#and reading it back has been a very cathartic experience

[musical-chick-13]

Going through some of my Currently-Paused WIPs for fun, and. Hmmm. HMMMMMMMMM.

[fics-by-noworriesifnot]

Fr though, happy Valentine’s Day 🤍 I’m so happy we get to be in this moment together, after starting work on this chapter 7 months ago it’s taken up a lot of space in my heart and it’s been very cathartic reading your feels and reactions, I have experienced all the same emotions drawing this so it really is quite something to read them back at me. I am so grateful, I don’t really know how to comprehend it? Usually my projects are sent off and disappear into the ether of the internet, so this has certainly been an experience.

A little PSA as we move into the end of this chapter. A reminder that this is not the last chapter and we have like 8 chapters to go, I’m very excited for what’s to come. I have a lot planned for our two… but to confirm some suspicions we should emotionally prepare ourselves for things to come 🤍

See you on Sunday!

🤍

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 01/28/2025

is this little bulleted preview helpful or does it make people less likely to click the readmore? a question i could answer if i went back to college for marketing. not a question but a comment, this one has the biggest range of dates in published works out of all the tuesdayposts

listening: Make a Man Out of You (2023, Vienna Vienna)

reading: Third Man Out (1992, Richard Lipez writing as Richard Stevenson)

watching: Automatic Moving Company (1912, dir. Bosetti)

playing: Behind the Frame: The Finest Scenery (2021, mobile/PC/Switch/Playstation, Silver Lining Studio)

making: cross stitch

listening

i was served an ad for a forthcoming single by the artist Vienna Vienna on instagram and promptly listened to all his shit. yet another banger for the SOMEBODY COME FUCK THIS (GAY) playlist.

ex-religious alt-rock, self-described "glimmer rock". he's signed to pete wentz of fall out boy's label, pete wentz is a surprisingly good interviewer? very minimal input from the actual interviewer lol

Boxes be damned, Vienna Vienna revels in his own iteration of alt-rock — a genre he’s deemed “glimmer rock.” The result is a cathartic exercise in self-actualization as much as it is about a literal “glimmer” of light. Vienna Vienna’s sound is melody-forward, built on a foundation of shimmering reverb, electric guitar riffs full of personality, and juicy hooks lathered in witty playfulness, and ultimately, empowerment. ... VIENNA VIENNA: At its core, glimmer rock is about shared catharsis and a loud fucking show, like a really loud show where you can really express yourself and let out whatever's been holding you back — while leaning into the theater of it all, being dramatic because it's fun and campy. It's a good time, and it's a healing thing to express emotions completely. And it’s a great opportunity, onstage, to present it as glimmer rock and share this idea that you're catching hold of a glimmer, this special light at the end of a tunnel. You can see yourself, you can feel yourself — while doing it very loudly.

-

reading

the actual physical experience of reading this book was very pleasant: curled up on the couch under the strawberry blanket while it was raining, listening to ethopian jazz. it was so nice to actually read an enjoyable book. i feel like i've been in a little bit of a rut.

NOT an erotica novel this time, just a fun little noir murder mystery with an outsider private detective!

Which powerful mystery man killed the gay activist for outing him? After an attempt is made on his life, Queer Nation activist John Rutka asks tough-as-nails gay private detective Don Strachey to provide him with protection. Why does someone want to kill him? The activist's efforts at outing closeted gay homophobes have earned him a multitude of enraged enemies who would just as soon see him dead. After Strachey refuses to help, the man's body is found savagely murdered in apparent retribution for his deeds. Now, because of this, the reluctant Strachey feels obligated to investigate. Third Man Out brings back one of the most popular gay heroes in mystery fiction, Don Strachey, a private investigator as hard-boiled as they come, along with his lover, Tim Callahan, in a topical and very entertaining mystery dealing with the ethical issues of outing.

Third Man Out by Richard Lipez writing as Richard Stevenson was originally published in 1992, and my 2007 reprint is a movie tie-in. 173p, a softcover of middling quality. the cover is much glossier than most of the gay and lesbian novels on my shelf. must be that hollywood money kicking around.

both a fun frontispiece and a very helpful author's note. haworth press started early with publishing LGBTQ+ academic studies, and they had both gay men's and lesbian fiction imprints. available on the internet archive, i'm fairly certain i bought this one up in ct before i moved.

no on-page or fade to black sex scenes: this is just a briskly plotted murder mystery, fourth in a sixteen-book and four-movie series. i will be searching out more of these books, most of which seem to be on the internet archive thank god.

i would call it a capable modern noir: deeply concerned with ways and means, hypocrisy, bribes, government corruption, and a bumbling homme fatale. the final scene is at an airport for christ's sake. this is also a rare LGBTQ+ book where it could never be a straight book: it is too entwined in ethical issues specific to the community. i feel like a lot of the more modern LGBTQ+ debut novels ive bounced off are those where the characters feel coincidentally gay, or genderswapped from a straight romance. not so here! i need to read more books by cranky old gay men who have already written a zillion books!

I lived behind masks for much of my early life, and what this does to people’s psyches interests and frightens me. I think one reason I loved John LeCarre’s early spy novels was that his protagonists led double lives out of patriotism and not for reasons of shame or social embarrassment. Of course, it was more complicated than that for LeCarre’s characters, just as it’s not all bad for closeted gay people. Leading secret lives sometimes has a kind of romance to it too. But overall the closet is self-destructive.

this book is snappy: it manages to jam a lot of stuff in 178 pages. the dialogue between don and his partner timmy is particularly good: they feel like a real couple who loves each other to death but also gets frustrated, have inside jokes, have a routine and are there for each other.

very dryly funny in general and about the general albany NY region. i have spent so many thanksgivings out that way bc my favorite roommate's parents live there and i have heard so many of the exact same complaints from her and her parents lmao

-

watching

using up some kanopy credits on a series of early short film and early remakes of early short film. Automatic Moving Company (1912, dir. Bosetti) is the remake i prefer bc i think the stop-motion is better-- there's a bounciness and verve to it. crazy how the only real "tell" of scale is the straw

-

playing

THE most chobani hopepunk commerical game i have ever played, Behind the Frame: The Finest Scenery (2021, Silver Lining Studio out of Taiwan, originally a mobile game) is free until thurs morning CST on epic.

Guide brush strokes and solve a variety of puzzles to help an aspiring artist complete her masterpiece amid her brusque neighbor’s gaze and his pesky cat. As her painting starts to take shape, uncover an emotional tale of chance and artistry revealed behind unrelated yet familiar moments.

i didn't like this hand-animated two-hour point and click adventure game very much. it's cute and it's pretty but the storytelling is very muddy. i don't think their outsourced translation service (probably through Akapura, their publisher) did them any favors. all of the dialogue and flavor text is like that, so it's good they leaned into a lot of dialogue-less cutscenes.

this interview with one of the artists reveals they had a eight-person team, which seems kind of large for something that started out as a mobile game? it also has some helpful info about what they were going for.

What led you to become a Game Developer / Marketer? This decision came down on a simple question, which also motivated us to develop games in the first place. What would I rather do in a 90 minutes break? After collecting all the opinions on this topic from members at that time, we decided to combine three shared activities that we like to do during the break: see a movie, read a novel, and play a game. We want to make games that would let players have it all. ... Stories are the heart of our games. Behind the Frame is a narrative-driven game with escape room coating. Aside from the main storyline, which we hope would touch the players, we also have some breakthroughs on the display of the game scene. We adopted 2D 360°panorama for the presentation of several main scenes.

i do think the uniqueness of the 2D 360 panorama and pulling that tech from virtual museum and house tours does serve them well. they really only had to build out two areas, and the rest is traditional flat visual-novel scenes. however, this mechanic also really hurt their storytelling, bc such care is taken with the little clickable info boxes about many of the things in the apartment that it's really jarring when it jumps to a weird magical time nonsense thing? there is such a persistence of your actions on the world and the ability for outside factors to change your apartment (cat walking through paint, etc), and everything is very modern including the clothes, so it's never clear what's a flashback and what isn't. when you get to the end, the original framing device of amnesia just makes it seem like the protagonist is suffering from alzheimer's. i think something so focused on memory chose a very strange framing device, but unfortunately the framing device is The Whole Game.

i think they accomplished their goal (escape room with fun but not challenging puzzles you can finish in two lunch breaks). i love a short, self-contained story, but i think $15-$30 full-price is kind of steep for something with very little replay value. ported to steam and playstation, which is pretty good for a mobile game. can't be mad at a small team making at least their money back, the hand animated cutscenes were very pretty, i just wish the actual narrative was clearer

-

making

the first and last time this little wall hanging project will appear, bc instead of farm animals i am going to put some very doxxable items for a friend's birthday. got this cross stitch book as part of an 8/$1 sale bc i liked some of the alphabets and did not really expect to stitch anything else out of it but hey! sometimes you need some frames that look like they came ripped out of a 90s wendys fast food restaurant interior

[fereldanwench]

Some thoughts on ~*playing an asshole*~ and other related topics:

I've seen a post cross my dash a couple of times saying playing a kind hero has been very welcome in today's current climate--This isn't meant to be a vagueblog at all, and I even considered replying directly to that post, but it seemed like it was a very personal reflection. I really don't want to come across as trying to contradict that experience because I don't think it's a wrong experience to have.

Especially since I actually remember having a similar response to Ryder and Andromeda back in 2017. It came out about a year and a half after my mother-in-law passed away, while I was working insane overtime hours, and a few months into Tr*mp's first term--I found the optimism in Andromeda and the routes I could take with my Ryder's personality to be exactly what I needed during a really rough time.

So I get it, I really do, and I don't think anyone is wrong for feeling validated by Veilguard's optimism.

But that post did make me realize some of the reasons I personally have had such a hard time connecting to any of the Rooks I've made: I really lost my sense of self and reverted in a lot of ways back to people-pleasing* over the past few years, and it's really only been the past year that I've felt like I'm coming out of that. Because of this, many of Rook's responses in dialogue, often regardless of tone (although "crossed arms" options mitigate this some), reminded me of how I am when I want to be on my very bestest behavior, even to my own detriment.

It's my work persona, the "customer service voice," trying to keep everyone happy and at their best regardless of my own needs because if I see anyone crack, that feels like a reflection on me and my failures. But I'm not really being genuine. This isn't to say that I want to be a full-blown asshole to anyone IRL--I rarely do unless they're being a raging asshole first. But this kindness is armor born of self-defense. It is not kindness for the sake of kindness.

(*Because I know this will get mentioned if I don't mention it: Yes, I did appreciate Harding's observations about her own people-pleasing tendencies, but this is about Rook, not Harding.)

I want to pick apart the whole "be an asshole" line, too (just in general, not directed at anyone specifically)--I do recall seeing folks use that expression to describe their own wants in the game, but I kiiinda feel like it's starting to be used in bad faith, as shorthand for anyone who just wants to play a character with more bite to them. Being assertive or stoic or stubborn or direct or confident doesn't inherently make someone an asshole. But even these aren't really character traits that Rook can really claim without a lot of headcanoning.

(And tbf, Veilguard isn't unique in this regard--I always found the dialogue options for the Inquisitor to pale in comparison to Hawke or the Warden. (And I know some people feel like Hawke pales in comparison to the Warden so you know. All of this is one big YMMV.) But I still felt like I could more organically craft a personality in Inquisitor than I can in Veilguard.)

I will also say, though, that I see absolutely nothing wrong with wanting to play "an asshole," and I also find it to be a bad-faith read to assume anyone who wants to be "edgier" in an RPG is harboring some secret desire to hard people in the real world. In 2018, after a lot of my grief and fear had shifted into anger, playing a ruthless Renegade FemShep was goddamn therapeutic for me. I had a lot of pent-up rage, and it was so cathartic to channel that into this no-nonsense woman who saw what needed to be done and would get it done no matter the cost in a completely safe fictional environment where no one actually gets hurt.

Anyway, there's more I could delve into on this topic, but I think I'll save some of my other thoughts for quieter spaces. I was having a hard time pinpointing what was keeping me from getting invested in my Rooks, and this was kind of an epiphany this morning so I wanted to brain dump.

[octoberland]

Invisible

Only TWD would get me to come back here writing my fandom thoughts. It's a landmine because you never know how people will react. I am going to share some deeply personal thoughts. I ask that you treat this vulnerability with the respect that it deserves. Spoilers for tonight's episode. And a trigger warning for my personal experiences with abuse.

I met Carol 14 years ago. It was a time in my life when she was a mirror for me. Meek, scared, abused Carol. The little mouse. Jumping when Ed said jump.

By the time the show aired that year I had extricated myself from my situation. But I was still terrified every day. I mostly didn't sleep at night. When I did sleep, I would prop things against the doors so I could hear if someone came in. I would rarely be out of the house at night. On the occasions I was outside after dark I would be walking with my heart in my throat, beating the loudest of drums in my ears. Every stranger was a potential threat. Every shadow could be him coming back to kill me.

I latched onto Carol in my fear and despair. I understood her. Related to her. Felt inspired by her. I was hers from the moment she bashed Ed's skull in. It was so cathartic watching her do that. I wished I could have that moment in my life.

Like her, people judged me. People blamed me for being with a man like that. Said I must like bad boys. Said I liked the attention. Asked why I didn't just leave. It's all so easy to dissect when you're on the outside.

Unlike Carol I didn't have a walker to take out my abuser. I extricated myself. It was one of the most difficult things I've ever done. And it came with great risk. And I mostly did it alone.

I watched as she grew strong. And I grew strong too. Like her, I learned to fight. To be fair, she was not my only influence there. I have Captain America/Chris Evans to thank for that too. I hope someday I get to tell him that story. But watching her grow was an inspiration.

Like many people, I was moved by her ability to connect with Daryl. You don't understand how hard that can be after abuse. It's been 14 years and I've still not been in another relationship. I may never be again. That kind of abuse leaves an indelible mark on you.

But with him she blossomed. Sexually, emotionally, and just as a human. I admired her ability to do that.

The trauma was still there though. We saw that. Her edges became too sharp. Her distance too cold. But I get it. I really, truly get it.

But through it all her relationship with Daryl remained. They were each other's North Star. Not perfect, but constant.

But the sad truth is, at the end of the day these characters don't belong to us. They are written by flawed humans with personal agendas and like with any long running series, the longer it runs the higher chance for writers to fuck things up.

Before I dive more specifically into tonight's episode and the Book of Carol let me just say that I still love Carol and I still love Daryl and I still love Caryl. If you want to stop reading here just know that Carol remains an icon to me for very personal reasons. But that is part of why I'm writing this.

Potential spoilers beyond the cut.

The writing this season is sloppy, imho. And this is where I put my writer hat on and try to look at things more objectively. It seems like Gimple is mining the past because it's "cool" and not because he actually wants to address any long standing trauma that Carol has.

Everyone's trauma journey is different and I get that. But after 14 years I doubt that Carol is going to start panicking when going into a barn. In fact, we've already seen her entering barns in early seasons without any issues. I wish the show had consulted some trauma experts. They could have provided some examples of things that might actually set her off. Like seeing a little girl walker. Or meeting a child named Sophia. And speaking of that, I know Carol is supposed to be tough and sneaky and all that but the episode where she lied about her daughter to get the plane really bothered me. If the memory of her daughter is so traumatic I feel like she would not use her daughter like that.

This reunion episode was a missed opportunity to explore trauma in a more meaningful way. It was a missed opportunity for Carol and Daryl to have some truly meaningful conversations. I know I've said this before but she FLEW ACROSS THE OCEAN. DURING AN APOCALYPSE. And all he basically did was grunt one liners at her and lie about how he never stopped trying to get back to her. These two deserve to have a real conversation where they talk about how incredible what she did was. They need to talk about what that means for each of them. And I'm not even talking about romance. Daryl has never had anyone do anything like that for him. Does he understand how profound an act that was? If he ever had any doubt as to how much Carol cared for him this should have erased it. And for Carol, this could also be a wake up call for her too. While being hard and cunning is good for survival, this is an opportunity for her to be vulnerable. To express what he means to her. Or to maybe even face any codependence she has with Daryl.

I feel bad what happened to Isabelle. It kind of feels like an FU to her character. As much as I love Caryl I'm not in support of fridging women for a ship or for man pain. I'm glad we got to see her and Carol together but I wish we could have seen them together a little longer. Again, there is a missed opportunity for some really interesting conversations.

I can't help but feel that this show is suffering under the leadership of male writers and showrunners. There's such nuance to be had here and it's being funneled down to base tropes. Genet is evil because her husband died. Carol is just now having flashbacks to something that happened a decade ago because we need her to grow emotionally and we can't think of another way to do that without mining her motherhood. Isabelle has to die because God forbid two adults actually have a conversation about emotions.

I honestly can't guess where this series is going right now. Every time I think I know what is going to happen something else happens instead. Normally this would be a good thing but here it just feels sloppy. Are they dicking around Caryl? Will they kill her? Or him? Or do they plan for this to go into more seasons? I haven't a clue. But it feels like whiplash, like they are trying to make the characters grow too quickly to fit an agenda without doing the real work people need to do. A hug from an old lady won't cure trauma.

I think mostly I just wish Carol and Daryl would have a real conversation before all this is over.

Anyway, that's my rant. I did like the old married couple joke in the car. And I'm glad Carol's not dead. But I hope we get to see some real connection.

[void-my-warranty]

hi void! if this doesn’t get lost in the ask box, i just wanted to say as an aro(ace) person, i wasn’t expecting soap being aromantic. just because you don’t see that kind of intentional “detail” in a fic and just thought there would be a twist somewhere where it was romantic the whole time. reading up i felt kind of embarrassed for not catching it until you said—about soap—

Typically he holds back from anything romantic, not for his sake, but for other people.

and it sort of hit me like a truck and i started crying because it sort of cut to the core of my experience of “wanting but not wanting,” being absolutely terrified of leading people on, but feeling really “left out” because you wish you could but you don’t want to. not necessarily “i’m broken”, but not being able to fit anywhere in a way that’s comfortable for everyone involved. it’s a very isolating “look but don’t touch” and johnny’s initial jealousy when simon tells him about reader is relatable in a way i’ve never told anybody

i was so blindsided seeing it in a fic, i really didn’t even think to consider it was genuine/intentional until you outright confirmed it and realized “oh this is about someone like me” and not just in a passing acknowledgment way. and seeing him starting to find his place in a kind of relationship that not just accommodates him but accepts him is extremely cathartic

being aro has been by far the hardest part of my identity to accept, and i’ve hurt multiple people trying to “force it” and seeing a character who knows this, been through it and will be happy without having to—

thank you, really genuinely thank you

My heart is right there with you on all those feelings. Living your life knowing that allowing people to love you will inevitably hurt them. That you have to enforce other people’s boundaries for them because you know people are too hopeful, even if you’re honest.

Feeling like a very lovable person, but having to ration the love you accept, and even having to reject love that feels good, to protect yourself in the long run. The paranoia of it. Having red flag sentences and phrases that you have your ears poked up for at all times, telling you someone is getting too attached.

I see you. I’m there with you. I’m writing this for you.

[marlenacantswim]

BAM headcanons for your little guy????

i can always count on you, whoop <333

i'm thinking ab the tenth doctor real hard bc of that novel i just read, so imma drop some headcanons ab him and his companions, and probably 14 too bc i'm feeling it.

ten's got a little bit of a chew stim / oral fixation. this is inspired both by the number of times he holds objects in his mouth in the show, and him chewing the end of his stethoscope in Prisoner of the Daleks.

fourteen, meanwhile, learns he has a LOT of a chew stim once he's settled into his new life with the nobles. the discovery unfortunately comes at the cost of sylvia's second favorite spatula, which 14 absentmindedly chewed a hole into while making himself eggs one morning.

tentoo and rose celebrate the day she and nine first met as their anniversary. when they get married (through a lowkey traditional timelord wedding to "celebrate his heritage"), they make sure to hold the ceremony on that same day.

one january day, a few years into their relationship, rose is telling tentoo how worried and stressed she is about her job prospects. tentoo reassures her by saying "i think you're gonna have a great year :)" which suddenly unlocks the memory she'd had of meeting ten on new year's, 2005. since tentoo doesn't remember this, they both conclude that it must have been the actual doctor visiting her sometime after the metacrisis, and through her description of the events, tentoo silently realizes that ten was there because he was dying.

14 has a sleep pattern of about one or two nights of restless insomnia, followed by one night of deep, babylike sleep that lasts for 10 hours if uninterrupted. it's not uncommon, on these nights, to find him asleep in front of a project he's been working on, as he is the only one in the house who has not yet recognized this pattern.

as a time lord, he doesn't need to sleep this much in theory, but my mans is so tired, and for the first time like, ever, he has the space to actually catch up on lifetimes of lost sleep.

time lord dreams tend to be five-dimensional, but the trends can change with regenerations. for instance, nine's dreams were only ever three-dimensional, and always in black and white. ten's dreams have a wild range of possibilities, from so photorealistic he confuses them with real memories, to so abstract that the experience is more akin to being the subject of a picasso painting. he dreams every time he falls asleep, even if he's just taking a nap. 14's dreams are always photorealistic.

donna snores. not super loud, but enough to be obvious to anyone but her. ten always found the rhythmic sound soothing; pulsing white noise like that of the tardis. he'd often fall asleep in the same room as her because of it. all of this applies to 14 as well, to the extent that, some mornings, donna and shaun find him curled up into a ball asleep at the foot of their bed like a dog.

martha and the nobles keep very well in touch, to the occasional horror of 14 who has no idea how to read her and feels pathetically awful about how he treated her during her time as a companion. martha honestly still believes he's the most amazing thing, but she's gotta admit that watching him sweat bullets every time she addresses him feels kinda cathartic, so she has no qualms putting off that talk.

martha has also since pivoted back to the medical field, where she is doing quite well, thank you for asking.

since we see ten in the pjs from "The Christmas Invasion" again in "Smith and Jones", i choose to believe that he liked them so much that he simply kept them. i imagine the conversation with jackie went "howard won't miss these, will he?" "miss what?" "thought not. okay thanks, bye!"

i also imagine ten makes an active effort to sleep in the pajamas as often as he's able. he sleeps about thrice as much as nine ever did, all because he's obsessed with the fun ritual of wearing them to bed.

ten actually has a mild but sensitive allergy to cats. he never realized this, not because he didn't ever have the opportunity to, but because he was always too preoccupied to piece together that the reason his psychic functions felt fuzzy and the psychic paper used a misplaced modifier and the skin near his collarbone itched was because he was in the same room as a cat five minutes ago.

this is why it took him a second to piece together what exactly was off with rose in "New Earth": his ambient telepathy was too fuzzed over from the cat nurses to notice rose's brainwaves were wrong.

having a human brain, tentoo's memory faculties are still giga-impressive for a human, but not nearly as robust as his timelord counterpart's. he still remembers events, emotions, and concepts clearly, his biggest regressions being in the categories of exact terminologies and complex mathematical processes. the loss he's most distraught about is the vast majority of languages he once knew. he can still speak and understand all earth languages and gallifreyan fluently, but his knowledge of xenolinguistics is relegated to the occasional profound vocab word he remembers fondly.

a lot of these ended up being sleep-related for whatever reason; maybe i just want the man to rest </3

[darkforestfae-tea]

How to talk to the Wind~ Air Elemental

This turned into an extremely long post. I debated on splitting it into 2 parts, but I’d rather keep it together. This took me about 2 weeks to write out! Thank you so much for reading!

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ���꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

1. If the wind Falls silent, she is listening to you. Speak.

When the wind falls silent, an almost ethereal stillness takes over, creating a moment ripe for introspection and connection. It's as if nature itself has paused, holding its breath to listen. In such moments, one might feel compelled to speak, to share thoughts or emotions that have been swirling within. This silence, often rare and fleeting, can feel like an invitation to open up, to let the words flow freely and honestly. It's a reminder that communication isn't just about being heard by others but also about the cathartic act of expressing oneself.

The wind, in many cultures and literary works, symbolizes change, movement, and the passage of time. When it ceases, it can signify a moment of clarity or a break from the chaos. This stillness can be seen as a sacred space where one can connect with deeper truths or even with the universe itself. It’s an opportunity to speak without fear of judgment, knowing that the silence is there to absorb and understand rather than to critique or dismiss. In this quietude, your words can carry more weight, echoing in the stillness and perhaps resonating more deeply within yourself and the world around you.

So, when the wind falls silent and you feel that she is listening, speak with authenticity and courage. Share your innermost thoughts, dreams, and fears. Embrace the silence as a chance to communicate not just outwardly but also inwardly. Let your words be a bridge between your inner world and the still, listening universe. This is a rare and precious moment, a chance to be truly heard, even if it is just by the silence itself.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

2. Always Whisper

When speaking to an air elemental, always whisper. This subtle yet crucial guideline underscores the ethereal nature of these magical beings. Air elementals are creatures that embody the essence of wind and air, often depicted in folklore and fantasy as graceful, invisible entities or whirling vortices. Their very existence is intertwined with the gentlest breezes and the softest whispers of nature. As such, they are attuned to the delicate sounds that most mortals overlook. Speaking in a whisper not only shows respect for their domain but also allows for clearer and more harmonious communication.

Whispering to an air elemental can create a profound connection, aligning one's voice with the subtle currents of air that they inhabit. Loud or harsh sounds may disturb or even anger these beings, as they are accustomed to the serene and tranquil aspects of their element. By whispering, one communicates on a frequency that resonates with their airy essence, fostering a sense of trust and mutual understanding. This approach can be especially important for those seeking the favor or guidance of an air elemental, as it signals a willingness to meet them on their terms.

Moreover, the act of whispering can be a meditative practice for the speaker, encouraging mindfulness and a deeper awareness of the environment. It requires one to slow down and consider the impact of their words, fostering a more intentional and respectful interaction. In this way, speaking to an air elemental in whispers not only honors their nature but also enriches the speaker's own experience, creating a serene exchange that mirrors the gentle and flowing characteristics of air itself.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

3. In case there is a wind swirl carrying autumn leaves, step back. Let her dance.

In case there is a wind swirl carrying autumn leaves, step back. Let her dance. Imagine standing on a crisp autumn afternoon, with the sun casting a golden hue over the landscape. Suddenly, a playful gust of wind sweeps through, lifting the fallen leaves into a mesmerizing dance. The leaves whirl and twirl, creating a spectacle of nature's artistry. This is a moment to pause and appreciate the beauty that often goes unnoticed in our busy lives.

Every leaf in that swirl has a story. They have transformed from vibrant greens of spring and summer to the rich reds, oranges, and yellows of fall. As they float and spin, they remind us of the cyclical nature of life and the beauty in every stage of existence. The wind's choreography is spontaneous yet perfect, showing how nature can create art without any intention or effort. It’s a gentle reminder to find joy and wonder in the simplest of moments.

So, the next time you encounter a wind swirl carrying autumn leaves, step back and let her dance. Embrace the opportunity to reconnect with nature's serene and fleeting beauty. Allow yourself to be captivated by the elegant dance of the leaves, and let it inspire a sense of peace and gratitude in your heart. It’s these small, magical moments that enrich our lives and remind us of the profound beauty that surrounds us every day.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

4. Don’t go outside if the wind is howling. There are spirits passing through.

The notion that howling winds are a sign of spirits passing through has long been a staple in folklore and ghost stories. It's a belief that has been handed down through generations, often to instill a sense of caution and respect for the unseen world. When the wind howls, it can create a symphony of eerie sounds, from whispers to wails, which easily stir the imagination. These sounds can be interpreted as the voices of spirits, adding a supernatural element to the natural phenomenon.

In many cultures, the wind is considered a conduit for spirits and otherworldly beings. For instance, in ancient Greek mythology, the Anemoi were wind gods, each representing a cardinal direction and possessing distinct personalities and powers. Similarly, in Native American traditions, the wind is often seen as a messenger, carrying the voices of ancestors and spiritual beings. These cultural narratives contribute to the belief that howling winds are more than just a meteorological event—they are a moment when the veil between the physical world and the spiritual realm becomes thin.

While science explains howling winds as the result of atmospheric pressure differences and natural air currents, the enchantment of these stories persists. Whether taken literally or metaphorically, the advice to stay indoors when the wind is howling serves as a reminder of the mysteries that still captivate the human mind. It’s a poetic way to acknowledge that there are forces in the world that remain beyond our understanding and that sometimes, it's best to respect the unknown.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

5. She already knows everything about you. Never lie.

The wind elemental possesses an uncanny ability to perceive truths hidden from mortal eyes. This ancient entity, often depicted as an invisible force that flows seamlessly through the world, has a profound connection with the very essence of nature. As such, it can sense the innermost thoughts and feelings of those it encounters. To lie to the wind elemental is not only futile but also unwise, as it already knows the truths that lie beneath the surface.

When one interacts with the wind elemental, honesty and transparency are paramount. This being of air and spirit can effortlessly read the subtle nuances of human intention and emotion, much like how it reads the shifting patterns of the weather. Attempting to deceive the wind elemental would be akin to trying to hide a secret from the sky itself. It is said that those who are forthright and open with the wind elemental often find themselves rewarded with its favor, whether that be through a gentle breeze guiding them on their path or a timely gust that aids them in a moment of need.

In legends and stories passed down through generations, the wind elemental serves as a reminder of the power of truth and integrity. Its omniscience teaches that living a life of honesty and openness can lead to harmony with the world around us. Whether seeking guidance or simply coexisting with the natural forces, respecting the knowledge and wisdom of the wind elemental can lead to a more enlightened and fulfilling journey. So, when faced with the presence of this all-knowing being, remember to speak truthfully, for the wind elemental already knows everything about you.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

6. You may play the flute. (Or another wind instrument)

Playing the flute for an air spirit is a poetic and enchanting concept that bridges the realms of music and mythology. Imagine standing on a misty hilltop at dawn, the first light of day casting a golden hue over the landscape. The air is crisp and filled with the soft rustlings of the wind through the leaves. In this serene setting, you raise your flute to your lips, poised to create a melody that will resonate with the very essence of the air spirit.

The notes of the flute, light and ethereal, seem to blend seamlessly with the natural sounds around you. As you play, you can almost feel the presence of the air spirit, a delicate and invisible entity that moves with the breeze. The music you create serves as a bridge, connecting the tangible world with the intangible, inviting the air spirit to dance and play. Each melody you produce is a tribute to the freedom and fluidity of the air, embodying a sense of grace and movement that mirrors the spirit’s own nature.

This act of playing the flute for an air spirit is more than just a whimsical idea; it's a celebration of the profound connection between humans and the natural world. It speaks to our innate desire to communicate with and honor the unseen forces that influence our lives. Through the music of the flute, you are not only entertaining an air spirit but also paying homage to the beauty and mystery of the natural world, reminding us all of the magic that exists just beyond the veil of the everyday.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

7. Listen to the Storms. Don’t talk.

The symphony of the storm is a language unto itself, a dialogue of the elements that speaks in a cadence both ancient and powerful. When the wind howls and the rain pelts against the earth, it is as though the very essence of nature is communicating in a voice that transcends human speech. To understand this voice, one must listen with more than just their ears; they must open their soul to the raw, untamed energy of the wind elemental. This force of nature, unseen but deeply felt, carries messages of change, transformation, and the relentless passage of time.

To truly connect with the wind elemental, silence is key. In silence, you can feel the whispers of the wind as it dances through the branches, swirls around rocks, and sweeps across open plains. This connection is not just about hearing, but about feeling the energy and intention behind the movement of air. It’s about recognizing that the wind is more than a mere force; it is a messenger, a guide, and a companion. By listening, we honor its presence and allow its ancient wisdom to permeate our being, grounding us in the present while connecting us to the timeless dance of the natural world.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

8. She gives life to your words. Make them meaningful. Especially when you talk to her.

The wind spirit, ethereal and ever-present, dances through the trees and whispers to the leaves, carrying stories and secrets from distant lands. When you speak to her, let your words be imbued with the same grace and fluidity she embodies. Speak not just with your voice, but with your heart and soul, allowing each word to flow like a gentle breeze caressing the earth. Your words should be as vibrant and life-giving as the wind itself, breathing existence into the thoughts and emotions you wish to convey.

Imagine your words as seeds, carried on the currents of her breath, finding fertile ground in the minds and hearts of those who listen. Nurture these seeds with sincerity and intention, allowing them to grow into something beautiful and meaningful. Acknowledge the power she holds, the invisible threads she weaves through our lives, connecting us in ways we may never fully comprehend. By doing so, you honor her essence and the life she breathes into every syllable.

When you converse with the wind spirit, let your dialogue be a symphony of respect and wonder, a harmonious exchange that elevates both speaker and listener. Embrace the silence between words, for it is in those quiet moments that her true wisdom often lies. Let your words be a reflection of the natural world she so effortlessly navigates, filled with the same awe and reverence that she inspires. In this way, your words will not only carry meaning but will resonate deeply, leaving an indelible mark on the tapestry of existence.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

9. If she whispers in your ear, listen closely. It means she trusts you enough to share secrets.

When a wind spirit whispers in your ear, it is an invitation to connect with the unseen world around you. This ethereal being, often depicted as a gentle, invisible force, chooses to share its secrets with only the most attuned and trustworthy individuals. Listening closely to these whispers can be a profound experience, offering insights that transcend ordinary understanding. It is a rare and precious gift that signifies a deep bond with the natural elements and an openness to the mysteries they hold.

The secrets shared by a wind spirit can encompass a wide range of wisdom, from ancient folklore and forgotten histories to personal guidance and intuitive knowledge. These whispers might carry messages about the environment, urging you to respect and protect the earth, or they might offer personal revelations that help you navigate your own life's journey. The key is to remain open and receptive, allowing the wind spirit's voice to resonate within you without skepticism or doubt.

Embracing the whispers of a wind spirit requires a mindful and meditative approach. Find a quiet space where you can attune yourself to the subtle nuances of the wind. As you listen, let your mind and heart remain still, creating a sanctuary for the spirit's voice to be heard. In doing so, you not only honor the trust bestowed upon you but also deepen your connection to the natural world and the timeless wisdom it offers. This sacred exchange can enrich your life, guiding you with the gentle yet profound truths carried on the wind.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

10. Word travels far and fast. Don’t say anything to awake the spirits.

In many cultures around the world, the concept of words carrying immense power is a common thread. Words can travel far and fast, transcending time and space, influencing those who hear them. This is particularly true in folklore and myth, where speaking certain words can invoke spirits or other supernatural entities. The cautionary advice to "not say anything to awake the spirits" underscores the belief that words have the power to affect the unseen world, where spirits reside.

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11. She has a strong temperament and gets angry easily. Make sure you’re always nice to her. You don’t want to be on her bad side.

The wind spirit, sometimes known as Zephyra, possesses a strong and unpredictable temperament that can change as swiftly as the breeze. While she can be gentle and soothing, her anger is a force to be reckoned with. Legends say that Zephyra's fury can stir up powerful storms, uproot ancient trees, and send ships veering off course. Thus, it is wise to always approach her with respect and kindness.

To stay in Zephyra's good graces, one must be mindful of their words and actions. She values honesty and sincerity above all else, and she can sense deceit like a sudden shift in the wind. Offering small tokens of appreciation, such as delicate feathers or fragrant flowers, can also help in winning her favor. These gestures show that you honor her presence and the natural world she governs.

Remember, Zephyra's moods are as changeable as the skies. Her anger may be intense, but her forgiveness is equally profound. If you find yourself having inadvertently upset her, a heartfelt apology and a promise to be more considerate in the future can go a long way. By cultivating a relationship of mutual respect and understanding, you can enjoy the blessings of Zephyra's gentle breezes and avoid the wrath of her tempestuous gales.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

12. If she’s talking to thunder, leave them alone. They don’t want you to hear.

Imagine the mystical conversation between wind and thunder, two forces of nature that hold immense power and mystery. The wind, with its gentle whispers and fierce gales, embodies the freedom and fluidity of movement. It travels across the world, touching every corner, carrying with it the secrets of faraway lands. Thunder, on the other hand, is the voice of the storm, a booming presence that commands attention and respect. It heralds the arrival of rain and lightning, bringing a sense of awe and sometimes fear. Together, they form a dynamic duo that shapes our natural world in profound ways.

So, if you ever feel the wind rustle through the trees or hear the distant rumble of thunder, take a moment to appreciate the secret conversation happening just beyond our grasp.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

13. A sudden draft can be seen as a bad omen.

The symbolic interpretation of drafts as bad omens can also be linked to the more tangible effects they have on our environment. A sudden draft can extinguish a candle, cause a door to slam shut unexpectedly, or create eerie, unsettling noises. These occurrences can easily evoke a sense of mystery and fear, especially in dimly lit or isolated settings. Consequently, such events have become fertile ground for ghost stories and superstitions, reinforcing the idea that a draft is an indicator of something ominous or otherworldly.

Despite these traditional beliefs, it's important to view sudden drafts through a rational lens as well. Modern science offers explanations for such phenomena, attributing them to changes in air pressure, temperature differences, and architectural features of buildings. While the eerie sensation of a sudden draft can still cause a shiver down the spine, understanding its natural causes can demystify the experience. Ultimately, whether one sees a draft as a bad omen or a simple quirk of the environment often depends on the interplay between cultural beliefs and scientific knowledge.

14. Never, ever, complain about her. She will remember.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Sources:

— pictures off Pinterest.

--Content taken from a list of "how to talk to the wind" The original list was bullet pointed and kept in this post as the numbers. (i.e. 1. If the wind falls silent, she is listening to you,. Speak.") I added in the paragraphs following each bullet point to go further into detail for new practitioners or anyone interested in working with the air element.

Thank you for Reading! I absolutely love sharing my knowledge & learnings with others. I try to make posts a few times a week! & they are all organized on my profile.

Until we cross paths once more! Best wishes to all you wonderful witches! Warm regards, Tea.

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦

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[blushcoloreddreams]

7 tips for a thriving journal

Hello and welcome back to the blog my love!

I have been move to speak on the matter of journaling many times before, and today, with the new years spirit still around and everyone adding goals and new habits to their lives, I thought it would be nice to take pen to paper or rather... binary code to screen, and discuss the 7 ways you can improve your journaling life!

1. Read more

I’ll have to be honest with you guys ... the fact is that you are NEVER going to enjoy writing unless you also enjoy READING the written word. Now, we don't need to be cozying up in the evening with our personal diaries as reading material, but I have found that the more I read, the better (and more frequently) I write!

Reading more will stimulate your writing, inspire your words, and most of all, remind you that plenty of people have written millions of words on paper, and you can get through a daily journal entry. ;)

2. Get a pen you actually like

This might sound crazy, but I promise that you WILL write more if you enjoy the type of pen you're using. When I switched over to a really inky black gel pen, I found my cursive gliding over the page at RECORD speeds! It was simply a joy to write! So ditch that creepy pencil, say no to promotional pens, and pick out a cute gel pen!

3. Bring your journal with you everywhere

Most of us don't sit down at 8pm every evening and take pen to paper, outlining our days. Most of us have fluctuating schedules, thought-lives, and energy levels. I have found that bringing my journal with me has helped me write more often, get better ideas, and just... enjoy writing much more!

It changes from a chore to a full-on CHOICE! I encourage you to get a smallish journal and pull that baby out when you're waiting at the dealership, grabbing a coffee, or just... killing time while waiting for your date! It definitely beats scrolling through Instagram, and you will find that catching your most interesting thoughts before they flutter away is HIGHLY satisfying!

4. Use it to sort out your emotions

I remember tearing into my bedroom after a particularly negative ninth grade school day. I threw myself on my bed, snatched a pretty journal I had but never had found use for and began furiously writing about being ditched by my friends after a some intense political debate that took over not only school but the country in 2018 and even if I stayed neutral at the time, the opinion of people close to me was enough for them to slowly exclude me. Instead of wailing, crying, or screaming at my friends, I screamed at my journal. And it was SATISFYING!

As an adult reading back on my impassioned ninth grade emotions, it's shocking to me how intense I felt at the time, but I also find myself feeling quite grateful to have those feelings immortalized forever. I've always done this: recorded my intense emotions, good OR bad. When I fall in love with, my journal becomes filled with my heart's longings and thoughts from our very first weeks. I promise you, either way It’s a cathartic experience that will not only help you process and rationalize what you feel at that moment but also record those feelings and adventures for the future.

When I went through grief and really bad times, my feelings were also sprawled across the pages forever. And sometimes, I like to reflect upon those feelings to remind myself how far I've come, or of what our first love felt like. Journaling helps you work through your emotions, but it also helps catalogue your life in a really meaningful way. Try taking to the pages when you're struggling, in pain, or feeling supremely happy. :)

5. Rotate your writing & topics

In order to stimulate your writing, it's important to rotate through different topics AND different styles of writing. Instead of just writing daily journal entries about your life, try your hand at different categories. I enjoy writing short stories, poetry, daily diary entries, personal thoughts about cultural and social current events, things I wanna learn more about, my goals and future blog ideas!

You could write song lyrics, poetry, novel ideas, blog ideas; the sky is the limit! I encourage you also to not only try writing about different topics, but also try rotating the WAY you write as well. You don't necessarily need to write with a physical pen on paper every time either. Sometimes I prefer opening up google docs, or even this very blog!

6. Use it to connect with God

I like to write out my prayers sometimes... especially if they're really meaningful like prayers of repentance, supplication, or long lists of what I'm grateful to God for. It can help to stimulate your prayer life, AND keep a record of your personal spiritual breakthroughs.

7. Write letters to people

When my father died, we haven’t been in contact for a while but I felt like I still had much to say, words that I wished I had externalized before his passing. However there was nothing stopping me to write to him, even if it felt a bit silly and I knew he’d never read them, it could help calm my mind. So I decided to writing him a few letters could help me cope better with what had just happened, better understand our relationship and even myself.

Now, at first, it can sound pretty unappealing to write to someone who couldn't write back, but before I knew it, it felt like one of the best cathartic experiences I ever had. When my beloved great grandma passed I found myself writing longer and longer letters, detailing different thoughts, and even throwing in some creative writing. I spent so much time sharing my thoughts, feelings, ideas, and heart, that by the end of this all, I felt like I was already in the habit of daily journaling LOL!

So, if you need a spark for your writing habits, I encourage you to start sending some letters to your family members, friends or find a pen pal, I actually loved writing letters on peoples birthdays when I was younger and it was something I really enjoyed rediscovering. Even if the person doesn't write back much, it can really jumpstart your writing!

That's all I have for today my loves! I hope you feel inspired to start writing. Remember, if the notebook life doesn't work out for you, it's okay to turn to the digital keyboard! Just keep trying different angles until you settle on the right formula for you.

xoxo, Julia

[taming-bats]

Batfam Crime Family Breakdown

I made a Crime Family au for a OC fic I'm writing, but the dynamics were too interesting to pass up diving into.

So, I present to you the Mask Family! #1 Crime monopoly in Gotham. Descriptions for Alfred, Dick, Jason, Tim and Damian are under the cut!

Bruce - AKA Black Mask. Head of the Crime family, and basically king of Gotham. After his parents were killed when he was a young boy and was handed a multi-million dollar company at the age of 9, he had focused on a sense of control. He sees Gotham/Gothamites like they can’t help it, and simply don’t know any better. He will know better for them. Other people might have similar backgrounds or share his feelings on the idea of protecting the city from itself, bu no one has the resources he does, nor the determination to do something. 

He created the alias of the Black Mask and infiltrated every underground and back alley system until he runs them all. Bruce Wayne and Black Mask basically are the monopoly of night and day in Gotham. You can’t go anywhere without seeing their influence. He’s brutal when it comes to insubordination or even the hint of mutiny. Truly thinks he’s doing the right thing to keep crime as low as possible. Think’s he is doing what he can to protect his family and his city. He’s softened over the years due to his family, and because he’s grown his network where he never has to get his hands dirty unless he wants to. Loves his kids dearly though is tough on them when it comes to the family business. 

“Mr. Wayne! Could you give us a comment on the recent movements of the Black Mask? Does it pain you to share your city with such a ruthless man?”

Bruce Wayne gives a smile, that tight, pained one he gives whenever reports ask about the Crime Lord. The media eats it up. No matter what he says, they read into his expression and think it must be heartbreaking for him to know not even he could touch the King of Gotham.

Alfred - AKA Agent Alpha. Like canon, he follows Bruce down the path he takes. In the first couple years of Bruce’s building of the Mask, he voiced his concerns about Bruce’s methods. However, having been trained in special ops himself, he understood that while some situations required a skilled hand, others required a boot to the neck. He adapted and became the guiding hand Bruce needed, and is still Bruce’s number one confidant and ally. 

“Black Mask? Black Mask!” the comm had crackled dead in Alfred ear. He huffs and pushes himself up out of the chair. That boy was going to get himself killed in this mission of his. Drug dealers and gang members- What would Martha and Thomas think if they could see the two of them now? 

Alfred does not let himself linger long on the thought as he grabs the keys and his own version of the Mask. No matter his hesitance at the start, he knew that there was no stopping Bruce now that he has his mind to it. He would save this city or die trying. He grabs his shotgun off the wall. 

Dick - (24) AKA Blue Mask. First to come into the Mask family. His story here is the same for the most part. Some mob tried to take control of the circus- since it's traveling it's not technically in Black Mask’s territory. They are wrong <3. Feeling responsible for not having enough control to prevent the Grayson murders, Bruce Wayne fosters and adopts Dick Grasyon. However, Bruce in this iteration is more open with sharing his secret with Dick as he sees himself in the young boy. He invites Dick to join his crusade to help the city, and let’s Dick be the one to pull the trigger against the men who killed his family. It’s cathartic for the both of them, and a very cementing bonding experience. Dick is Bruce’s shadow for most of his young life, seeing Bruce in his most brutal/hands on years. At some point, Dick “graduates” to having a Mask of his own, and is now Blue Mask. 

Dick stays in Gotham in this au. Dick is the eldest of the Mask family and loves his growing family dearly. He learned quickly about the lengths one should go to to protect the ones they love. To him, all of his siblings are the same age as when they entered the house. They are his babies and he will murder for them. He is Bruce’s number one informant.

“There you go, little wing! Hold it just like that and keep your shoulders back. When you feel ready, pull the trigger.” His hands give an encouraging squeeze to his brother's shoulders before taking a step back. He watches as Jason takes a breath and pulls the trigger. He catches him with a laugh when the kickback jolts his small frame. “Good job! That looked like a headshot to me, you're a natural!” Jason looked up at him with shining eyes, and Dick looked back with all the pride in the world. “Let’s show Bruce.”

Jason -  (19)  AKA Red Mask. Bruce found him on the streets when he was young- Yes, he was stealing from THE Black Mask and yes, Jason fought with a tire iron and claws to get away from him at the start. Jason thought Black Mask would make an example out of him, show that even kids weren’t an exception in Gotham. But Bruce took one look at the small, malnourished but resilient boy and fell in love with him. Jason, to Bruce, represents all the kids that he was too late to save. But he could save Jason. Bruce brought him home and exposed his secret immediately, as if Jason was already his son. The reasons Jason stayed were years behind them now, and he’s proven himself time and time again to be Bruce’s perfect foot soldier. He trained under Dick and Bruce and was rewarded with the title and role of a Mask much younger than Dick. 

Jason and Bruce had a big fight when he was 16 (probably having to do with who would be inheriting the Black Mask role in the future) in which Jason ran away. Knowing all of Black Masks tricks, he’s able to stay under the radar for a little bit less than a year. It breaks Bruce’s heart and infuriates him. He misses his son and is spiraling at the lack of control and is forced to conclude that he’s going to have to punish Jason if/when he finds him. Which he does, but more on that later. At the present day, Bruce and Jason still butt heads in Jason’s attempt to prove that he can be a leader if Bruce just lets him. Bruce is content in keeping the boys in the roles they have for as long as he can. There are many debates on which Mask was the most intimidating, but everyone can agree that you never want Red Mask to be sent after you. 

“I’ll take the lower Eastside-” 

“Good idea.” Black Mask cuts him off, “Blue, you’re with Red tonight.”

“What?” Jason snaps, “No way, I can do it by myself.” Black Mask gives him a look that Jason can decipher even through the unchanging skull mask. This wasn’t the night to start a debate. Jason clicks his teeth, “Fine.” Black Mask gives him a pat on the head as he passes and a burning of embarrassment and fulfillment comes from the approval. He slaps away Blue’s hand when he tries to copy the movement, to which Dick whines with disappointment. 

Tim -  (17) AKA Yellow Mask. When Gotham sees a heavy crack down for a few months, it’s a near complete cut off from the rest of the world. It shows what Black Mask could do, which scares a lot of people. But not Tim Drake. Tim Drake sees the opportunity for what it is. Unlike the rest of the world, who haven't a clue about the why, 10 year old Tim Drake marches up to Wayne Manor and asks to speak to Black Mask himself. Tim, the child, had known about the Mask family identity for a full year. And now Tim, the child, was offering to help Black Mask, the Crime Lord. Because Tim Drake knew where Jason was. Tim had known the entire time (a fact that Tim does not share.) 

(He also doesn’t share the photos. The maps. The red string. He takes his time and eases the family into his presence, and then, into his hobbies.) Tim inserts himself into the Mask Family, brings Jason back, and simply stays. Jason and he have some tension because of this. Tim is happy staying in the shadows of the operation because it gives him a purpose behind all his odd interests and gives him challenges to grow from. He kinda gets the Mask title against his will but secretly is over the moon about it. He wants to be useful. He becomes Wayne Enterprises Co-CEO, and is Bruce’s eyes and ears. 

“That's Debbie. She’s the head accountant on the Relay case, 5th floor.” Bruce nods to Tim’s words and Tim pretends not to preen at the knowledge that someone was listening to him. Bruce gives a hum and an ever-so-slight gesture to a man across the room with his glass of scotch. “Oh, Walter. He’s been skimming funds off his department budget for 5 months now. 14th floor.” Bruce raises an eyebrow and looks at him. “He’ll get cocky soon. See the watch? He bought it this week. That's nothing compared to what his internet history suggests.” 

Damian - (12) AKA Green Mask. There’s not much to change here. Damian came into Bruce’s life at 8, already trained to kill. Something of a gift from the al Gul’s. Damian is just as brutal as Bruce was in his early years, but Bruce focuses on helping Damian be a child again. All Bruce wants is to be close with his son, much to Damian’s early protests. Bruce is terrible about spoiling Damian and letting him get away with things because Damian is the baby of the family. Because of this, Damian is Bruce’s trigger. Especially for the jobs that have to be done swiftly and quietly. 

Damian realizes that there is more to learn then ways to kill, and learns from Dick about the ways of manipulation, how to present oneself to get what you want. With this, Damian often acts younger than he is to appear innocent and lovable. He tried to kill each one of Bruce’s kids at least once when he first came into the house, but after several impressive retaliations, Damian has seen their strength and recognizes how much he can learn from them. The caring nicknames and affectionate hugs were things that he pretends to only tolerate, but he becomes insufferable if he doesn’t receive affection from them. 

“But Father, you promised!” Damian stamps his foot, letting the echo of the cave give the action more grandiose than it actually felt. Bruce responds to his childish outbursts more than his calculative reasoning. 

Bruce sighs, kneeling down and cupping Damian’s face with gentle hands, “Yes, I know, Dami. But that was before you handcuffed Tim to the stairway railing for three hours.” 

Damian crosses his arms and sets a pout to his lips, “He could have gotten out of them if he wanted to,” He mumbles. 

“That is not the point and you know that, darling.”

________________________

Bonus:

Damian texting at 1am after not receiving a single pat on the head from his brothers all day: inshallah you will wake in the depths of nightmares most vile

Dick a millisecond later: bb bat wdym?? :(

[adragonsfriend]

Reading Darth Plagueis,

by James Luceno.

Ok I finished this book. It was a wild ride, here are some highlights, (anything in quotes, " ", is in fact, a direct quote). Spoilers, I guess.

———

“At some point, probably when he was focused on murder, a rock or other projectile had pulped a large area of his lower back.”--Plagueis

Yeah man that always happens to me too when I’m focused on murder

———

Me thinking, *Plagueis is way too normal for a sith,* about five seconds before the narration goes *Plagueis was hungry. he thought about eating the eggs of some sentient lizards and also the sentient lizards themselves, but restrained himself*

———

Plagueis, a banker: nOt all mUNns R bAnkErS u kNoW

A pirate who wants a bribe: be better for you if you were some financial wizard

Plagueis, a literal wizard:

———

Captain La (the random pirate): how do u know my name

Plagueis: *truthing* I sliced you ship’s systems,

Plagueis: *lying* it’s not like I’m a telepath or something

———

*at the evil rich people party*

"Republic senators, at least those that weren’t present, would be subjected to ridicule—"

I love how the narration says "subjected" like Bail Organa would give fuck about some assholes making fun of him

———

Plagueis in a business meeting as hego damask:

Repeats himself multiple times conducting experiments in trying to force suggest to a resistant species

His assistant: bro what r u doing ur making us look bad

———

omg young Palpatine is so Anakin coded. Genuinely he throws tantrums it’s perfect

———

Tag this accidental baby acquisition some random dathomiri lady just handed maul over like a sac of potatoes

———

Sidious, about to gaslight, girlboss, gatekeep, mansplain, manipulate, and threaten to manslaughter Nute Gunray within an inch of his life all in the span of a 2 minute zoom call: *wearing his Sith cloak on their holocall* what is up my guy? did u get the rare collectible bird I sent u anonymously a while back?

Nute Gunray: uhh…yes…um… its very nice…who are you and why r u hiding in that hood bro?

Sidious: it's the traditional clothing of my Order

Gunray: ur a cleric?

Sidious: "Do I seem like a holy man to you?"

Me: the only holes I see here are in your logic, morals, ability to feel compassion, and *waves hand all encompassingly* vibes

———

Dooku: if one more Jedi dies because of the indolence of the republic, I’ll leave the Jedi and refuse to look back

Palpatine: *listening attentively*

———

Plagueis & Maul: (separately) gloat about being Sith Lords to people they’re about to kill

Sidious:

Sidious: these idiots cannot keep a secret to save their lives—

———

Plagueis ACTUALLY believes Sidious is about to appoint him co-chancellor. what an idiot.

———

Padme shocking both Sith at every turn during the Naboo crisis is sending me

———

Oooh Sidious' murder rant is incredible. He's like Plagueis you manipulated and abused me, now i'm gonna kill you so I can go do that to other people without you hanging over my shoulder. It's like the evil but still cathartic version of Zuko's speech to Firelord Ozai.

———

Dooku: That zabrak guy was definitely a Sith. There has to be another one, probably the master

Sidious, standing right next to him in a shadowy warehouse wearing a black cloak: “how would one even begin to know where to look for this other Sith?”

———

“For an instant, Palpatine perceived a touch of his younger self in Skywalker”

This book needs to stop. Maybe consider pulling its punches sometime. The only mark of disapproval I have here is that this is portraying Obi-Wan as an asshole for the five seconds he’s present

———

Bad news, the book did indeed stop. I have been gravely injured, but also greatly amused. The experience of reading this book is just constant vacillation between *wow so Sith Lord, so scary, so evil* and *Plagueis, my guy, that is the dumbest ideology I’ve ever heard. maybe if you took a nap (for the first time in 20 years) you’d finally say something that made sense*

I will also confess that I was taking detailed notes about Plagueis for an AU idea I have that I will not be starting for at least another year because I am married to BHOT and I refuse to be like the rest of you sorry fucks with 17 wips (ignoring that fanfic is in fact the only genre of writing I do not have at least 17 wips in)

[thexsanctuaryx]

ʚ♡ɞ I'll Follow You Into the Dark ʚ♡ɞ

➳ PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

{ summary: } another patient makes inappropriate advances toward emma and jake has something to say about it. { pairing: } | eventual | original character { emma harper } x jake lockley, emma harper x steven grant, && emma harper x marc spector { contents: } mental hospitals, psychiatric hold, another patient being a little icky { mildly written aka jake puts a stop right to it }, angst { I guess? I don't know what else to call it. }, hurt/comfort-esque vibes, jake doing what jake does best and protecting { warnings: } severe mental illness { psychosis, hallucinations, depression }, main character is actively in psychosis, I've done my best to write it in the least triggering way but there are a lot of heavy themes that will take place in this series, so forewarning. mental hospitals. gross patient trying to make a pass at emma, typical misunderstanding and misinterpretation that comes with psychosis. due to the nature of emma's psychosis, things are very unhealthily skewed in a religious context. triggering themes related to the aforementioned. { author's note: } I recently finished reading "tear down my reason" by @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction and it inspired me to work on an idea I've been playing with about emma and the boys meeting while both in a mental hospital at the same time. I wanted to write a series that would help other people with severe mental illness feel seen and heard as there really aren't works out there like this, especially not actually written by people with firsthand experience of things like psychosis. this series is being written with a lot of love and care so I truly hope that it can be cathartic for those who read who might also live with mental illness because you DO matter and your stories DO deserve to be told. { word count: } 1,185 { taglist: } @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @sub-aro

When the boys had decided to – hopefully – prolong their stay by intentionally showing the staff Steven and Jake, they hadn’t exactly planned for it to go like this.

They’d meant for it to be strategic – methodical.

That was until one of the other patients decided he was going to get a little too friendly with Emma.

Marc had, had his eye on him from the beginning, something just not sitting right about him. This included the fact that he had the word, “Maid,” burned into his arm with what appeared to be the cigarette lighter from an old car – definitely self-inflicted.

He’d gotten a little too comfortable in the hallway with Emma that afternoon, trying to somehow charm her. That had been his first mistake.

Emma, however, was not at all comfortable with him as he grinned at her, leaning closer to her. And she’d stepped away to get some space, to which he quickly moved to advance toward her again.

That’s when it started to fall apart. Jake pulled to the front before Marc could stop him, but the latter couldn’t blame him.

Jake had quickly stepped between Emma and him, looming menacingly over him. “Somehow I don’t think she appreciates your attention…” He says through his teeth and a very forced smile.

“Somehow I don’t think it’s any of your business…”

Jake takes a step forward, forcing the other man in the opposite direction as Emma noticeably hides behind Jake.

“I’m sorry—you mistook my politeness for meaning you had a choice—” He pauses, his face falling from that fake smile. “Back. Off.”

“And if I don’t? I think she likes me…”

“And I know she doesn’t…” Jake sneers.

‘Careful Jake—the last thing we need is to get in trouble, can’t protect her from the isolation room, can we?’ Steven reasons.

Jake throws one more threatening glare and turns to escort Emma down to the day room. “Come on, cariño…group starts soon…”

The other patient doesn’t seem as wary of Jake as he’d like, but stays back all the same.

Emma walks closely beside Jake, looking as though she somehow understands that he isn’t Marc, correctly deducing— “You’re Jake, aren’t you?”

Jake pauses to frown lightly at her, “How did you know?”

Emma raises her shoulders in a slow shrug. “I just knew—sometimes I just know things…” She pauses. “Maybe it’s the spiritual plane…” She suggests softly, her face scrunching up a little thoughtfully.

Jake nods, knowing that she probably wouldn’t understand if he told her that she was just having an episode of what seems to be psychosis. The system had been incorrectly diagnosed that way before, so he’s fairly familiar with it.

Still, he can’t dismiss the uncanny way she seemed to immediately know it was him despite having never met him before. He tells himself she had a 50% chance of getting it right, but even he doesn’t wholly buy that explanation, himself. His voice after all wasn’t too different from Marc’s which only makes it more impressive that she just knew.

He gives a smooth graze of his hand between her shoulder blades, realizing he hasn’t replied yet. “Maybe…” He agrees.

As they enter into the day room, Jake spots a chair against the wall, away from the long table in the center of the room. He scans the room for another empty chair to pull beside it but Emma, as if already knowing where he means to sit, lowers herself to sit cross-legged on the floor beside it.

He immediately frowns, going to speak to stop her but she just looks up at him, softly smiling. He falters, clearing his throat. “Let me get you a chair—”

“No, I don’t mind…”

“Emma—”

“Unless you weren’t gonna sit here—I was kinda hoping to sit next to you…”

‘Don’t you dare let her sit on that floor, Jake…’ Steven demands firmly.

Jake clears his throat again, pulling another chair over. “Come on—up…” He gently instructs Emma, reaching a hand to help her stand.

“But…”

“You’re not sitting on the floor, cariño…”

She rolls her lips in, furrowing her brows together as she takes his hand and stands.

In the brief time he’s fronted, it only sinks further in that he doesn’t want to leave her here alone if they get discharged before her. He doesn’t realize he's staring at her, lost in thought until the group leader calls everyone’s attention.

He snaps free of his reverie and turns toward the woman who will be guiding the exercise they’ll be doing, all the while wanting to reach for Emma’s hand, more for his own benefit than hers he’s sure.

The group session seems to be going well until the woman calls on who she thinks is Marc – when Emma interjects.

“Jake…” She corrects the leader.

“I’m sorry?” the woman asks.

“This is Jake—Marc’s not here right now…” Emma explains quietly, before seeming to remember that sometimes Marc can talk to Jake and Steven even when they’re not in control of the body.

She turns to Jake, curiously, “or is he?”

There’s a round of judgmental scoffs around the room, the leader’s voice a bit tight as she replies, “Emma—this is—”

Jake cuts in, “she’s right—I’m Jake, not Marc…”

It once again, hadn’t been how they planned to execute things but it seemed as good as any other way.

The woman clears her throat, “right—well I think that’s all we have time for today…”

Emma turns to smile at Jake, sure that she’s been helpful, and frankly just as seemingly enamored with him as she is Marc.

Jake reaches to give her hand a squeeze, shooting her a wink that absolutely makes her cheeks heat.

It isn’t long after – impressively so – that one of the nurses tells Jake the doctor would like to speak to him. He can’t help but roll his eyes.

He turns to Emma, speaking gently, “why don’t you go wait in your room until I get back? I’ll come get you…”

His intention, of course, is to keep her away from that creep – knowing that he can’t enter her room without someone noticing and therefore getting in trouble.

Emma frowns slightly but seems to understand that he’s trying to protect her and nods. The more she interacts with him, the more certain she becomes that somehow the three of them are her guardian angels. The thought provokes her to speak, “will I get to meet Steven soon?”

Jake has to resist the urge to put a hand to her face, his heart aching, “do you want to?”

Emma nods quickly an adamant and excited look across her features.

“Okay,” He smiles softly at her.

“Jake…” The nurse says impatiently.

“Coming…” He calls, maintaining eye contact with Emma and nodding his head in the direction of her room.

They get up at the same time and move to enter the hallway. “Be careful…” Emma warns him weakly, fairly certain he’s about to do battle out of eye sight.

His chest only tightens more, assuring her, “I will…”

[paraphwrites]

2024 WRITING REVIEW

so apparently @genevievefangirl tagged me in this like a week ago and i wrote it, put it in drafts, then promptly forgot about it. sorry for the delay bestie sob

number of stories posted to ao3: 8

word count posted for last year: 180,918 (starting April)

fandoms i wrote for: dead boy detectives, glee

pairings: payneland, klaine

stories with the most kudos, bookmarks and comment threads: the manuscript of real people which is unsurprising given its five times longer than even my second longest work. it's not a fair fight. the oneshots were never gonna stand a chance

work i’m most proud of (and why): lemonade & sunrises, baby! i don't have a banger reason as to why - something about it just really speaks to my soul on a deep and personal level. i just really like it

work i’m least proud of (and why): probably dandelion days seeing as i have yet to finish it despite saying like 30 times that i would. something about it just doesn't really speak to me? it was my second fic i ever started writing, so i was still figuring out what makes me buzz, and it just turned out not to be that

share or describe a favorite review you received: (image: comment by newleavesinspiring on "lemonade & sunrises": "Not for nothing but I think this piece had fundamentally changed my brain")

I don't know something about that really stuck w me

a time when writing was really, really hard: september-november was a bit hard for me, because i was going through some really difficult personal issues then, so writing also in turn became a bit more difficult. doing anything at all was difficult tho lol so what can you do

a scene or character you wrote that surprised you: chris from manuscript. i didn't really mean for him to show up but people in the comments LATCHED onto him to the point that like i feel like i should find a way to bring him back

a favorite excerpt of your writing:

"Charles is infinitely more than lovely" is a line which has always stuck out to me. it's from this excerpt, chapter 13 of manuscript

how did you grow as a writer last year: i've gotten a lot more consistent about writing regularly. i figured out How To Write Fanfiction as well, which was cool

who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer, beta, cheerleader, etc.) i gotta say, @professional-lurker-42 has been the most incredible cheerleader throughout my manuscript writing journey, and has grown into be just one of the most amazing friends.

anything from your real life show up in your writing last year: god when doesn't it lol. but honestly it's not cathartic or really anything at all, it's just genuine. even if the experiences can be different, the emotions are very real.

i will say, though, that specifically as edwin grappled with his sexuality throughout manuscript, reading the comments people wrote was incredibly cathartic. like middle school me was fundamentally healed by hearing strangers on the internet say that this is not the thing that will ruin his life and it will be okay

any new wisdom you can share with other writers: you can always do better. you could always fix something and make it better and revise more and just like you're never going to get it to perfect. so, and i say this with so much love, get over yourself and finish it. you're not GOING to make it perfect so stop trying to make it perfect and instead make it yours and make it real

any projects you’re looking to starting (or finishing) this year? i'll be finishing manuscript in 2025, probably vibing through a lot of we'll carry on as well. i also have a few other ideas in the works, which, shortly before i finish manuscript will commence, to "take over" in a way. hyped for those as well!

tagging: @dead-but-still-sarcastic if you havent done it yet?? otherwise anyone who sees this please do it!! im kind of late to it lol

[ersatz-ostrich]

Wolffe x f!Officer!Reader: One and Only

[A/N]: Bullying sucks, and for some reason, a lot of anti-bullying campaigns seem to make bullies nastier. I can't say if those campaigns succeeded, though, because I feel like the term 'bully' itself has been beaten to death. This oneshot is an edited, old work that I had deleted a few years ago. My younger self wrote this hoping for a cathartic escape from my past experiences with bullies. If it's a little overdone, that's why - but I hope some of you know what it was like, too. I hope you got the support you needed during those times, but if you didn't, I genuinely hope you will, sooner better than later.

Summary: Y/N, a naval officer spending most rotations on a Venator-class star destroyer, has loved and cherished Commander Wolffe as a partner for months now. They've always managed to stay in touch and pretty much nothing could break their bond—that is, other than the scathing comments of the critical and envious.

Warnings: Bullying and self-esteem issues.

read it here on ao3

"Ugh! How did Y/N ever get promoted to naval officer? She’s such a bitch ," A voice hissed from beyond the steel corridor of the Venator-class star destroyer, namely, the Reverence.

"It's unbelievable! And they say she's Commander Wolffe's girlfriend." Another voice added. 

From the far end of the hallway, you sighed, keeping your eyes glued to your datapad. The snide comments of gossipy subordinates and snarky superior officers were starting to eat away at what little confidence you held onto. The fact that they'd even mentioned Wolffe twisted their dagger-like insults into the very flesh of your psyche. 

Taking a sharp left into the control room, you wished that their eyes could refrain from boring straight into your back and following your bowed head past the glowing table to where the Admiral stood. 

"Admiral." He nodded in acknowledgement of your entrance.

"L/N. Have you received word from General Koon about our strategy for the offense?"

"I just received the transmission, sir. I came to inform you that he has approved our strategy and is willing to put it to the test." You answered, handing him your datapad.

"Thank you, officer. You may go now." You nodded and strode right out of the room and right into a gaggle of medbay nurses—civilians from a volunteer corp, terribly patronizing and unbelievably annoying—who immediately scattered, tittering with laughter. 

"Maker, I’m so glad I don’t have to wear the Navy uniform. Y/N L/N takes the olive out of olive-drab." One of the medbay nurses remarked as the group disappeared down the corridor, your full name rolling off of her tongue harshly, each syllable pronounced in repulsive mockery. You instinctively clutched your datapad, focusing on the deep black of space from outside the Reverence. Somewhere out there, Wolffe is waiting for me, you thought to yourself. Let's hope he hasn't forgotten about me.

Somewhere, several systems away, Commander Wolffe ducked into a canvas tent. The sound of LAATs soaring overhead, the revving of speeder bikes, and overall commotion filled his ears—but he paid no attention to the din as he quickly punched a code into his holoprojector. After a few minutes of dialing, a familiar blue hologram finally appeared in the palm of his hand.

“Wolffe?" Your voice, although crackling with signal static, was music to Wolffe's ears.

"Y/N!" He smiled for the first time in days, the smile reaching his eyes that had become shadowed from many sleepless nights. "How’s work on the Reverence?" You shook your head.

"Well, it's been a lot like the usual." You answered, sighing. You didn’t feel like lying to Wolffe anymore—’good’ just didn’t sum up your experience at all. "I don't think a whole lot of people like me on this ship." Wolffe's smile immediately disappeared. 

"What makes you think that?" 

"It's just...I always hear this mechanic or that nurse talking behind my back. It's like they don't bother to hide it anymore." You rambled. "I hate it. I wish they'd issued me a bucket like yours to wear so I wouldn't have to show my face in front of a bunch of people who absolutely detest my ugly face!" You clenched your fists, making wrinkles in your olive-drab uniform pants.. Watching you hold back tears, Wolffe solemnly wished that he could be physically present to comfort you and hold you in his arms. 

"Y/N..." He averted his eyes, the cogs turning in his head. "I wish I could just tell all of those di'kuts to stop—"

"Wolffe, you don't have to." You interrupted him, expression caught between twisted despair and an apologetic smile. "I'm used to it, but all of this bantha shit gets to me sometimes." Wolffe chuckled quietly, sending butterflies fluttering into your stomach.

"I'm sorry you have to go through all of this, Y/N. I promise we'll be together soon." His eyes were sincere, despite his cybernetic eye. As he spoke, Sinker poked his head into the canvas tent. 

"Commander? We're still waiting on bacta. Do you really think we should consider buying bacta from the locals?" The clone inquired, jerking his thumb to where the medical tent was pitched.

"They know that we can't tell the difference between real bacta and watery jelly..." Wolffe grumbled. "Give me a moment." Sinker ducked back out of the tent, and Wolffe returned to his call. 

"What was that about?" You inquired, cocking your head in questioning. 

"Sorry Y/N, Sinker just popped in with a question." Wolffe paused, thinking quickly. "Say, Y/N. We're running out of bacta at the camps, but the locals cultivate and sell it. I don't know if we should buy it, 'cause we don't know if it's legitimate or not, and if it's actually medical grade." You pondered for a moment, searching your memory for whatever had been scribbled into the reg books of years past about Wolffe's particular dilemma.

"Hmm...what you can do is check samples of the bacta they sell to make sure it's legit. Real bacta has a thin but slimy consistency, like that of sticky porridge rations, you know what I mean? Make sure it isn't watered down.” You stated. “Oh, and the preferred kind of bacta that we typically use is mostly clear or tinged blue from the added drugs. It should also have a certain smell, kind of pungent because of the bacteria cultures in it but also kind of like the chemical additives it contains." 

Wolffe listened intently as you listed the specifications of medical-grade bacta. He enjoyed hearing you talk, especially about something you were well-versed in or passionate about—he could see the admiration glimmering in your eyes, and what confidence you had finally began to show itself. You could read him a whole reg book and he’d be riveted. 

"So, as long as it meets the requirements for standard bacta, you can buy it. As long as it doesn't cost an LAAT and a few DC-15s, I guess." You concluded with a quiet chuckle.

"That's all I need to know, Y/N. You're a life-saver, I mean it." Wolffe answered with a sincere smile. He clambered off of the munitions crate he had been using as a seat and shifted his gaze to the commotion outside of his little canvas nook. From within the hologram, you saluted. 

"No problem, Wolffe. I'll see you around, I guess." 

"I'll be with you as soon as I find time, Y/N. I promise." Wolffe murmured, eyes softening. 

"I'll be waiting."

Wolffe did end up striking up a bargain with the planet's natives, heading back to the camp with crates full of bacta. He'd memorized your instructions from the beginning to the end—check the viscosity, the color, and the smell. With your trusty advice, Wolffe inspected the bacta carefully with his medics.

       "This is some good bacta." One of the medics whistled, hauling the last of the load into the rather haphazardly set up medical tent. “How much did you say you bought it for, Commander?” Ducking under the coarse fabric, Wolffe nodded in agreement and replied absentmindedly, thoughts wandering to the many misfortunes that could have unfolded had you not been there to guide him.

Many, many parsecs away, you gazed at the stars through thick transparisteel with forlorn eyes. Your many tormenters—one of which included your own conscience—taunted you, but their voices became muffled as you diverted your focus to a different, more uplifting hypothetical, wondering on about the pit of shame you would have been wallowing in had Wolffe not picked you up out of the pile of bantha shit you'd gotten yourself into simply by introducing yourself to a crew that wished you'd never existed. 

Every minute he had to spare, he was attempting to patch through a transmission in hopes of cheering you up. He could have picked anyone to surrender his love to—someone more beautiful, more confident—but he had to pick you.

       "Officer L/N. The Admiral wants you on the bridge." One of the OODs' voices crackled onto the comm on your sleeve, snapping you out of your star-studded reverie. Peeling your eyes away from the glimmering beauty of space, you dashed for the elevator.        

       "Tell him that I'll be there in a few." You called out while slipping into the lift. The door opened to the command bridge, where the admiral stood admiring the vacuum of deep space as you had a couple of floors below.

“L/N." He began. "General Koon has informed me that the offensive against Separatist blockades has succeeded. Moderate to minimum damage and little casualties." Excitement began to bubble from within you. "He states that no other officer could have created an attack plan as brilliant and niche as yours, L/N. He considers you to be one of his best tacticians."

"I am honored to receive such praise from General Koon, Admiral. I only consider this a part of my duty as a strategic officer." 

"You certainly should be, L/N. This assault was one of our campaign's most successful by far. We have scheduled shore leave in two rotations, L/N. Keep up the good work." With a curt nod, you pivoted on your heels and exited the bridge.

Every inch of Wolffe's body was tingling with electric excitement. He couldn't possibly wait a second longer until he could finally hold you in his arms, unlike the incorporeal hologram he'd been speaking to for endless rotations. As the Reverence entered the atmosphere and his ship neared the hangar's tractor beams, he felt as if he could feel your Force signature on the ship, even though he wasn't Force-sensitive. 

The ship slowed to a stop, backing into the hangar bay. Wolffe was quick to jump down the ramp and onto the hangar, much to the surprise of his brothers and commanding officer still on board.

"Are you in a rush, Commander?" Quipped said commanding officer. The Kel Dor Jedi was making his way down the ramp, watching amusedly as Wolffe searched the bustling hangar for what seemed to be nothing in particular. 

"Yeah, where are you going so quickly?" Comet inquired, appearing from within the ship with Sinker and Boost on his heels. "Maybe he's looking for his girlfriend ," he whispered to the two, who cast knowing, side-eyed glances at each other.

You were cloistered away in your office, agonizing over several datapads and a rather large and complicated star map. Anxiously running a hand through your hair, your eyes flitted from one barrage of glowing blue Aurebesh to another. 

"Our campaign, our offensive." You muttered frantically. "I can feel the dark circles under my eyes growing." You pulled up yet another intricate star map, this time depicting a different sector. "Intel says there's a blockade here, here, and here...there, too..." 

Your thought process had already been set into motion as you first inspected the loose estimates of the Separatist numbers. Then, according to that, you instinctively began to formulate the optimal course of action—after months of long nights of studying for exams and even longer nights of strategizing aboard the Reverence and formerly the Triumphant, formulating battle strategies like so had become second nature to you. 

"The last two-pronged 'bident' attack might have been successful upon deployment of the Y-wings, but can we really guarantee the success—or predict the failure—of a Y-wing bombing run or a Torrent fighter attack?" You mused. 

"Oh my Force, she's back at it again..." You heard a fellow naval officer groan from across the office. “Karking hell, shut the kriff up!”

"Back again at what, exactly?" A familiarly gruff voice nearly made you trip over your abandoned desk chair from standing up so quickly. The big-mouthed officer from the other side of the office shut himself up immediately, standing ramrod straight and saluting stiffly. Prying your eyes away from the star maps, you saw the most welcome sight of all—Wolffe, tossing his helmet to the ground with a clatter as lurched over your desk to cup your face in his warm, gloved hands. You shimmied around your closet-like office space to throw your arms around his neck, closing in for a passionate and well-deserved kiss, filled with all of the emotions that had lost themselves in all of the sleepless nights you'd spent apart. 

"You don't know how happy I am to see you again." You breathed, melting in his embrace. Admiring the facial features that had been the object of ridicule by your bullies, Wolffe showed an air of concern at the dark shadows making themselves prominent under your drained-looking eyes. 

"You don't look too good, mesh’la. Have you been getting enough sleep?"

"Sleep can wait when an entire fleet is at risk." You answered, slipping out of his arms and making your way out of the office. You sat yourself back down at your cluttered desk, putting your head in your hands. Wolffe opted to lean against the doorframe.

"I heard from General Plo that your strategy was a success." Wolffe began. "He thinks very highly of you, Y/N."

"And so I've heard." You droned sardonically, peering at the clone commander from over your hands. "The Admiral told me all about it. How was your ground campaign?"

"Well, your advice worked wonders for our medical team. Your instructions alone saved dozens of good men out there, Y/N." 

"I'm just doing my job, Wolffe. It's all in a day's work. Any other borderline competent naval officer could have told you how to buy bacta." You replied. Wolffe sighed, taking a seat atop your desk and grasping your hands.

"You've gotta be bluffing. I can't think of any other officer who takes control of a situation like you do." 

"Really? I'm not that special."

"Are you kidding me, Y/N? Have you really been listening in on whatever those grunts are saying? Look at you." Wolffe released your hands and reached over to let a hand graze over your cheek. "Look at the wit in those eyes. You're smarter than what you give yourself credit for." Before Wolffe could continue, your comm chirped.

“Officer L/N speaking,”

"Officer?" The Admiral’s voice made you jump. "I wanted you to know that General Koon and I have put in a good word for you on the subject of promotion to a higher rank that is to be determined." 

"Really?" You sat up in your office chair, staring incredulously at your comm.

“Congratulations, L/N. Keep up the good work.”

"Need I say more?" Wolffe cast you a lopsided smile, eyes twinkling. "You're one of a kind, Y/N. Don't let anyone else tell you otherwise." He pulled you in for a kiss. 

"One of a kind, huh?" You mumbled into the kiss.

"That's right." Wolffe firmly believed that there wasn't a single person in the galaxy that could compare to you. Your ingenuity, astuteness, and acuity illuminated the black-and-white, never-ending crusade he had been born into.

“You’re my one and only.”

Thanks for reading - I really appreciate it.

Let me know if you want to be a part of my general or Star Wars taglists.

[anderperrylover]

THOUGHTS? DEAD POET'S SOCIETY EDITION

Just thoughts I wanted to get out there

So Dead Poet's Society? Right? Now that I think of it was a film that came out when my dad was in his like late teens (technically he was around the same age as some of the cast). And somehow this film - made and released during their time has been one that resonated with the next generation? I am looking at the film and thinking, and I couldn't help but wonder.

I am not talking specifically about the aesthetic or anything but namely how this one film was definitely not made for my demographic. However - 35 or so years later I read a post here or come across a playlist or an edit or a series of head canons - I see how much this single film has impacted generations who came after.

I relate to this film on a very personal level (put the shipping factors aside). I remember watching scenes with Neil and I could almost recall having similar conversations in life and I had to take a step back and think as to why I wanted to block this film out for a while. I resonated with Todd as a writer but also as someone who had a very similar experience (shy - lack of confidence - but one who found their people). Other than that there were relationships within the story that made me look back at the ones I have and had and all that I am grateful for.

Also as a coming of age film I feel like it is one of the most realistic ones out there. The themes and the extremely bittersweet ending are raw and it hit me like a pile of bricks. The fact that they fell apart because of the things they loved - the heart of the group not being there made things drift apart - and those dreamers and poets who speak out are the ones to leave behind a deeply flawed system (and the cause and reason and leaving is depicted in extremely sad ways - they might give up on everything - or be kicked out for what they believed in - or carry extreme guilt for the rest of their lives) - There are those who fall in love and the ones that betray you and all of that can happen in just a few month. Things that took years to build like friendships and fellowships can crumble because of something external and all you believed in might not fix that.

(Also something weird just jog my memory if I am wrong but throughout the film these three use O Captain, My Captain - and its all in important moments - The last one to use it is Todd - Which I just think just captures his growth - he's taken up the confidence brought by two of his closest friends and a teacher who changed his life for at least a small fraction in time)

I had a few teachers in my life like Keating. They are the reason I never gave up on writing or doing things I love. They gave me reason to believe that I had something small I could put to use - I had a teacher who taught me at 14 who told me to never give up writing and another teacher who told me to continue writing poetry - another who showed to me that I should continue to fall in love with reading - another who showed me that the world was beyond the academics (as I studied classics - it was far more than that cookie cutter stereotype) - Also Keating as a teacher who actually listens - who is there to guide and help the boxes that literally hold students in uniformity

I don't know why - and how a film from the past can have such an impact on me in the 21st century - Very few films have impacted me in this manner and most of the films that have impacted me in that way were released in my lifetime. That being said I think myself lucky to have this to go back to. The film is a cathartic ritual of living, laughing in the moment and weeping and crying afterwards.

[power-chords]

apologies if you've explained this already, but tumblr search is trash, so I have to ask... why the obsession with michael mann, how did that start?

Oh, man. It’s a long story! In the early days of the pandemic I got a call from my favorite rock musician that he had read a short essay I’d written on his solo album, and he wanted me to contribute a piece to his band’s forthcoming box set. Dream come true obviously, couldn’t say no, so I immediately buckled down on the research end, which for me involved a deeper dive into said musician’s love of film. Mann was on the list of suspects alongside more definitive entries like Coppola and Scorsese, but that turned out to be a happy accident of misreading. (Major shout out to Adam here, by the way, because without his guidance I would have been working with a much more meandering home-brewed syllabus.)

I enjoy movies like any properly adjusted American but they don’t tend to put a spell on me the way music does, or make me want to disassemble the whole contraption piece by piece like a good written story. And Mann’s work was the first time I’d ever encountered films that could have the same effect on me as music and literature. They were hypnotic and enchanting and propulsive, like my favorite records, but they also suggested this dense subterranean architecture of potential meaning, obscured from immediate view but very much there and carefully, deliberately encoded. In other words, these films were like texts imploring (really, daring) you to interpret them.

That’s Mann’s methodology in a nutshell, basically — it’s a seduction gambit, and on me it worked spectacularly! It tapped into my grotesque hedonic animal brain and sparked an intellectual curiosity as well. For me that combination has a narcotic quality that’s hard to explain, but I have an addictive personality. And the more I watched his work, the more it ensnared me like The Footage.* (“WHAT is going on? What is this film doing to me??” Etc.) You have to understand I have no prior experiential basis for this, so as far as I’m concerned it’s witchcraft. By the time I turn in my piece for the box set I have this collateral situation developing, ha ha, oh no, and here I am three years later.

Initially I had wondered if Mann had been an influence on Dulli, but it turned out to be a case of convergent evolution. Or something akin to it. I think they’re just similar in terms of what subject matter they’re attracted to, maybe in their modes of perception and how they make aesthetic/narrative sense of the world. And there is some part of me that keys into that sensibility — whichever part precedes organized expression, maybe even conscious comprehension — and finds it cathartic and liberating and all that good stuff. (I’m a Safety First adrenaline junkie these days so I try to limit my habits to art and pop culture.)

And then he and Meg Gardiner co-wrote an actual book which provoked further investigations, escalations, whatever you want to call them. It turns out that the abyss really DOES stare back into you in the form of numerous spooky historical coincidences. I’m like afraid of Heat 2 at this point because the more I go trawling around in there the more it becomes an eldritch object, LOL. I’m the closest anyone has come to living the film Jumanji, let me put it that way. But the experience has been a blast. And I feel fortunate to have found yet another creator on par with Dulli and Townshend whose work I will be able to take with me and return to over the course of my life, and seek shelter in in that way.

*EVERYBODY READ PATTERN RECOGNITION BY WILLIAM GIBSON!