#the way I was struggling to choose who goes where

[wool-string]

Day 6: au with an old fandom

I was really into hamlet and he and Kei are both bratty depressed losers so.. Yeah

I wanted to do a mini comic about the grave digger scene but I don't think ill have the time so just those doodles. Ig this would be more of an 'actor au' cause they would all be so ooc otherwise lol

[absentlyabbie]

seriously, though. i work in higher education, and part of my job is students sending me transcripts. you'd think the ones who have the least idea how to actually do that would be the older ones, and while sure, they definitely struggle with it, i see it most with the younger students. the teens to early 20s crowd.

very, astonishingly often, they don't know how to work with .pdf documents. i get garbage phone screenshots, sometimes inserted into an excel or word file for who knows what reason, but most often it's just a raw .jpg or other image file.

they definitely either don't know how to use a scanner, don't have access to one, or don't even know where they might go for that (staples and other office supply stores sometimes still have these services, but public libraries always have your back, kids.) so when they have a paper transcript and need to send me a copy electronically, it's just terrible photos at bad angles full of thumbs and text-obscuring shadows.

mind bogglingly frequently, i get cell phone photos of computer screens. they don't know how to take a screenshot on a computer. they don't know the function of the Print Screen button on the keyboard. they don't know how to right click a web page, hit "print", and choose "save as PDF" to produce a full and unbroken capture of the entirety of a webpage.

sometimes they'll just copy the text of a transcript and paste it right into the message of an email. that's if they figure out the difference between the body text portion of the email and the subject line, because quite frankly they often don't.

these are people who in most cases have done at least some college work already, but they have absolutely no clue how to utilize the attachment function in an email, and for some reason they don't consider they could google very quickly for instructions or even videos.

i am not taking a shit on gen z/gen alpha here, i'm really not.

what i am is aghast that they've been so massively failed on so many levels. the education system assumed they were "native" to technology and needed to be taught nothing. their parents assumed the same, or assumed the schools would teach them, or don't know how themselves and are too intimidated to figure it out and teach their kids these skills at home.

they spend hours a day on instagram and tiktok and youtube and etc, so they surely know (this is ridiculous to assume!!!) how to draft a formal email and format the text and what part goes where and what all those damn little symbols means, right? SURELY they're already familiar with every file type under the sun and know how to make use of whatever's salient in a pinch, right???

THEY MUST CERTAINLY know, innately, as one knows how to inhale, how to type in business formatting and formal communication style, how to present themselves in a way that gets them taken seriously by formal institutions, how to appear and be competent in basic/standard digital skills. SURELY. Of course. RIGHT!!!!

it's MADDENING, it's insane, and it's frustrating from the receiving end, but even more frustrating knowing they're stumbling blind out there in the digital spaces of grown-up matters, being dismissed, being considered less intelligent, being talked down to, because every adult and system responsible for them just

ASSUMED they should "just know" or "just figure out" these important things no one ever bothered to teach them, or half the time even introduce the concepts of before asking them to do it, on the spot, with high educational or professional stakes.

kids shouldn't have to supplement their own education like this and get sneered and scoffed at if they don't.

[webbluvrsugar]

earlyseasons!spencer making you squirt.

cw: doesn’t mean sub!spencer, it’s more like eager Spencer experimenting on reader, written mostly for funsies.

Every since you and Spencer have been messing — fucking — around, you’ve noticed that he’s been a little shy, at least at first, his touch has been gentle but also… experimental, the way he looks at you when you’re under him and pushes you just a little harder almost makes you feel like like he’s studying you, testing something on you. But he’s a profiler, he’s learned that you don’t mind, so when he comes with the proposition of trying to make you squirt, you’re doubtful, specially as he pushes you down on your bed — already naked.

“Spencer, you don’t really need to do this, I —“ you try to speak but he’s quick to interrupt you, his hands running down your thighs.

“I know, I just.. I just want to try something new, just for a bit,” he hushes, eyes looking up to you for approval as he puts away his glasses and when Spencer says ‘just for a bit’ he is indeed just… lying, lying to your face.

His tongue licks a fat strip up your folds, it’s bold, something that he’d at first would hesitate to do, gently circling your clit before he attaches his lips onto it, gently sucks and his fingers go up to spread you further.

Spencer’s tongue feels good, but by now, you know that he would’ve already tried to stick a finger or two in you, but he doesn’t, it almost seems like he’s trying to reach this personal goal of his all with his mouth, and he’s doing a good job at it, because his tongue prods at your entrance and you arch your back, softly moaning, head throwing back and meeting your pillow.

“How does that feel?” He questions as if you need to answer for him to know it.

But still, you nod again, “Good,” you whisper, hand going down to grab at the sheets.

“Yeah, I can tell.” He grins, cocky, before his mouth latches onto your cunt again.

He devours you, nose bumping into your clit as his tongue precisely chooses where to run through, your breath being taken from your lungs when it caresses your insides one more time, the warm tip of the muscle moving within you.

“Spence,” you whimper, your knees struggling to keep themselves in place as he pulls back and pays attention to your swollen pearl one more time.

“Close?” He asks, tongue licking up a few more times through your folds, trying to get all up in there.

“Mh — Mhm,” you moan, a pleased sigh following suit.

“Did you know that —“ he pauses, “statistically, only thirty-five to fifty percent of women have experienced squirting mid sex—“ he presses an open mouthed kiss to your cunt. “But it depends on the method, I’ve read about it, we can try and see if this will be the one for you.”

And for someone who’s so used to talking, Spencer finally goes to quiet after a while and focus on your pussy, paying extra attention to what you like, guiding himself with your moans and gentle curses.

“Spence—“ with that, he thinks this really might be his chance of getting you to do it the first try, so his lips wrap around your clit one last time, only letting go when he hears a hushed cry of his name escape your lips— “Spencer!” A stream of fluid expels from you, and he watches in awe, slightly tilting his head as your body shivers and writhes right before him.

His hands gently caress your thighs, fingers letting go of your folds, his eyes finally meeting yours when you take a breath and before you can speak, he notes;

“Let’s do it again, maybe you’ll do it quicker if I actually use my fingers…”

[kanansdume]

Okay, so everybody knows the Obi-Wan and Anakin elevator scene from AOTC where Obi-Wan realizes Anakin's super anxious about seeing Padme again but he doesn't have time to try to have a more straight-forward talk about his feelings and that probably wouldn't relive his stress anyway given Anakin's proclivities towards hiding his feelings, so he instead decides to provide a distraction in the form of provoking Anakin into an argument by blatantly claiming something that isn't true so that Anakin will refute it.

I want Obi-Wan to do that more. More specifically, I want to see him doing it with CODY.

Because Cody, for all that he is obviously a pretty steady person, is also a clone who presumably was told at some point that he had stress bred out of him and would not have a concept of "talking about his feelings" in any meaningful way. So when the war starts to get to him and the stress and anxiety start to get a little overwhelming, he doesn't really have a great outlet for it.

But Obi-Wan has been dealing with someone who isn't great at talking about his feelings and doesn't have a great outlet for dealing with his stress for like ten years now. He knows how to approach this in a way that's gentler than just straight-up asking Cody how he feels (a question guaranteed to get him nowhere, especially towards the beginning of the war).

So the first time Cody maybe shows up to a briefing a little stressed and they have like two minutes or something before it starts, Obi-Wan says something like "You know this reminds me of that campaign we ran on Mimban where I was able to successfully pull off that crazy maneuver" and Cody is immediately like "This is NOTHING like that campaign and that maneuver you pulled was quite literally the opposite of successful, General" and Obi-Wan goes "Ah yes, you're quite right, I remember now" and then laughs a little and Cody just rolls his eyes a bit but he's noticeably a little less stressed now.

But Cody is not Anakin and he cottons on a bit faster to Obi-Wan's game, so the next time Obi-Wan decides to try it, Cody doesn't rise to the bait and instead just responds with "Yes, General, I do, it was such an impressive maneuver you pulled, I'm sure the men would LOVE to do it again, but sadly we do not have the time or resources to implement it this time." Obi-Wan is fucking DELIGHTED, and from that point on, the distraction isn't an ARGUMENT, but a GAME. Any time Obi-Wan brings up some sort of old battle with blatantly incorrect information, Cody will pretend that it's the absolute truth but has to come up with a reason as to why it isn't usable in this situation or something. It's still helpful in reducing stress, but in a different way.

One day, Cody is feeling a little stressed about something, and he goes to Obi-Wan and says "General, do you remember that time on Felucia when you single-handedly took down the enemy?" And Obi-Wan realizes immediately that this is Cody ASKING FOR HELP. This is Cody recognizing what he's feeling, choosing to admit to it, and asking for help managing those feelings. And Obi-Wan is SO SO PROUD of him, and of course immediately picks up the game and helps his Commander.

And maybe, much further down the line, Obi-Wan's feeling more stressed than usual. Maybe it's just the toll the war has taken, maybe something specific has happened to cause it that's worse than usual, take your pick, but Obi-Wan's just... struggling a little, and Cody notices. Cody's seen it before, but usually it happens when they're already tucked away somewhere like Obi-Wan's quarters or something and he can just come straight out and ask Obi-Wan if he's okay and Obi-Wan can talk about what's stressing him out. But for whatever reason, that's not actually an option right now. Obi-Wan is visibly stressed in public and struggling to set it aside until he can get somewhere private to deal with it, so Cody steps up to him and quietly says "General, this situation reminds me of that time on Grievous's ship when I was able to execute a very successful jump and pin on the enemy combatant." Obi-Wan actually hasn't been on this side of the game before and he's a little distracted by whatever's stressing him out, so he doesn't pick up on it immediately, and so he's like "Wait, as I recall, you did NOT manage to do that successfully, and I don't see ANY relation between that situation and this one" and then halfway through he realizes what just happened and starts to laugh. Cody is just pleased that it worked.

[luna-azzurra]

Ways I Write a Woman...

➤ Who’s Tired of Being Talked Over

You ever watch someone hold in a scream behind their teeth? That’s her, constantly.

✧ She starts choosing her words like landmines. Each one is sharp, controlled, and timed like a threat. She’s learned that being polite won’t get her listened to, but sounding like you might flip a table will. ✧ She’s mastered the art of the silence that feels loud. Doesn’t fill awkward gaps. Just lets the discomfort sit in the air like smoke. ✧ She explains things with forced calm, the kind that sounds like a teacher asking a second-grade class why the hamster is missing. ✧  She notices interruptions like bruises. She doesn’t react to them anymore, not out loud. But you can bet she counts them. ✧ She repeats herself less. Not because they understood her the first time. Because they never listened anyway. ✧ She’s learned how to weaponize eye contact. Not in a sexy way. In a “I will set this boardroom on fire with my mind” way. ✧ Her voice only shakes when she’s deciding if it’s worth the explosion.

➤ Who’s Been Called ‘Too Much’ Her Whole Life

She isn’t too much. She’s just tired of shrinking for people who were never going to make room anyway.

✧ She says the thing you’re not supposed to say. Then stares at you to see what you’ll do with it. ✧ She’s loud with her laugh, loud with her grief, loud with her love, because if she’s going to be punished for being “extra,” she might as well be honest about it. ✧ She over-explains. Over-apologizes. Then catches herself and stops halfway through the sentence. ✧  She tries to “tone it down” and ends up sounding like a censored version of herself, bland, miserable, unfinished. ✧ She edits her texts four times, deletes the paragraph, sends “haha ok :)” instead. ✧ She keeps her hands busy because otherwise they’d be doing something reckless. ✧  She overcompensates with sarcasm and then goes home and wonders if everyone hates her. ✧  She’s loved fiercely. Regretted it more fiercely. ✧  She walks into a room like she owns it, and then spends the entire time wondering if she should have stayed home.

➤ Who Wants to Be Soft but Doesn’t Feel Safe

She's gentle, but that gentleness lives under twenty layers of armor. And most people never even get past the first. ✧  She’s careful with her compliments, she knows how people weaponize kindness. ✧  She keeps her vulnerability behind locked doors and guards them with jokes, sarcasm, and “I’m just tired.” ✧ She’ll comfort others like she was born to do it, but flinch if someone offers her the same. ✧ She avoids mirrors on bad days. Eye contact on good ones. ✧ She cries where no one can see. Car bathrooms. Locked bedrooms. Grocery store parking lots at night. ✧ She doesn’t ask for help. Not because she doesn’t need it, but because the last time she did, it came with a price. ✧ She’s soft with animals, with children, with strangers, but not herself. Never herself. ✧ She daydreams about being taken care of, then immediately gets mad at herself for wanting something so “weak.” ✧ She wants love, but she’s terrified of being known. Because if someone really saw her? What if they didn’t stay?

And if you’re sitting there reading all of that thinking, “God, I don’t even know how to write women like this…” Please know: you’re not alone. Like, really not alone.

Writing female characters in a way that feels true, nuanced, and unapologetically real isn’t just about avoiding clichés. It’s about unlearning everything you were taught about what women are “supposed” to be on the page. It’s about getting underneath the polish. Past the performative strength. Past the “she’s not like other girls” and the “strong but broken” tropes. Past the idea that softness is weakness and rage is unlikable.

So many people struggle with this, not because they don’t care, but because no one ever really taught them how to see women as people first.

A lot of us grew up reading female characters written through a lens that flattened us. Made us background noise, love interests, plot devices, or emotionally bulletproof when we weren’t emotionally unstable. It’s no wonder we’re all trying to figure out how to do better now. I write a Book about How to Write Women that feel Alive... For you.

In the chapters ahead, we’re going to unravel that mess, together (Promise). We’ll talk about...

❥ Tropes — the ones worth reclaiming, and the ones you can toss into the fire. ❥ The psychology of a woman — how conditioning, survival, identity, and inner conflict shape her from the inside out. ❥ Female vs. male conflict — not in a “boys suck” way, but in a “our emotional battlegrounds are different and that matters” way. ❥ Expectations — society’s, her own, and how characters shrink or shatter under them. ❥ Emotions as strength — especially the ones she was taught to hide: fear, grief, longing, joy, rage. ❥ Female anger — what happens when she finally stops holding it in. ❥ Archetypes — and how to subvert them without erasing the truths they come from. ❥ Female friendships — no more cardboard “bestie” side characters. ❥ Romantic relationships — what it means when she’s finally seen. Chosen. Or rejected. ❥Mothers, daughters, and sisters — because female relationships deserve more than being backstory. ❥ Dialogue — how she speaks when she’s safe vs. when she’s scared. ❥ Inner conflict and development — her arc isn’t about fixing her. It’s about letting her evolve. ❥ Writing exercises — to help you get past the noise and write from a place that feels real. ❥ A full checklist for writing female OCs — layered, powerful, contradictory, alive.

This isn’t a rulebook. It’s a guide. A toolbox. A comfort blanket. A callout. A reminder that writing women doesn’t have to feel impossible, you just have to be willing to look a little deeper.

So if you’ve ever felt stuck writing a female character… If you’ve defaulted to tropes because you didn’t know how else to make her “interesting”… If you’ve erased her emotions to make her “strong”… Or if you’ve stared at the page wondering why she still doesn’t feel real...This book is for you.

And I promise, by the time you reach the last chapter? You’ll not only know how to write her. You’ll understand her. And maybe even see a little of yourself in the process.

Love u All!!🖤

[somnoir]

Children of Diana - Part 2

Part 1 | Masterpost

Diana had not intended to reveal the existence of her children so soon. But thankfully, Daniel and Dante seemed to agree that it would not be too troublesome for her colleagues to know of them.

She is grateful, at least, that no one suspects Diana Prince to be a mother of three. Instead, the world knows only that Wonder Woman has taken on two young male apprentices. The distinction, while subtle, grants her a measure of control over the narrative. It is, admittedly, a confusing time for some—especially her fellow heroes.

As expected, Batman is the first to approach her.

“You have partners?” he asks, his tone softer than usual, lacking the usual gruffness.

Diana smiles, tilting her head. “Yes. Though from what I understand, they are younger than your Robin.” She pauses, recalling the bright, determined child who first wore the mantle. “The older one is close in age to when Robin first came to be.”

Batman nods, understanding. “Do you require any assistance or advice on the matter? I am willing to offer guidance on mentoring young vigilantes. Though I must admit, I will be lacking in the powers department.”

Diana appreciates the offer. Even she struggles to fully anticipate the depths of Dante and Daniel’s abilities—so fluid, so unbound by the laws she has known. But she appreciates the helping hand nonetheless.

“Thank you, Batman.” She grins. His identity remains elusive, but she respects his privacy. More than ever, now that she has children of her own, she understands why he chooses to remain an enigma when so many of their colleagues have unmasked.

“It’s no problem.” He shakes his head, his cape shifting slightly with the motion. “You may bring them to the Watchtower at some point. Preferably once they’ve received enough training.”

Diana arches a brow, smirking. “The same way you brought Robin?”

Because, of course, Robin had not been formally introduced. The boy had snuck in, startling many before being caught by Kal—moments before he nearly ambushed his own mentor.

Batman grunts, displeased yet faintly amused by the memory. “Hopefully not.”

“I will try,” Diana laughs.

She eventually finds herself back home, where Dante and Daniel are suffering as per usual, trying to wrangle their adventurous infant of a sister to not float out the window. Like usual.

Diana steps into the room just in time to hear the chaos unfolding.

“Hi, Di!” Danny greets, far too cheerfully for someone currently wrangling a two-year-old with the strength and determination of a seasoned warrior. His eyes flicker green before he turns back to the little troublemaker currently biting the windowsill. “Can we borrow your lasso?! Or buy a leash?!”

Diana raises a brow.

“Ellie, stop biting the damn furniture! You’re too young to be traveling the world, damn it!” Dante shouts, trying to pry his sister away from the open window.

Ellie, utterly unbothered, swats at him with surprising force. “No! Wanna go to Greece! Lemme go!”

“You’re not going into the ocean, dammit!” Dante snaps back, only to yelp when Ellie plants a solid kick to his face.

Diana watches, unimpressed but unsurprised, as Dante stumbles. That moment of lost balance is all Ellie needs—wiggling free, she makes a determined beeline right out the window.

Diana sighs. Enough of that.

She catches Ellie by the waist with ease, pulling her back into the penthouse before she can so much as dangle a foot into open air. “Not yet, little one,” Diana says, tone firm but gentle. “As your brother said, you are far too young. Perhaps when you are eight, like Daniel, I shall permit it.”

Ellie whines loudly, puffing out her cheeks and attempting to push against Diana’s hold. It’s adorable, really—her tiny hands barely make an impact against Diana’s chest. Realizing resistance is futile, Ellie huffs and goes limp in her mother’s arms, a dramatic display of defiance.

Diana is unfazed. With one arm, she holds Ellie effortlessly, and with the other, she reaches out to help Dante up.

“Did I take too long?” she asks, amused.

“If you did, she’d already be by the coast,” Dante grumbles, rubbing his face and glaring at Ellie, who resolutely avoids his gaze.

Diana chuckles. It is never dull in this household.

Wraith and Phantom make their entrance as they always do—silently, effortlessly, and unmistakably theirs. They do not linger in the shadow of the League as sidekicks often do, nor do they stand beside any other hero. They are with her and her alone.

The League, naturally, takes notice.

Their presence is striking, their power undeniable. Even their attire contrasts sharply with Diana’s own. Where she stands adorned in gold, red, and blue, they are shrouded in black and white, their cloaks shifting like the cosmos itself. Danny—Phantom—wears the void, an expanse of endless cold that seems to devour the light around it. Dante—Wraith—holds within his cloak the heat of a dying star, the fury of a sun on the brink of collapse.

And then, of course, there are their abilities.

Dante calls forth fire from the earth with a mere flick of his wrist, the ground obeying his command as flames rage in his wake. Danny summons ice from the sky, turning the battlefield into his frozen domain. Opposites in nearly every way, yet when they fight, it is seamless, an unrelenting force that none can withstand.

Barry whistles, watching as Wraith effortlessly hurls the latest villain skyward, only for Phantom to snatch them mid-air and slam them back into the ground with a force that rattles the street. "Okay, lady, you've got two concerningly powerful kids there," he laughs, though the nervous edge in his voice betrays his unease.

Batman, ever observant, merely nods. "Exceptional technique," he notes. "Did you train them yourself?"

Diana crosses her arms, watching as Phantom and Wraith move with fluid precision, their synergy as natural as breathing. "Somewhat," she admits. "They had exceptional mentors before arriving in this world, but I had to reteach them certain things after their transition."

Superman drifts closer, eyes narrowing slightly as he watches the two finish subduing their opponent. Yet their work is not done—Phantom immediately turns to the civilians, kneeling to comfort frightened children, his expression softening. Wraith, meanwhile, sets to repairing the damage they’ve left behind, a flick of his hand mending fractured pavement.

"Amazing," Clark murmurs. "So they’re from another world?"

"Another dimension," Diana corrects, carefully choosing her words. "They were sent here for their well-being. It would be best if you do not pry into their origins. It has been... difficult for them. Leaving home was not their choice."

A quiet understanding passes between them.

After a beat, Batman hums. "Would it be beneficial to introduce them to the others? The Titans, perhaps? They are younger than most of our younger heroes, but it may help them to have peers outside of us."

Diana watches as Wraith floats down beside Phantom, producing a small, unharmed kitten from seemingly nowhere and handing it to a tearful child. The girl’s sniffles quiet as she clutches the creature, Phantom ruffling her hair with an encouraging smile.

A rare warmth spreads in Diana’s chest.

She considers Batman’s words, then smiles. "That would be nice," she agrees. "It would make my day knowing my apprentices are given the chance to make friends."

Althought the prospect would solely depend on the boys' decision. Ellie would join in the vigilantism soon enough but for now...

"Παιδιά! Ελάτε εδώ!" (Kids! Come here!) Diana beckoned them towards her and the two half-ghosts were quick to move. Wraith floated towards her while Phantom slipped into a portal appeared at her side.

"Batman suggested I introduce you to the younger heroes. The Titans—they are led by Batman's protoge, Robin."

"The colorful one?" Phantom's face was hidden but Diana could tell his face was already scrunched up.

"Yes," she sighed, "The colorful one."

"I wanna meet them!" Phantom eagerly said, "Isn't your sister there? Can we meet her too? Ooh! And a speedster!"

Again, Dante looked utterly aghast when the speedster was mentioned.

Alas, this will do.

Masterpost

[always-just-red]

I've been lookin for a writer who takes reqs for lnds 😭 Can i req sfw hcs/one-shot (choose which one u prefer more) for sylus & fem/gn reader?

I remember there was one call for zayne x mc where mc called zayne accidentally because mc was drunk & mc called zayne (accidentally) instead of booking a cab (mc did book a cab but w/ a wrong destination).

Can i maybe req what if the scenario is like that but it's w/ sylus instead? Feel free to tell me if this req is too much or if u wanna decline it, thanks a lot!

My first Sylus fic! Yay! (Don't look at me Rafayel 🥰) Anon your mind is so powerful! This prompt was so much fun to write, so thank you, hope you enjoy!

Wrong Number

Sylus x Reader 🩸

Summary: You're having a bit of trouble getting hold of that taxi you booked, but more trouble help is on the way...

Genre: fluff, kinda ends on an angsty note (sorry 😇)

Warnings/Additional tags: drunk reader, some swearing, humour, uses of 'sweetie' and 'kitten', threat of violence/death at the start, a slight bit of suggestion (it's Sylus, ok? He's having ✨fun✨)

| Word count: 2k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Mr. Sylus, please! It was an honest mistake— almost indistinguishable from a genuine protocore, I swear!”

Sylus is lounging back in a plush leather armchair, feeling thoroughly short-changed as he turns about a fake protocore with his fingers. He’s been listening to this noise for almost a full minute, growing awfully impatient, though he did like the last excuse.

“Say that again,” he drawls with a sinister smile.

“It was an honest mistake,” the black-market dealer stutters, tripping over his words. “It was almost indistinguishable from a—”

“Almost indistinguishable…” Sylus confirms. “Almost. Almost.” He’s savouring each syllable— tasting them like wine.

“It would have fooled almost anyone!”

“Almost anyone?” Sylus laughs, and it’s a wicked, dangerous thing. “Well yes, I rather think that’s the point. But it didn’t fool just anyone, did it? It fooled you.”

His smile is gone in an instant, his hand closing around the fake protocore, splintering it with a crack. He drops bloodied, sapphire fragments from his palm, red and blue, red and blue, and they skitter across the hardwood floor like rain.

“Please, Mr. Sylus!” the dealer pleads, desperate. “I’ll do anything! I will! I’ll make it up to you!”

“No, thanks.” Sylus studies his palm as it heals. “I’ve had my fill of fake protocores.”

“Sylus!”

The leader of Onychinus stands, drawing his gun with a customary apathy. Dark energy manifests, twisting around the dealer’s limbs, holding him still, while a lone tendril crawls around his mouth, holding him silent. He’s struggling, but he should know better. He should have known better from the very beginning. With a wistful smile, Sylus levels the gun with his head, and—

Something rings.

His red gaze shoots up, instinctively seeking Luke and Kieran, but they shrug from their station at the other side of the room. The sound is closer than that, anyway. Glaringly more familiar. Sylus’s spare hand goes to his pocket, and he draws out his phone.

“Mmm?” he greets, thumb sliding across the screen as he puts it to his ear.

There’s only one person who calls him at this time of night.

“Where are you?” your voice echoes from the other side of the line.

“That’s a question I prefer not to answer without knowing what motivates it.”

“Wha— Sylus?”

“Yes, sweetie,” he drones.

There’s a moment of silence. “Shit.”

It’s not the reaction he aspires to, but you sound agitated, so he’s going to let it slide. There’s a loud crackle from the speaker, followed by a few, harsher sounds, and he pulls the phone away from his ear, wincing slightly. His eyes are trained on the man at his feet, but he lowers his gun, distracted.

“What are you—” he begins, but then he identifies the sound. It’s a finger— your finger— jabbing away at a screen. “If I didn’t know any better, Miss Hunter, I’d say you were trying to get rid of me.”

“No…” you deny too quickly. It’s still there: the tapping. Like Mephisto, pecking furiously at a locked window from outside. A few more jabs, and then…

The call cuts out.

Sylus scoffs, looking down at his now silent phone in disbelief. He flops back into his chair, tossing his gun onto a side table before hitting the button to call you back. You know he’s not a patient man, but you don’t pick up the first time, and so he has to try again. He can be patient for you— he tells himself— as he thinks up some creative ways for you to return the charity. Speaking of charity…

His gaze drops to the dealer. “Get out,” he sneers.

The man doesn’t have to be told twice. He scrambles to his feet as his blood-dark bindings retract, practically throwing himself towards the room’s exit. Luke pushes open the door, the intense music of the nightclub beating through the gap, but Kieran’s being less helpful. He steps into the doorway, blocking any escape. He feints right. Then left. Behind the masks, both men are laughing.

Eventually Kieran steps aside. He shoves the dealer the rest of the way through the door as Luke kicks it shut, and they exchange a high-five.

Sylus pinches the bridge of his nose. His call connects.

“Hello?” You’re back. “Finally! Where are you? I don’t see you.”

“Still me, sweetie.”

“Sylus?” you actually whine. It’s adorable. “Why is it you? Go away.”

“No,” he lilts tunefully, and then he’s coaxing: “I want to help you, kitten. Won’t you let me help you? Tell me, who are you trying to call?”

Frustration spills from you— fake, exaggerated sobs tearing themselves from your throat. “The taxi, Sy,” you whine again. “The stupid taxi, okay? It’s not here. It’s meant to be here.”

“Where’s here?”

“Ha!” you exclaim like you’ve evaded a masterplan, and not a casually asked, run-of-the-mill question. “No. Nice try, but no. You wanna help me?”

“Yeah.”

“Then leave me alone!”

With— he can imagine— some sort of theatrical flourish, you deliver your phone a final, decisive tap. It beckons a fateful silence. Sylus brings his phone in front of his face, unmoved by the moment’s gravitas. There’s a pop-up on the screen. Kitten: requesting video chat.

He smiles to himself. Then accepts. “Hi sweetie.”

Your face is lighting up his screen, your cheeks flushed, your brow furrowed, and your eyes sharp with determination. “Why can I— wait, why can I see you? Get out of my phone, Sy!”

“My, my,” he tuts, but he’s smiling still, “look at you— the illustrious Miss Hunter. It is a relief to know the fate of Linkon rests in such… reliable hands.”

“What d’you mean?” you mumble.

“You’re drunk.”

“You’re drunk!”

He chuckles. “And there’s that infamous wit.”

You bite your lip as you ignore him, still fixated on trying to end the call. It occurs to him that you will eventually succeed; even a broken clock is right twice a day. “Listen to me, sweetie. Are you alone?”

His tone is sober enough for the two of you, and your exasperated eyes meet his. “Yeah.”

“Then be a good girl and send me your location. You remember how to do that, right?” He carefully enunciates each word of his plan. “I’ll come and get you, but I need to know where you are. Don’t go with anyone else. Wait for me, okay?”

You’re nodding away, the odd ‘mmhmm’ escaping your lips, but you’re not at all listening. He catches on after a minute. Trails off— realises your gaze is too vacant, and your focus? Wandering. You’re cradling your phone with both hands. His view is interrupted as your thumb passes over the camera; you’re… stroking the screen?

“You’re so pretty, Sy,” you murmur breathlessly.

His gaze softens. He sighs, “You’re pretty too.”

Then you make a sound he’s never heard before: you squeak, the phone’s audio almost cutting out. A blush is spreading through your cheeks, so much darker than the alcohol’s afterglow, and gods he wishes your face was in his hands. The vision is short-lived, however, because suddenly you’re gone.

There’s a circling view of a dark street, split by streaks of white light, as your phone careens through the air. It strikes concrete a moment later, stuttering to a stop, and Sylus’s grimace deepens with each jarring crack. Your screen has gone black, but he doesn’t think it’s broken. He’s face down, apparently— subjected to an unexciting view of the pavement.

“Oh, shit!” He hears you gasp.

Though your voice is far away, your phone is in your grasp again in no time. You’re turning it over, peering down at him, tracing the outline of his face with worry. “Sorry, Sy. Are you okay?”

“I’ll survive.” He raises an eyebrow. “You know, if you wanted to throw me around, you only needed to ask.”

His voice has dropped, and he loves watching you notice. You stand from your crouch with a smirk, bringing him with you— a dark idea in your eyes. “Wanna go again?”

Before he can protest, he’s looking at the back of your head. Your arm is stretched behind you, gearing up to send him on another short flight.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he interrupts, panicking briefly, but you’d never detect it with all your wits about you, let alone none. He’s brought in front of your face again, and you’re frowning oh so sweetly. “I asked you to do something, remember?”

“You told me to do something.”

So pedantic. “What did I tell you to do, sweetie?”

You don’t say anything. There’s a short huff as you blow hair from your face, and then you’re concentrating. You have that look he likes: the one you get when you’re whittling away at your paperwork like a good little hunter. The same stubborn resolve, too, that makes you lean over it when he or Mephisto are conveniently behind your shoulder.

Your location comes through with a ping and his smile widens. He’s up in a heartbeat, telling you he’s on his way— that you did such a good job— and that you need to stay on the phone with him, okay? He spins his fingers as he passes between Luke and Kieran, a gesture they’ve long grown accustomed to and can easily translate.

I'm leaving. Clean this up.

…

“So then Xavier, like— well, you know Xavier— he was all, ‘I’ll tell you later,’ but he never did, Sy! Off he went, leaving Nero and I to do all the paperwork, and I asked Nero, and Nero was like, ‘ask Xavier yourself’, and I was like, ‘I literally just did!’, and he just shrugged, and it’s… driving me crazy, you know? Because where does he even go? Tara and I have this bet going, she thinks it’s because he—”

Your anecdote comes to a sudden stop.

“What does Tara think, sweetie?”

“Shh shh shh! Wait a second…”

You clutch your phone to your chest like it’ll somehow suppress Sylus’s voice. You’re sat, leaning back against a chain-link fence, but you rise as a black car pulls up in front of you. The windows are tinted. You squint, leaning forward to try to look through them anyway.

“I don’t like this, Sy,” you frown as you plant a hand on your hip. “There’s a car here.”

“Oh?”

“Shh!” you hiss again. It’s not the only car parked on the street, but it is the only one alive. The engine purrs and its lights are glowing like angry embers, refusing to be snuffed out by the dark. You take a step closer, then the engine cuts out. You take a bigger step back.

“What exactly are you afraid of?” Sylus asks, his tone so thick it’s practically bleeding through your phone. “Is a big, bad man trying to get you?”

“Well I don’t know what they look like, Sy. The windows are tinted, and I— AH!” you gasp.  

A strong pair of arms wrap around you from behind, lifting you from the ground. “Got you, sweetie,” Sylus chuckles in your ear as tell-tale crow feathers settle around you. His breath is hot on your neck and it tickles, turning your panicked shrieks to laughter.

“Sylus!” you squeal as you attempt to wriggle free. You don’t think you’re trying very hard.

The man lowers you back to your feet, but his arms stay around you and he dips his head, resting his chin on the curve of your shoulder. “Hi,” he whispers.

“Hi.” For a little word, there’s so much fondness.

“Let’s get you home to bed, okay?”

You nod compliantly with a yawn, swaying a little as his arms retract and you’re having to stand on your own again. He chuckles as he steadies you— placing a hand on the top of your head— and you pivot, drawn by the sound. His crimson eyes find yours and they’re dark with something that stirs you, even with your mind swimming and nothing really making sense. You’re not sure of anything at all, except—

No-one has ever looked at you like that before.

And you won’t remember it tomorrow.

“Come on,” he prompts, nudging you towards the car, and you start to walk, though you’re dragging your feet. “I want to hear all of the association’s dirtiest secrets while I still can.”

“Tara has a crush on the new weapon specialist, you know.”

Sylus blinks, then laughs— a tender, comfortable thing. Completely enthralled. “You don’t say,” he beams.

No, you won’t remember it tomorrow.

[lifeasadorkwithnolife]

Tortured Thoughts (Azriel X Reader)

Word Count: 3900

The reader and Azriel really don't like each other, so in a an effort to force them to get along, Rhys arranges a mission. But when the mission goes wrong and Ariel has to watch you get tortured, he realizes he would do anything to get you home.

“If anyone is going to save anyone, Azriel, it’s going to be me saving you.” You spit, fists up as you two circle each other on the small sparring pad. Both of your leathers were off, and you were drenched in sweat as the sun beat down. His eyes roll in a way you’re used to.

            You can sense the kick coming and block it easily. He’s now on the other side of the ring, his eyes boring into yours. “I’m sure you wish that was the case.” He replies, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

            You run at him, trying to jump onto his shoulders so you can wrap your legs around his neck. His arms catch you, and suddenly your slammed into the ground. The wind is knocked out of you and you scrunch your eyes closed, trying to breath through the discomfort.

            When you finally open your eyes, Azriel s large shadow is blocking the sun and he’s staring at you in concern. You take a breath and cough, sitting up to catch your breath. “Asshole.” You mutter.

            He reaches a hand out to help you up, but you slap it away, getting up on your own. He rolls his eyes, again, and stands up from his kneeling position, wiping his hands off on his pants “Are you done?” He asks warily.

            “No chance.” Your fists rise again, no trace of a smile on your face anymore. Azriel stares at you, a look on his face. He opens his mouth to speak before he is interrupted.

            “Although I’m sure you two would love to try to kill each other for another couple hours, I have some errands I need done.” Rhysands voice echoes, and you both turn to look at where the high lord has seemingly materialized.

            “What is it?” Azriel asks, you sigh, placing your hand on your hip.

            “I need to send a message to Eris.” Rhys muses, looking between you two, as if sensing the palpable tension in the air. “I would like you both to go, to cover each other’s back.”

            “Oh please.” You laugh, turning to Azriel. His facial expression doesn’t change from the solumn look on his face. “Azriel would feed me to Eris at the first opportunity, wouldn’t you shadow singer?”

            It’s now Rhys that rolls his eyes, and his gaze turns to Azriel, who looks between you two. “I’m not really…asking.” Rhys says, his voice growing sterner. “Cassian is busy, and I’m not letting Az handle this alone. You two need to learn to get along.”

            “Fine.” You mutter, turning around and collecting your fallen clothing from the ground. “I’ll be ready within the hour. Azriel, if you’re not ready, I’ll do it myself.”

            You storm off, slamming the door to the house behind you, leaving Rhysand and Azriel behind.

*

            The flight was long and uncomfortable. Due to your lack of wings, Azriel had to carry you bridal style, one strong hand wrapped around your upper body and the other holding up your knees. Despite your weight, he didn’t seem to struggle, his wings making strong and powerful thrusts through the air as you went.

            You can’t help but stare at them, you haven’t ever had a moment to appreciate their beauty because of who they are attached to. With the sun behind them, you could see the velvet texture, the strong muscle under them tensing and releasing with each beat.

            As your eyes wandered to the other wing, they lock on Azriel’s curious ones. Immediately, you can feel the blush coming to your face and you choose a spot at the ground to look at instead. Trees, ranging in shades of dark green to orange, you were nearly there.

            “What’s the plan?” You ask ,not turning your head towards him due to your proximity. “Are we just going to storm in there and demand to see him?”

            “We have a meeting place.” Azriel replies, his voice gruff and serious. “We need to be careful, although we may have this thing with Eris, Baron would not hesitate to take us out if he found out we were here.”

            “I’m not dumb.” You mutter, angrily looking at him. “I am careful, I haven’t died yet- have I?”

            “I don’t think your dumb.” Azriel insists, you could feel his fingers flexing around your torso.      “We’re about to land, hold on.”

            The descent is fast, but his landing is nearly flawless as he drops to the ground. You quickly jump out of his arms, trying to create some space between you two. You stared at the male, why did you hate Azriel so much? Was it just because he hated you first?

            “Lets get this over with.” You mutter, brushing off your sleeves and looking around you. You’re in a small circular clearing, trees on all sides in varying shades of red and orange. You look back at Azriel, and he is already walking the other direction.

            You jog to catch up with him, letting out an annoyed huff as you glare up at him. “What happened to stick together? Have each others backs?”

            Azriel smirked, turning his head down to look at you. “Not my fault you were going the wrong way.” He almost teases, you slap his arm.

            “I’ve never been here before, how am I supposed to know where I’m going?” You ask, and he shrugs.

            “I’m sorry, I was under the impression that you knew it all already.” He teases again, and you almost smile at his tone.

            You two walk in silence, and you look at the trees around you. “it’s beautiful out here.” You whisper, looking up the sun through the swirls of orange and red leaves.

            “It is.” Azriel whispers, and you look at him, nearly stopping in your tracks as your eyes lock with his. In that moment, with the red hues of light shining on Azriel’s features and his blue eyes sparkling, you knew that Azriel was the most beautiful male that you would ever see.

            Suddenly, an arrow whizzes through the air, interrupting your moment. You turn, hands immediately grabbing the daggers strapped to your thighs. “Fuck.” Azriel mutters, and you can hear the tear as he pulls an arrow out of his wing. You look back at him in worry, and in that brief moment, you can hear the sound of an arrow being released, and feel the thud as that arrow lands in your thigh.

            Your daggers move before you can think, immediately impaling your attacker in the chest. Another arrow is released, and Azriel makes another grunt. You can feel the ground start to move under you, and you look to Azriel. “Run, Y/N.” Azriel grunts, falling to his knees as the poison works through his system. But it’s too late.

            The first thing you notice when you wake is the throbbing pain in your thigh, the second thing you notice is that when you go to reach your thigh, your arms are tied tightly down. You open your eyes, almost shutting them immediately due to the firelight.

            “Looks who’s awake.” A mans gruff voice muses, and you open your eyes again, letting them take a moment to focus on the male in front of you. You didn’t recognize him, but you knew he must be one of Berons.   

            You struggle against the bonds, shaking the chair in place but it doesn’t move. Panic starts to rise in your chest as your head whips around, looking for Azriel. You see him, and his eyes are already on yours. He shakes his head, in a silent plea to stay still.

            You still, looking back at the male. He walks towards you, knife in one hand, tapping it against his palm. “I know the shadow singer, but who are you?” He asks, and you shake your head.

            “I’m no one.” You whisper, trying to keep your voice small. Maybe if he thought you weren’t a threat, you would be able to escape this and call for Rhys. You knew that Az and Rhys had a connection, but it was probably too far.

            The knife found your cheek, and you could feel your body betray you as fear coursed through your system, your eyes closing in a wince. “Please, I’m no one. I swear, I was just..”

            “She was my guide.” Azriel says, and the knife leaves your cheek. The man walks over to him, and you can clearly see his restraints. While you have one rope around each wrist, he has chains wrapped around his, and not just one, but multiple.

            When you look closer, you can see blood trailing up his arms, almost as if he was struggling to get out- if Azriel couldn’t escape these bonds, how would you be able to? The male, his shining head reflecting the firelight, came up to Azriel. After a moment of silence, his fist flew through the air and connected with Azriel’s jaw.

            A scream left your lips as you tried as the chair shook as you tried to get out of it, but it was no use.          

            “Why are you here, Shadow Singer?” The man asks, his voice raspy and deep.

            “I was sent here by our healer.” Azriel explains, spitting blood on the ground. It leaves a slight red mark at the corner of his lip. “To pick up fireberries, they are very effective in treating fevers.”

            Another fist flies, and Azriel takes it. Tears well in your eyes as you stare at him, but he doesn’t look at you. The male pulls out another knife, “Maybe this will help you talk.” He muses, slamming it into Azriel’s thigh.

            You pull on the ropes again, seemingly more effected by the handle of the blade sticking out of Azriel’s leg than he is. The male pulls it out, becoming angrier at Azriel’s nonchalance.  Another fist is thrown at Azriel’s face, and another, and you hear the sobs escape your body as you watch him.

            “Stop!” You shout at the male. “You prick, he’s not lying.”

            Azriel’s eye peeks open, and the glare he gives you could kill. The male turns slowly, cocking his head at you. He pulls on Azriel’s shirt and wipes the blood off his knife. Instead of looking at the male, you stare at Azriel. His face is bloody, and his cheek and lip have busted open. Blood is openly pulling from his thigh, and even though this mans focus was on you, you were glad you didn’t have to watch Azriel get hurt anymore.

            “She doesn’t know anything.” Azriel states, spitting on the ground. “Hey asshole, I said she doesn’t know anything.”

            The male turns back to Azriel, and Azriel’s spits at him, and it lands right on his cheek. The male chuckles, using his hand to wipe the spit away. You all stare at it for a moment, before his fist rises up and connects with your temple.

            Your world is loud and cold for a fleeting moment as your head whips back, and then you feel the pain radiate to your eye as the moment ends. The male grabs you roughly by your chin, forcing you to look up at him. Tears brim in your vision as you stare at him. “What do you know?” He asks, and you shake your head, not even able to open your mouth to speak.

            Another blow, even harder than the first one, causes your head to whip in the other direction. You hear Azriel’s shouts, but it’s almost drowned out by the ringing in your ears. Your head gets pulled back up to meet the eyes of the male. “Okay Shadow Singer, what are you two doing here?”

            “Don’t-“You try to speak, and then the knife has left his hands and is in your own thigh. You scream in surprise, looking down at the blade handle protruding from your leg. You look up at Azriel, and his face is filled with complete panic and horror. His arms are flexed as he tries to escape the chains holding him down. “I’m okay, Az. I got-“

            The knife is pulled out, and before you can shout in pain, it’s shoved into your other leg. A sob leaves your throat as you try to bend over, the blood from the first wound starting to trickle down the back of your leg.

            “I’ll tell you!” Azriel shouts, nearly frantic. You look up at him and his eyes are still on yours.

            You shake your head, but he keeps talking. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know.” Azriel tries to get the males attention back on him. “I’m working for Lucien.”

            This phrase peaks the male’s interest, and he turns to look at back at Azriel. “How so?” The male asks, slowly stepping towards Azriel.

            “Azriel- don’t.” You shout weakly, and Azriel hesitates.

            “I need a map, I will tell you everything.” Azriel swears, and you hang your head in defeat. Your weakness, your inability to handle pain, was going to cost you everything- cost the night court everything.

            “Okay, I’ll be back.” The male states, looking between you and Azriel. He then opens a door, exiting to a hallway.

            After a few moments, another quiet sob escapes your lips as you stare at the dagger handle that’s jutting our of your thigh. “Hey, hey Y/n, look at me.” Azriel pleads, and your blood-soaked face looks up to meet his. “I will kill him.” Azriel promises, “but you need to do something for me.”

            You nod, “anything.” You whisper, and he nods. “I need you to get out of those ropes.”

            “I can’t.” You sob, pulling at them uselessly. He shakes his head.

            “Stop, stop, look at me, please.” He pleads again, and you look back into his eyes. “Y/N, fuck, I’m sorry for getting you into this.”

            “It’s not your fault.” You whisper, and he shakes his head.

            “I need you…I need you to try, please.” Azriel whispers, “for me. Just think about how much you hate me, and use that to get out.”

            “I don’t hate you.” You cry harder, sobs wracking your body.  

            “Please.” Azriel’s voice cracks, and he stares at you with a desperation you hadn’t seen on any male. “If you can get to that dagger, I promise- I will do whatever you want. I’ll stop fighting you, I’ll stop teasing you, I’ll stop egging you on, please Y/N, I will do anything- I just need to get you out of here.”

            Your arms strain as you try to pull yourself out from under the ropes, but they were too tight. The door opens and the male walks back in, a large map in his hands. He eyes you suspiciously, and you can’t help but sob again.

            “Damn.” The male mutters, clearing the table in the middle of the room and laying down the map. “You females and your emotions, you never know when to shut it.”

            You cry harder, your vision blurring as the man starts to ignore you and speak to Azriel. You pull on the ropes again with your other arm, feeling the rope give just by an inch. You grit your teeth, forcing your wrist to wriggle under the rope, nearly popping it out of it’s socket.

            The sound causes the male to turn, and before he can defend himself, the dagger is ripped out of your thigh and is flying through the air. He ducks out of the way, but the dagger lands right in the link of Azriel’s chains.

            The male backs up, his back bumping into the table as Azriel rips the chains off layer by layer. His hands flex, and the male has the decency to look absolutely terrified. You look down at your leg, at the blood oozing through your leathers. You don’t feel the urge to fight your way out anymore, you were only fighting for Azriel anyway, now he would be okay.

            Your head slumps forward and you close your eyes, feeling the tendrils of sleep find you. Suddenly a hand is gently slapping your cheek, and you feel irritation until your eyes meet Az’s. “Az.” You whisper, he’s quickly undoing your ropes that are around your torso and other arm. “You’re safe, you’re okay.”

            “I’m okay.” Azriel promises you, suddenly you’re being picked up into the air and you hear strong footsteps. “And you’re going to be okay too, I promise.”

            “I was right.” You whisper again, a small smile coming to your face. You open your eyes again, he’s looking forward and there is a hallway past you two. He must be running. “I saved you”

            “You’re always right.” Azriel pulls you closer to his chest, and suddenly you two are out in the night, and you breathe in a breath of fresh air. “Hey, don’t fall asleep on me now.” Azriel warns, and you shake your head.

            “Az….”You open your eyes, and you realize, if you were to die anywhere, you would rather it be in his arms than anywhere else. You stared at him, even with his swollen eye and bloody lip, he still looked like the most beautiful male you had ever seen.” I’m sorry- for making you think I hated you.”

            “Apologize later.” Azriel retorts, and you shake your head. Suddenly, his arms are tightening around you and you’re in the air.        “You’re going to be fine, Y/N. I got you.”         

            You watch the sky behind Azriel seem to blur together, and his eyes finally lock on yours, his eyes the only thing in your focus. “Az…” You whisper. He shakes his head, clearing his throat. “You were going to tell them about Lucian, about everything-“

            “Yes I was.” Azriel says, “You are the only thing that matters to me.”

            You could feel yourself become more tired, and your eyelids started to drop. “I’ve always loved you-“

*

            Days passed, and Azriel doesn’t leave your side, waiting for you to wake. Madja explained that it was the mixture of the poison from the arrows, blood loss and head force trauma that was causing you to take your time waking up.

            Cassian and Rhys had both offered to stay with you, even promising to come running as soon as you woke, but Azriel did not move. He sat at your bedside, unmoving, watching each exhale and waiting in agony as he waited for your next breath.

            “it’s not your fault, brother.” Rhys tries to comfort him, laying a hand on his shoulder. Azriel shrugs it off, his eyes never straying from your unconscious form.

            “It is my fault.” Azriel mutters, the guilt eating away at his gut. “I could have asked her out like a normal person, but instead, I arrange for us to go on this mission so we can spend time together and nearly get her killed.”

            “Nobody could know that would happen.” Rhys tries to soothe, and Azriel shakes his head. “Az-“

            “I don’t want to talk.” Azriel dismisses Rhysand, and Rhys sighs, taking a look around the room. He sees the fresh flowers on the night table, and pain-relieving potions, ready for you when you wake. He looks back to Azriel, seeing the bags under his eyes, but knowing there’s nothing that he could do. If that was Feyre in that bed, unconscious, he knew he wouldn’t be as reasonable as Az was being.

            He leaves the room, and Azriel stews in his thoughts, watching your chest rise and fall, your last words to him still ring in the air. “I’ve always loved you.” Cauldron, what was wrong with him? Why did he somehow hurt everything he loved?

            His eyes finally leave you, and his head falls into his hands, pulling his hair. He stays in this position, and against his will, falls into unconsciousness.

            *

            “Hey.” You whisper, poking at Azriel, who’s passed out in the most uncomfortable looking position you’ve ever seen. His wings are pressed to the wall, and he definitely does not fit in your small beside chair. “Az-“

            The speed at which his head moves almost scares you, causing you to clutch your chest. “Oh my- Azriel, are you okay?”   

            “How do you feel?” Azriel is immediately above you, holding your cheek and looking from one eye to the other. “Any pain, dizziness, are you sick to your stomac-“

            “Azriel, I’m fine.” You pull his hand away, keeping it in yours. You had a few moments to yourself while he slept to recounter the events that went down in the night court. You took a closer look at him, noticing the bags under his eyes and the specks across his face- was that dried blood?

            “Please tell me you’ve haven’t been sitting here since we got back.” You whispered, and he looks away. “Az, you look horrible.”

            “As long as your alive, I don’t care how I look.” Azriel’s voice is full of relief, and you slowly move your hand up to touch his cheek. Your fingers run across the ridges of his cheek bone, and then down his jaw.

            “You’re so annoying.” You mutter, and a frown crosses his lips. “No- I just mean that somehow you can get beat up and still look so good.”

            A small smile crosses his lips, but then it’s almost instantly gone. “Really, Az, I’m okay.” He takes a shaky breath, nodding his head. You pat the spot next to you, scooting over and wincing at the pain in your legs.

            He quickly hands you a vial, and you take it, recognizing it as one of Madjas mixtures. “Please, sit with me.” You insist, looking at him. “I..I just want to talk, please.”

            Azriel nods, taking the place next to you and leaning back on the headboard. You two sit in silence for a moment before you finally break it. You look at him, “I…did you mean what you said?”

            “Every word.” Az whispers, and you nod, grabbing his hand and playing with his fingers. He watches you, and you sigh.

            “I am so glad that you are okay.” Your eyes tear up, and you look at him. His brows furrow, and his hands grip yours tightly. “being there- seeing you tied up, it made me realize that although we fight, you are the only person I really care about. You’re the only person who..you’re the only one.” You can’t even make a comprehensive sentence.

            Azriel nods, giving your hand another squeeze. “Y/N, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it now, none of it matters without you.”

            You nod, wiping a stray tear from your eye as you smile weakly at him. “I will never let you get hurt again.” Azriel swears, and you nod. “I would go to the ends of the world to save you.”

            You squeeze his hand, and you both lay back on the headboard. A few, quiet moments later, he’s asleep. You look at the male, the male you love, and also lean back in contentment, closing your eyes and falling asleep right next to him.

[bossuary]

Neve is painless. Rook is real.

Lucanis likes Neve because she represents what he is desperate to regain. He wants to feel normal, to work and cook and focus on the things he used to enjoy (such as they were) before the Ossuary. He wants capital R Romance, right out of a book.

Most importantly, he wants to get rid of Spite. He wants to pretend that he is the man he was...not this abomination.

Without truly knowing her, Lucanis believes Neve is a pathway to all of that. He's attracted to her, and she to him. Their flirting has an edge, but it's also friendly. She dislikes Spite, and her presence makes Spite disappear.

Neve will tell Lucanis that he's still himself, and that Spite doesn't change that. She will never be the one to reconcile Lucanis with Spite, to get them to accept each other. So, yeah, he gravitates to the charming, flirty, warm person who (through no fault of her own, really) feeds his desire to pretend he's not an abomination.

Even early on, I think he's smart enough to know that accepting Spite is his only option, but he...just... can't. With what tools? Nothing in his life has prepared him to deal with this. Rook does that. When denial tears Lucanis apart, Rook puts him back together with acceptance. Rook accepts the reality of Spite, and deals with it head-on every time.

Neve will remind Lucanis that she's not going anywhere. She'll tell him to open his eyes and look at facts, but she (probably) won't be the one to push him out of his own prison. Lucanis knows this, so Spite knows this, and therefore Spite will not look to Neve for help.

It's important for Lucanis to accept that Spite has changed him. But when it's Rook who says it--for whom Lucanis has developed real feelings, not idealized ones--well, it destroys the fantasy Lucanis clings to so vehemently, the one where he isn't this.

For me, the Lucanis/Rook romance feels the way it does NOT because the writers "preferred" that Lucanis and Neve get together, but because Neve is simply easier for Lucanis to accept. She's easier to talk to, unchallenging. Easy isn't bad! Comfort isn't bad! God knows they both deserve some comfort.

Loving Rook is a profoundly complex choice. There's not a lot of cute ways to work that profundity into sexy banter. It makes sense, then, that Lucanis doesn't have as much dialogue for a romanced Rook as he does with Neve. What he can do is cook, make small gestures. He can, heartbreakingly, tell Rook, over and over, that he doesn't have the words to express how he feels. That's such an awful state, knowing that the person you care about needs to hear words you simply cannot locate. As soon as he does have the words, he shares them.

Rook is real. And real is not easy.

To Lucanis, Rook represents a difficult path to recovery, a path he has to keep choosing to follow, every day. At a time in his life where he is incapable of seeing Spite (and his own PTSD ) as anything but a 'distraction' to shove aside, Rook shows genuine interest in helping Lucanis heal. Rook takes consistent action toward that goal, particularly when it's clear that Lucanis doesn't know how.

Lucanis also has to believe that he's worth the effort, his own and his love's. Neve is great, love her, but I don't see this struggling cynic, this chronic worrier, being very helpful in the self-worth department. No, people in a relationship do not have to perform therapeutic roles. But, partners do have to respect each others' boundaries and needs.

Of course Lucanis goes all-in for Neve, romantically, even while he and Rook are dancing around each other. Accepting how much he loves and cares for Rook means looking at himself the way Rook does. That is so much harder than whatever will happen with Neve.

The fact that Lucanis isn't afraid to pursue Neve, even if Treviso is blighted, tells me that Neve is an indulgence for him. Again, that's not a value judgement. If they treat each other with respect, then the merits of the relationship don't have to fall on whether Lucanis 'heals' as a result. Sometimes not hurting all the time is enough.

BUT. Contrast the ease he feels with Neve with his feelings about Rook:

"When I was afraid to want you..."

That is a powerful admission.

What was he afraid of? The annihilation of neglect, worthlessness, and shame. The awful but knowable pillars of his existence.

Wanting Rook means that Lucanis wants to dismantle everything he knows in pursuit of something he doesn't. To love Rook is to love and accept himself, exactly as he is.

Then...then...Lucanis finds real comfort.

[a-bad-case-of-the-stephs]

Let’s talk about the significance of how Stephanie Browns first ever appearance is tied directly to a TV broadcast about Batman, and how it perfectly explains why she's such a remarkable character.

Detective Comics #647

The full sentence the TV broadcaster says is “It’s not up to some masked vigilante to protect our citizens …. No matter how good his intentions…No matter how noble his cause”.

This scene asks us to compare the characters of Batman, who the statement is textually about, and Stephanie, who is viewing it and (presumably), being inspired by it. The panel itself seems to encourage use to try to apply these lines to Steph instead of Batman, framing the latter proclamation directly above her head, almost like a text box telling us this information about her. If we apply these lines to her, we can see an idea emerge.

There is this figure, who is not only not necessary, but unacceptable on the face of it, “…No matter how good [her] intentions...” / “…No matter how noble [her] cause…”

The first time we see Stephanie brown, she is being showcased alongside a condemnation, which is followed by her disregarding the message of this broadcast, and appearing for the very first time as Spoiler.

Dismissal and Stephanie ignoring this condemnation continues on to be one of the central facets of Stephanie’s character. In the same introduction arc we already see the dismissal/disregard dynamic established.

Batman and/or Robin tell her to Fuck Off, she chooses not to:

Detective #649

This pattern continues on for some time. She is dismissed by Batman

Robin #16, Robin #26, Robin #50 (1993)

And by Tim Drake/Robin:

Robin #25, Robin #35, and Robin #26 (1993)

And by her own mother:

Robin #71 (1993)

When she finally becomes an official part of the team in 2001, there is a break in this pattern. But, as always, Stephanie is eventually pushed out again:

Gotham Knights #37 (2000)

But, as always, Steph says “fuck that”, and refuses to stop.

Even in the face of dear friends agreeing she should give it up.

Batgirl #38 (2000)

And when Steph is brought in as Robin, she is again dismissed, in this case “Fired” soon after. She doesn’t quit of course, leading to the disastrous events of War Games.

Robin #128 (1993)

And when she comes back from being “dead” she is dismissed again, by Robin.

Robin #182 (1993)

This isn’t every time someone tells her to quit being Spoiler, but instead a showcase of how prevalent the Dismissal/Disregarding dynamic is for her character.

I am working on two other posts, one which will explain in depth Why the way she was “fired” as Spoiler has everything to do with Bruce Wayne’s own hangups and emotionally manipulative quirks and very little to do with her own skill level. The other will analyze why she feels the compulsion to be keep being Spoiler even after having Every reason to quit and being told to do so hundreds of times.

However, for the purposes of this post, all that matters is that this Dismissal/Disregarding dynamic exists and is a huge and reoccurring part of Stephanie’s character.

Whether or not you think she “deserved” how often she was rejected, and whether or not you think her disregarding the rejection was “good” or not doesn’t come into play here.

For now, let’s focus on the implications this dynamic has for her character in a meta sense, as a character who is used and discarded.

A character who is for all intents and purposes, the narrative punching bag. She endures character dismissal and belittling, three separate backstory instances of sexual harassment as a child and teenager, teenage pregnancy, abuse, taking care of a parent struggling with addiction, brutal and (debatably) sexualized torture, character assassination, death, retconned death, and further character assassination until 2009, where she finally gets her own solo comic, and a modicum of respect. The thing that separates the horrible shit Stephanie goes through and the bad things that happen to other characters is only rarely are Stephanie’s struggles treated as significant on their own, and almost always her narrative is used for drama or to prop up Robin Tim Drake’s plot. Very rarely does she get treated with the care and attention her character merits.

But let’s go back to that news broadcast, all the way back in Detective #647. How does she take it, when we are told, when Stephanie is told, first thing, straight out of the gate, plain and simple: No matter how good your intentions, no matter how noble your cause, you is not enough, or you’re too much, or your just not right?

It is met by a triumphantly tragic: “And?”

Stephanie hears from the VERY start the same refrain she will hear for years and years: she is not good enough, she needs to go home, she needs to quit and she does the exact thing she will continue to do every following time she is told this: she puts on the damn Spoiler outfit and she still tries anyway. Again and again.

The next time we see Stephanie Brown after this, the second time we ever see her character, she has donned the Spoiler costume, and she’s got to work. “And?” She seems to say. “As if!” She seems to shout. What a perfectly awe inspiring thing, and what a perfect summary of what makes Stephanie Brown so damn cool.

For better or worse, you cannot keep her down. I love Stephanie Brown so much.

And if you want to read a comic which understands this, which treats the terrific character of Stephanie Brown with respect and love, and which for the first time maybe ever lets her stubborn refusal to give up go her way? Read Batgirl (2009)!!

Batgirl #3 (2008) & Bruce Wayne: The Road Home - Batgirl (2010)

[femmeloverboy]

I saw someone say that Jinx got a satisfying ending because she .... was suicidal and finally got to die? Uh. Yeah, that's not satisfying dude!!!! The idea that the only happy ending for mentally ill characters is death, is such a god awful message. She struggled for 2 whole seasons and never got a break, and her whole arc ended miserably and it's so unfair to her character. I know characters can be entirely tragic, but I truly believe it is unfair. Especially because she was DOING BETTER when she had Isha, demonstrating she can begin to recover, only to have that ripped from her so she could truly give up on life again and become suicidal. I am so unhappy with Isha's character, the way she was used as a plot device for Jinx's development only to die and then Jinx's development goes down the drain and she dies too? What was the POINT?

It also makes me bitter that caitvi sex scene happened in Jinx's jail cell, not long after Jinx had directly communicated suicidal ideation to Vi and went off to attempt. It's almost portrayed in a way where Vi chooses Caitlyn (an enforcer, an oppressor) over her own sister. It makes me bitter that caitvi got a good ending despite everything Caitlyn did, which she never apologised for, and it was never properly addressed. The oppression Caitlyn and the enforcers caused the zaunites was entirely swept under the rug.

This isn't even mentioning the other characters who got terrible endings. Ekko, especially. I am happy for caitvi and jayvik fans but I think ppl are so preoccupied with YAY! LESBIAN SEX! YAOI! That they fail to see how unsatisfying the ending was for other important major characters, or they just don't care cuz their fave ship got a decent ending. Don't pmo 😭😭 IDC IF UR FAVE GOT A GOOD ENDING!!!! IT SHOULDVE BEEN MY FAVES (JINX AND EKKO) INSTEAD!!!!!! I would've preferred to see literally any other character die than Jinx.

[pseudophan]

PHANNIE COOKBOOK SIGN-UPS!!

Do you have a really good recipe you think Dan and Phil would enjoy? Consider submitting it to this collaborative phannie cookbook that will be given to DnP at a meet & greet! It will also be available to everyone to download as a PDF.

Family recipes or your favourite dish from your country/culture is a bonus, but it doesn’t have to be that personal. All I ask is that you don’t go rip something random off the Internet right now just to be in the book, I want food you genuinely enjoy!

I’ve decided the most efficient way of doing this is to let you submit up to 3 different options, that way if there are any repeats (and I’m certain there will be) I won’t have to message everyone it concerns to ask if you have any alternatives. Besides, that way I can choose which version gets in based on your other options rather than which one “sounds better” to me, cause I think that would be a little unfair. I also have no idea how many people will actually participate in this yet, which is currently the biggest hurdle in terms of planning. If only a few sign up there is a chance we’ll end up using multiple recipes by some, and if somehow we get too many I’ll have to pick and choose. I do really want to include as many people as possible, but until I actually see the recipes it’s hard to tell what will end up happening.

The main focus of this will be actual food, but we obviously need to include a few desserts, so feel free to submit those as well just be aware the chances of those getting picked might be lower. The same goes for soups, I assume a lot of people have soup recipes and we might include a couple, but for obvious reasons it's a low priority.

Some key things to keep in mind:

Phil is a bit picky and has some dietary restrictions! He shouldn’t have dairy or chocolate and he doesn’t like cheese or mushrooms, among other things. That doesn’t mean you have to avoid these things entirely, but maybe your grandma’s mac and cheese recipe isn’t the best choice

While neither of them is vegan they do eat a lot of vegan food, so we definitely need some vegan dishes. I also think it would be really great if you suggested vegetarian and/or vegan substitutions you know work well with your recipe! That isn’t a must for every dish, but it’s a nice addition where possible

Tragically, Dan and Phil are British, meaning they won’t necessarily have access to all the same ingredients as you. Luckily they are also rich and live in a major city with a lot of options so they aren’t limited to what they can find at their local Tesco, but since the aim of this book is to encourage them to cook we probably shouldn’t be sending them on a scavenger hunt either. I don’t think this will be a huge issue, but if your recipe calls for something you think might be very niche or local to you it might be worth googling it or asking around

The final book will be using UK measurements, but if your recipe doesn’t then don’t even worry about it for now. We’ll get to that later. You also don’t have to worry about typing out the whole step-by-step in detail in the sign-up form, I just need a list of the ingredients and roughly how to prepare it to gauge whether it’s a good fit.

I promise I’m almost done yapping but lastly, about some of the questions on the form - you don’t need to know exactly how long the dish takes to prepare, that will depend on the person or people making it anyway, but we do need a rough estimate. The difficulty level is obviously quite subjective, but I just want to hear how you personally would rank it, and if there is a specific part of the process you think someone who doesn’t cook a lot might struggle with. As for the last question about photos, I’m asking both if you have the time and opportunity to make the food and if you are able to take a good photo of it. Obviously it doesn’t have to be anything professional, a phone camera is fine, it just needs to be well lit and decent quality.

Okay, I think that’s everything-

Here's the sign-up form

The deadline is in a week, at midnight Thursday to Friday CET :)

(I also made a blog for this @phookbook for information and updates! A lot of it will probably still be on this blog, but I'll try to post/reblog the most important things on there for those who want to keep up with everything but who may not want to deal with all the chaos of pseudophan)

[sakurapandadreams]

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ ASTRO OBSERVATIONS PT 4

Please take all of these predictions with a grain of salt I'm not a professional astrologer.

Here's my masterlist

NATAL OBSERVATIONS

🌊 Capricorn moons honestly suffer alot due to their family. I have seen cases where their siblings lie to them and scam them. Cases where their family wishes ill upon them. And what's more hurting is they keep forgiving their family and still love them alot. [Same goes for vedic]

🌊 Virgo moons can have mothers who are Virgo moons or Gemini moons [doesn't apply to all]

🌊 Gemini Moon Bestie >>>>>>>>> A group of friends. [This goes for vedic too]

🌊 Many Scorpio Moons are taken advantage of by their mothers, like their mothers dominate their lives before marriage.

🌊 In relationships Scorpio Moon seems like the more dominating person as compared to their spouse to the outsiders. However, their spouse almost dictate their life after marriage.

🌊 12th house shows what you struggle at :-

For example : Cancer 12th house may struggle at showing sympathy to others as well as to yourself

Scorpio 12th house may struggle understanding their intution [may dismiss it as coincidence many atimes]

Libra 12th house may struggle to accept they are intelligent and they also LOOK GOOD.

🌊 Uranus 6th house gives the vibes of someone who carries many erasable ink pens.

🌊 Uranus 4th house people love to keep their house tech savvy, like lights in their rooms will turn on automatically if they enter the house. [If your house isn't like that I'm sure you dream of making it this way ☺️🤭]

🌊 Uranus in the 7th house make great Cyber Crime Lawyers.

🌊 Neptune 6th house may end up looking good naturally even when they put on natural makeup. Their bare face >>>>>

🌊 Many Capricorn Moons are INTPs

🌊 Sagittarius Stelliums and Sagittarius Moons have such superior facial features 😌.

🌊 Mercury opposite Jupiter makes a person overly inquisitive [their thirst for knowledge is never ending]

🌊 Venus trine Pluto people look quite mysterious, like they look unattainable which makes people go crazy over them.

VEDIC OBSERVATIONS

🌊 Mercury dominant or people with exhalted Mercury may wear very strong perfumes on the contrary people who are Venus dominant or have an exhalted Venus may wear perfumes with a more softer fragrance.

🌊 Gemini Moon women and Scorpio Moon don't get partners they deserve to get.

🌊 Cancer Moons are not only close to their mothers but quite close to their sisters even more than their mothers at times.

🌊 Mars conjunct Rahu also causes alot of arguments with siblings and it also ends up giving an illusion to both the siblings that the other one doesn't love them.

🌊 During your Shani Sade Sati you will have a hard time communicating your problems to others or asking for help, you may often times suffer in isolation. In your Shani Sade Sati Saturn is teaching you to resolve problems on your own

🌊 Many Virgo Moons are into the spiritual community of Tumblr [from tarot readers to astrologers]. I'm trying to tell you Virgo Moons that you have a good intution.

🌊 Moon in the 2nd house also gives beautiful features especially eyes another thing whatever they say sounds intelligent or sophisticated [Also depends on mood]

🌊 Many Uttara phalguni Moons end up doing well no matter what career they choose. They get good recognition for their work.

🌊 Saturn conjunction Rahu, natives with these people attract jealousy easily with their work. Rahu gives people the illusion that they can never be like these natives. Hence people also copy them alot.

🌊 Aquarius Mercuries please go and check your messages and reply to the ones you haven't since 10 months lol [same applies to natal]

🌊 Gemini Moons 🤝 Witty comebacks

🌊 Ketu in the 5th house could've witnessed toxic relationships since a young age and hence may not be into dating.

🌊 Aries Moons are also quite good at maths and calculations.

🌊 Many Magha Moons tend to behave as elders in their family like they give advice but they don't take any also don't like being corrected.

🌊 If a Moon is well placed in the 8th House you end up getting a mother in-law whose kindhearted also psychic to certain extend.

Credits for the images and dividers goes to the rightful owners

Copyright © 2024 sakurapandadreams | All rights reserved.

[kxsagi]

Can I ask for bllk boys x reader movie night headcanons? Like what kind of movie they like to watch, who gets emotional watching, who falls asleep, something like that you know.

(Plz include Isagi, Bachira, Nagi, Reo, Rin and any others you want, hope I didn't bother you 😅)

Btw I stumbled on your blog a few days back and have since been obsessed with your writing!! 🥰🥰🥰 You make the characters so human, like I can totally see them doing what you write!

"𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐚"

a/n: thank you so much!!! that compliment means everything to me 🤍 hope you enjoy this bae

ft. isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, itoshi rin

𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢 𝐲𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢 ⚽️

movie choice: 

prefers feel-good sports dramas or anything with a plot that inspires him to be better. 

sometimes watches those cheesy inspirational movies where the underdog wins against all odds. 

loves a good action flick but also enjoys some rom-coms or wholesome animated slices of life films (studio ghibli) to wind down. will suggest something uplifting for the mood. 

during the movie: 

gets so into the plot, especially if it involves teamwork or growth. you can literally see his eyes light up when the underdog team starts winning. 

gets emotional at the motivational speeches in sports movies. don’t even look at him during those scenes because you know he’s probably holding back tears. the same goes for emotionally heavy scenes where a (good) character is crying.

secretly hates scary movies. he’ll pretend to be tough, but will need to hold someone’s hand when a jump scare happens. 

falls asleep?

no. this man has no chill when it comes to movie night. he’s hyper-focused, watching every second like it’s a game. probably rewinds scenes to catch every detail.

𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 🐝

movie choice: 

will suggest something that makes him laugh or something totally random like “monster movies” because why not? 

loves animated films, especially anything whimsical, surreal, or outlandishly funny. something with a lot of energy. 

if he’s in the mood for something deeper, he’ll choose something like a trippy art film that has an abstract storyline (so he can pretend he understood it). 

during the movie: 

is the main character. he’ll laugh loudly, talk to the screen, and get way too involved in the movie. 

gets emotional, but only if it’s a movie that gives him that unexpected warmth. something sweet, like a character finding family or overcoming obstacles. 

will probably make random commentary throughout, and his reactions are either overly dramatic or hilariously chill. 

falls asleep?

yes, 100%. but it's not because he's bored, he just falls asleep like a content baby after being entertained for 30 minutes. and when he falls asleep, expect some snoring.

𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐢 𝐬𝐞𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐨 🎮

movie choice: 

prefers laid-back movies that are chill and don't require much mental effort. 

would pick something that doesn’t require him to pay too much attention, like a fun action movie or an easy-to-follow rom-com. 

doesn’t care about the plot. just wants to have a comfy time without overthinking. 

bonus: he doesn't like most live-action remakes of video games (would watch the minecraft movie though).

during the movie: 

absolutely silent. doesn’t comment or get overly hyped about the film, he’s there for the experience, not the drama. gets emotional if it's a super heartwarming or moving movie, but it’s rare. he’s more likely to be in a daze, enjoying the atmosphere. 

when the character is struggling, he’ll start asking you if it's okay to just skip to the good parts. or he'll ask you to put the movie in 1.5x or 2x speed.

falls asleep?

yes. almost always. you’ll look over, and he’ll be out like a light halfway through the movie, even if it’s a movie he picked himself. 

𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐨 💸

movie choice: 

super into high-quality movies. something luxurious like period dramas, or anything with an extravagant budget and beautiful cinematography (crazy rich asians). 

loves a good thriller, psychological drama, or something with a bit of depth. not into silly stuff, but he’ll occasionally pick a rom-com if he’s feeling lazy. 

enjoys watching movies he can brag about later. “i watched this independent film with an amazing director you probably haven’t heard of.” 

during the movie: 

watches very intently, analyzing the plot and dialogue. probably already trying to predict the ending, just to impress you. 

doesn’t get overly emotional, but he’s quietly affected by anything deeply artistic or tragic. 

may give you a “look” if you ask for popcorn too loudly during an intense scene. 

falls asleep?

nah. he’s all about the aesthetics, so he’s glued to the screen. if he does fall asleep, you’ll see his eyes flicker a little bit, and then he’ll wake up, embarrassed. “i wasn’t asleep.”

𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐫𝐢𝐧 🖤

movie choice: 

picks horror (obviously) that is action-packed, high-stakes, and intense. think action thrillers or violent, gripping psychological dramas. even documentaries based off of true stories.

might throw in a random indie flick to keep things “fresh,” but it’s always serious movies with a lot of tension. 

would never pick a comedy or rom-com. he’s all about the deep, dark stories. 

during the movie: 

stoic and quiet. he’s not there to chat, he’s there to watch. 

gets unexpectedly emotional during movies about loss or revenge, but he hides it. you can tell he’s clenching his jaw. 

tends to scoff at the overly sentimental moments but won’t outwardly show it unless you push him to comment. 

falls asleep?

nope. this man does not fall asleep during a movie, not even if the plot drags on for an hour. he’ll probably zone out when things are slow, but he’s still mentally locked in. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[writingwithcolor]

A Careful Balance: Portraying a Black Character's Relationship with their Hair

@writingraccoon said:

My character is black in a dungeons and dragons-like fantasy world. His name is Kazuki Haile (pronounced hay-lee), and his mother is this world's equivalent of Japanese, which is where his first name is from, while his father is this world's equivalent of Ethiopian, which is where his last name is from. He looks much more like his father, and has hair type 4a. I plan to make his character very finnicky about his hair, both enjoying styling it, but also often being unsure how to style it (not in that he doesn't know how to, but has so many options for how to style it, he has trouble choosing). However, I know that there are some very harmful ways to write black hair, especially in regards to how the black character themselves feels about it. Kazuki does not hate his hair, in fact he takes joy in it, and I'm researching black hair and hair styles to be as accurate as possible. But I'm unsure if portraying a black character as occasionally overwhelmed by or vain about his hair is negative. How would you suggest either changing this or making it work? Does it need to be changed in the first place?

Black Character Overwhelmed by Curly Afro Hair

Your Black character wanting his hair to look its best and at times feeling overwhelmed seems reasonable and natural to me. It appears their challenge comes with how to style it. Not so much with struggling how it looks or how hard it is to manage. That is good, as this further helps avoid placing a strong negative focus on Black hair. 

Him caring a lot about how it is style should not be deemed vain or frivolous, either. In any case, hair care is self care. There’s nothing wrong with having pride with your hair, especially hair that mainstream society, historically and present, might say is not beautiful. This still matters, even in a fantasy world, since your readers still exist in this reality. It’s empowering and a welcome change to see someone who loves their afro hair, actually.

There are unique factors someone with coily afro hair would experience vs. straight, wavy, or looser curls, but people struggling with their hair (too frizzy, too flat, too limp, too thin, too thick!) is universal. 

There is a delicate balance to achieve.

Avoid Writing a Black Hair Journey Experience 

An overall negative Afro hair journey might be the reality for many, especially when society deems Afro hair as unacceptable and slaps so many uninvited opinions, laws and policies over its existence and on certain styles (again, historically and very much at present), but that’s the kind of story that is best handled by someone with the background. Someone willing to commit to the research might also be able to pull it off, although it’s truly not the kind of thing an escapism novel needs in my opinion. If the story is not meant to delve into “A Black /Black Hair Experience” then I'd avoid going that route. That is moving a bit towards a struggle narrative, depending on how much it defines your character’s story.

Add positive and neutral hair language and interactions

For your writing, I’d avoid using unchallenged negative language about his hair. Being overwhelmed at times and frustrated is one thing and expected. If his hair is constantly brought up, and is associated with uncontrollable, ugly, or too [insert struggle here], then rethink the direction you’re going. 

Add some positive or neutral terms, reactions, and interactions in the narrative towards afro hair, such as describing color and texture.

“His fine coils bounced in the wind.” 

“Hair black and shiny” 

“She wore her hair in two large, fluffy buns.”

“He admired his fresh, neat braids in the mirror, smiling at his reflection, before turning to leave.”

Another tip: It may have been for research purposes, but leave out any hair number categorizing in the story and rely on description. I’d say this goes for any story, as reading the number would feel off. 

“He had coily 4a hair.” Nahh! :P 

Also, I would suggest sending all passages that focus on his hair to a Black sensitivity reader for review.

More reading:

~Mod Colette

[splinterclan]

I’m struggling a little to coordinate the timelines- was Bess alive / how old was she when SplinterClan left?

She was alive, but a kit so she didn't really know too much about what was going on!

Another one hits the moonpaw death scene u_u (I assume jsjsjs)

They were basically strangers - Whorlstar was mostly against Palestar's leadership (because he was the biggest proponent of the clan that was awful to her for being born a kittypet) and obv Moorsnow was in his corner. It was only after the human attack that they started talking/got to know each other and that relationship progressed enough by the time they formed Splinterclan for Whorl to choose Moor as her deputy!

I talked about that some here but to answer you directly: Ghosts interact with only special cats or leaders, any cat cat get a prophecy but it's extremely rare, no they don't really dream walk. I haven't decided about a dark forest yet - it's hard for me since I never read the books where that stuff goes on, so I only know anything about it thru osmosis from fandom ;m; Either way it probably won't have any effect on Splinterclan dealings

I've always had it in my head that they had young kids who were rough with him and they didn't care/make them stop, didn't clean his box in the room where they locked him in at times, or make sure to keep his bowl full. So no outright intentional (?) abuse but obviously a terrible situation that he wanted to get out of asap - basically they were just those people who should Not Own Pets

There were many at the start but lots of them have died at this point - of those living here's the one's that were fixed:

Redfern, Morningbreeze, Roseleaf, Ottertoe, Lakestep

So basically any of the oldies that aren't Palestar and Stonebelly