#stop turning black people into animals

[booksrbetterthanpeople]

I’M BAAAAACK!

[burinazar]

Alright someone actually said they couldn’t find my takes and wanted to know and unfortunately I do love to Yap so here’s a post about my Wicked feelings. It’s now been a very long time since I directly engaged with either piece of media (the book or its musical), like, almost a decade in the case of the musical, but I’ll try to read the book again soon. As such, various parts of this may be Totally Wrong about specifics of narrative, but also…hopefully they aren’t. 

I have not seen the movie. If it diverges from the musical then I don't know about it. Consider this to be about the book and musical.

If anyone’s very emotional attached to the musical narrative, you may find this post overly negative and want to give it a skip. You have been warned. Also, obviously, spoilers for various versions follow.

 It feels very central to the point of the book for me and central to the reasons Elphie is a tragic, heroic, and emotionally resonant character that she a) essentially failed at everything she tried and achieved only incremental progress for her causes, b) died, and c) died without anyone else ever really knowing her story. This is a story that asks us “is this a life worth living, a life that you can find heroism and admirable traits in? Is it worth having tried to do the right thing the entire time if it isolates you from society and means you must live a life like this and nobody ever even KNOWS all you strived for and in the end you fail?” 

And to me the point is, yeah, it still was, and that’s why it hits so fucking hard. Although I don’t really recall how point A pans out in the musical, B and C are fundamentally undercut by, well, obviously by her not dying, but also (and maybe even more importantly?), by having Fiyero alive and Glinda knowing her story. 

The book also has this looming and relentless sense of the march and grind and brutality of colonialism, genocide, and the like (this is why it feels so important that even though she failed and died she still tried, she still fucking tried – because basically everyone in real life who meaningfully and directly opposes colonialism and totalitarian regimes see many people they care about die while they are helpless to stop it and then they die themselves and then their stories are not perceived and recorded and they don’t get to run away happily with their lover and they don’t have a best friend who knew the truth and is still around.)

Other than just the changed ending there are dozens of ways that the shiny marketable tale told in the musical reflects the neutering of these themes. I feel Turtle Heart’s existence and the related backstory of Elphie’s family is pretty fundamental since the fact Elphie’s parents were in a poly triad with an indigenous man that was publicly lynched and they both spent their lives wracked with guilt for it after is the reason her childhood was the way it was and what predisposed her to spend her entire life perceiving the horrors and injustice of the world and fighting them. Replacing all of that with ‘she is the way she is because people were mean to her because she was green’ is just insulting and depressng. Fiyero and his family also being from a culture of brown/black people that is genocided out of existence is important as well. That’s the entire reason they bond! Replacing him with a random chipper jock (usually played by a white guy, but replacing the race of the actor would absolutely not solve this issue) and getting rid of the entire plot with his wife and kids and Elphie’s guilt piled upon guilt for neither confessing to nor saving them is… is… I just can’t explain how depressing it all is, that the version with all of this cleansed and gutted is the version embraced by the world.

The entire existence of colonization and genocide of various nonwhite populations of humans as a prevalent theme in the book (and the entire reason the Wizard is bad lol. Also given he came from his world his deeds are clearly an extension of the real world enterprise of colonialism and genocide perpetuated against real life native peoples) is just swooshed out of existence in favor of, if i recall correctly, keeping literally just the talking animal oppression plot point. (And that’s toned down from speaking Animals being an ethnic minority that’s getting killed off just like the oppressed humans, to ‘in this magic land animals can talk but he wants to use magic to make them stop talking!!! :’(  anyway I, hmm, don’t love the implications of who seemed most sympathizable to the audience……but that’s probably way too cynical there.

This next part is subjective but the book also feels like it links defying oppression to gender and queerness in ways that were removed. It was written in the 90s so the explicitness of the queerness I’m going to describe would probably not really meet the standards of today almost thirty years later but it still feels prominent and serious to me. The aforementioned relationship (Frex and Turtle Heart may or may not have been sexually involved like Turtle Heart and Melena were, but the book definitely says they both  ‘loved’ him so I do consider the three of them confirmed as a queer, poly relationship), and the inclusion of an actual gay couple among Elphie’s uni friends (they later die from what I think was implied to be something of an AIDS analog; keeping in mind this book was written in the 90s that was probably fresh in many people’s memories, the positive depiction of a gay couple with fantasy AIDS would have been meaningful at the time), and the little recurring subtle thing of Elphie being mistaken for or rumoured to be intersex or defying assigned gender which feels to me like her role as a witch and disruptor is juxtaposed with the concept of witch as a gender role disruptor…unfortunately all of this is infinitely more interesting to me than whatever handwavey shippable potential lesbians are teased in the adaptation that people are obsessed with. (Although if someone likes them as a ship the part in the book where they share a bed during their journey to Oz feels very queerplatonic.)

I dunno. It all…feels like something that would happen IN the book, honestly. The book’s story of Elphie isn't marketable and lovable. It’s the kind of story that would make people wonder if they WOULD mistreat a person like this in real life and would feel justified doing so. It gives you very uncomfortable things to sit with. The version in the adaptation allows the audience the happy comfort of identifying with heroic Elphie and knowing they would never ever be so wrong as to malign a person like that in real life, the comfort of knowing they’re not complicit in regimes like the wizard’s. The book, the permeating and structural and unstoppable nature of the evil depicted and the real reasons someone might like Elphie, an alienating, uncompromising woman who doesn’t bathe and sleeps with a married man and gets a bunch of people including children killed and fails and fails and fails but never stops trying for what she knows is right but who cares about that, who would root for an uncharismatic failure anyway – is a version that wouldn’t inspire popular sympathy, so she was erased in favor of this more simple and lovable version. 

The entire modern reality of the ‘root for the villain’ retelling genre is always doing what the musical of Wicked did. (It in fact may very well be because of said musical.) It isn’t ever really about the untold story of why to root for someone who has done what you find unpalatable or unrelatable or despicable because it was right to them; it’s about taking the easy and palatable concepts of heroism and villainy and simply swapping the labels and color coding on who’s who to introduce a surface veneer of novelty while allowing the audience to carry on in general comfort with their predefined conceptions of who is deserving of sympathy and comfort. But what feels so insulting and frustrating and so damn sad about this specific case is that here, they do so while soothed by the consolation that they’ve definitely now been thoughtful and introspective about the subject and are able to sympathize with those different from them. They’ve definitely now learned to question the narrative. Right?

I’ve compared it to Hunchback before (Disney Hunchback fundamentally changes the plot and the themes of the original novel, but i happen to LIKE Disney Hunchback) and been like “why am I capable of loving one adaptation that does this and not the other” and, I dunno, there are a lot of reasons, but probably just because the kind of narrative the book has and the things it wants to say about the nature of heroism feel bitterly sad to lose, and it feels bitterer still to know most of the world was happy with what we got instead. I try to keep it packed away because I don’t want to bum people out and I know a lot of people that love the musical and I can verge on sounding judgemental of the people who like it, but it’s not the audience’s fault this was the version they were given and they happened to like it, it’s the fault of the tellers of the narrative…I dunno. 

I don’t have a good ending to this post. The only hopeful thing I’ve ever heard about it was someone pointing out to me recently that people are regardless of content more inclined to enjoy stageplays with music than books, which I took as reason to believe ‘maybe a musical of Wicked which had kept what was so bitterly amazing and meaningful and tragic about the original would actually be just as loved if it existed’. So though I know it’s pretty much guaranteed any further adaptations or versions will keep the ‘new’ story and that if they didn’t people would hate them lol, I’ll hold on to that little scrap of imagining that maybe people at large WOULD be capable of embracing the original narrative too, rather than the popularity of the musical being an indictment that says the world can’t handle a story like that.

Did the witch come back?

Not….

Yet…!

[shigussy]

i keep getting tiktoks of these younger gen z kids referencing a time they did something relating to fandom in public and now they're embarrassed by it and everytime i see one i sit there thinking over all of middle and high school and having genuinely 0 moments that i feel embarrassed by, like i definitely did a lot of shit these kids would be embarrassed by but i think these are all just really fucking funny

also photographic evidence of the kinda kid i was. these are from 2014/15 when i was in 8th grade

-desolation row one shot(still on wattpad gerard way/reader smut)

-twerk it on (mcr crack fanfic no longer on wattpad but i have another fic in my library called twerking in taco bell which definitely ALSO used for my reading log)

-frank iero must die(a serial killer/assassin frerard fic, still on wattpad)

-hair (really vague maybe a phanfic? nowhere in my wattpad library rip)

my binder i used in 7th grade i had a blue one that looked pretty similar to this for 8th grade but idk where it went, also the parts i scribbled out are my full legal name i had written on it. i wrote it normally and then the big spot is where i wrote my name REALLY BIG in elysian code from the vladimir tod books. also the lines are from when i used an exacto knife to cut up some papers and forgot that my binder was underneath

in conclusion yall can now see why im so shameless about talking about shigaraki the way i do

[cheerfullycatholic]

Who's gonna get whacked by the snowstorm? It's supposed to get me the next two days and I'm kinda excited tbh 👀

ARE Y'ALL PREPARED?!

[blackvahana]

[batsyheere]

The Bats tend to have favorite civilians, paramedics, cops, that they love to mess with or claim. It gets even worse when multiple Bats favor the same person and try to call dibs.

Danny ends up as one of these people.

It starts when he gets off of work late and finds Red Hood and Red Robin sitting on the curb eating pizza. He hadn't eaten anything all day, and it smelled delicious, and so what few braincells Danny had left scattered and he asks, "Can I have a slice?"

Both vigilantes turn to look at him, then each other, and shrug. They let him take a slice.

It was only the beginning.

Spoiler gets a tired "thanks" saving Danny from a mugging.

Black Bat practically buzzes with glee when she learns Danny knows sign language and helps her speak with a child witness.

Signal gets a more energetic Danny, though also a cautious distance after Signal once smacked into Danny and spilled his coffee all over the poor man.

Nightwing gets the brunt of one of his bad days when Danny decides he's done being held hostage and slips out of the bindings to chuck his shoe at the Riddler. Nightwing hi-fives him later for managing to hit Riddler in the face.

Even Robin has moments with Danny, after catching him taking care of some stray animals amd chasing off idiots who were looking for dogs to put into a recent (and very quickly shut down) dog fighting ring.

When everyone actually figures out Danny is the SAME Danny they all have been seeing around, Bruce has to fight the instinctive headache at the incoming fights. And resist the urge of looking up what seemed to be just a random Gothamite.

Danny at this point just wants a nap. And for these weird undead beings that didn't do well with his ice to stop coming for him. He had student debts to pay.

[creatingblackcharacters]

No, That’s Not ‘How Color Works’. - Whitewashing

Whitewashing, as defined by Merriam-Webster:

"to alter (something) in a way that favors, features, or caters to white people: such as a) to portray (the past) in a way that increases the prominence, relevance, or impact of white people and minimizes or misrepresents that of nonwhite people and B) to alter (an original story) by casting a white performer in a role based on a nonwhite person or fictional character"

In fandom context, we know it to include:

Making someone’s skin lighter

Making someone’s hair a thinner texture

Changing someone’s nose to be thinner

Shrinking their lips

Changing the character in their entirety to be someone else

The Normalization of Whitewashing

Remember how I mentioned last lesson that despite the nature of poorly drawn Black characters, most audiences are not turned off enough to discourage the action in professional works? Similar idea with whitewashing. Not the same- unlike the Ambiguously Brown Character, which claims to have plausible deniability, overt whitewashing is usually enough to make fans speak up! But that’s the key word here- overt! It has to be “bad enough” to make enough people speak up, but as we’ve seen many a time, “bad enough” seems to have a much higher threshold for nonblack viewership (sometimes the limit doesn’t exist!)

Some visual examples

This is a link to my personal thread on a Netflix show I was watching- Worst Ex Ever. Now, while the show itself was quite enlightening, there was something I could not get over. I thought I was going crazy. And that was that no matter how dark the person of color would be in real life, the animated portions would draw this light pinkish-brown. Every. Single. Time. It's like they couldn't fathom scrolling down the color wheel. And this is a Netflix original! Netflix has plenty of money for someone to have caught this in creation. But... it was produced. And put out. And they're making more of it.

I asked all of the Dragon Age fans about the series, and uh… I didn’t know things were this bad, guys! Apparently this is a man of color, but it doesn't seem like the creators want you to know that 🤣. Jokes aside, as I’ve discussed before, the noticeable whitewashing- and that was one of many racist things I was told- was not enough to prevent sales... so why would they stop? I can only hope this new game, with all the updates, is enough to turn the tide. But the series has gone on for a while now, that if they’d chosen to do ye same olde… there clearly would not be a lack of financial support to prevent it.

Colorism as a Tool

Even when actors of color are cast, colorism often plays a role in normalizing whitewashing to audiences, even to Black audiences! People think “oh well at least they’re Black!” as if that is the only important part. It is not.

While Aaron Pierre, the actor cast for John Stewart of Green Lantern fame, is a GORGEOUS, STUNNING man, he is not the dark-skinned man that John Stewart is supposed to be and should not have been cast! To me, this is overt colorism, but clearly for many people this is not “enough” to warrant concern or even prevent the casting itself- including the studio behind the movie! Black fans have plead for years for the character of Storm to be played by a dark-skinned, preferably African, woman, and it has never happened.

It naturally happens in fan spaces as well, which is another indicator that colorism as a tool for whitewashing is quite effective for audiences. If I see one more Zendaya fan cast for Kida from Atlantis, I will scream. It’s been happening for years, and I don’t think any of the people who just want to see her and Tom on screen either understand or care that Kida is a dark-skinned character. Zendaya doesn’t look anything like Kida- it doesn’t matter if she’s Black too! Just because someone is Black does not mean they can play every single Black character! I’ve even seen people fancast Emilia Clarke of Game of Thrones fame, to which… I don’t have the words. I can’t fathom what would cause these decisions other than racism.

The Common Excuses

I must be honest. I don’t really feel like re-iterating how certain things are not okay and how to fix them, because I’ve already discussed these things in massive detail. So I’m just going to direct the excuses I regularly hear to my lessons, where you can read up on them.

“Their hair/eyes are like that because they’re biracial so-”

Relevant Lessons: 2.1, 2.2, 2.3, 8, 9, 10

There is nothing wrong with having biracial characters with a range of features. I am not saying that! Because yeah, genetics do happen!

But I mentioned this in my last lesson, and I will re-emphasize here, that using biracial identity as a way to whitewash is a sinister form of racism. The intention here- the real intention- is the issue here! The idea that somehow this character can only look the way you want them to look by "diluting" their Blackness… I don’t know how you can explain yourselves out of that one.

You don’t get to use us as an excuse for diversity while still trying to maintain your preference for Eurocentric beauty standards. Black biracial people don’t always look light skinned, thin-haired and ambiguous, and even the ones that do don’t deserve to be treated as your fetish for pretend antiracism. If you just want to draw a white person with a tan, do that. But don’t change a character’s entire look just so you can work in some whiteness. If you want to claim that canon Black character’s mother was white, then I guess they inherited some of her personality because their features should not change.

“It’s my style/It’s the color-”

Relevant Lessons: 3, 4, 10

I hate all excuses for whitewashing, but I’ve grown to despise, hate, abhor and loathe this one the most as I’ve become an artist. I wish there were stronger words to describe just how much I hate the “style” and “color” excuse.

Are style and use of color oft intertwined? Absolutely. I’m not saying they aren’t. But out of everything, there are two things I want artists to understand:

1. Style does not cancel out racism! No style forces you to choose ashy greys and to change peoples’ features. That’s you! If you look at something, and it looks offensive, you change the style. You grow as an artist!

2. “Everyone who is brown will look ashy so I just-” if you recognize that your Black characters look strange in comparison to your nonblack characters, then it’s time to try something else! I don’t understand this sudden need for “realism” when it comes to color and lighting, but not when it comes to hair, for example. No one cares about realism when giving every and all Black characters wavy tresses they probably wouldn’t have, but suddenly milquetoast watercolor attempts at brown and off-putting lighting is “how it works”. That’s not fair.

The color picker is an available tool! I use it often!

Dead giveaway of purposeful whitewashing: if someone gets the outfit color palette right via color picking, but the skin color is multiple shades lighter. That means they were looking at that character and chose not to proceed.

Dead giveaway of purposeful whitewashing: if the white characters in the show are completely correct in their palettes. Again, that means they cared enough to look at everyone else… and not the Black characters.

If you use the color picker and the color picked is… disrespectful, you do not have to use that! You can simply choose a better color that is still similar to the brown that ought to be depicted!

“It’s the lighting-”

Relevant Lessons: 4, 5

If your white characters do not shine like snow in the sunlight because of your lighting, then your lighting does not make your Black characters suddenly light tan.

If your Black characters look bad in your lighting of choice- for example, putting a very dark-skinned character in electric white lighting can be ghastly- try changing the intensity or the color of the lighting. DON’T change your character’s skin color!

I'm going to show you some pictures of South Sudanese model Nyakim Gatwech. Pay attention to the choices of light, color, and makeup.

Look how BEAUTIFUL she is! Look at the choices of intensity and color of light, and how they make her look different in each image.

Now look at this image in comparison:

In this image, whoever did her makeup and took this picture did not take into consideration her skin tone. She's also under this really intense lighting. This is an example of "increasing the lighting does NOT make an image "better"". She didn't need to have lighter skin or "more lighting" to look good. She needed BETTER lighting, lighting that worked with HER.

To see this as an example in drawn art, @dsm7 makes an excellent argument for proper lighting and color, why it is an issue to use it as an excuse, and how to solve that problem.

‼️DISCLAIMER FOR NEXT EXAMPLE‼️

Okay. I am about to show y’all a fan-created example from my personal experience. It is a TEACHING EXPERIENCE ONLY. I am not including the artist’s name in this image. It happened a couple years ago, and it’s over- they’ve chosen to be who they are despite me kindly confronting them about it. The only reason I’m including it at all is because I feel like it would be remiss to have such a clear-cut, multi-level example, and not teach with it. That said, no, I am not telling anyone to act out towards them. Again, that is not what I’m telling you to do. The last thing I need is a literal lynch mob of angry nonblack viewership for trying to teach you all, and y’all sitting there watching it happen to me. Every example of whitewashing is not going to be so obvious, but I hope you learn how to spot the examples in the art you see and share.

I'm obviously a Hades fan, particularly of Patroclus- despite my disdain for the lack of effort in his canon character design. So I've seen a lot of things. That said:

“Well it’s just MY design of them-”

Relevant Lessons: ALL

The sepia coloring did not do this. The lighting did not do this. The design is the exact same as the Hades version, even down to the shape of the hair curling in the back. The only thing that is different… is the man himself.

Y'all. Y'all! You CANNOT take a pre-existing Black character and say “oh well this is my design of them” …and the design is of a whole white person. Because if the rest of the fit is the same, and the only thing that changed is the Blackness… Racism. If you’re going to “make up your own design”, then do that!

“Blackwashing”

Speaking of: I’m sure someone edgy out there thinks they’re so smart as they retort to the screen: “but if that’s not okay, then why is Blackwashing okay?” To which I say- shut up. 😐

The “definition” by fandom: making a nonblack character Black, usually an anime character, but characters in general.

Funny enough, the actual definition in the dictionary (or closest to) is “to defame”, in contrast with whitewash (as in whitewashing history). Maybe racist fans ARE using it correctly when they say you’re blackwashing their characters, when they mean you’re making them “less likable because they’re Black now”. 🤔

Anyway: Blackwashing is not real for the same reason reverse racism is not real.

Me painting these characters brown is not going to take away from the fact that there are far more of you in media than there is of me. Me saying that I ‘headcanon a character as Black with 4C hair’ is not going to make the studio go “oh! Well they must be Black with 4C hair now!” Me saying “oh I think I’d like this character better if they were Black” as a beta tester (less overtly, obviously, because I’m not racist!) will never make a studio change that character. Black viewers have minimal value in comparison to the power of the white viewer’s dollar. I could draw white characters Black every single day of every single game media… and they would still produce majority white characters. There has not been centuries- if not millennia, when we consider Jesus Christ himself, even- of purposeful “Blackwashing” with the intent of removing the original ethnicity- and thus importance- of white people. No one has ever been allowed to forget when someone is white. No one has ever been allowed to forget or not acknowledge white people.

How it could be "solved"

Personally, I love Black edits and I welcome them here. I find them creative and fun. But if you really, REALLY didn’t want us to make those edits, then naturally, we need more Black characters in all of our media!

I wouldn’t have to make edits if I saw more of me to begin with in the things I like to watch- but when we have those characters, racists act an ass about them. We’re not allowed to even be present! I’ve seen too many gamer bros mocking the existence of Yasuke in Assassin’s Creed, and he was a real ass man. But if we made a game about African peoples in African societies, how many of the gamer bros would actually play those games? Do you think there’d be as much support, when we hear so much about Black characters that are treated so abhorrently? How many games do we have where people would love their faves just as much if they were Black? I even learned that Solas was apparently supposed to be a man of color. IMAGINE how many people would not have liked that man, with the same exact plot and characterization.

Something I’ve noticed recently: apparently "Blackwashing" is not a thing when White fans “allow” it. Take this recent trend with Miku. International Miku was beloved! But if you draw any other character as Black on any other day, there will be people that are horrid about it. Ask any artist, Black artists and Black cosplayers especially, who’s ever done it what their comments are like. I’ve read entire missives akin to white supremacist drivel on how it’s somehow morally wrong to make characters Black. Meanwhile no amount of “hey maybe you shouldn’t do this” prevented the movie Gods of Egypt from being created, with a cast full of British White people.

Solutions to Avoiding Whitewashing!

1) Using References!!

Do I think you should know what Black people look like? Yes. We’re humans. It’s 2024. Everyone knows what we look like when it’s time to hate and discriminate against us, so you know what we look like when it’s time to love and depict us. If you’re on Tumblr, you have access to the Internet. ESPECIALLY if you’re in the U.S., as Black people are the source of damn near every piece of online pop culture. If you can find my dialect to make my jokes, you can find pictures of me.

Would I rather you use a reference every single time so that you can only strengthen your depiction of my people? ABSOLUTELY.

Anyone on the Internet telling you not to use a reference or that you shouldn’t need a reference? Unfollow them. You don’t need that negativity in your life. Why would you deprive yourself of a tool to create? The greatest portrait painters in history had to look at their subjects! You are not getting paid nearly as much to do this as Hans Holbein, and he had to stare at Henry VIII correct else lose his head- you can pull up multiple references. I’d far rather be judged for using hella references than be judged for being a racist!

Part of the issue is people draw what they’re used to, what they’re comfortable with (thus last lesson). But if what you’re used to is not what someone will look like… That’s not okay. Their features are not the issue, your skills are the issue. Learn! Practice! There is no rush. No one is rushing you to be perfect at drawing Black characters, and no one is rushing you to post them. You can just practice! If you’re not a professional, you can take as long as you need to draw! If you need to draw that piece of hair over and over until you feel like you have down the shape, you do that! If you need to use a tool that would draw the hair for you, you get that tool!

If you want to post, you can say you are practicing! If you make clear you are practicing, then be willing to accept that people may have feedback. I’d far rather deal with someone saying they’re unconfident and practicing, than someone posting a whitewashed caricature and closing their ears because “well at least I’m trying!”

2) Empathize! Care about actual Black people when you create a Black character!

Imagine, if you will, in the Twilight Zone: you went to an artist, and you asked for a white character (I typed in “regular looking white dude” on google). There’s hardly ever any white characters, you’re so super excited about this one! You paid good money, because you’ve seen just how amazing this artist creates! They’re so good at drawing characters of color! But no matter how many times you ask, they send you back an image of… Assad Zaman.

That man might be fine as hell! Gorgeous! Beautifully done! Chef’s kiss. Stunning! But… He’s not white. That’s not what you asked or paid for. You can’t even fathom how they mixed this up, they don’t even look alike! And when you confront them, they gaslight you, they call YOU the issue for not understanding how you can’t tell that this is a white man! They would never get this wrong! They have white friends, you’re the racist! But you’re not stupid, and you have functioning eyes- you can SEE what this drawing looks like! And… It’s not you.

It’s dehumanizing. It’s being told that there’s a “better way” to look like you, and that’s by… Not looking like you. You, as you exist, are what’s incorrect. Your identity is incorrect, not their drawing. It’s better to have thinner hair instead of an afro or locs, it’s better to have lighter skin, it’s better to have a straighter, thinner nose over a round one, and smaller lips.

And what makes it worse is knowing that people who don’t look like you? Probably won’t care. They won’t be willing to see- not unable, but unwilling- that playing with this caricature is harmful, that they’re propagating harm by not acknowledging it. They’re letting you know that your humanity means less to them than the clout received with a whitewashed or half-assed Black character, and that people will applaud them for that ‘attempt at inclusion’. And people will applaud! They will be entertained by the mere performance! And that hurts.

I’m going to say this, and it’s awkward and I try not to say it directly on here, but… Having Black friends and/or being around actual, real life Black people would help. I can tell from some of the questions I receive that Black characters and their traits- especially things like our hair and our cultures- are being treated as… alien concepts. But even if, for whatever reason, you legitimately don’t know any Black people, you do not need to know us individually to care about our humanity as a whole! Even if you do not know we’re there, we are, and we could possibly see your work!

By acknowledging Blackness and making room to understand what it means- and that includes how we can look- you are doing the bare minimum of acknowledging our personhood. If you cannot do even that, you don’t need to be drawing us.

Conclusion

Here’s the thing: if you want to draw a white man with tanned skin, do that. Just do it! You do NOT have to erase me to have more of you! There is not a single fandom where the majority of the white fans ever said “gee, not another white guy!” It simply doesn’t happen. God knows we wish it did sometimes. You will always have an audience for white characters. There’s no danger to any of you of “being erased”.

(Without putting on my political hat, I will say that a lot of white people who consider themselves to be far from white supremacist will express beliefs in line with great replacement theory if you push them hard enough. It is unfortunately not as uncommon an idea as you might think. I would do some self-evaluation.)

People are going to notice that you only ever draw white people, but… To be frank, that has never stopped anybody from being successful. Again, Jen Zee, at Supergiant with the terrible dark-skinned characters… Still has a job. at Supergiant. A professional studio. Dragon Age. Multiple games of consistent whitewashing and racist writing. Still going. If racism prevented creation and popularity, I wouldn’t have to have this blog. Alas, that is the society we currently live in.

But if you ACTUALLY want to depict Black characters, if you ACTUALLY want to do right and be respectful- not because you want the clout, but because it’s the right damn thing to do- then you need to commit! This means drawing them as they are meant to be! Accept that you’ll likely lose some fan base, who was there (whether they were aware of it or not) for the white and lighter skinned characters. Accept that this means that trying to appeal to those people by whitewashing characters is 1) wrong, 2) racist, which is 3) something you chose to do when you could simply have just… Drawn more white people.

I’ll say it again: antiracism is hard. It’s hard doing the right thing in a society that rewards racism so easily. It’s really hard knowing that people will stop supporting you or caring as much about your work when you start including Black characters as actively as you do white ones, especially if you start talking about the importance of it. But in my honest opinion, I’d far rather be someone that cared about others, with genuine fans, than someone that was racist for the fleeting internet clout of strangers. And that may be less ‘hopeful’ than I normally am in these lessons, but… People make choices. And people who have been informed- as you are now- are aware of the choices they are making. It’s the thought that counts, but the action that delivers- let’s choose better actions.

[loveindefinitely]

༊*·˚ LIKE THE WAY I FUCK ('CAUSE I GET ROUGH) — an undercover mission with your superiors leads to compromised positions (in more ways than one)

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + könig

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, canon-divergence, age difference, slight power imbalance, jealous/possessive behaviour, discussions of violence, tags to be added

// NSFW CONTENT BELOW THE CUT //

Turns out, undercover missions involve a lot more make-up, perfume and dresses than you'd anticipated.

Being a seasoned task force operator, it's been months, if not years since you've been to a party outside of your barracks. Let alone one of this calibre; CEOs, billionaires on Forbes Top 50, politicians.

It's off-putting. 

All of it; it's stressful, and it feels as though your skin's crawling, having so much skin on display, so many eyes on you at once. You feel as though you’re an animal at a zoo, being inspected by families with their snotty-nosed kids.

"Sit-rep, Diamond?"

Swallowing around a dry mouth, you reply to your lieutenant's request through your earpiece, tone low and careful. "All as planned, Lt."

Ghost hums a low sound in reply, and your shoulders loosen slightly from their tense position.

You knew that your superior was already inside, having arrived ten minutes earlier. A small, selfish part of you wished that you'd have arrived with him, if only to see how he cleaned up.

Ghost? In a suit? It's like one of your deepest, most dirty of desires come to life.

Such thoughts that you'd never let leave your lips -- thoughts too likely to wreck your entire career and any opportunity to keep your relationship with the man.

"König?" Is Ghost's next question, although it's just the other man's name alone.

Right.

König.

The other superior featured in your dreams. Thoughts. Wank-material?

Whatever they are, they're becoming all too common, all too realistic, and all too risky.

"Successful entry," König replies, heavily accented voice low and quiet -- he's amongst people.

Your limo comes to a stop outside of the decorated museum, and a suited man opens your door with gloved hands. His upper lip is covered in a well-groomed pencil moustache, and you have to stifle a chuckle. Soap would’ve appreciated it.

With a small smile, you incline your head towards him, lifting up the fabric of your skirt so it doesn't brush against the gravel. It’s so… impractical, and you really can’t help but respect those that dress up like this on a regular basis. Looking down at your outfit, you let out a low breath.

When Gaz and Soap had burst into your room with shit-eating grins and a garment bag, you had just known that your dress was going to be... extravagant at best, and downright sinful at worst.

You were correct, of course.

So, here you are, walking down the red carpet into the building, cameras flashing and paparazzi screaming, in this... dress.

Silky black, strapless, and with crossing lines of fabric across your bare back. Chiffon skirts fall behind you, with a slit rising all the way up to where your thigh meets your hip bone. A gun hides beneath, strapped around your inner thigh, paired with your right, adorning a delicate yet hefty knife.

You look... not at all like a Sergeant on Task Force 141.

You look like a celebrity, one just out of her fans' reach. It's a surreal experience, and the mere thought of your two superiors (crushes) seeing you like this... It's frightening. Maddening. And, maybe, a tad bit exhilarating.

Gaz had insisted on doing your make-up -- having so many sisters made him a fully-fledged artist, apparently. And an artist he was, talented with the brushes of eyeshadow and flicks of eyeliner against your skin.

Soap, for his part, had begged for you to let him do your hair -- but considering his only experience was his mohawk, you were less than lenient. With a huff, he’d let you go to Laswell’s wife with the request, as long as he picked out your jewellery.

And now, hours later, your heels click against the stone tile as you enter the museum.

Soft lighting cascades all of the guests in gentle hues of yellow, laughter and polite mingling surrounding you as you enter the main ballroom, skirts brushing against your legs.

Chandeliers above glisten, a live-band plays beautiful jazz, and servers walk around with trays of champagne and finger foods.

It's nothing like you've ever experienced.

This mission, somehow, terrifies you more than the weight of a sniper in your hand and an order to neutralise.

"Target, six o'clock," Ghost's voice carries through your comms as you take position near the corner of the room. There’s fewer people here, and it allows you a moment to breathe and recalibrate.

Your eyes dart to the direction your lieutenant has supplied, and you catch sight of your target immediately. "Got eyes," you murmur softly, smile on your face as you pretend to fix your hair.

"Affirmative," König answers then.

"I haven't seen you before."

Whipping around to the source of the words, you find yourself face to face with a man who you've seen the face of too many times to count.

"Apologies for startling you," he inclines his head respectfully. He's got a few inches on you -- although you find it hard to consider him tall when you're with your superiors more often than not. His skin is closely-shaved, his blonde hair gelled to the nines -- and a smarmy, trust-fund baby smirk to top it all off.

Extending his hand, he announces, "I'm Phillip. Phillip Graves."

...Graves.

The last name of your target -- the son of your target.

"I'm Louise," you say with a sweet smile, taking his hand and shaking it. Your undercover name was going to have to come into play sooner than you'd hoped. "It's a lovely atmosphere, isn't it?"

"Positive, Diamond?" Ghost's deep voice instantly responds to your subtle codeword.

"Not as lovely as you, I'm sure," Phillip flirts, and you pretend to bat your lashes and hide your face from him.

"Ah... thank you, Sir. You're quite dashing yourself," you meekly reply, giving him a soft smile. 

Men like this were so easily played, you found. Not at all like the military men you were surrounded with on such a constant basis. Not at all like…

You can hear both König and Ghost swear underneath their breaths. Releasing the hold on your bracelet -- the one with the built-in comms button -- you shyly bite at your lower lip.

Phillip’s eyes track the movement, and if not for the stakes of this mission, it'd be almost comical.

"May I have this dance?" He asks, offering his arm for you to take. He’s adorning an obviously wealthy suit, dark blue and silky – and it rubs you in all the wrong ways.

You can hear your heart pound in your ears -- this wasn't the way the mission was supposed to go. But, then again, you didn't get into Task Force 141 by expecting every mission to go as planned.

"I would love to, Sir," you smile, wrapping your hand around his arm, allowing him to escort you to the main dance floor.

Subtly folding your hands together around his arm, you're able to push down the button on your bracelet. "You want us to dance in the middle of everyone? I'm not the best of dance partners..."

Phillip chuckles, but through your inner ear piece, you can hear König report, "Got eyes, Diamant."

Chills run down your spine. Either from this situation or…

Or something else that you're not entirely supposed to -- or allowed to -- feel. Not for those two men, and certainly not for your superiors.

"I'll lead you, darlin’," Phillip leans down to whisper into your ear, his lips brushing against your skin. They’re thin, and chapped against your own skin.

His hand moves to sit at your lower back, just above your ass, and the other moves down your arm to interlace your fingers with his. It's an intimate position, your front pressing against his as he starts to lead you with the beat.

Of course you knew how to dance; you wouldn't have been picked for this role if you couldn't. 

However, you deliberately misstep a few times, just to play into Phillip’s ego -- his desire for control and intelligence. 

"For such a beautiful girl, you sure aren't the smartest," he jests, and it takes everything within you not to just swing your fist and leave him twitching on the dance floor. You could, realistically speaking, but that would cost you all the mission. And you would not let yourself, nor König or Ghost, down.

Instead, you nervously flit your gaze from him, moving in closer to his chest. By his squeeze on your lower back, you know it's the right decision. "I... I'm doing my best, Sir."

You want to crawl out of your own skin at the way you’re feeding into his misogyny, how you’re downplaying your own strengths.

He huffs, a demeaning, cruel thing.

"I want to shoot 'im," you hear Ghost mutter, and you'd be a liar to say that those words in that tone don't make you clench your thighs together as you sway against Phillip.

"Make it a competition, ja?" König quips. There's... irritation -- anger, maybe -- behind his question. It's so unlike the gentle giant of a man, and that fact alone has your breath coming out in a short pant.

Phillip, of course, thinks it's him making you so flushed.

With a vindictive smirk, he spins you, completely throwing you off balance. Maybe a tad too dramatically, you find yourself falling into his arms, giggling a little bit.

...It's worth it to hear Ghost grumble under his breath through the comms.

This whole situation doesn't feel quite real, and you know that their attitudes are nearly definitely due to the stray in plans. That's fine. That's all it can possibly be. It’s all that you’ll allow it to be.

But your mind has never been kind, and your imagination has always had the habit of wandering.

"Let's go get some drinks, hm?" Phillip asks, his hand falling dangerously close to 'inappropriate hand placement' territory.

You shoot him a seductive smile, nodding as he pulls you to the open bar, his arm wrapped tight around your waist, leaving you glued to his side. It’s a possessive position, and you find yourself wishing it was either of your superiors holding you in such a way instead.

"Don't drink anything he offers you," Ghost warns. You almost have the mind to chew him out for not trusting you with something so obvious, but... There's something about such subtle 

protectiveness that only feeds your elementary style crush on the man.

"I would love to," you reply as Graves leads you to the bar, hand only moving lower with every step the two of you take. Fear trickles down your spine, your hands squeezing tightly together at your front.

"Say the word and we get you outta' there, Princess," Ghost quips, sharp and to the point.

With your hands already together, you manage to reply an agreement in Morse code -- quick, successive taps of the communications button.

"Good girl," König replies, just a touch breathy from the quietness of his words.

You manage not to trip on your feet, but it's a close thing.

a small snippet, because i feel really bad for my lack of posts!! life is so insane atm its like a satire.

[lucyrose191]

TAME THE WOLFF| T.WOLFF

Pairing; Angry!Toto Wolff x Calm!Wife!reader

Summary; A few scenarios in which Toto is angry and frustrated and you’re there to calm him down and save his poor team from his wrath

Warnings; angry Toto.

F1 Master List

It was no secret that during a race weekend Toto could get a little….frustrated.

Okay, frustrated was putting it way too lightly, the man got way too passionate about his work and when things didn’t go the way they’re supposed to it was like a volcano was erupting in his mind and he just loses all sense of control leading him to his famous actions of smashing headphones.

The Austrian was already intimidating enough with his tall stature and the confidence he eluded but when he was angry he wasn’t just intimidating, he was scary.

The way his dark eyes seemed to turn almost entirely black and how the veins in his forehead throbbed were signs that had the Mercedes team shifting in their seats and the moment he started running his hands down his face was the moment the higher people in the team would get their phones out and call for help.

That help being you.

It had taken a long time for the team to acknowledge the effect you had on their team principle because he never got angry when you attended races but it was when you arrived to races later in the day that they started to see how things changed.

It was one particular day when Toto had arrived to the track already a bit frustrated, whether that was because of your absence or not they didn’t know but the pile up of disastrous events had lead to the team principle throwing things and shouting at the top of his lungs.

Then you arrived.

You certainly hadn’t expected to walk into the garage and be greeted by your husband in a fit of rage and the entire team stood frozen like petrified animals but the sight of fear on their faces had upset you greatly, especially knowing that it was because of Toto’s, quite frankly unnecessary, tantrum.

You walked over to your husband, who hadn’t even noticed you amidst his anger, and gently placed your hand on his arm.

Any member of the team would’ve called you crazy in that moment, walking over to the beast of a man with no fear on your face when he could have easily turned around and launched you across the room without even thinking.

He had been ready to throw a fist at the person who had the gall to touch him before he saw that it was you, his beloved wife looking at him with nothing but love in your eyes even as he was acting like a brute.

The team had never seen him change personalities so quickly in that moment.

You didn’t say anything to him, instead you placed your other hand on his back and guided him away from everyone, you wouldn’t have been able to move him by yourself but he allowed you to guide him away with absolutely no argument.

You opened the door of his makeshift office, saying nothing as he strode straight past you without a glance, steam practically spilling from his ears, you could feel the anger radiating off of him.

Apart from his unsettled shuffling the room was filled with an intense silence as you shut the door, simply watching as his chest rose and fell harshly, you could see that he was trying to calm himself down now that he was in your presence but he was struggling to do so and that was only frustrating him further.

"Sit down," you gently instructed him, nodding towards the small sofa pushed up against the wall of the small room.

He wanted to argue but he stopped himself and did as he was told, sitting down on the sofa he buried his face into his hands.

You walked over to him and wrapped your arms around the back of his head, allowing him to lean into your stomach, you ran your hands through his hair.

"I understand you’re stressed and that things aren’t going the way you want them too but the way you’re shouting is unfair to the team, they are not your verbal punching bag but you’re treating them as they are."

Toto closed his eyes, releasing a heavy sigh, he wrapped his arms around your body to bring you closer.

He knew you were right, you always were and that’s what he loved about you, how you were always there to talk some sense into him.

He didn’t say anything though, he just held you firmly but gently and used your presence to calm him down.

There were many things he needed to be doing right now but he couldn’t find himself to care, right now the most important thing was calming down and spending time with you, no matter how long that took.

When the Mercedes team heard the door to their boss’ office unlock and saw the man himself walk out completely calm with you following shortly after, they were beyond amazed.

It was that day that the members of the team who had your number put you on speed dial in preparation for when an incident like this happened again, which it no doubt would.

"It seems that Toto Wolff is beginning to get a little bit frustrated down in the Mercedes garage."

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the unnecessary commentary that wasn’t helping in the slightest.

Your husband was getting agitated and the nearby team members were nervously glancing in his direction as though they were mentally preparing themselves for him to blow his top.

Instead of waiting for Toto to lose it, you stood behind him and loosely wrapped your arms around him, thumbing at the collar of his shirt.

Everyone around could see the tension immediately release from his body just from your comforting touch.

Toto grabbed one of your hands with his own, stroking his thumb back and forth across your skin, using the motion as a way to ground himself.

The whole garage went silent at the sight of both of their cars spinning off the track in turn 1. What once was going to be a promising race from starting second and third has turned into a disaster in such a short amount of time.

Everyone was utterly speechless as the entire team just sat there staring at their monitors in shock.

But then they actually acknowledged that it was silent and all simultaneously turned towards their boss with confused stares only to see you blocking him from the cameras that were pointing into the garage, leaning down and whispering, what they could only guess were calming, words to him.

Whilst the cameras couldn’t see his face, the team could and they could tell he was, rightfully so, furious as the situation, he wasn’t shouting or throwing things.

He definitely wanted to but he wasn’t.

You weren’t really in the mood to be in the garage today surrounded by so much noise to the point you could barely hear yourself think and the smell of fuel so strong it made you nauseous but you still wanted to support your husband as you weren’t able to accompany him everywhere he went so you settled in his makeshift office on what was possibly the worlds smallest sofa with your laptop sitting in your lap and your headphones placed over your ears to block out the noise from the team outside and the cars on the track.

It had been hours and you were content in the alone time you were getting, it was just you and your music playing in your ears that you didn’t notice the multiple calls you were receiving.

Unbeknownst to you, outside of his office, your husband was kicking off and nothing anyone did or said could calm him down.

The team had never witnessed Toto as angry as he was right now, the veins in his forehead more prominent than ever and whilst most didn’t understand the German words coming out of his mouth, they knew he couldn’t be saying anything nice.

Bono was trying to get a hold of you for possibly the twentieth time and he was still having no luck, he felt the pressure of the teams eyes on him, begging for the news that you’d be coming knowing that he was only one of a few that had your number and the means to find you right now but he wasn’t getting anywhere.

Poor Lewis and George were getting the brunt of the Austrian’s anger and even though they hadn’t a clue of what he was saying, they were starting to question the security of their jobs.

Luckily, a mechanic who had just entered the garage and was completely taken aback by the scene in front of him, awkwardly side shuffled to Bono and questioned what was going on. "He’s acting crazy! I can’t get a hold of Y/N."

"Didn’t she go straight into his office when they arrived earlier?" The mechanic asked.

Bono looked at him in shock and relief before jumping to his feet and wasting no time as he jogged in the direction of Toto’s office.

It was rude but he didn’t bother knocking, he almost cried when he saw you sitting there.

You got the fright of your life as the door burst open but the sight of a frantic Bono caused you to remove your headphones and look at him in confusion.

"Oh thank god you’re here! Toto’s gone mental!"

You released a sigh at his words and pushed your laptop to the side and got up from the sofa. "What for now?"

"I honestly have no idea but if he doesn’t calm down soon then Lewis and George might just start crying and Toto looks like he’s about to burst a blood vessel."

The moment you stepped out into the short, narrow corridor you heard your husbands angry German shouting. "Mein Gott," you muttered to yourself.

Entering the main part of the garage you weren’t greeted by a pretty sight at all, Bono wasn’t overreacting in the way he described Toto, Lewis and George and let’s not forget about the rest of the team.

You headed straight for your husband, not acknowledging the looks of relief you saw build on everyone’s faces, especially the two drivers’.

You didn’t even need to say anything to Toto, you just stood in front of him and looked up at him with a stern gaze that soon got him to shut up but his eyes were still blazing with fury as he looked down at you, you knew his anger wasn’t aimed at you, he was just still pent up with emotions.

You nodded in the direction of his office and simply walked away, expecting him to follow after you if he knew what was good for him.

He followed you.

The moment you heard him close the door you turned to him. "This needs to stop."

He looked at you furiously, "how am I supposed to stop when I have two drivers that can’t even get through a lap without crashing into each other!"

"Don’t you dare talk to me like that, Torger!" Your voice cut through the air as you glared at him which soon caused his face to shift from angry to wounded as you scolded him.

"How hard is it for you to simply sit them down and give them a stern talking to, there’s no need for the way you completely blow your top, you’re acting like a child throwing a tantrum."

He was still beyond angry, you could see it in his eyes and the way he shifted on his feet and he was about to retort but you cut him off. "I don’t want to hear you right now, I want you to sit down in silence and calm down before a single word comes out of your mouth."

He pursed his lips, not at all happy but he did as he was told and sat down in the chair behind the small desk, you didn’t spare him a glance as you sat yourself back where you were before Bono came searching for you, pulling your laptop back onto your lap to finish what you had been doing.

It was a good 15/20 minutes later when you heard him get up from his seat and make his way over to you. He sat beside you and rested his head on your shoulder causing you to roll your eyes but a smile grew on your face at his actions, you were glad he couldn’t see it though.

You continued to carry on with what you were doing, letting him decide how he wanted your conversation to go and so it remained silent for a few more minutes with you and Toto simply sat there, him resting against you simply soaking up the comfort of your presence.

He shifted and pressed a kiss to your temple before returning back to his position. "Are you mad at me?" He asked when you remained silent.

You closed your laptop and put it away before shifting the both of you so you were up straight and looking at each other. "No," you told him honestly, "I just wish you wouldn’t let your frustrations get the best of you all the time."

He looked down at your words before looking back into your eyes with a sincere look, "I’m sorry."

"It’s okay," you smiled at him, reaching out a hand to brush his hair back. "We just need to find a way for you to keep yourself together."

"You’re the way," he replied immediately which stunned you and he was okay with that. He pulled you into his arms and you both just sat there.

You could be quite the opposite at times but you were content with that because you would always be there to ground him whenever his emotions got out of control.

[alloftheimagines]

haymitch abernathy | until sunrise

words: 1.7k warnings: MINORS DNI. off-page sexual and physical abuse, blood, suicidal ideation, alcohol, drugs, angst, hurt/comfort description: You’re the Capitol’s plaything. All he can do is clean you up after a particularly terrible night.  I just finished Sunrise on the Reaping and had to get out some Haymitch brainrot.

A knock on his door is never a good sign. When Haymitch is in the Capitol for the Games, he keeps to himself when he can, lost in the fog of drink where he can convince himself that nothing can touch him. 

But there’s one exception. You.

You’re the only reason he opens the door at all. A fresh victor of District 12, it’s been your turn to serve the Capitol over the last couple of years. Last Games, they still had that thing in your ear, keeping you drugged and controlled to establish you as the Capitol’s docile little darling. This year, you’ve spent every party either in a cage or satisfying potential sponsors behind closed doors. It makes him sick, so he drinks more and more and more, but it never makes it easier. 

Now, in the hallway, you’re more gaunt than ever. Barely there at all. There are cuts all over your skin, blood dribbling down your temple, your neck, even your damn legs. 

“I need…” you whisper, and the words are slurred. Unlike him, it isn’t a choice. Your clients like you better when you’re inebriated, not able to fight back. You’re theirs to do with what they want. 

You frown as though you’ve already forgotten what you need, but he knows. 

“Come in, sweetheart.”

When you step forward on buckling legs, he has to catch you, just barely holding you up. His white liquor breath mingles with your sour one as, somehow, this quest for stability becomes something more. He’s holding you tight while your head lolls against his shoulder, because it’s the least he can do and it isn’t nearly enough. He feels responsible. He helped you win those games. After years of following the rules, learning the hard way that rebellion got people killed, he’d seen a spark in you. A spark that could have destroyed the games if he was just smart enough to figure out how. 

Snow had seen the flame. Snuffed it out. It pains Haymitch to think it, but he would have been better off letting you starve without sponsors. Letting you die in the arena. This… This is his fault. He cared for something again, somebody, and now it’s killing you both. 

“What’d they do to you?” he whispers when he’s shut the door behind you. A stupid question, born from horror rather than a genuine need to know. With the bite marks, bruises, and slashes across your skin, he can imagine. The Capitol are almost as genetically mutated as Mutts these days, so many of them resembling animals with sharp-filed teeth among other hideous implants.

“Got one… with fangs n’claws,” you mutter. 

He looses a jagged breath, half-rage, half-despair, and guides you carefully over to his couch. The apartment is still in darkness, lights too bright for his ever-pounding head. Besides, the view of the Capitol illuminated under the stars yawns outside his window, a beast not quite slumbering. Never does. The city never stops; night just casts a blanket over their depravities, but there are holes in the velvet that keep the place lit dim.

Curtains aren’t allowed. He already asked. 

With you slumped on his pillows, he can get a better view of your state. Regrets looking immediately. Glittering dress the colour of grey doves has been torn by greedy hands. Where your skin isn’t bloody, it’s black, blue, green, your very own kaleidoscope of pain. It’ll be worse in the morning, but right now, you at least have the detachment the drugs grant you. Not like him, who feels every fucking mark on you. 

He rubs a hand over his unkempt stubble. Tries to figure out where the fuck he should start. If you were cognisant, he’d have led you straight to the shower, knows how unclean you feel after a night like this. But you’re not, and he’s not going to be another monster who strips you bare without you knowing. 

“Gonna clean you up best I can, okay?” he finally decides. “You rest now.”

Your mumble is unintelligible, but it still pierces another needle through his chest. How can the two of you keep going like this? How can you mentor more tributes, knowing that an arena death would be kinder than this slow torture?

Turns out his liquor comes in handy for more than just getting wasted. He grabs a cloth and his half-drained bottle from the kitchen along with a bowl of warm water, then returns to you, kneeling on the carpet at your feet. 

“I got you now,” he whispers, then starts on your sprawled legs. You whimper when he reaches the first gash, right below your knee. “‘M sorry, sweetheart. Know it stings.”

You bite your lip, fingers curling into the velvet arm of the couch as he keeps going. “Haymitch.” It’s a croaked whisper, barely audible at all, but he hears it like an alarm bell.

“I’m here,” is all he can reply as he wrings the blood from the cloth. Goes again. Where your dress is bunched towards your hips, he sees bite marks on your inner thighs and feels nauseous. He sucks in a sharp breath. Leans back to press his fist into his mouth so that he doesn’t yell, or sob, or do something. He’s had his time, his punishment. It’s your turn now, and all he can do is be there at the end of the night. He takes a swig of the liquor in his hand, but it just makes the burn in his throat worse. So bad he has to step away, just for a minute, to collect himself. 

He doesn’t know your lazy gaze is watching his back, waiting for him to return. The only person who keeps you safe in all this, or at least rides out the devastation with you. Without him, you wouldn’t be here. You don’t know if that makes him a blessing or a curse. 

“Gonna get you some water,” he decides. 

Don’t go, you think, but you don’t dare say it. Even now, you’re afraid the Capitol will see just how much you rely on him and take that from you, too. 

He comes back quickly, helps sit you up with a gentle hand on your shoulder as he tips the cool glass to your cracked lips. “That’s it,” he coaxes. “Thatta girl.”

Your face crumples as though it tastes foul, and he draws it back to dry the excess from your chin. “When’s… it gon’ end?” you ask.

“When we’re dead and buried,” he replies softly. “Till then, you try to stay with me, okay?”

Your hooded eyes glisten as you finally look at him. It isn’t easy, being this vulnerable. You’ve been used and abused all night by evil, depraved men. Men with weapons on their fingers, in their mouths, everywhere, not because they like to fight, but because they like to bleed people like you dry. You shouldn’t want to be anywhere near him now, but where else can you go?

He’s all you’ve got. Some nights, it just isn’t enough. “Don’t w’na do this anymore.”

“I know.”

“Could end it.”

“They wouldn’t let you. You know that.” His voice is gravel; pain. You hate you put it there with your dreams of death, but they feel closer now than ever. What if he didn’t tend to your wounds, didn’t keep your hydrated and fed and awake? What if he let you drift off the way he hadn’t been able to in the arena?

And he’s right. Even if he could let you go, the Capitol would find some way to get you back, whether they’d use your sickly corpse or find somebody to masquerade as you to keep up appearances. You’d just be making it worse, even if not for yourself. 

And he needs you. He’d never say it, but he does. The only other victor here, all you have is each other. Back in District 12, you sit in your grand house in the Victor Village for hours, listening to him shuffling on the other side of the wall. His presence always a frayed thread to grasp onto with both hands. You clean him up when he’s passed out on his doorstep, or sometimes, you get drunk together on your couch. Only then do your bodies intertwine the way you want, both of you too past consciousness to care whether somebody sees. You don’t know what he’d do without you. Choke on his own vomit, maybe. Drink until he drowned. You rely on each other — and it’s the most dangerous thing in the world. But also the only thing that keeps you going. 

Your tongue is heavy in your mouth, and his face is fading in and out of the blackness now as he tends to some of the scratches on your face and neck. 

“Haymitch,” you whisper again, because if anybody can save you, it’s him. 

“Right here, sweetheart. Not going anywhere.” He’s so gentle against your raw skin you barely feel it at all, only moaning when he reaches tender spots. Finally, it stops. 

“Couch or bed?” he asks just as you’re sinking into the dark. 

“Couch.” Beds are where terrible things happen. Beds are where this happened.

“Lie down then, sweet. That’s it.” He guides you down to the cushions of the couch, a hand brushing the matted hair off your cheeks. You can’t tell if it’s comfortable or not. Your body isn’t yours to decide that, these days. He drapes a blanket over you, and it eases your shuddering limbs. Had you been shaking like that the whole time? You barely noticed. 

“You’ll stay?” If you were capable of it, it would have been a plea. 

He gives you the same answer as ever: “Where else am I gonna go?” And then, when you don’t reply, he takes your hand and gets comfortable on the carpet. He’s never, not once, tried to do more than that after nights like this, knowing too much touch will bring it all back. “Gonna be right here till sunrise, okay? Always gonna be another sunrise.”

It should be a comfort, but it feels like a death sentence. Doing this all over again tomorrow… 

But he’s here. He’ll always be here. The only good thing this world has ever given you. 

[yandere-romanticaa]

icon credit.

Thousands upon thousands of kisses were exchanged in the bathhouse as Phainon held his beloved in his arms, a loopy grin on his face, his lover not faring any better. The water rippled beneath them as they shamelessly slobbered all over each other in public, much to the bewilderment or amusement to any onlookers.

And Mydei was most certainly not amused.

"You two disgust me." Mydei seethed as he took a handful of the nearby bathwater and brutally splashed the two lovebirds. Happy little noises turned into shouts and complaints, the couple now completely drenched from head to toe as the handsome blonde crossed his arms, an annoyed look on his face. His red eyes gleamed with putridity as he mumbled Krenoan curses underneath his breath, before he finally decided to speak once more in the common tongue.

"Sick freaks..."

However, the pair only ignored them, Phainon in particular as he immediately reached out to his sweetheart, big strong arms enveloping them in a sickeningly sweet embrace as he kissed the crown of their head, his soft blue eyes gleaming underneath the many lights.

Mydei continued to observe the pair as he stood tall in the bath, water dripping down his toned body as he thought back to all the times he caught the stupid lovebirds in their shenanigans. He felt a vein wanting to pop at how he had to drag his rival by the ear in order for him to just listen to common sense or how he sometimes had to cover your mouth with his massive hand in order to get you to just keep quiet for a few moments.

Frankly, Mydei found himself being a little bit... disturbed at how inseparable you two were.

It was normal for a couple to want to spend every waking breath together, he knew that much. Endless gifts, ridiculous proclamations of love, petty spats, it all came into the territory known as romance.

However, his keen eye noticed that the line of sweet romance would be crossed one too many times.

Mydei kept track of how jealous you'd get of the attention Phainon would receive, how petty you would act towards the people who would even try talking to the man. At first he chalked it up to regular jealousy but one time he found himself literally stopping you from verbally clawing out another person's neck for simply giving Phainon a compliment.

With the way your hands were twitching, he was not even so sure that it would have been just a verbal assault...

He also recalled how he caught Phainon tracking you in the city as you did your daily rounds in the market, and he would naturally explain it all away as pure coincidence. Phainon was the type of man who could fool anyone - sharp words, kind eyes and frankly, a handsome physique made him easy to trust. And besides, a doting lover always looks out for the apple of their eye, right?

Even if that lover in question would linger in the shadows like a phantom in the night? Even if he always looked as though he was ready to slash anyone who got too close to you for his own comfort?

Mydei suddenly felt his blood run cold as he broke out of his dazed state. The white haired Chrysos Heir gave him an eerie look, those haunting blue eyes boring deep into Mydei's scarlet ones like the sharpest daggers known to man. He looked less like a person and more like a wild animal ready to lunge at him at any given moment.

The heat of the bath did not soothe Mydei's worries either as the thick fog of the warm air only made the gut wretching stare even worse than it ought to be.

Mydei carefully tracked Phainon's movements as he noticed him grabbing his black cloak and putting it over you, shielding you fully now from his view. Mydei raised an eyebrow at that until he realized the heart of the issue.

He should not be looking at you.

With a slow gulp he turned his head in a different direction, trying to look nonchalant but he knew that he was caught red handed.

Mydei wondered if Phainon was going to do something right now in the bath.

Even with his head turned he still felt that horrible gaze on him, almost swallowing him whole as he caressed his darling in his arms, as if he was daring him to glance back once more.

Mydei did not dare as a matter of fact.

He was worried about where this was going, how this strange saga even started or if it was even going to end at all. Never in his lifetime had he witnessed such a disgustingly clingy couple, two people so obsessed with each other that it almost wanted to make him run for the hills.

For now though, it was in his best interest to act like he saw nothing. He was still going to keep an eye on the pair just in case someone gets hurt but...

With the way things are headed, it's bound to happen sooner rather than later.

[corkinavoid]

For @astermagnolia, to 'Navigating' by Twenty One Pilots,

DPxDC Everybody Leaves

Damian always knew he was there.

From the very moment his eyes dimmed and his body went limp under Damian's hands, he knew that, in reality, he never went anywhere. He stayed, always in the corner of his eye, on the tip of his fingertips, on the brink of his dreams, looking back at him through the reflection in the mirror.

Always just out of reach.

And yet, when Damian missteps, when a bright blast of a laser is only inches away from his chest, when his eyes widen and he knows he won't make it out this time, he is still genuinely surprised to suddenly find another person in between him and his death.

The blast hits Danyal square in the chest, but the boy doesn't sway in the slightest. Damian would have been impressed; he would, really, if he didn't know his brother was dead. If the sight of him, standing in front of Damian, didn't cause his mind to come to a whirring stop.

"You can't take him," Danyal speaks, or maybe growls, the words coming from somewhere deep in his chest, "He can't leave."

And there's something off in his voice - not in the low, menacing way he speaks but in the frenzied panic that's seeping through every word. Damian, against his better judgment, reaches forward, trying to touch his brother's shoulder, but even before he does, the boy snaps his head to him.

And, oh, Damian sees what's wrong.

His brother's eyes are wide, toxic green and glowing, and full of fear, the one you see in a cornered animal. When one wrong move can turn all that scared, anxious tension into a sharp, angry lunge full of fury.

"You can't leave," Danyal repeats quieter this time, but his whisper is almost pleading, "Everyone leaves, I know they do, but not you, you can't-" and then, the frantic mess of words is cut off like someone flipped a switch, and Danyal's face smoothes out in less than a moment.

The cold, calculated ice fills his eyes, and the boy straightens up. His hair, dark like Damian's own, somehow glitches like a bad video recording, going between black and white but settling on white after a moment.

"I won't let you," he says, and there's no more fear or pleading in his voice. Instead, it's calm and eerie, offhanded even, like the boy is merely stating a fact.

Damian blinks, the words stuck in his throat.

He has a whole family of vigilantes around him, he grew up in the League, he is a part of a superhero team. He knows there are people who would throw themselves in danger for the sake of his life without a second thought, and he knows he would do the same, even if he is never going to admit to it out loud.

But not a single one of them ever made it feel like a promise, an unbreakable vow.

Danyal turns away from him, facing the battlefield.

He takes a deep breath.

And screams.

~•~•~•~

Okay, so the idea was that Danny (reincarnated or just dropped off in the DC universe somehow to become Damian's twin) had died at the hands of Damian long ago, but never left his side even in death. I was coming from the Ultimate Enemy bad ending, which means Danny is literally slipping into insanity over losing his loved ones.

Hence, Danny going into a feral protective rage over Damian because he is a traumatized, two times dead boy who just wants his family to stay with him.

And now I'm tryin' to hold onto you 'cause everybody leaves — ['Navigating' lyrics]

P.S. I really wanted to include the line 'pardon my delay' into this, but it didn't quite work with the way I was heading

[teaboot]

As someone who learnt english as a second language via textbook, I have to say "flying by the seat of my pants" is a hilarious idiom xD

It's the first time I've seen/heard it.

Could you share another one you like using?

Idk about idioms specifically, but there's a bunch of phrases I learned from my mom!

Lord love a duck! (Incredulous, like 'oh my god')

Lord suffer in sheep dip! (Sheep dip meaning sheep poop. Incredulous, but for annoying things- like 'are you kidding me?')

Is there a piano tied to your ass? ('Don't be lazy, do it yourself')

Someone's cruising for a bruising. (You're picking a fight.)

I don't give a rat's rip. ('I don't care'- a rat's 'rip' is it's butt crack.)

Pull up a stump! (Get yourself a chair, sit down.)

Everybody out of the pool! (Get out of the car)

I'm flying by the seat of my pants. (I have no idea what I'm doing, but I'm doing it.)

Don't go blowing smoke up my ass. (Don't over-compliment me, don't flatter me, don't stroke my ego, don't tell me positive lies)

Looks like it's gonna rain on our parade. (A storm is coming.)

Sorry to rain on your parade. (I've given you bad news- can be used sincerely or sarcastically to denote sympathy for incurring a bad mood.)

Better button that lip. (Stop talking.)

Someone's gonna stick a boot up your ass. ('Stick a boot up your ass'- fight you, beat you, kick your ass.)

Stick that lip out any further, and a pigeon'll shit on it. (Stop whining.)

Suck it up, buttercup. (Stop whining.)

Dumber than a fence post. (Very stupid.)

The back forty. (The wild or forested area behind a rural home. The 'forty' being forty acres, or farmland.)

Don't go begging for a fat lip. (Whatever you're saying or doing is going to bother people and get you in trouble.)

What on God's green earth (What the fuck)

I'm sweating like a pig in a porta-potty (like a pig in a plastic outhouse- I'm very warm, it's hot here)

He thinks the universe flew out of his ass. (He thinks he's more impressive than he is.)

Your mouth wrote a cheque your ass couldn't cash. (You promised more than you were capable of providing.)

You've got a horseshoe up your ass. (You're very, very lucky.)

Taking a dirt nap. (Dead.)

Pushing (up) daisies. (Dead.)

Give me forty acres to turn this rig around. (I need time and space to move this large, heavy, or unwieldy thing. Usually about navigating a vehicle. Taken from a song lyric.)

Jesus take the wheel. (God help me, I can't handle this, I give up.)

Gone belly-up. (Has died.)

We've got a floater. (This one is dead.)

Herding cats. (Trying to organize chaos, managing an impossibly complicated situation.)

I've got a black thumb. (I am bad at growing plants, all my plants die- reference to having a 'green thumb', or being good at growing plants.)

Stop trackin' floor cookies. (Floor cookies are bits of animal shit that fall off your work boots- 'tracking floor cookies' means wearing your boots in the house; take your shoes off at the door.)

Running around like a headless chicken. (Frantic, disorganized, stressed out by many tasks or panicked by a big situation.)

Spinning my wheels. (Waiting around for something to happen, getting nowhere, frustrated by inactivity, not making any progress towards a goal.)

He's gonna blow a gasket. (He's going to lose his temper, he's going to be angry.)

They'll tan your hide. (They'll punish you severely; usually through violence. Specifically in reference to a spanking.)

He's a few bricks short a load. (He's not clever / he doesn't think things through / he's crazy)

Not the sharpest tool in the shed. (Not the smartest person. Very dumb, clumsy, or absent-minded.)

I'm not going to bail you out. (Not going to save your sinking boat- not going to help you out of your bad situation.)

Looks like things are going south. (The situation is growing worse.)

I'll start making tracks. (I'll leave now, I'll start working, I'll get going.)

He's fucking the dog. (He's not being productive, he's doing a bad job, he's made things worse, he's screwing around.)

He's making puppies. (Less graphic version of 'fucking the dog'.)

Plant your ass. (Sit.)

Playing grab-ass. (Procrastinating- accomplishing nothing, slowing people down.)

He couldn't find his ass in the dark. (He's stupid, ineffective, underqualified, or incompetent.)

He couldn't pour water out of a boot if the instructions were on the heel. (He is unbelievably, comically dumb or ineffective. He can't do anything right.)

One foot in the ground. (Dying, or half-dead.)

I'm kicking rocks. (I'm not doing anything productive.)

I'm hauling ass. (I'm running away.)

Madder than a wet hen. (Very, very angry.)

Like I said I'm not sure that these are all idioms but they're all the phrases and sayings from my childhood that I can remember right now

EDIT: Cannot BELIEVE I forgot my mom's favourite

52. Wish in one hand, shit in the other, see which gets filled first. (Wishes don't come true by themselves)

Plus some more I forgot:

53. You make a better door than a window. (You're in the way of my view.)

54. You can take a long walk off a short pier. (Go fuck yourself.)

55. He's about as sharp as a bowling ball. (He's stupid.)

56. Scoot your poot. (Move over.)

57. Not my first rodeo. (I know what I'm doing.)

58. He's built like a brick shithouse. (He's broad and sturdy and very strong, solid.)

59. I smell bacon. (I saw a cop nearby.)

60. I don't want to hear a peep. (Stop talking.)

61. You're thinking with the wrong head. (You're making bad decisions because you're horny.)

62. I'd lose my ass/head if it wasn't tied on. (I'm very absent-minded, forgetful.)

63. That went down like a lead balloon. (That situation was bad.)

[thetxtdevil]

Hybrid TXT Thoughts

content: nsfw/smut, hybrid, human fem.reader, very vague smut, p in v, no wrap, cuddlefuck, mention of somnophilia, biting/nibbling, pool sex, outdoor sex, kai's scenario mentions mental health, let me know if I'm forgetting anything

average word count: 380 (each member)

the devil's note: thank @fairyofshampgyu for inspiring me :) I did use different animals for the boys because I wanted to be different 😎 I hope you enjoy!!!

Panda!Yeonjun 🐼

Yeonjun is a unique hybrid. It often leaves people guessing what he is as he seems docile but his body is big and broad body makes them think otherwise. It's not until they stop and admire Yeonjun’s smokey eyes, small round black ears hidden in his dark hair, and his cheeks lifting in a happy grin is when they can identify that Yeonjun is a panda hybrid. Panda!Yeonjun is a chill addition to your home most of the time laying around snacking on various foods. He’s so cute when lounging on the sofa you just want to snuggle your big bear, and he will never stop you from doing so. Panda!Yeonjun may be lazy at times but he does put in the effort to show his appreciation towards you. Yeonjun cooks for you and keeps you company. Panda’s are vocal so he wants to hear about your day and talk about everything and anything. Panda!Yeonjun doesn’t like confrontation though, so when he hears you masturbating in your room he doesn’t say anything. He’s too lazy to move and give you privacy, it's not like he would, he actually likes just listening to you, the wet sounds, pathetic whines, and your smell are nice.

However, one day something washes over Panda!Yeonjun and his tired eyes feel more alert. His body is fully awake and he’s not in the mood to just hear you. Continuously walking back and forth in front of your door, it wasn’t until you walked up to him and asked what was wrong is when he lunged at you. Big hands pawing at your body, knocking you into your comfy bed, and just like how Yeonjun is vocal in a normal setting he’s blabbering during sex. Telling you all the dirty things he wants to do to you, “Do you not realize that I can sense that you touch yourself, and how you’d be happier if you asked for my help?” His long dick pushes into your cunt hitting where your fingers couldn’t touch, and he made sure you always had relief when doing it with him. Pandas love to eat so it’s natural that Yeonjun loves to eat you out. He loves making love in the laziest ways, he was so grateful when you taught him that he didn’t have to do the most elaborate things in bed and instead, he can easily spoon you into heaven. Also, somnophilia… preferably him receiving it.

Raccoon!Soobin 🦝

Such a cute not-so-little thing. Raccoon!Soobin stands awkwardly with his ringlet tail swishing behind him as he waits for you to finish your food. You had to convince him to stop feeling like he has to eat your scraps and that he can eat freshly made food. Your heart gushes when you see Soobin’s dark circles surrounding his thankful glimmering eyes. Raccoon!Soobin is very active at night, dark eye bags worsen when he stares at the bright screen of your TV as he plays video games. You had to start inviting your friends over during late afternoons just so they could see your hybrid. You’d giggle every time your friends would gush over Raccoon!Soobin, his little ears standing up and his striped tail standing tail liking the attention of your friends. He's usually sweet and kind however, one game night with your friends he was looking for someone to demolish. Getting into arguments and winning every round simply from his annoying behavior. 

When your friends leave, you turn to your heels wanting to punish Raccoon!Soobin for his behavior, to your surprise he was sweet and cuddly again. Rubbing his head all over you, if you turned your head to somewhere else other than him, he’ll whine. Pouty lips grazing your neck, “Weren’t you impressed by my gaming skills tonight? Did I do good?” His words and the bulge poking at your leg made you realize that his behavior tonight was that he wanted to show off how good of a mate he is. You may be weak for Raccoon!Soobin but you let him have his way eating you out and making sure he has seconds and leftovers. Then showing off his length to stuff into his pretty little owner’s cunt. Little nibbles here and there but scratches a lot. Groans when your leave red trails on his back. Raccoon!Soobin is very curious about your presence in bed so he’ll be at it until dawn and then you’re trapped under his sleeping body.

Otter!Beomgyu 🦦

Such a gentle little creature, so soft so cuddly, content with life. Otter!Beomgyu’s long brown hair permanently has wet tips and the same goes for his sleek tail. If he’s not in your bathtub he’s in the apartment’s community pool. You’re happy when he’s calm and sleepy, Otter!Beomgyu gives the best hugs when sleeping. Always spooning each other, he thrives when he has arms wrapped around him. But of course, he needs to use all of his energy before he can settle. Hand in hand walking to the community pool you arrive to find it mostly empty except for one guy doing laps. Beomgyu is bummed, otters a territorial and this is his territory, the word “community” is not a thing when he’s in there. What really sets him off is when he notices your lingering eyes on the muscular man in the pool. Imagine his big dark eyes full of distraught, pink lips in a big pout, and his little otter ears bending down. Otter!Beomgyu rushes to the edge of the water and dives in begging you to watch him do tricks. He glides through the water practically racing the other guy, you feel yourself getting dizzy watching the hybrid swirl through the pool.

Eventually, Otter!Gyu’s hectic playing made the other guy run for his money, or so Gyu thought. Floating on his back, giggling to himself as he watches the man leave, his attention is right back to you. “Come on, y/n, want you to play with me!” You shake your head, and you tell him he’s been in there for too long but when you get close to the edge the otter’s paw grabs onto you pulling into the pool. You gasp at the sudden sensation, not only by the cold water but by the exploring hands of Beomgyu. Before you know it you’re pushed against the cement wall as Otter!Beomgyu sucks hickeys onto your neck letting everyone know that you’re his. And his cum in the pool will also let everyone know that the place is his… Shower and bathtub sex believer, imagine Gyu lighting candles and surrounding the tub *sigh* so romantic. Otters rub their faces and hair for reasons but Beomgyu’s reason is to turn him on. Carding your fingers through his hair will make him cum so hard.

Squirrel!Taehyun 🐿️

Such a cute hybrid but don’t tell that to his face, Squirrel!Taehyun is a feisty little thing. He might be tiny but he works out to the point that it makes you a little afraid. Watching him at the gym go from one machine to the next in a flash, jumping everywhere wanting to try something new is the most entertaining thing. When Squirrel!Taehyun is not active he likes to follow you around helping you with the most mundane things all the while making cute little noises as a sign of admiration. He is playful in a way that he likes to tickle you with his tail. The first time you got the hybrid you hugged him close and couldn’t stop yourself from giggling from the fluff of his tail. Squirrel!Taehyun doesn’t talk about his feelings much so you use his tail to translate what's on his mind. He also uses the fluff of his tail to his advantage, after an argument he’ll tickle you until you smile, when you’re cold he’ll wrap his tail around you and this gets him closer to you.

Squirrel!Taehyun loves the outdoors, the fresh green grass, the warmth of the sun, and how beautiful you look sitting next to him on the picnic blanket. Reaching your hand for the last strawberry you then run into Tyun’s hand reaching for the same thing. He’s quick to grab fruit holding it up away from you. Whining, “you had more than enough give it to me.” You climb on top of the hybrid reaching for the strawberry but in a blink, you’re on the ground with the squirrel on top of you. A little smirk creeps on his face watching you squirm, biting the strawberry then kissing you sharing the fruit. He was quite thankful that you were in a dress and in the backyard so it was easy access to fuck you right there. Since then Squirrel!Taehyun begs you to have a treehouse in the backyard so that he can have a special place to read and do other things… Don’t be surprised when he pulls you into the ultimate fuck sessions in the treehouse. Something about the outdoors just gets his instincts going. The cool breeze makes your nipples harden and the scent of wood results in Taehyun fucking you in all positions. Just imagine shelves full of books and toys.

Service Dog!Huening Kai 🐕‍🦺

The first time meeting each other was a breeze, instantly clicking, making jokes, and being comfortable with each other’s presence. Puppy!Kai is playful and cuddly, always up for adventure with you even if it's going from the living room to your bedroom. However, He gets a little too comfortable when you have an episode with him for the first time Service Dog!Kai freezes. He sensed something in the air, he knew that you seemed off, it wasn’t until you called out for him he was stunned but instantly went into work mode. Service Dog!Kai is there sitting next to you, nosing you to sense any change to your current state. Poor Puppy!Kai will never forgive himself after that moment, you try again and again to tell him that it’s okay, mistakes happen, but he’s stubborn. Service Dog!Kai is also stubborn about your health, he will not let you up until your heart rate is appropriate. He is ready for anything, pills? He has a bag full of them. Sweet treat? Has the mobile app ready. Your big, sweet puppy links arms with you everywhere you go and makes sure that he’ll never falter when you have an episode.

After a day full of stressors and being overstimulated, Service Dog!Kai leads you to your bed where you two nap until dusk. Kai can sense your resolved mood, your scent is calmer, and your heart rate is settled, you also start to cling to him more. Your gentle hands scratching Puppy!Kai’s black-folded ears causing small whimpers to escape his lips. Crawling up to you, he focuses on your body language reading that you’re comfortable. You sandwich the hybrid’s handsome face with your hands making Kai’s fluffy black tail wag wildly. You then pull him to kiss you. His whole body covers you like a warm blanket, kissing you softly, repeatedly asking “Is this ok?” “Are you comfortable?” Your kisses get more passionate and hungry, it makes it hard for Kai to hold back. Puppy!Kai quickly learns how sex reduces anxiety, he loves sensing your arousal state while sucking on your tit as his fingers play with your clit. Puppy!Kai now always asks for sex as a remedy, wanting your mind to just think of him if not fucked dumb. 

A nuisance,

TxT's Devil 🐾

taglist: @naoristerling, @inkigayocamman, @izzyy-stuff, @incogrio, @blue-moon-514, @biteyoubiteme, @hyukascampfire

divider: @bernardsbendystraws

[azrielbrainrot]

Summer Nights

Pairing: Azriel x F!Reader

Description: Feeding cats with Azriel.

A/N: Azriel is just a big cat to me.

Velaris was home to many wonders. A simple walk around the city was enough to make anyone gape at its beauty especially if done in the evening when the streets were more alive than ever and the moon and stars were shining vibrantly in the sky. It was easy to understand why it had earned the name of Court of Dreams at a simple glance.

Azriel always prefered watching the streets instead of roaming among the people, sticking to rooftops, back streets and shadows. It was probably the result of his job or childhood, but he always found his enjoyment dim in crowded places.

His position also brought a certain notoriety that he wasn't quite sure how to handle, his ears always starting to heat up as everyone's eyes easily found his imposing figure, studying his wings, shadows and face with curiosity. It was very rare that any of this was done with ill intent in this city, but that didn't make it easier for him to endure. It only made it worse in fact.

And so he tried to keep to himself as much as possible when he wanted to take a walk around the streets and feel the summer breeze. It was on one of those days that he found out that some neighborhoods had taken some of the stray cats as pets, leaving food and water for them by their backdoors or even some open windows for them to enter if they so wished.

Humans had been the ones to start taming some of these animals since their lifetimes were similar, but some of these customs had somehow made their way through the wall. Keeping pets wasn't that common in fae lands, the animals' lives were too fleeting, only lasting a decade or two if you were lucky, and giving your affection and care to something that could last so little was scary for most.

The cats in the night court were notably independent, some even temperamental. Most prefer to keep to themselves instead of leaning on fae to survive. That didn't stop them from accepting the food or the attention though. At least when they saw fit.

Azriel had always found most felines to be extremely beautiful and elegant, and with the addition of being so small compared to their relatives, he found cats to be adorable, especially since they managed to keep all the attitude within their tiny bodies.

Over the last couple of weeks, the shadowsinger had realized they were great company too. He liked to sit on empty rooftops next to purring cats, much like he did now, content in being in their presence even when it was extremely rare that they let him pet them or even really acknowledge them. He could understand the sentiment completely, Azriel also didn't much like being touched.

When the black cat that sat close to him got up and started climbing down to the floor in a hurry, his eyes fell on the backdoor of the next house, attention immediately stolen by the figure that emerged from behind it with a couple of bowls of food in hand.

“Hello, cuties,” the melodic voice happily greets the half dozen cats that now gathered around. “I hope there's enough for all of you.”

It felt like his breath had stuck in his chest as he watched you set everything down for the cats, cooing at some of them before sitting on the step as you watched them eat away what you brought them. It's impossible to say how much time passes, and as embarrassing as it would be to admit, he's sure that he wouldn't have been able to look away or move until you left if his shadows hadn't traveled down the walls, approaching the cats and in turn catching your eye.

The confusion that crosses your face is quickly replaced with surprise when you follow the shadows until you find him. He stands frozen for a second longer, and it's only the memory of a conversation he had with Rhys long ago that sets him into motion. He had told him that just because his job was to spy on people getting caught doing it to anyone else besides a target was, well it was really creepy. Azriel knew that of course, he had even been offended that his brother thought he didn't and felt the need to bring it up, but given the circumstances he found that he really couldn't blame him for saying it.

With a nudge from his shadows and Rhys' words echoing in his mind, he finds himself standing and letting his wings slowly and carefully glide him down to the floor, landing at a distance so he didn't startle the cats or you.

Another too long moment passes after his feet find the ground where neither of you speaks up, and Azriel almost wants to curse himself for being so awkward, trying his best to find his voice so the awkwardness was only felt by him and you didn't feel uncomfortable.

“Good evening.”

“Ah,” you gasp, eyes widening again as if you were convinced he had been nothing more than a hallucination before. “Good evening.”

Both of you let your eyes travel down to the cats once more, and Azriel finds his buddy looking up at him quizzically, as if asking what he was doing.

“I was sitting on the rooftop next to that cat when you called for them and he came running,” he explains, taking a tentative step closer. “I was just curious, didn't mean to startle you.”

“No, no.” You shake your head, a small smile playing on your lips. “I just wasn't expecting anyone to be here, that's all.”

Azriel nods, hands finding his pockets and shadows climbing up his body when he doesn't know what else to say. Luckily you seemed to understand and kept making conversation, easing him into it.

“I work at a restaurant by the Sidra so I bring leftovers for them whenever I can.” He quickly finds himself wondering what restaurant you meant and if he has ever had the pleasure of tasting your food. “They're not mine though. Only a couple of them even let me pet them.”

“I've noticed people have taken a liking to them.”

“Mhm, a lot of my neighbors also leave food out for them.” With another couple of steps, Azriel finds himself crouching down next to you, body relaxing when you simply smile up at him and continue. “They're adorable so I can't blame them.”

Azriel easily nods in agreement, eyes finding the cats again to see they have already finished what you brought, some now cleaning themselves after their meal and a couple sauntering off with full tummies.

“That black one always comes to me.”

“He does?” The excitement in your voice makes him stop watching the cats in favor of searching your face, nodding in answer. “I can't even get him to look at me sometimes and I'm the one that feeds him.” As if proving your point, the cat walks a few steps closer to Azriel and away from you, turning his back.

“I guess he really likes you,” you add a bit more defeatedly. This makes him want to make you feel better, almost going to grab the kitty and let you pet him before realizing that would only make things worse and he would be upsetting the poor cat.

“It's because of my shadows.”

“What do you mean?”

Azriel lets a couple wisps roam around the cat slowly until he takes the bait, jumping around happily as it chases the evading shadows, some of the other cats joining in as well. In a flurry of movements, only one black, one grey and one orange ball of fur could be seen as they kept jumping over each other, trying to catch the shadows before the others. It reminded him of something but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

A delighted laugh leaves your lips as you watch them, and Azriel can't help the grin from overtaking his lips at your happiness. He was convinced it was one of the most beautiful sounds he had ever heard in his five centuries of life.

“I'm not sure he would like me half as much if it weren't for them,” he says, making his shadows stop before the cats get too rowdy, letting each of them catch one of the wisps of shadows.

“I'm sure he would.”

“You think so?”

You nod with a smile. “I think you're a bit alike actually.” Azriel doesn't have enough time to figure out what you meant or decipher the knowing smile on your lips before you get up, his body easily following yours. “Listen I have to go to bed now, it's getting really late and I have work early tomorrow, but I'll probably come feed them at the same time tomorrow so maybe I'll see you around?”

“Yes,” he finds himself answering too quickly, clearing his throat when your smile only grows. “I mean I'm usually around here at this hour so we'll probably see each other, yes.”

“I'll see you tomorrow then,” you murmur, contentedly making your way to the door. “Good night, Azriel.”

“Good night.”

He watches you leave and close the door behind you with a smile, your sweet voice saying his name echoing around his mind the whole time. It's only when his little friend sits by his feet that he realizes he didn't even ask for yours.

[wondrluv]

୨୧ rethink ; pb5

➪ summary: it was supposed to be a fun night, hanging out with your girlfriend and some of the team, and you were having fun. but then, you saw them, the shameless flirting a girl was doing with paige and when paige leaves to get some drinks, your conversation with her leaves you to rethink everything. 

➪ warnings: the girl, liz, is a grade a bitch, prying into relationships, accusations of not caring enough, accusations in general, mentions of paige overworking herself, not at all proofread, the ending is super dodgy but whatever

➪ word count: 2.5k

➪ emma's notes: i didn't think i'd finish this tonight but i diddd. apologies if your name is liz, i used a name generator. um also apologies too because she's super annoying and i hated writing that so much!

© wondrluv ; do not copy, repost, or translate my work and designs on any other website or here

Once again, Paige had dragged you out of your dorm room, away from the comfort of your blankets and your (her) hoodie and the movie night ahead of you, all just to leave you with KK while she went and talked with some girl you didn’t know, an all too friendly smile on her face. 

It wasn’t that you minded sitting here and talking to KK and the others; you loved them, and you had countless good memories of your hangouts with them. It was the fact that she made you get ready, gave you that look she knew could make you cave because she wanted you to wear that one black dress she loved, made you do your hair and whatnot, and then left - that annoyed you.

And Paige knew how attractive she was, she knew just how much people looked at her as soon as she entered the room, commanding their attention without even trying, she knew she could make a girl blush with just a single look. 

Sometimes it slipped out naturally; the little comments here and there, the subconscious glances up and down as someone new approached her, the slight brush of her hand against someone’s arm. She didn’t do it on purpose, it was almost like second nature to her, that and being oblivious whenever someone actually reciprocated her flirting.

It wasn’t often you witnessed someone opening flirting with Paige, mostly because you were almost always standing right there beside her, her arm around your waist as your head rested on her shoulder. It was rare and even so, you didn’t pay too much attention to it, it was harmless, something you could brush off. But now?

Now you were sitting in the booth with KK, her animated voice falling deaf upon your ears as she talked about something, what it was you weren’t sure. All you were sure about though was the uneasiness twisting in your stomach as your eyes narrowed in on where Paige was standing across the room, a bright smile on her face talking to a girl whose hand was resting on Paige’s bicep.

You snapped out of your trance as KK’s hand waved in front of your face, blinking at her, “What?”

“You’re not even listening to me? Can you believe this?” She nudged Morgan who just shrugged at her, going back to her conversation. 

“Sorry.” You murmured, looking down at your drink, your knee bouncing.

“What’s up with you?”

You couldn’t stop your eyes from flickering up to where Paige was again, quickly looking away as more jealousy consumed you. KK followed your gaze, smirking when she realized what was happening, “Go talk to her. Stake your claim?”

“Stake my claim?” You laughed, rolling your eyes.

“Yeah like, go wrap your arms around her. She’ll fold.”

“Fold?”

“She’s obsessed with you, uh yeah she will.”

“Fine.” You muttered, giving in and standing up from the booth, making your way over to Paige, wrapping your arms around her torso from behind. 

Paige tensed quickly but relaxed just as fast, her eyes flicking behind her and then focusing back on the girl as she continued to talk. You rested your chin on her shoulder, turning just slightly to press a kiss to her cheek. 

It was only then that the other girl noticed your appearance, giving you a quick once over, lips turning into a small frown, “Hi.”

“Hi.” Your reply was short, slightly on edge as you tightened your grip on your girlfriend. 

Paige just grinned, grabbing hold of your hand and moving you so you were standing next to her, sliding her arm around your waist, thumb rubbing circles against your hip. She looked back at the girl, her voice giddy, “This is my girlfriend, y/n. Baby this is…”

She trailed off, raising an eyebrow once she realized the girl never actually introduced herself. 

“Liz.” She gave you a more than obvious fake smile, not bothering to reach her hand out to shake hers, not like you would have anyway. “You didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend.”

“You sure? I usually talk people’s ears off about her.” Paige blushed at her own words, knowing that it was nothing short of the truth. You couldn’t count how many times her friends complained to you about how often Paige brought you up in random conversations just because something small reminded her of you. 

“Oh, I guess I just- forgot then.”

Paige’s arm moved to sling around your shoulders, your hand coming up to grasp at hers loosely. The movement caused Liz’s eyes to snap to where your hands were now joined, narrowing slightly. 

“So, how long have you two been together?”

“Almost two years now.” Paige’s voice was filled with adoration and pride, a small smile on her face.

“Oh, wow.”

“Yeah, snatched her up real quick.”

“Snatched? Really?” You gave her a look, her expression turning innocent at your teasing glare.

“S’true. Got you before someone else could.”

“I think that statement is completely flipped around but I’ll let you have it because you’re cute.” You poked her cheek, grinning. 

“Hmm, that’s so generous of you.”

Liz rolled her eyes again, your affectionate nature both upsetting and annoying her but couldn’t tear her gaze away from the two of you. 

A few minutes passed in silence, the tension growing with each second. No one said anything in regards to it, your smile almost smug as you leaned further into Paige’s side. 

“I’m going to go get a drink.” Paige looked down at you, “You want anything, baby?”

“Just a water, please.”

She nodded and walked off, not without squeezing your shoulder and pressing a kiss to your temple, leaving the two of you in an even heavier silence. Liz watched her disappear into the crowd, jealousy flowing through her. She had no reason to be jealous, the logical part of her brain knew that. Paige was taken and her girlfriend was standing right in front of her. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t have a little fun, right?

“So, you guys haven’t had any rough patches? You know, fights or anything? Two years is a while.”

Her face was the essence of innocence but there was an underlying tone of patronizing in her voice, something you picked up on right away. 

You shifted slightly, raising an eyebrow at her question before answering smoothly, “No, not really.”

Liz was taken aback for a moment, but she noticed the shift in your body language, a wave of satisfaction rushing over her quickly, “Really? No fights or even little arguments?”

You knew what she wanted and you were determined to keep it to yourself, you weren’t going to open up to her, not when you knew all she wanted was to make you question your relationship, trying to find a way in. 

You shook your head, “Nope.”

“I find that hard to believe. I mean no relationship is perfect.”

“We’ve never really had a huge fight before, we trust each other, and communicate well. We make it work. Sure we’re independent and sometimes would rather keep to ourselves, but we work it out.”

“Keep to yourselves, huh?” Liz knew at that moment that she found her ‘in’, something she could use against you.

You cursed to yourself silently, knowing you had let yourself slip by accident, “It’s nothing. And really, I don’t see how it’s any of your business.”

She held her hands up in defense, her innocent mask slipping back on, “Just asking some questions. Simply curious, that’s all.”

Another awkward silence fell over you, Liz still the face of innocence but smirking and you glaring at her. 

“So, keeping to yourselves. Does Paige ever shut you out?” Who did she think she was? She’d known the two of you for a good thirty minutes at best and she thinks she can just start questioning every aspect of your relationship. “I mean, I heard it’s common amongst relationships with athletes. They get in their heads a lot.”

You tensed even further as she continued talking, trying to contain your words and not blow up in front of everyone surrounding you. You plastered on a fake smile, your voice calm and steady but there was an edge to it, “Once again, I don’t really see how that’s any of your business.”

“Oh, it’s not, but I’m trying to understand. I mean Paige seems to work herself really hard and I know how that can be, bearing the weight of a team on my shoulders. I just don’t want to see her beat herself up about it, shutting herself off.”

“Paige is fine, she talks to me, and I talk to her. We help each other through the tough times.”

“It must be frustrating, right? Not being able to help her without her pushing you away?”

You froze momentarily, your thoughts coming to a halt. Sure it bothered you sometimes, the way Paige could get after a hard loss or a tough game. But that was how she processed things, she’d come to you when she was ready. You weren’t in her position, you didn’t know how it felt to be under that much pressure, and you didn’t want to make things worse. So you gave her space, let her come to you. 

“You’re right, it really isn’t any of my business,” she started, going back to your earlier statement. “But it can’t be healthy if you can’t help her. Don’t you want to know what’s going on in her head?”

She paused again, her voice dripping with condescension, “Or do you just not care enough to ask?”

You gave her a tight-lipped smile, the question being your breaking point, “Have a nice night.” 

You turned on her heel quickly, heading to wear Paige was, navigating through the crowd. You paused when you heard her voice again, it was soft, barely audible, but your ears heard it anyway, “Yeah, leave. That’s probably all you do anyway.”

You knew it shouldn’t bother you, you had just met her, and there was no reason for her to get under your skin like that. She didn’t know you, didn’t know you and Paige and how you ticked, didn’t know the secret moments late at night when the two of you talked and laughed like middle-schoolers trying to pull an all-nighter with each other. But that didn’t stop your mind from racing, the blood rushing to your ears. 

Paige smiled when she saw you approaching, one hand holding your drink and the other hand holding yours, “Hey, baby. Here’s your water?”

“Can we go?”

Her smile dropped at your blunt tone, her eyebrows furrowing as a worried look crossed her face, “Yeah, of course we can.”

She places her drink down, her hand coming to rest on your hip, “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” You murmured, eyes looking elsewhere to avoid her gaze. 

She pulled you closer, her free hand cupping your cheek, directing your eyes back to hers, “Ma…”

“I just wanna go, Paige.” She only nodded, her heart breaking at the small crack your voice had, gripping your hand and leading you to her car. 

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

The car ride was silent the whole way back to her apartment, even as the two of you entered and you changed into some clothes you had left there one night, curling up on her bed. You let the blankets envelop you in their warmth as you take a deep breath, closing your eyes, trying to forget the interaction. 

Paige watched you worriedly, she hated when you shut her out, hated when you got like this. She always wanted to fix it, make you feel better, make you happy. She knew something was off, knew something had happened from the time she left to get your drinks till she saw you again. And she was determined to figure out what it was. 

She changed into her own comfier clothes; loose sweatpants and a baggy UConn basketball t-shirt, before climbing into bed behind you, pulling you close so your back was flush against her chest. Her hand slipped beneath your shirt, her palm warm against your stomach thumb rubbing circles to soothe you even further. 

She buried her head into your neck, her nose slightly cold from the chill outside causing you to shiver, tugging the blankets closer around you. She left a few kisses against your skin, pulling away again to whisper, “Baby, talk to me. Please.”

“Do you think I don’t care?” Your voice was soft, scared almost. There was no beating around the bush, no easy way to start the conversation, so you just asked. 

“What? Why- Of course, I don’t think that. You’re my number one supporter.” Her hand left your stomach, reaching up to brush a piece of hair out of your face as you turned to face her, “Where’s this coming from, huh?”

You shifted so you were facing her entirely, your hand automatically finding hers and playing with her fingers as you began to speak, “I just- when you left to go get drinks… Liz started asking me about our relationship, wondering if we ever fought. And I ignored her for the most part, I didn’t mean to let it slip that we sometimes keep to ourselves and then she started prying even more, accusing me of not caring enough to ask you if you were okay.”

You snuck a glance up at her, inhaling sharply when you saw the small fire burning in her eyes. Her grip on your hip tightened but you didn’t mind, it grounded both of you from whatever your thoughts were spiraling into. 

“I don’t- I don’t know why anyone would say that, ma. She had no right to pry like that, it’s not right. And it is most certainly not true, anything she said.” Her voice was firm, trying to convince you that you had done nothing wrong. “You care more than anyone I’ve ever known. You’re patient, you give me what I need, and I know you’re there if I need you. You never push me to talk, you’re there for me constantly, and that is helping me.”

“Really?”

“Really. You do everything right, trust me.” She kissed your forehead, her lips lingering before she moved to kiss your cheek. “Don’t let her get to you, I don’t know what she was thinking.”

You just snuggled into her, head hiding in her chest as she wrapped you into her arms, “I love you.”

You kissed her jaw, light, and brief, she couldn’t be sure if you actually did or not. You spoke softly too, but her hearing was attuned to your voice, “I love you too.”

꒰ UCONN HUSKIES TAGLIST ꒱

@alexxavicry @shikaizer @alilstressyandlotdepressy

PB5 MASTERLIST ; WBB MASTERLIST

TAGLIST ; NAVIGATION