#might elaborate when i get back might not

[berryz-writes]

Blue

Azriel x reader

Summary: There's a large contrast between the warm and gentle Az you get to enjoy versus the cold and quiet demeanour he reserves for others

Note: FIRST FULL WEEK I HAVE THINGS PLANNED OUT FOR. this isn't entirely my favourite but fuck it we ball <33 enjoy lovelies

@azrielappreciationweek day 1

The kitchen is a warm, flour-dusted haven, filled with the sweet scent of sugar and vanilla as Azriel leans over my shoulder, watching me whisk the batter with an amused glint in his eyes.

“You know,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my neck, “you could just let me do that.” He slips his arms around my waist, pulling me gently against him. “Your hands might get tired.”

I laugh, nudging him with my elbow. “I think I can handle a little whisking.” I turn to face him, catching the soft, rare smile that lights his face, the one that only appears when it’s just us. I lean up, brushing a light kiss to his lips, and feel him pull me closer, his fingers resting at the small of my back.

“Hmm,” he hums, deep and quiet, his lips lingering just a moment longer. “You taste like sugar.”

“You’re distracting me,” I say, trying and failing to keep a straight face.

“Good,” he replies, his voice low. His gaze drops to the cupcakes cooling on the counter, and he raises an eyebrow. “They’re missing something.”

“Exactly,” I sigh, surveying the icing jars and realizing I’ve run out of the last colour I need. I hesitate, glancing at him, knowing he’s had a long week of missions and should probably be resting. But he just tilts his head, a patient smile on his face, like he already knows what I’m about to ask.

“Could you pick up more icing for me?” I ask, brushing a bit of flour off his cheek, unable to hide my smile. “Please?”

He chuckles softly, reaching up to tuck a stray hair behind my ear. “Anything for you.” There’s a gentle warmth in his eyes, a soft devotion that melts me from the inside out.

As he steps back, he squeezes my hand. “Save a few for me?”

“All of them,” I reply with a grin, watching as he heads to the door, wings stretching wide in the golden afternoon light. He gives me one last look before taking off, a dark silhouette against the sky.

Azriel's POV

Flying over the city, my mind lingers on her, the soft warmth of her laugh, the way her eyes light up when I walk into the room. She’s goddess incarnate, far too perfect for me.

The cold air rushes past as I fly, enjoying the time to stretch out my wings to their fullest.

But halfway through my journey, I feel Rhysand’s voice slip into my thoughts, quiet and laced with urgency.

Azriel, we have a guest in the dungeons. I need answers from him if you're available, it's urgent

I think about his words. Maybe if it had been a few months ago Rhys wouldn't have added the part of me being "available" knowing I was waiting at the chance to distract my mind. But ever since y/n walked into my life it was getting easier and easier to spend days doing nothing except enjoy her company. No torture sessions. No constant dagger sharpening. Just time spent with her.

Fine.

Was the simple reply I gave. It would only take a few minutes of my time.

The warmth I felt just minutes ago fades as I turn, heading down toward the underground jail, where shadows and silence reign. My shadows coil tighter around me, sharper, attuned to the work at hand as I descend into the dim halls of the dungeon.

The heavy door creaks open, and I step inside to find the prisoner chained to a chair, his gaze faltering as he meets mine. He tries to summon some defiance, but I can see the fear flicker beneath it, his breaths shallow as my shadows drift closer, surrounding him in darkness. This won’t take long.

I approach him slowly, letting each step echo off the stone walls. Leaning forward, I let my voice drop to a low, controlled murmur, knowing how much more effective a whisper can be. “Let's make this quick. Tell me everything you know"

I didn't have to elaborate on what I meant by everything. He knew what I was here for and I would get it one way or another.

He’s silent at first, eyes darting, and I can see him calculating his options. But there’s no fight in him, not against what he senses I’m capable of. My shadows close in, tightening like a noose around him, each word I speak dripping with cold intent.

After a slow drag of my dagger down the column of his neck the information begins to spill out, fast and frantic. I listen carefully, never blinking, absorbing each detail.

No need for lost blood; I extract every piece with surgical precision, each question laced with the promise of what could happen if he resists. Soon, he’s left shuddering, broken, and silent.

I silently thank the cauldron he didn't make this difficult otherwise I would have to clean up before getting to my wife and the thought of keeping her waiting was not something I enjoyed.

Before I leave, I pause, tilting my head as I look down at him with one last, almost casual question. “Pick a colour.”

His face twists in confusion, fear giving way to bewilderment. “Uh… blue,” he stammers, his voice barely above a whisper.

I give him a curt nod, acknowledging his choice before I turn and leave him to the shadows that linger. As I step into the fresh air aboveground, I make my way to a small shop, selecting a container of bright blue icing, a flash of colour that feels strange against the cold efficiency of what I’ve just done.

When I arrive home, I find her at the counter, surrounded by stacks of sweet heaven. She lights up as she sees me, her eyes crinkling with happiness. "Az! Thank you my love" she says, taking the container and pressing a warm kiss to my cheek.

I'd be lying if i said I didn't melt.

But then she pauses, glancing at me, a flicker of something unreadable in her gaze. “What took so long?”

I shake my head, not wanting her to worry “You don’t need to worry” I murmur, my voice gentle. “Rhys just needed something done”

She watches me closely, as if weighing my words, a knowing look in her eyes. But she doesn’t press. Instead, she smiles softly, letting her fingers brush over mine as she returns to her cupcakes.

I linger there, watching her work, feeling the lightness return to my chest as I settle back into the life we share. She doesn’t push, and I’m grateful.

With her I feel like life is worth living.

note: should have azriel year tbh

[truearchangel]

   “The thing about your question is the level in which one sin is judged over another. If you are asking if we would consider the act of lying to protect oneself as a sin, the answer will be yes. As one lie will always lead to another, and another after another. When one begins to lie, the next lie becomes even easier. However, the weight that such a lie will carry when judged upon death is slim to nearly none.” Michael shook his head slightly before elaborating a bit. “The reason for which the sin is committed is not weighed within the judgment, that is not a choice I make, it is simply how the Heavenly order functions.” 

   The worst thing about being so high up is that people believe Michael makes more decisions than he actually does. Blame is placed on him for things he has no control over, judgment laid upon him for choices that are rules he cannot change. Michael might be the Right Hand of God and his Sword, but in truth all that does is make him a very shiny pawn for his Father to use. Not even a tool the deity likes all that much, but it’s hard to say if he genuinely loved anyone who wasn’t Lucifer. 

   And look where that landed his brother. 

   A quick and sharp breath was taken, an attempt to shake those thoughts from his mind. They don’t help him here, and they’ll serve no purpose other than just upsetting him. The questions he was down here to find were wrapped up in feelings like that and if he wished to get back to Heaven, he couldn’t think that way. 

   “Your hotel for example, let’s discuss the way I am judging if it works or not.” He sat up a bit straighter and tapped the table, summoning a piece of paper and one of his pen’s with wings on it from his desk upstairs. He picked the pen up and started drawing a graph for the Radio Demon. “As you are aware, sins drag people into Hell. Certain sins, like murder for example, are an instant ride down here. The reason for the murder doesn’t factor in. To take a life is against one of the Ten Commandments, if you take one you are doomed to Hell.” Accident, self-defense, intentional, rage filled, plotted or not. Murder was all the same, and it earned someone a trip downstairs. 

   “Now, to get into Heaven, one must commit virtues. There are seven of them, all of which my brothers and I oversee, much like your Seven Deadly Sins down here. I myself am the Virtue of Humility.” He spins the paper around and shows the graph to Alastor. “To get into Heaven, your virtues must outweigh your sins.” He tapped the horrifying drawing of Alastor. “Understand?”

"Considering how dry your commentary is, at times, one may mistake you for the one with no sense of humor. Therefore, I was a bit concerned as to the level of understanding you had about my anatomy."

But he could breathe slightly easier knowing that he did not have to explain to an angel that he did not, in fact, lay eggs. Though that probably couldn't be said for all Sinners... But then again... Sinners didn't exactly procreate...

The train of thought stole away with him for the briefest of moments as he stared silently down at his food before he shook it off of its track and continued eating, one of his ears giving a slight flick at Michael's insistence that he would not possibly lie. Admittedly, that little bit of defensiveness had Alastor facing him with a small, yet smug expression. No lies, hm.

"Do you ever wonder if things are considered sins for a reason, or was it just a willy nilly decision made for the sake of establishing a rule?" Reaching out, he took the plate being offered and easily jabbed a fork into it to carry on with his own munching. If Michael determined him to be a bit of a bottomless pit, then he would be correct. Though the longer he remained in Alastor's company, the more readily that would be apparent.

"A thought experiment, if you will. Take, for example, a woman who must lie to a man to keep him from outright assaulting her. To lie about being diseased, or having other commitments, or that she's called the authorities, it really doesn't matter the content of the lie. But in the moment, is that something worth punishing for?"

It was not an attempt at a gotcha - There was some genuine curiosity in the question; but that may have not always came across very well when it came to Alastor's own manipulative reputation.

[toxintouch]

Started out as an elaborate “draw me like one of your French girls” joke and spiraled outta control from there... @lu-dao-writes posted the same scenario in their Kinktober 2024 and they were kind enough to give me their blessing to post my take! Please check out their fics as well!  If this scenario in particular interests you, I rec you this post! :3

Further details below the cut so that the above the cut stays safe for anyone who is just scrolling through!

18+ Content MDNI || VERE x AIS x Reader

PROMPT/KINK(S): Dom!Vere, Dacryphilia (Tears)* + Cockwarming + Size Difference + Consensual Voyeurism. Power Play. (Some feral monsterfucking spice sprinkled v lightly on top.) [*original challenge prompt, randomizer used.]

OTHER INFO: “You” pronouns used for MC/Reader. Unspecified genitalia for both POV Character and Vere but Ais has a dick. Reader is the receiving partner in penetrative sex.

“Hmm, hold that pose,” Vere purrs.

Ais huffs a hot breath into your face as he freezes above you.  His brows furrow, mouth twisting into a determined grimace as he grits his teeth.  His forearms tense hard where they are resting on either side of you, fingers flexing against the silken sheets.

You can feel him pulsing inside of you.  A hot, insistent ache.

You try to relax, try to breathe through it but the lack of movement makes you hyper aware of every inch, the raw feeling of him stretching you open, the way your body twitches so sickly-sweet with the effort.  You inhale a slow, shaking breath, chest trembling, and shut your eyes in an attempt to block out some of the sensations—the clawing need gnawing at your core.

“Eyes open, darling,” Vere corrects you, tone somewhere firmly between scolding and teasing.  “And turn your face back towards Ais.  I’m trying to capture the moment .”  Your heart is pounding in your ears but you can hear Vere’s smooth, sly voice with perfect clarity.  Ais is an overwhelming force but Vere is a magnetic presence; no matter how caught up in each other you and Ais can get, Vere will always command attention without effort.

You turn your chin as requested, only to be caught in Ais’ gaze

(Caught and breathless–the same way you were when he was bullying his thick length into your hole, thrusting sharply and sighing in satisfaction, his fingers still at work massaging and pressing and stroking as he sunk into you inch by inch; he'd prepared you until your entrance was puffy and swollen, sopping with thick, medicinal smelling lube and he still had to take his time.  Fucking you slowly until you could take all of him.  And then, the moment you finally could...)

“Hmm, that's better.  Stay just like that.  Let me see those pretty expressions.”  You hear Vere adjusting his heavy vellum paper.  The glide of quick, clever lines being drawn.

You maintain eye contact with Ais, drunk off his breath, his body, the very essence of him, hovering so close above you, and are utterly unprepared to meet his intensity.  The way he looks at you like he’s seconds from devouring you, barely held in check by the challenge that Vere has laid before him.  Before both of you.

You bite into your lower lip as you shift involuntarily, oversensitive nerves still riding the throbbing of Ais’ dick.  He’s so fucking thick and girthy that he presses at the soft spot inside you without even trying. The angry pulse of him is a gratifying thrum, stoking your aching heat by way of mere burgeoning contact.

His cock gives another strong twitch and your insides clench around him.  He feels so fucking good–you almost think you might be able to come like this, if you can get your body to keep on clenching like that. 

—Almost.

Your next breath comes out as a sob.  There’s a high pitched whine building at the base of your throat and your lashes are wet when you blink.

A monstrous snarl escapes Ais’ lips, one that you can feel even more than you can hear, the vibration of it echoing through your body everywhere you're pressed against him.  The pinnacle between your thighs pulses with it, and your toes curl involuntarily as an errant tear runs down your cheek.  Ais is shaking, sweat dampening his face, his pupils expanding and contracting rapidly, his eyes locked on you as he barely holds himself back.  “Sparrow,” he says, gravel in his tone. 

You say his name in return, your head tipping involuntarily, bearing the softness of your throat, faded marks from both your lovers decorating your skin.  You hear the sheets rip below you, torn into shreds where Ais’ nails have dug into them.

Vere sighs pointedly.  You hear him stop his work, tap his charcoal against the paper as if he’s not entirely satisfied with the scene in front of him.  He pauses for a long time, leaving you both in limbo.

When he moves, it’s to stand.  To saunter over to you both.  You’re pinned beneath Ais, unable to look away, but you can feel Vere’s shadow fall over you just before his hand touches your face, forcing your eyes to his as he catches a crystalline tear with his index finger.

“Shame,” he says, dipping his fingers into his mouth, his tongue lapping up the taste of your tears, lavishing the digits with his tongue.  You whine out a desperate, quiet note just from watching his tongue at work and he basks knowingly in the attention.  “I really thought I could get you both crying.”  He smiles dangerously once his fingers have left his mouth. 

He uses them to drag a wet path down Ais' spine.  “Oh, but the night is still young.  Perhaps I may still think of something that will do the trick...”

18+ Master List | SFW Master List ✦"Kinktober Speedrun & Other Gratuitous (TOUCHSTARVED) Smut" on Ao3

[identitty-dickruption]

ooooh can you elaborate on how the concept of objectivity and truth are rooted in colonialism and imperial structures

I sure can!

okay so first thing to say is that everything I'm about to say has been said better and fancier by Linda Tuhiwai-Smith in her book Decolonising Methodologies. second thing to say is that I am from the school of interpretivism in political science (similar to constructivism in sociology), and we are constantly ridiculed for hating science. third thing to say is that I do not actually hate science

now for the big caveat: I respect science. it can have a lot to offer the world. as a disabled person, I fully understand that I would be dead without science and that science allows me to get cool surgeries etc etc

alright. now for my answer. it comes to you in three parts, because there is a lot of explaining I have to do before I can really get to the root of the matter

'objectivity' is meaningless

the first thing you have to understand is that nothing is free from human interpretation. we understand the world through the language we have for various phenomena that we might view internally or externally from ourselves. the classic example of this is colour, right? colour is 'real', in the sense that there are different light wavelengths that interact with our eyes in certain ways. but it's also 'not real', in that every person on the planet has a different definition of what counts under each colour category. my blue is not your blue. this gets more complex when you consider that some languages have a higher or lower number of colour words than others

if things are that complex when it comes to something like colour, you can bet it gets a lot worse when you're talking about topics that are even more complicated and politically contentious. this is where science comes in

what counts as 'knowledge'?

what is 'scientific'?

what does it mean for something to be 'true'?

there are no objective answers to any of these questions. and I don't think that's a bad thing. the issue here is the insistence that, with enough time and energy, objectivity can be achieved and everything will eventually be able to be Known

enforcing objectivity is oppressive

the illusion of objectivity is a tool to cover up underlying ideologies at the root of scientific institutions. here's the logic we're all taught

if something is objective, that means it is inarguably true

if something is true, that means it is apolitical

if something is apolitical, acting upon that information is neutral and harmless

in these discussions, people often bring up certain parts of scientific study as if they are things of the past. "people used to think race science was the objective truth!" bitch, they still do. "science was once used to justify eugenics" bitch, it still is. when 'objectivity' is treated as the opposite of 'political', powerful institutions are able to justify their pre-existing political commitments through the lens of 'science'. that does not mean that there are no possible truths at the heart of what they are studying. BUT all truth is seen through the lens of human interpretation, and all human interpretation is through the lens of culturally and politically contingent factors

"scientists may have isolated the gay gene" is not a politically neutral statement. it is a statement that expresses the following beliefs:

being gay is deviant from normal human development

the distinction between 'gay' and 'not gay' is 100% natural, as opposed to a specific way some humans have chosen to organise categories of sexual attraction

once a scientific cause is found for homosexuality, it would be possible (and possibly good!) to then eradicate homosexuality in part or in full

genetics is an interesting one, because the entire establishment of it as a field of study is rooted in eugenics. I refer back to race science. I refer back to the on-going fixation with breaking down race into genetically identifiable categories. anyone who has ever done a 23&me genetic test for racial identification purposes has, to some degree, bought into the concept of race science and the concept of race as an objective truth. when we believe that race is a scientific phenomenon rather than a cultural/social one, we also believe the lies of white supremacy

I also urge you to ponder: isn't it such a wonderful coincidence that the centre of all objectively true knowledge production just coincidentally happened to be Europe? weren't the European peoples so so blessed when the lord handed them down the concept of the scientific method? <- not saying the scientific method is bullshit, but I do encourage you to think about what ideologies these narratives reinforce

objective science was a tool of colonialism, and continues to act as such

the various ways we imagine different First Nations people around the world is often in relation to their position in knowledge production. think about the noble savage, who is untouched by the horrors of 'humanity', and yet has access to some secret mystical knowledges. think also about the role of the white missionary, who beneficently brings knowledge and truth to the unaware colonised peoples

'The Academy', as a colonial institution, acted (and continues to act) as the white missionary. they bring colonised peoples the gift of Truth, as if those peoples had never encountered knowledge or knowledge production before. when a Proper Scientist discovers that a particular group of First Nations people had their own scientific methods, it is always reported back to the white world in a surprised + condescending tone. look! it turns out that Australian First Nations art isn't meaningless and it actually tends to be a tool of passing down knowledge in these communities! isn't that so beautiful for them! even as First Nations knowledges are starting to be introduced in university settings, they are introduced from the viewpoint of white knowledge

because we hold up objective science as the One True Goal Of All Knowledge, we are unable to put multiple sciences side-by-side, and see them as equal bases for knowledge production. instead, we continue to try and find white reasons for First Nations truths. because we pretend that it is possible to see Truth without first seeing our own interpretations of truth, we enforce and reinforce colonial knowledges. these issues cannot be encountered properly if we refuse to see science itself as contestable

okay I'm done now

yeah that's kind of the best way I could think of to explain it all. I am so sorry that it ended up so long, and that I meandered in so many different directions. I hope it all makes sense :)

[inkspiredwriting]

just like his father

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Warnings: none

It was a typical, chaotic afternoon in the Hargreeves household. Five Hargreeves was pacing around the living room, juggling phone calls and paperwork from the CIA. His wife, Y/n, was busy in the kitchen, preparing a snack for their two young children. Their daughter Maddie was playing with her dolls, creating an elaborate tea party setup on the floor.

“Maddie, keep your dolls away from the kitchen table, okay? We don’t want them to get hurt,” Y/n, called over her shoulder.

“Yes, Mommy!” Maddie replied, giggling as she moved her dolls to the safety of the living room rug.

Milo, their mischievous three-year-old son, was playing with a set of colorful building blocks nearby. He babbled happily to himself, stacking the blocks into a precarious tower.

“Alright, just one more call,” Five said, glancing at Y/n with a tired smile. “Then I’m all yours.”

Y/n nodded, returning his smile. “No rush. Just trying to keep the peace here.”

“Peace?” Five chuckled. “In this house? Good luck with that.”

Y/n was pouring juice into a small cup for Milo when she heard a strange popping sound from the living room. She turned just in time to see Milo disappear and reappear a few feet away.

“Uh, Five?” Y/n called, her eyes wide. “You might want to see this.”

Five ended his call abruptly and walked into the living room. “What’s up?” he asked, looking around.

“Watch Milo,” Y/n said, pointing to their son, who was now staring at the spot where he had been.

Five watched as Milo’s face scrunched up in concentration. There was another pop, and he vanished again, reappearing even further away.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Five muttered, running a hand through his hair. “He’s got it. He’s got my powers.”

Y/n’s eyes widened even further. “You mean... he can jump through space and time like you?”

“Looks like it,” Five said, crouching down next to Milo. “Hey, buddy, can you do that again for Daddy?”

Milo looked up at Five with a big grin. “Jump!” he said, clapping his hands. With a pop, he vanished and reappeared on the couch, still smiling broadly.

“That’s incredible,” Y/n whispered, walking over to join them. “But... also a little terrifying.”

“Tell me about it,” Five said, lifting Milo off the couch and setting him back on the floor. “We need to figure out how to teach him control. And fast.”

After a quick consultation, Five and Y/n decided to take Milo outside for some practice. They found a quiet spot in the backyard where they could work with him without too many distractions.

“Okay, Milo,” Five said, crouching down again. “Let’s see if you can jump to Mommy.”

Y/n stood a few feet away, holding out her arms. “Come on, sweetie! You can do it!”

Milo’s face lit up with excitement. He clapped his hands again and vanished, reappearing in Y/n’s arms. She caught him, laughing.

“That’s my boy!” Five said, grinning. “You’re a natural.”

Maddie, who had been watching from the porch, clapped her hands in delight. “Can I jump too, Daddy?”

“Maybe someday,” Five said, winking at her. “For now, let’s just focus on keeping Milo from teleporting into the neighbor’s yard.”

“Or the future,” Y/n added, giving Five a pointed look.

Dinner was a lively affair, as always. Milo’s newfound powers added an extra layer of excitement. Every few minutes, he would disappear from his high chair and reappear somewhere else in the kitchen.

“We’re going to have to set some ground rules,” Y/n said, catching Milo as he reappeared on the counter. “No teleporting during meals.”

“Good luck with that,” Five said, smirking as he helped Milo back into his high chair. “He’s got a mind of his own.”

“Wonder where he gets that from?” Y/n teased, raising an eyebrow at Five.

“No idea,” Five replied, grinning.

Bedtime was another challenge. Five and Y/n tucked Milo into his crib and turned on his nightlight, hoping for a peaceful night.

“Okay, buddy, it’s time for sleep,” Five said, brushing Milo’s hair back. “No jumping out of your crib, alright?”

“Jump!” Milo said, giggling.

“No, no jumping,” Y/n said firmly. “Just sleep.”

They both kissed Milo goodnight and quietly left the room, leaving the door slightly ajar.

“Do you think he’ll stay put?” Y/n asked as they walked down the hall.

“Probably not,” Five admitted. “But we’ll deal with it. One step at a time.”

Five and Y/n were sitting in the living room, enjoying a rare moment of peace and quiet. Five had his arm around Y/n, and she was resting her head on his shoulder.

“I can’t believe Milo has your powers,” Y/n said softly. “It’s... a lot to take in.”

“Yeah,” Five said, nodding. “But we’ll manage. We always do.”

“Do you think he’ll have the same abilities as you? Jumping through time and space?” Y/n asked, looking up at him.

“It’s hard to say,” Five replied. “He’s still so young. But whatever happens, we’ll be there to help him.”

“We’re in this together,” Y/n said, squeezing his hand.

“Always,” Five said, kissing the top of her head. “No matter what.”

They sat in comfortable silence, grateful for each other and ready to face the challenges that lay ahead. Together, they knew they could handle anything.

[devotedlystrangewizard]

actually ketheric is such a good foil for the dark urge and it will make me a little insane

[lucabyte]

transfem loop + siffrin... you agree

i does agree.... i does in fact ... write a 7k word essay on the subject..... if you would like to perhaps click that link and read it if you were not already aware...... kisses u on the forehead......... sorry its that long but i had to cover all of my bases you know how it is with textual analysis when you're trying to draw a distinction between "headcanon" and "reading of the text" because those are different things.... to meeeeeeee.......

[venelona]

I might lack the motivation to see it through, but I really like your dazatsu works, so I was wondering how you motivate yourself to create fanfiction? How do you get into the headspace of the characters?

Motivation is a fickle mistress, it's hard to say what EXACTLY motivates me. I guess the best answer is 'I write the fanfic I wish there was'. The true 'write what you want to read', I am usually really motivated to write something I wish to read so badly - a hole in the market, or a certain concept I wish I could do my way that would cater to all the things I like.

Since I also primarily write shipping fanfics, engaging with canon/fanart/other fanfics on the pair also motivates me greatly. Reminds me of why I like the characters and want to write about them in the first place

I quite like getting into the headspace of the characters, at least those I like a lot, haha. For me, it's always the question of "would this character to this?" - when I think of them doing or saying something, I think back on what I know of the character, if there were similar situations to this one in the canon and try to think what would be the most logical thing for that character to do. Like puzzle pieces - canon gives you puzzle pieces, and you can either arrange them how you want, or see what new pieces can fit to existing ones.

I think just good thing to keep in mind when you writing a character do something is the question of 'why are they doing this'. The why's come from their personality, their past or the circumstances of the story (the events or even the rules of the world)

Also, something that motivates me and I'm very lucky to have - good community! Comments are a wonderful motivation. And the power of friends?? Absolutely amazing. Half my motivation to finish things is solely to talk to my writing friends about it 😂

I'm happy you like my works, thank you so much!

[twelverriver]

au: buffy and faith are in a pop rock band called The Slayers. buffy is the lead singer, faith plays the bass and does backing vocals. faith keeps fucking every single person in their band and their crew and buffy isn’t jealous. when they Do they together they’re absolutely obnoxious and faith keeps spilling things about their private life on stage with a smirk and a wink and buffy is really embarrassed but also thinks faith’s super hot while she’s doing it, so she doesn’t mind that much. 

[theinfernalcalypso]

📌

[science-lings]

I know it can be a little annoying when in fanfic characters are reduced to being matchmakers for their friends but sometimes it’s just so in character for a guys bestie to incorporate him in a complicated scheme and said bestie definitely has their own secondary motivations about it.

Anyway Maya would crack after a while of Pearl being convinced that Nick is her special someone and trying to set them up so she would totally feel the need to resort to desperate measures. It would also kill two birds with one stone bc maybe if Phoenix and Edgeworth finally got their shit together and just made out a bit, Maya would finally stop having to endure their relentless pining. Maybe Nick would stop being such a whiny little bitch all the time.

[here-there-were-dragons]

judging by the "fixes" they've applied to fern and i'm fairly sure also to a few other genes, they likely intend to flatten and generic-ify EVERY gene that does anything interesting with especially the top feathers portion of the wings. :/

[just-eyris-things]

screaming crying sobbing throwing up someone fed my art to ai :)

[jrueships]

diggs isn't leaving his contract got restructured a few days ago 😭 https://twitter.com/FieldYates/status/1635806231691505665?s=20

diggs doing all that drama just to restructure and fly his ass off to Paris so he doesn't have to hear the hoorays or celebrations..

[devotedlystrangewizard]

the school arc to me is so good because it drags ciel out of his position as a powerful figure and literally places him in the shoes of the person he could have been. the circus arc ALSO drags him out of his position as big bad queens watch dog/head of the phantomhive estate but the school arc feels like a mockery of a future that never was. this is what he could have been had his parents not died. and even then its NOT because he will never be that kid.

he never was.

[thefunniestguy]

come along with me scene in golb’s stomach . send tweet