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#All Together Alone
chikinan · 6 months
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I'm sentimental about them. & about camcorders. [twt + insta + ptrn on bio]
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bigfatbreak · 5 days
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Birds of a Feather previous / next
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#my art#feralnette au#birds of a feather#long tags#sorry I went apeshit in the tags#LETS SAY IT ALL TOGETHER NOW#I - M - A - G - OOOOOOOOO#its fun drawing marinette's back to Alya and having her appear stout and unstoppable and totally logical#and then you see her face and she's like two seconds from completely snapping and is keeping it together by a thread#as a note just because mari feels very certainly abt smth doesnt mean she's right. feelings can be valid and also irrational#in the throes of grief she decided it was better to be alone than to lose someone again so she started pulling away#and lila made pulling away very very very easy to do#shes also vaguely aware she's being unfair in pinning this on alya which is why she started spinning the drain on cockmoth again#legitimately all the shit that's happened to her wouldn't have been so catastrophic if he was never in the picture and she knows it#but the bitterness of her bestie choosing a fantastic liar over her at the worst of times stiiiiiings#alya's personal timing was bad but lila really took advantage of the fact that marinette had been acting off and weird#she basically clocked marinette as being unstable from SOMETHING and made up a lie about her#knowing she wouldn't have the strength to defend herself#between her social life going tachy bc of lila and losing fu in a way that felt like personhood death marinette was really put on the spot#and alya doing her thing of busting in there and assuming her bias is correct was a terrible combo#essentially marinette is highly unstable and alya is just realizing that#busting in and giving her a lecture when she's slightly hysterical and definitely delirious from exhaustion is NOT the way#to show her she's self sabotaging#cuz thats just gonna make her double down on self sabotaging. bc marinette will not accept that she is also a CHIIIIILD
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beaulesbian · 9 months
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~ But what if they still hate me? ~ No one hates a hero of the realm.
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dekariosclan · 3 months
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Imagine Gale as a talented and impressive young man, able to compose the Weave at will, skilled in a way that few can match, and favored by the Goddess of Magic herself. Imagine that because of these accomplishments, he’s caught the eye of a few up-and-coming magic adepts, and he falls in love with one of them—his first real love. Gale isn’t one to toss the ‘L’ word around lightly, so when he tells them he loves them, he means it; he gives himself over to them completely.
And in return, they love him for his potential. For his status. For the magic he can command. They love the wizard they see on the surface, but not the man underneath. They are attracted to his power, but not to him.
So of course the relationship fails, after the thrill of his magic wears off. But because Gale is a resilient young man and he’s caught the eye of so many, he soon falls in love with another.
And then it happens again. And again.
And each time Gale’s heart is ravaged, his ambition to become a better wizard grows, because he’s being shown time and time again that his magic ability is all that matters.
So much so that, by the time Mystra decides to elevate him from Favored to Chosen to Lover, he welcomes her with eager, desperate arms. Because if all his worth is in his magic, and that’s all he has to offer, and that’s all anyone wants from him, who better to love him than the Goddess of Magic herself?
Except…there’s a nagging voice in the back of his head that whispers she doesn’t really love him. There’s anxiety in his heart as time passes, and he reaches both the limit of what his talents can do and what Mystra will allow him to do. And most troubling of all: a growing panic that, just like his other lovers, she will soon grow tired of him and discard him if he can’t improve his magic any further.
He tries pouting, and pleading, and begging her to let him take more power, to let him be more for her, but she refuses. Smiles patronizingly. Tells him to be patient. But Gale can’t be patient when his power is tied so closely to his self-worth; he can’t be patient when doing so in the past has only ever lead to heartache.
So he does what he believes will be a Grand Romantic Gesture, one that will finally put him on equal footing with the woman he loves. Instead, it turns out to be a folly that dooms him and destroys his talents. And just as he’d always feared, Mystra tosses him aside the moment his magical gifts are gone—because what’s left of him holds no value for her.
————
Imagine Gale in his tower, alone, afraid, the ever-hungry orb in his chest, with only his tressym there to help him. No other friends to speak of. His colleagues forced to keep away for their own safety. His magical talents utterly stripped down, so that even when he does try and distract himself with illusions, he’s bitterly reminded of what he used to be capable of. Waking every morning wondering if it will be his last, ending every day full of loneliness and disappointment.
…and then he meets Tav.
At the lowest point in his life, at his most vulnerable, when he knows he’s going to be considered a burden, he meets this stranger and their group. So he does what he can to be useful—assigning himself to be camp cook, offering up his (now meager) magic skills, turning the charm up to 11—as he desperately hopes this will somehow work out. He’s pleasantly surprised when, after providing only minor details of his condition, Tav agrees to help him. He’s even more surprised when they actually follow through.
Imagine how Gale feels as Tav treats him kindly. As he grows to trust Tav, and then grows to like them. Imagine his surprise as he opens up and shows them more and more of himself, and they don’t turn him away.
But then his condition worsens. And he has to reveal everything: the foolish mistakes he’s made, and how dangerous he is as a result. He clings to Tav’s hand as he shows them his folly. He’s at their mercy now, and he knows this might be the last time he’ll ever feel the touch of another being, if they decide—and Gods, why wouldn’t they decide?—to cast him out.
…but they don’t. They don’t. Instead, they tell him to stay.
Imagine the relief Gale feels. The gratitude. And perhaps…just a hint of something more. Something that he dare not name, but that flares to life every time he thinks of how warm their hand was in his. Something that feels dangerously close to jealousy, when he’s had too much to drink and sees Tav smiling at another…
But he knows these are all foolish thoughts, because he has nothing to offer Tav. They are wonderful just as they are, but he…he is an empty shell of a man, a discarded husk of a wizard, and while they might tolerate him, he could never believe they might actually want him.
And besides, he still thinks of Mystra. He still longs for Mystra. She who cast him out, but to whom he still feels tethered. Sometimes he needs to cocoon himself in the weave, just to try and calm his fears and bring some joy back to his life, because magic is his life. And sometimes he just needs to see her face, even though that hurts as much as it heals.
One night he’s lost in thought, having conjured Mysta’s image after settling down at camp. Thinking that even if she hadn’t ‘loved’ him—certainly not in the way he’d loved her—she’d given him enough otherwise, hadn’t she? She’d amused him and been amused by him, they’d shared countless pleasures, why hadn’t he been satisfied with that?
Gale is so lost in thought he doesn’t realize Tav has come up behind him. Until they ask a question, startling him out of his trance. He’s a bit shaken, so he tries to turn the conversation from Mystra to the weave itself. And then a wonderful idea occurs to him, something that he’d been toying with already: what if they were to conjure the weave together?
He can show Tav how important magic is to him, let them experience what he does, perhaps even impress them a bit. But most importantly, share a moment with them. As friends would do…
He’s elated when Tav agrees. He leads them through the steps effortlessly, and they’re a surprisingly good student, following his instructions correctly (if a bit clumsily). He’s as excited as they are—perhaps even more so!—when they succeed in channeling the weave.
It’s such a pleasant, familiar feeling for him, like coming home to his tower in Waterdeep. Even as the weave connects him with Tav and makes them one, he’s easily able to hide his innermost thoughts, because he’s done it so many times before.
…but he’s forgotten that Tav has not.
————
Imagine Gale knowing every romantic partner he ever had only wanted him because of how he could raise their status, or how he could amuse them, or how he could command magic for them. And, each time, he was happy to oblige them, even desperate to oblige them, because if that was the price of their love, then he was sure it would be worth it.
But it still all came to nothing.
Now imagine Gale connected in an intimate way with someone he likes very, very much—while being what he considers his lowest, most worthless, and most humbled self. As far from the powerful, impressive wizard he once was as he could ever be. And suddenly a vision enters his mind from the lovely creature standing next to him. Only, to his complete and utter shock, it isn’t one where he is providing them with a service, or wowing them with his magical ability, or granting them some kind of power from one of the spells he commands.
Instead, when he sees their desire laid bare before him, it’s a vision of kissing him. Of holding his hand. The two most basic forms of affection and physical connection. The two things that he would still be able to offer them even if every last ounce of his remaining magical abilities were stripped from him. The two things he could share with them even if he was no longer Gale of Waterdeep, and just plain old Gale Dekarios instead.
Imagine the embarrassment and trepidation he feels at first, because surely he is mistaken?…and then the elation when he realizes that he is not. So much elation that his concentration is broken, the weave dissipating as he forgets about channeling it, as he forgets about Mystra. Because all that matters to him now is the image before him—the most pleasant and welcome image he’s seen in a very, very long time.
Imagine how that would feel…and how besotted, enamored and completely devoted he’d be to Tav afterwards. To know that someone finally—finally—just wants him.
Just imagine.
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sualne · 5 months
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freedom & hope
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ruporas · 1 year
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kiss the pain away
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shatouto · 7 months
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i did a dumb friendly fire and blew off nearly half of astarion's hp (i'm so sorry astarion)
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mayasaura · 7 days
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one problem with a theatrical adaption of tlt is htn, where the reveal that Gideon lives on works because of the change of second person to first.
the only way i can think of it working is that the actor playing gideon works backstage, like the lights system (but is hidden from the audience aside from subtle hints)
the biggest hint is when when wake breaches pal's river bubble she 'breaks' the lighting system and the stage goes dark. harrow is ushered into the wings by pal so she doesn't see anything, but the lights flick back on just before the curtains drop for a scene change, and pal looks directly up at the light box in surprise and smiles. if the audience is quick to turn around they can see a flash of a black robe.
Oh boy my friend, have you come to the right place!!
So, fun fact about ninja. Bear with me, I am going somewhere with this. The image of a ninja covered head to toe in black, with a hood and mask, comes from Kabuki theatre. It was originally a stagehand uniform. Like stagehands in modern theatre, stagehands in Kabuki would wear all black to signify that they were not really there, and whatever effect they were causing (carrying a prop, creating a breeze, ect.) was to be taken as happening on its own. Basic stagehand stuff, a lot of productions in many styles around the world do it, especially if they don't have fancy rigging systems.
Someone (I don't remember who now, or in what play) had the idea to dress the ninja in a production up as a stagehand. In the convention of the theatre, this made them invisible. The audience was already so used to ignoring stagehands, they didn't know any more than the characters that the ninja was present, despite the actor being clearly visible on stage. Which meant when the ninja struck, it was as if out of nowhere. I can only imagine the uproar in the theatre the first time it happened. It worked so well as to become commonplace, and the rest is history. The popular image of a ninja is still a kabuki stagehand.
So, back to the stage play of Harrow the Ninth. I think you've hit almost exactly on how to incorporate the Gideon twist into a theatrical production. But not as a lighting tech. Gideon is a stage hand. Maybe there would be more than one stagehand, maybe she would be the only one, but she would operate in full view of the audience, literally setting the scenes. I think it works best if she's the only one, but if the production needs more, she should subtly stand out in some way. As the play went on, we would notice that this one stage hand... increasingly interacts with Harrow, though Harrow never acknowledges it. At first it might look like she's playing Harrow's necromancy, because that would be the main special effect she would need to help with. When Harrow is unconscious at the end of a scene, it's always the same stagehand carrying her out. But we all know she's not really there. Until Palamedes acknowledges her. Turns to look right at her, and speaks to her. I can see the scene clearly. He would look at her, stunned, until Gideon finally took off her mask. The line "Kill us twice, shame on God," would be addressed to Gideon, and then he would turn back to Harrow, kiss her on the forehead, and tell her to go. Gideon, always out of Harrow's line of sight, would guide Harrow away while Harrow looked back at Palamedes.
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hajihiko · 8 months
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I'm just saying... they're responsible 🤷‍♂️
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satoruhour · 7 months
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a/n: jjk 236 spoilers, mentions of suicide from reader’s side, no comfort, cry. around 1.4k. tagging @jabamin @hyomagiri @saiki-enthusiast @arminsumi @shotorus @satohruu so yall can suffer w me
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the first signs of grief manifests in you when there’s a bright light that signifies gojo’s disperse of cursed energy, the familiar hollow purple that obliterates half the buildings around the two strongest sorcerers — one from the heian and the other one from our times. surely, your lover wouldn’t do something as foolish as involving himself with the blast, but gojo satoru is always one to take risks.
when he took up the job of taking care of megumi and tsumiki at just eighteen years old and providing all the things they needed to fluorish. gojo is risky as he convinces a kid with a terrifying curse to make some friends and learn about cursed energy. he sometimes puts himself in danger when he takes up more missions he can shoulder just to show the higher-ups that he can kill them any time.
gojo satoru has the world of jujutsu in his hands; how his birth had changed the trajectory of the society, altered the balance of the world and now—
“satoru!” you call out once the smoke clears and he’s still there, intact, smiling a sick smile like the many times you’ve seen him done at megumi and after burning french toast. you brief a sigh of relief and the pounding of your heart calms down momentarily before sukuna emerges and he’s missing a hand and a leg and your heart pulls lower and lower seeing the kid you raised be such a ragdoll for sukuna’s entertainment. but there was always the hope to isolate the king of curses’ soul and save megumi somehow. shoko and you had discussed it, you know it to be true, it has to be true, until there’s a sharp noise that cuts through your ear drums.
it’s high-pitched, like a flash of light that shines in your eyes too abruptly and you have to cover them. but it blinds you as much as it deafens; an attack from god knows which end and you swear you hear the reaper’s scythe.
gojo thinks you look beautiful like this; hand on your cheek and head in your hand as you watch him and the melodic sounds of the knife hitting the cutting board. you’re so concerned about him cutting his hand again that you’ve dragged your chair all the way into the kitchen to watch him closely, which was counterintuitive; the whole reason why he had bled in the first place was because he was looking at you so much.
he admires the way you curl into yourself on the beanbag in the apartment, a book on your lap on how to get to know your teenager better, hair falling over your eyes and the reading lamp not even helping that much in illuminating the words. gojo skims over your features and the way your chest breathes slowly, like everything good in the world. he hopes he’s able to get that with you in this life, for as long as he lives.
you feel it before you see it in the screens that the fight is broadcasted from — something is missing. a light has switched off, satoru has stolen the blanket at night and left you freezing again, seeing your favourite snack missing from the fridge. and you run. past the students you’ve raised, past the bright blinding screens and into the battlefield, past the debris and each crunch of cement under your feet brings a fresh bout of tears to your eyes. the tokyo winter is cool, snow starting to slowly fall upon you and the saltiness on your face seem to crystallise and harden and you’re not even sure any more. there’s a tingling feeling in your feet, in your finger tips and a pull of your heart. you know where gojo is before you see him.
“s— satoru…” you mumble, eyes welling up with more tears when his bottom half stays standing, baggy pants stained with red, red and more red and you’ve never hated a colour like you do now. you hate it, you hate it, you hate it even when he’s proposed to you with a red velvet box and gotten you valentine’s day chocolates in that same darker red and there is just too much blood.
and then it’s like the hierarchy of grief doesn’t matter any more. all those articles you’ve read preparing yourself after gojo’s fated meeting with death at sixteen, and then after shibuya — you think you can’t handle any more of the collecting and patching up and crying and headaches and holding a finger up to your chest and hoping you’d kill yourself with your own technique. the only time you’d accept the absence of the bright blue on his face is when he was sleeping and his chest moved with even breaths, not like this.
not like this. 
“satoru—” your voice cracks and you cannot even see. tears and tears and mucus and the fresh crunch of snow under your feet as you step closer to his severed body.
“baby…” he mumbles, barely above a whisper, hand twitching and reaching out in the direction of your voice because this is infinitely worse than getting stabbed in the neck by toji fushiguro, perhaps a little worse than seeing your best friend of your high school life get manipulated by a cursed user. satoru wants to demote all of that and say that seeing you stumble to your knees in front of him while you hyperventilate and sob hurts the most. 
“d-don’t move, ’toru, we— we’re going to get you b-back, okay?” you’re playing with god now. “shoko!” the doctor stifles a sob at your cry, broken up by the feedback of the sound system. she knows you’re trying to defy god.
“i don’t think—” the light is slowly dying. the world’s light, the student’s light, your dawn and dusk. “m-my love, everything is…”
“satoru, please, you need to—!” they say the last sense to go is touch and hearing. you crouch to his face to see him react to your warmth, eyes moving an inch to where he thinks you were and puts all of his cursed energy into one hand just so he could hold your cheek. you, warm as always as the sun and everything good in the world, a new rush of warmth overtaking his hand when your tears flow over his battered, tired hands, the same hands that has drawn over his love time and time again over your body and you are a canvas made of gojo satoru’s endless, unconditional ardour.
“i-i’m…” it fades out, his voice box is almost gone and you wail again and the snow from below wets your knees. his name is all that leaves your lips and you think if you can’t play god, you can only beg, even if your religion is solely gojo satoru.
“no, no, no no nono, satoru, c’mon, baby, stop it!” you scream in his face, words all mushed together when you feel the breath of life leave his chest, the blues die out in his eyes, “i love you, i love you, darling, i love you—” your lover barely manages to muster a small smile and you scramble all over his chest, clutching at the tattered black t-shirt and his hand that is starting to go cold and he has the energy to mutter out a stupid remark like gojo satoru always does.
“i’m sorry i got y-your favourite outfit stained with red, princess…” satoru whispers and that breaks the dam fully. you sob and groan and cry and wail until your voice is hoarse and you cannot speak any more and gojo wants nothing but to full heal himself again just so he could stop your crying. perhaps hold your face in his hands and kiss your forehead and nose and lips and embrace you until you couldn’t breathe. perhaps even to tell you he loved you more than anything and everything; more than poems and that foolish line he just had to say at the end and kikufuku and waking up next to you.
but in what world will gojo satoru ever get repose and a normal life? you hope for every other universe to have him be a preschool teacher, or maybe a florist, or even a superstar. but not in this one, no.
the hand that caressed your cheek is replenished again with cursed energy.
satoru gives you three squeezes.
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theloveinc · 2 months
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OlderDad!Bakugou who gets a haircut and his baby doesn't recognize him and he doesn't want his dad to pick him up 😭😭😭😭😭😭
Bakugou has a cry in the bathroom and you have to spend the rest of the night consoling him.
Also Hiiiiiii, miss u, hope youre gooooood
head in my hands bc of this, just thought abt bakugo growing out his hair a little bit right after baby's birth...takes him months to go and get a real haircut cuz he doesn't wanna burden you more than he already has and by the time he's okay with the thought (but only for "AN HOUR MAX," is what he says), he has a mullet thing going on and all this scruff on his chin🥺🥺🥺
so he gets home with his regular ol' haircut, maybe a little shorter just to account for ... not wanting to go again so soon, and baby's HOLLERING bloody murder as soon as they see him and refusing to be taken out of your arms, doing that thing where they're flipping their face back and forth to dodge a kiss...
it's so tragic bc not even a little cheek nuzzling helps to calm them bc bakugo's CLEAN SHAVEN and smells like aftershave instead of like dad when he tries!!!!!!
and after, you watch him kinda sulk into the bathroom, thinking like aw yeah thats a bummer but also pretty funny, too (esp bc the haircut does look good🫣🤓), AND HE DOESN'T COME OUT FOR LIKE an hour???
....until you finally have to ask him if he's okay in there and you're opening the door to him sitting on the toilet seat, arms crossed and red cheeks a little streaky with tears...
LJFKASDJFADSJK it's the cutest, most sad sight you ever did see!! ofc Bakugo tries to deny it, but the way he tears up again (after you're done assuring him he did nothing wrong) when his baby finally realizes it's him and smiles (and then how he refuses to give them up again until bedtime) has his ass. EXPOSED.
(i love and miss u more than air, earth, water, dirt + HOPE YOU'RE GOOD TOO BESTIE ILY)
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bakudekublogblog · 5 months
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I THOUGHT PEOPLE WERE FUCKING EXAGGERATING WHEN THEY SAID HEROES RISING WAS THE BAKUDEKU MOVIE BUT. NO IT. IT WAS JUST A WHOLE MOVIE??? OF BAKUDEKU??? THE WHOLE FUCKING THING?? HOW THE FUCK DOES ANYONE COME OUT OF THIS THINKING THEY'RE NOT GONNA BE HERO PARTNERS AT THE END OF THIS SERIES WHAT IS ///HAPPENING/// this must have been fucking DEVESTATING for the antis holy SHIT
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ryllen · 5 months
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rakkuntoast · 5 months
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honestly i hope after this all of team bolas members cannot get out of the trauma bond pack bond deep rooted co-dependency they just built in this event
they themselves admitted the only way they can function is if they're together, you can totally spin this into something more
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Break a leg (dp x dc)
"So, the food here is pretty sweet," the girl sitting next to him starts.
Damian hums before remembering he's supposed to be gathering intel and that means he has to talk to people.
"There aren't a lot of vegetarian options," he manages with a tight smile, making sure to look like he is stressed over the audition.
"Oh yeah, that's true," the girl says and falls quiet for a moment.
Damian looks back down at the script he's reading, though he knows the lines by heart. And then the girl speaks up again.
"So how'd you get here?" she says as she swings her legs. "My name's Dani by the way, what's yours?"
Damian folds up the papers carefully. "I'm Stephan," he says. "My agent suggested I try out for a movie role." He offers the girl a convincing shy smile. "How about you?"
"Some guy came up to me and wanted me to audition for this. I thought he was a child trafficker so I followed him. Turns out he wasn't and now I'm here," the girl said before shrugging.
"Why did you follow a man who you thought was a child trafficker?"
"To beat him up," the girl answered.
"Oh." Damian is going to assume that's a joke, if only to preserve his last bit of faith in human intelligence. He's pretty sure every child knows to go away from criminals, not towards.
"Who are you auditioning for?" Dani asks.
"I'm trying for Lennox," Damian answers, shuffling his papers as if nervous.
"A lead," the girl exclaims before extending a fist. "Nice, dude. I believe in you." Damian internally sneers at the gesture but outwardly, he smiles sheepishly and knocks his knuckles against hers. "I'm going for Abigail," the girl continues. "If this goes well, we might end up working together soon, huh?"
"Hopefully," Damian answers with a smile.
Dani smiles back widely and is about to answer when a lady steps out into the room.
"Danielle Nightingale?"
The girl gets to her feet with a chirped "present!" The lady gestures to follow before walking back out. Dani looks over to Damian. "Wish me luck!" she says before twirling away without giving Damian the chance to actually answer.
Damian sits in silence as he looks back down at the script when his earpiece crackles to life.
"Wow, baby bat, that was downright sweet," Brown's whistle comes over the coms. "When's the wedding?"
"I will hurt you," Damian hisses back, hiding his mouth behind the papers.
"Just saying," she sing-songs. "You were awfully chummy out there."
"I was trying to follow your instructions," he bites out quietly. "Or would you have preferred I didn't?"
"No, no, I prefer my civilians un-stabbed," Spoiler answers lightly. "I just didn't know you had it in you."
"I was trained for infiltration," Damian points out. "I know how to lie."
"That is good news because we need you to get on that crew," Brown says. "Ready to blow their minds?"
Damian lets himself have a little smirk, hidden behind the script. "They won't know what hit them."
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pcktknife · 20 days
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lycion wearing clothes is always weird cause. not used to it. but the very few times kui has drawn him with clothes. like modern day ones. he has such an expected vibe. like yeah you would wear that
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