the door, you wished you had stayed in bed. a red eyed, messy haired, heaving gojo satoru stood at your door. neither of you spoke. what was there to say? he had cheated on you. you had retaliated with an exposing song. or maybe he hadn't cheated on you, and you simply misunderstood. either way, what had happened, happened. as far as you were concerned, he was here to beg for your forgiveness. you began to shut the door, but he stopped you. with a sigh, you let him in. it was his apartment, too, after all. you wobbled to the kitchen, leaning against the counter and pouring yourself a glass of water. satoru watched you in silence. "well?" you croaked out. "come to apologize? gloat?"

"baby..." he whispered, stretching his arms out to you, but retracting when you took a step back. satoru took a breath, steadying himself. "i didn't cheat," he stated plainly. "i know you think i did. but i didn't. uta is just a friend. i've never thought of her that way, and i'm never going to think of her like that. i'm not dating her, i'm dating you." his words sounded slightly reheards. he must've been practicing on his flight here. it dawned on you that it was four in the morning in los angeles, and seven a.m. in new york. satoru was missing fashion week, here, trying to fix things. a flight from nyc to la was just over six hours, so he would've had to get on a plane by one am est. he had texted you just after eight fifty p.m. pst, so eleven fifty new york time. which means almost as soon as he heard your song, he was on his way to the airport to fly to you. "please baby, you gotta believe me. those paps fucked everything up, the photos-"

"are they fake?" you cut him off. "the photos. are the fake? photoshopped or otherwise edited?"

gojo slightly squirmed, "well, no, they're not edited, but they were taken out of context." he rushed out the last part of his sentence. "please, love, just hear me out."

he looked like a disaster. satoru's normally bright irises were dim, the usual joy gone. he looked sleepless, violent violet bags forming like bruises under his red-rimmed eyes. his fluffy white hair was flat against his forehead, matted and lifeless. he was still in his work clothes, with his favorite blue jacket hanging open on his shoulders. satoru looked like he hadn't ate or slept in the last eighteen hours. maybe it was how pitiful he looked maybe it was how much you still loved him. but you nodded your head, allowing for satoru to explain. his sigh was audible, and some color returned to his eyes.

"okay, first, i love you so fucking much. i've loved you since that first night we met into the bar six years ago. if you don't forgive me tonight, or ever, i'm still going to spend the rest of my life trying to make up for the hurt that i've cause you from that stupid article. i didn't cheat on you, not with utahime or with anyone else. i spent five years trying to work up the nerve to ask you out, i'm not going to let you go easily." satoru meant every word he said, his tone convinced you of that. "second," he continued, "is that the paparazzi are always pulling things out of their asses, we know this. the first photo they talked about, the one with me and utahime at per se, where we were holding hands? her heel had got caught on a sewer grate, and uta tripped. i grabbed her hand to prevent her falling on her face, which honestly, would've been funnier." you chuckled lightly, and a smile formed on satoru's lips. from his perspective, this was going much better than he had anticipated. "the next photo with my arm around her waist, utahime was so drunk, she could barely stand. i was pretty drunk, too. we were the only ones keeping each other up. same with the pictures of us outside the club on eighth. i wasn't as drunk in that one, but she was pretty hammered. i didn't feel comfortable just sending uta off in a cab back to her hotel. something easily could've happened to her, so i went back with utahime to her hotel. nothing happened between me and her," satoru finished. quiet settled over you two again as you contemplated his words.

everything he said made sense. you wanted to believe him so badly, but you weren't there yourself. "okay," you said slowly, after what felt like an eternity to satoru.

"okay? wh-what does that mean? does... does that mean you believe me?"

you took a deep breath. "i believe you."

those three words were all he needed to hear. satoru rushed over to you, his body engulfing you in a crushing embrace. "oh, thank god," he breathed into your hair. when he pulled back, his blue eyes were shining once again. satoru almost kissed you, forgetting his exhaustion, but your hangover still gripped at you. you winced at his strength, your arms hanging limply at your side. satoru whispered out an apology, guiding you back to bed. before you both finally found the sleep you desperately needed, you mumbled, "i'm sorry about the song."

satoru laughed quietly, resting his head in the crook of your neck. "don't be, i think it's your best one yet."

[chic-a-gigot]

Where do you find all of these pictures and catalogues?

Libraries! and Museums! with robust online collections! One resource can lead to other resources because some of these links are systems of interconnected libraries. Most provide high-resolution downloads and transcribed text. I include links to all of my sources in their respective posts.

Bibliothèque Nationale de France et al (Gallica)

Ville de Paris / Bibliothèque Forney et al

Rijksmuseum, Netherlands

Los Angeles Public Library

Les Musées de la Ville de Paris

Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum

Digital Public Library of America

Internet Archive

The Met Costume Institute Fashion Plates