#polite and supporting each other’s art or something

[tojipie]

could u do prison toji relationship headcannons 🙏🙏

prison bf series here !

content: mentions of incarceration + violence

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shows up to your legally monitored video calls boasting about each and every new tattoo he gets. “a needle and a ballpoint pen can actually do a ton” he tells you, lifting his faded wife-beater up to show you his state identification number scrawled on one of his ribs.

he has 6 tally marks on the back of his neck, just under his hairline, the most recent one showed up after a brawl with another inmate in the visitor’s area. you don’t want to know what the marks are for, though the fact that you haven’t seen the inmate since may or may not give you an idea.

hates the news station in the common room, tells you it’s all bullshit and prefers to get his info from you. you spend hours every visit catching him up to speed on politics, celebrity gossip, new movies. gives him something to mull over in his cell at night.

develops a habit of picking at his knuckles unknowingly, the busted skin never seems to heal. he never tells you how or why his knuckles split in the first place, but it doesn’t take a scientist to figure out that he’s been fighting.

his standards for food go down the drainnnnnn. prison toji will eat just about anything. he likes to plays chef during visits sometimes, taking sips from a styrofoam cup full of coffee creamer and ice chips. “a mcflurry,” or so he calls it. you don’t have the heart to tell him he’s nasty.

addicted to your scent when he sees you. will bury his face into the curve of your neck and just stand there, motionless, letting your shoulder support his weight while his hands stay firmly placed on the small of your back.

makes everyone in the cell block his bitch to absolutely no one’s surprise. need new ink? toji’s got a guy for that. doesn’t feel like doing his laundry? toji’s got a guy for that. short on commissary money? time to make his bunkmates fork over a little dough.

he’s possessive during visits, violent towards other men when he’s with you. he’ll push, shove, and threaten any inmate to get the message across that they will stay away from you. he’s not asking. he spent 2 months in solitary over beating his cell-mate senseless for touching a picture of you taped to the wall of his bunk. toji is not one to mess around.

has been on a little arts and crafts streak for quite some time now, you think it’s all the free time he has. he’s whittled you little animals out of wood, made bracelets using loose threads from his bed sheets. even took up watercolor painting in the rec room once. deep down you know it’s because the option to buy you gifts just isn’t there anymore. you always tell him how much you love them, you can tell how good it makes him feel when you do.

[yourheart-inmyhands]

Hellow hellow (⁠☆⁠▽⁠☆⁠)

May I request yandere zhongli, diluc and possibly neuvilette with reader who's a talented musician that often like to play alone and doesn't want anyone finding about their hobby?

ah this was such a cute ask! i've never played an instrument aside from the recorder i was forced to learn in 4th grade so i apologize if this isn't super accurate :D

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including delusional behaviors, honestly the guys are pretty sweet here, and other potential topics. Please read at your own risk!

Diluc:

Being a bit of a musician himself, Diluc can understand the desire to be alone. He won’t ever intrude on your alone time, allowing you a room to yourself with whatever instruments and setup you’d like. He makes sure to let all the staff know to not bother you while you are there. If you’d like he’d even be willing to set up a lock on the door so that no one can enter, so long as he is allowed a key.

If you should ever change your mind and ask Diluc to join you for some music, he’d be more than happy to comply. He knows quite a few different instruments so he’s happy to partner up as whatever you ask of him as well.

A soft smile graces Diluc’s face as he hears the music start-up in another room. You were back to practicing again, working away at a particular piece that had been troubling you lately. Normally he wouldn’t seem so happy about your mess-ups, but he thought your dedication to the instruments to be endearing. It reminded him a bit of himself when he was young, before he had taken over the winery business unexpectedly. He had offered to play the piece with you a handful of times over dinner, but your polite refusal each time was enough to keep him from simply forcing his way in. He didn’t want to disturb the one thing you seemed to enjoy so thoroughly. 

Zhongli:

Zhongli was never much of a musician, he preferred books and literature over the finer arts. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t appreciate them though. He does dampen a bit when you deny him the access of watching you play, insisting that you prefer to be alone, but he relents regardless. His keen hearing from across the home-like cave was enough for now.

Instead, Zhongli offers his support in the form of sheet music, going out of his way to obtain obscure or new sheet music for you in the style that you like so that you never run out of new melodies. It’s a simple act of appreciation for your gifts, if he could write any himself he’d have done so as well, but his ear for music wasn’t as fine-tuned as yours. 

Zhongli pauses in his reading for a moment, his ears adjusting to the slightest tune echoing through the cave. It was barely there, but enough for him to hear. It seemed as though you were playing quietly today. It’s another moment that passes before he places a marker into his book, setting it aside before rising from his chair. He couldn’t explain it but your music always seemed to inspire him to get up and do something. Typically it was cooking, with him making a light meal or snack to bring to you when it sounded like you were taking a break. It helped to hear that you were playing the newest sheet music he had brought you. He didn’t know much about music aside from how to read notes on a paper, but there was something about that one specifically that just reminded him so dearly of you.

Neuvillette:

Neuvillette has always admired music, but his mind was more focused on the law and justice system, he had never really had time to explore that interest. When he finds out about your talent in that field, he at first is hesitant to ask you to teach him. He doesn’t want to bother you especially after you confessed that you prefer to play alone. So instead he listens silently from the next room over, replaying the melodies over and over in his head as he tries to teach himself an instrument.

It’s sweet, the way Neuvillette is always keeping you up to date with things. Always making sure your instruments are in proper working order and that anything you need for them is easily available. He had learned about instrument care as soon as he started trying to learn, and because you don’t leave the house often he makes sure to pick things up that he thinks you might need while he’s out. 

He doesn’t say anything to you as he silently enters the room, noticing how you paused mid-line, turning to look at him. He just offers a warm smile, walking over to you quietly before sliding your music stand away. It takes a moment to realize what he’s doing as he slides a brand new one into place, carefully moving your sheet music from the old one to the new one. “I apologize for disrupting, please continue.” He gives a polite bow of his head before turning to leave, taking the old music stand with him. You weren’t sure how he knew that you needed a new one, since the old one had a problem with staying extended to the height you wanted it, but silently, you were thankful. 

[librarycards]

hi sarah. feel free to delete this if it’s too much, but do you know of any work (academic, personal essays, art, etc) about grieving someone who’s died to suicide/wishing they were alive while also grappling with how to square it with your anti-psych, anti-carceral, pro-bodily autonomy politics? for reference i’ve read Alexandre Baril’s paper on Suicidism before and may revisit it in this light, as well as aleks thom's writing on disenfranchised grief and your lovely recent poem about suicide, but i’m sort of at a loss about where to look for other work about the intersection of these specific topics. many thanks and much love in advance

thank you so much for asking! i feel strange saying "i'm sorry for your loss" because it's clichéd and trite and you've heard it a billion times before. i am sorry, though, and i am equally sorry that you carry your loss into a world that is so deeply hostile to everyone affected by suicide – loved ones, those who have attempted, those who have completed, those who are dealing with suicidal thoughts, all of us.

i think that perhaps the most useful thing to remember is a bit simpler and a lot more challenging than can be conveyed in a paper or poem. it's that peoples' bodyminds are their own, including when they treat said bodyminds in ways we on the outside don't like. this is true for people who do all manner of "unhealthy" and "self-harmful" things, and as loved ones, it's incredibly fucking hard to witness, especially when the consequences are deadly.

suicide grief, and in general, work by loved ones and caregivers to those of us who experience extreme states, is pretty tough to find in the area of Mad studies. this is partially justified, given the degree to which we've all been spoken over and around by abusive "caregivers." yet it also denies the simultaneity embedded in basically any Mad community: we are all both, because we're all together and hurting at once.

i actually have two friends who have written about their own experiences as suicidal + Mad people who have lost close people to suicide: MT Vallerta, a scholar-poet [check out In Memoriam], and poet S.G. Huerta [you should read their poetry book, Last Stop].

Sophie Lewis also wrote an intriguing piece that touches on suicidality, death doulaing, and kinship.

Emily Krebs studies suicide/bereavement from a Mad crip abolitionist perspective, and is worth checking out.

i think it's also a good idea to remember that a way to honor those who have completed suicide is to take better care of suicidal people who are still alive. it only does more harm to suicidal people to approach ideation/attempts carcerally, and indeed encourages more covert, risky, and isolated methods rather than open dialogue. here are some ways to honor - not only support, but truly honor, trust, and respect suicidal people:

candidly speak about death, self-harm, and "dark thoughts" - and what to do around them - before and outside of immediate crises. be explicit in your intentions to support those who are actively suicidal before the next crisis occurs. ask people their preferences - who should you call? is the hospital ever on the table, and if so, under what conditions? who will be there to advocate for them when interacting with carceral authorities?

be candid about how their actions affect you, without placing blame. when someone attempts suicide, everyone they love is affected. this is not the person's fault, but it is something that needs to be addressed in community. here's an example from my own life: a dear friend was forcibly hospitalized after an attempt. i had been a main support person of hers in previous crises, when we lived near each other. when we spoke about her experience months later, i admitted that i felt "guilty" and as though i had somehow caused her to be institutionalized by living in a different place now. she admitted to me that she felt "guilty" for having "let [her loved ones] down" and "letting" her health deteriorate. we were able to find comfort and commonality in our affective experiences, and have become better friends for it.

cool it with the solutions. ask for consent before doing anything, but especially giving advice. many people kill themselves, or try to, because they feel cornered - often for very logical reasons (poverty, oppression, abuse/complex trauma). the adage that a poor person probably has more financial wisdom than a rich advice-giver holds true here, so don't immediately offer tips unless they've asked for them. sometimes, suicidality isn't connected to anything concrete, either, or a person's reasoning doesn't "make sense" (duh). if someone has the courage and trust to come to you with their feelings of suicidality, what they need most is someone to listen, to take them seriously, and to afford them the same personhood that they would have otherwise.

when people disclose thoughts of suicide, they take an immense risk in terms of their safety and credibility, and they do so because it is not possible to be a person alone. but, we also need to hold simultaneously that the individuals who do their best to support a loved one, but are not equipped to do so, are also not at fault for somehow "killing" them. suicide is incredibly complex, and suicide grief perhaps even moreso than other types of grief.

i also don't have concrete answers as to what to do about this conflict between our emotions around suicide - wanting to save a person we love, wanting them to stop hurting, being willing to do anything to keep them around - and imagining a world against and beyond the institution in all its permutations. but i know we will move toward it together through open conversation and trust and collective risk. much love and respect to you for asking such a challenging question during a heartbreaking time. <3

[hunnysnoops]

ミ★ 𝒟𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒦𝓎𝓁𝑒 𝐵𝓇𝑜𝒻𝓁𝑜𝓋𝓈𝓀𝒾 𝐻𝒞𝓈 ★彡

(+some general)

MASTERLIST

Doesn’t crush often but when he does, he crushes hard

Hot take- we would not choose a study date as a first date

^ I see him as the kinda guy who dates with a long term goal in mind and would want to get to know someone well off the bat

^ Bro is not messing around- he would want a first date where the two of you talk a lot and he can get to know you before committing

^I think his ideal first date would be a movie then a cafe/restaurant. Movie first so there’s a couple hours to ease the awkward first date tension and then coffee/food to talk about the movie and eventually branch the conversation out

He sends those cryptic texts like “be alert…” when there was mugging in town or something

Tags you in every post he sees. You’ll wake up and check social media to thirty messages in your inbox and they’re all from Kyle

The kinda guy to be like “Did you look at the post I sent you about the guy at the bus stop?”

Got his account banned on Twitter and went absolutely ballistic while you tried to calm him down

Runs Hay Day like it’s the navy

Definitely the type to be hooked on his phone until it dies and then complain that you’re on yours “Bro, let’s just talk about the political and economic state of the world right now…”

This might be another hot take but I don’t think he would want a childish partner, he want to be your boyfriend not your dad

^Having to zip up your coat, tie your shoelaces, or cut your food- I don’t think he would mind doing it a couple times but repeating offences would irritate him

Not big on pet names

^ I think he would be one to call you ‘bro’ ‘man’ and ‘dude’ a lot just out of habit but would probably just call you an abbreviation of your name if anything

^ perhaps babe on very rare occasion

HATES PDA

^ I fear I may have many hot takes in this post

^He would be pretty touchy in private but in public? Hell no

^ talks shit about couples who can’t keep their hands off each other in public and absentmindedly wrinkles his nose in disgust

^ the only PDA he would accept is hand holding or a quick hug

Calls and FaceTimes you out of the blue but will immediately hang up if you’re busy or with other people and call back later

He is either the most sound sleeper ever or he wakes up at the drop a pin- either way, he always ends up slinging his lanky arms around you

He’s weirdly good with hair and would have no problem braiding yours or styling it

Super supportive aspiration wise

^ sports games? He’s the loudest in the crowd. Theatre? He’s on the edge of his seat watching. Art? He’s looking at your creations like they’re in a museum.

If you have bad habits (smoking, drinking, etc.) he would try to ease you out of them but if that fails it would definitely cause conflict in the relationship

Has his moments where he snaps at you

Fights wouldn’t be often but they would be big

He would enjoy playful banter and someone who challenges him to improve

I think he would enjoy a lot of the lower beats of the relationship like staying in to watch movies, cooking together, walking and talking, silently enjoying each others company, etc.

He posts Instagram carrousels and every single one has a picture of you in it

Doesn’t even entertain people who try to flirt with him “No, thanks.” “I’m dating someone.” “I’m good.”

Shows you Reddit posts and complains about how obviously fake they are

Gets irritated by bad acting in movies “He called her Courtney Dove, fucking idiot.” “Why does she chew like that?” “Her accent sounds fake.”

Has a secret TikTok account and doesn’t know that you watch his videos on a fake account

He is well aware of rage bait but it still makes him mad because so many people fall for it so he’ll end up commenting anyways

Easily jealous

^ if he sees you talking to another guy he doesn’t trust he’ll insert himself into the conversation and pretend he knows what’s going on

Checks up on you a lot

^ He just has to know that you're okay, he has to be sure that you're safe and that if something were to happen, you would call him without thinking twice.

He wants to communicate but he’s lowkey really bad at it and can’t get in an argument with you without yelling

I imagine him as a runner

^ he’ll probably run to your house at ungodly hours, drink some water, give you a kiss, and keep running

^also lovvvves to show you his stats

He’s really good at cooking and always takes control when you two are cooking/baking together

Didn’t want to dress up on Halloween but you ultimately coerced him into doing a corny couples costume

Has a longer skincare routine than you do

He’s one of those guys to pretend to hate the reality shows and soap operas that you watch- he’ll peak from his phone, then stand from behind the couch and then he’s fully invested in the plot

[kiragecko]

Story Idea:

Set in one of those fantasy settings that are only interested in political intrigue. Sprawling ancient family line that have been backstabbing each other for generations. Centred around the young heir to a cadet branch¹, who is being taught the art of intrigue by their uncle/aunt (henceforth known as the Schemer).

-

When the Schemer was 13, they realized that their best friend had been hired by the Schemer's parents for the role 8 months before, and was supposed to kill them after 2 years were up. They murdered the friend, not out of betrayal, but out of a realization that this would keep happening until the lesson to 'not trust anyone' stuck.

The Schemer grows up to be their parents' favourite, stealing most of the attention, and getting VERY VERY good at intrigue. Their youngest sibling disappears. Their oldest sibling, who isn't great at intrigue (and possibly autistic) is kept pretty isolated, living a precarious existence with few allies, unsure what will happen when their parents die.

But what happens is that the eldest inherits. And slowly, slowly realizes that the Schemer is protecting them. That their closest ally was hired by the Schemer to stay close and loyal, no matter what their parents did to try and destroy their trust. That their youngest sibling was whisked away from their parents' influence entirely. That the Schemer HATES the game so much, and decided that the best thing they could do was protect other people from having to play it.

The Schemer doesn't fully trust their oldest sibling. The Schemer can't really trust anyone. But they can still hope. Hope for something better for their family.

-

So the main story is about the young heir being taught the distasteful necessity of deceit by someone who hates deceit but is very good at it. Being taught the value of loyalty and integrity by someone who thinks they have none and is very wrong. Being taught that there are good people in the world, but that they, specifically, are unlikely to meet many. And that it isn't their fault.

A flawed mentor and an unsafe environment and the very best of intentions. Supportive parents that are a bit too used to letting a very damaged person make their decisions for them. Nobody quite realizing that getting to grow up with loving parents and siblings has ALREADY changed this kid's trajectory, and that everyone's fear that history will repeat itself is based more on their own trauma then on reality. And relatives that ARE just as dangerous as everyone fears.

-

I want a story of generational trauma that is fundamentally, unmistakeably, about hope and healing. Where family can be a good thing, even though it has historically has been a bad one. Where innocence and goodness aren't the same thing, but it's understood that one can make the other easier. Where many of the characters don't understand optimism, but the narrative does.

-

¹cadet branches are descended from a younger sibling of a person who inherited the main title. Sometimes they earn smaller titles of their own. Sometimes they inherit various support roles for the main heir.

[utterlyazriel]

whom the shadows sing for — (and the thief's echoing hymn)

a/n: here she is... chappie four <3 thank u for ur patience and 1000 kudos to the anon that made a plot suggestion that i had already written lmao-- as always let me know what u think! things are heating up....

word count: just under 4k

synopsis: You return to regular training for the first time in a month. Azriel asks a favor from Rhys and finds you in a less than stellar condition when he returns to camp

CHAPTER FOUR :: FRIENDS

Velaris is a sight for sore eyes.

After nearly a month of endless white scenery, of the blinding glint of the sun against snow, paired with endless pine, the sight of a city is a reprieve in itself.

And because it’s Velaris — because it’s home — something else settles within Azriel.

A hackle that always stays on high alert finally lies down. The constant agitation of his shadows falls into a calming hush. He breathes easier.

He's back with his family and can be here to keep them safe if need be. He's back to the closest semblance of comfort he's ever known.

Where do you find comfort?

Azriel blinks a little, taken aback at the abruptness of the thought.

The lone shelter in the mountains, spaced out from the circle of buildings, every bit representing your isolation from the people of the camp — that was your home.

Where you resided and took solace from the world in, the place you felt safest. But... it's no place of comfort. It's a crutch. A necessary support. Somehow, Azriel has no doubt that if you could survive out in the snow, burrowed amidst the elements, you would, if only to have one less thing to maintain.

You've never even seen a city before, he thinks. All you know is the mountains.

Suddenly, eyes cast across the breathtaking beauty of Velaris, the hum of the Sidra carving its way through his beloved home, the buzz of people on the streets, Azriel recalls the very time he lay eyes on it himself.

It never stops being breathtaking. That much is true, but then again, there was no comparison to the first time.

The warm feeling that had grown in his chest. The way something he hadn't known ever existed within him had unfurled, like a flower blooming in the sun. Something Azriel now knows to be hope.

He hadn't known a place this beautiful could exist.

Wouldn't have been able to dream it up when all he had known for so, so long was darkness and shadow.

Even in the time after the cage, all there was to see was the white of winter and the cold bite of the harsh mountains. He learned how blood looked melting into the snow, how to sleep with one eye open, and all the different shades of cruelty.

Azriel remembers being unable to comprehend the sight, the stumble in his heart at the indisputable proof before him. That despite what had been drilled into him by his father, his brothers, by every Illyrian warrior who punched down on bastards, there was a place where peace reigned above all.

People who lived in harmony. Where Art and music are considered a treasure alongside other skills, each equally important. And Azriel belonged there, as much as any of them.

It had been one thing to walk through the city, to marvel at every cobblestone, at the trims lining each and every window, to have people regard him with such a polite and casual manner — not a second glance at his wings or his hands.

It had been something else entirely to fly over it as night fell.

Mountain ridges illuminated by his most constant friend, the rising moon, watching the moonlight spill over the dark red rock of the mountain and paint it ever softer. Sweet ocean air and the very perfume of the city intertwined within the current as he soared above it, mighty wings beating.

Azriel could remember that first day and night in Velaris vividly, like an unforgettable dream. How easy it had been to fall in love with it, to let its arms unfurl and to allow himself to make a home within them.

Looking out across it now, as Faelights begin to twinkle and blink to life as the night creeps in, all Azriel can think of is how much he wants that for you.

To bring you here. To have both of you fly above the city and wander down the streets aimlessly, to show you that there were places far kinder in this world than all you had known before.

He yearns for you to have the same dawning realisation he did—that so much more existed outside of those gods forsaken mountains.

Azriel knows you're a very guarded male. You have more than enough reasons to be. He's already pushed a thousand boundaries you have and each time you let him into your sanctuary in the mountains is a sign of enormous trust.

Maybe for that reason, Azriel wants to be the first to extend that kindness to you.

A twinge in his chest sings a different, golden answer.

Azriel ignores it and steals one more look out at his home, swallowing down how all logic seems to be pointing to the same thing, time and time again.

He finds the High Lord in his study, papers stacked high on his desk that have only grown higher in Azriel's absence. His dark hair is tousled in a way that means he's been running his hand through it too much.

Azriel lifts the shadows from beneath his feet as he enters, letting the other hear the sound of his soft footsteps. Rhys looks up at the new arrival. Despite his tired appearance, it does nothing to dim the grin that overtakes his lips at the sight of his brother.

"My, my, aren't you a sight for sore eyes?"

Azriel grins back, stepping forward Rhys pushes back from his desk and stands. His usual wings have been hidden away through his magic and Azriel notices their absence when he pulls him into a brief hug. Rhys lingers close, his violet eyes raking over his friend.

"Not bad to see you either."

"You flatter me." Rhys purrs, his voice all buttery and smooth. "You've got new eyebags. Overworking yourself as usual, are we Az?"

"I presume you make such lovely comments about Feyre too?"

"And risk her wrath?" Rhys smiles, eyes glittering at the mention of his mate. "Never."

Azriel rolls his eyes, letting his obvious endearment at his brother's happiness show. They truly are a perfect pair.

He crosses his arms across his broad chest tightly, if only to hide the fleeting flicker of wanting the spools tight in his chest. A ribbon of envy, woven between his ribs.

If Rhys notices, he doesn't comment. Instead, he says, "Usually, you're itching to escape the mountains but not this time I see."

He pauses, eyeing up the Shadowsinger to see what response it'll give. Azriel yields no comment back. Expecting this, Rhys smiles.

"Either way, you'll be happy to hear that Cassian has returned from his time off and is ready to resume his usual duties."

Azriel stills at the words.

He knew that Cassian would at one point return to his usual positions and that Azriel himself, would return to his spymaster post. But it's come sooner than expected. Perhaps, time with you has been passing far quicker than Azriel thought.

"I found the cause of the rumours."

"Yes, I assumed you had," Rhys says, wandering back around the deck to slump into his chair. He leans one arm against the armrest, his knuckles against his temple.

"I also assumed that you spent all that time dealing with it. Much of a problem?"

Azriel considers his words carefully. The trust he's managed to garner with you is fragile, though he knows his friend would not severe it or interfere if he asked.

Another part of him knows it's unusual behavior of him, to offer his skills so willingly to a stranger. But, well, you're not exactly a stranger anymore.

"There's a male.” Azriel begins, choosing his words carefully. “A bastard, the one causing all the stir-ups. He feeds the other bastards when he can. It's what had Lord Mylind kicking a fuss."

Rhys curses lightly at the realisation of just which camp they are dealing with.

"He's learning to make healing tonics," Azriel continues, noting how Rhys' head straightens up a fraction. Interested. "In hopes of slipping them to freshly clipped females. To see if it can reverse the damage."

Rhys sits back in his chair completely, his hand brushing over his mouth in deep contemplation. For a moment, he says nothing.

"I suppose I don't need to ask if there's been any female training then."

Azriel feels himself glower instinctively, his wings hiking up an inch higher without meaning to. He thinks of Lord Mylind and the conversation he had on the first day in their camp. The sheer display of male arrogance, snarling, and threatening violence outright.

"No.”

Rhys curses again, his eyes crushing closed. He seems to filter through a pained reaction, his face contorting until it lands on a tired resignation.

“The camp of Exordor made very good on a bargain struck during a very hard time.” Rhys grits the words out.

Something dangerous flashes in his eyes at the mention of the deal that had turned sour. A cold ripple of night shudders through the room.

No amount of soldiers supplied during the war had been worth the suffering that camp Exodor alone produced— or continues to produce if the whispers that came out of there held an inkling of truth.

It’s a rotten place, tucked deep in the mountains, and some of the worst brutes Rhys has ever had the displeasure of meeting were born in the bowels of that place.

“It doesn’t lift for another 50 years." Rhys sighs, his voice wavering with a hint of shame. "I can’t touch them without slaughtering them all— innocent or not.”

Azriel didn’t say anything for a moment. This information is not new. He watches as Rhys digests his silence, leaning back in his chair as the wheels spin in his head, dizzyingly fast.

For the second time, Rhys' brows jump.

“You’re helping him.”

Not a question.

Azriel nods.

"You don't want Cassian to take back over."

"No," Azriel murmurs. "Not yet. The male is... He's guarded. Isolated. It has taken time to earn his trust. I believe in what he wants to do and I believe he has what it takes to achieve it.”

He thinks of the quiet evenings within your shelter, your patience as you taught Azriel what you could — how you took every piece of information from him on the chin, not one complaint of ever tiring. He thinks of the heaving in his chest, the tug on his heart.

"I ask that you let me see this out." Azriel finishes, his shoulders rolling back as he stands tall. Let Rhys understand how this had become more than just a mission to him; it’s a personal calling, one he must answer, one that he needs to see out to the end.

Rhys surveys him intensely, unblinking for a moment. Then something devious crosses his face, catching in a smile.

"That's not the only thing you want to ask me, is it?"

Azriel looks to the ground, suddenly bashful. This would be entirely too revealing of the closeness he felt, to ask this, to offer this. He asks anyway.

"I wish, with your permission, to take Heartstriker." Azriel's voice rumbles lowly. He forces his eyes back up, meeting Rhys' strong gaze. "To gift to him."

Something dips into Rhys' smile, threatening a smirk and for that reason alone, Azriel feels his ears tinge hotly. His face remains calm, however, giving nothing away.

"Heartstriker? As a gift?" Rhys repeats, with a sly smile. "Pray tell Brother, when's the wedding? Since when have you ever been known for gift giving, let alone something as dear to you, such as a sword? I might just have to meet this bastard."

Azriel’s ears only get hotter, betraying him. He prays it doesn't show on his face, though he's sure the increased swirlings of his shadows give him away. And Rhys’ infallible ability to read his flustering each and every time.

"Is that permission?"

Rhys, seemingly realising he won't be getting any juicy details, quits tormenting his brother with a flourish of his hand. He leans back in his chair relaxed, a softness creeping into his expression.

"It's been yours to take all these years, Az." Rhys finally lands on. "You did earn it, after all."

—

The shelter looks bigger without him here.

Betrayingly, it’s the first thought you have when the door swings open, letting you into your nest of safety. You heave in a breath that rattles loudly and it gets swept up in the foul whistle of the Mother's Kiss.

On your side, your blood-soaked hand clutches your abdomen tightly. Pain spiderwebs up your body, fraying every nerve with a burning agony.

Every step feels loud and clumsy.

You cough as softly as you can, yet still feel the warmth of blood on your lips. The familiar metallic tang overwhelms your mouth.

You must be dripping blood behind you, dragging a slushy mess of crimson snow in on your boots. Fuck, what are you doing again? Your head throbs. They must've knocked your head hard this time if you're losing focus this quickly.

The Mother's Kiss howls fiercely, a reminder of the cruelty outside your little haven.

Right. You remember you need to close the door— and you shove the deadbolt closed along with it. If your ribs were aching a little less, you would reach up and do up the second deadbolt too, at the top of the door. You try to anyway.

Your arm gets mid-way up before you freeze, pain lashing every nerve in your midriff, enough to make you wince loudly. The bindings on your chest aren't helping. For a moment, dark spots dance before vision as you quickly tuck your arm back down, moving too quick.

Fuck. Fuck. One deadbolt will have to do.

It feels as if the whole world lurches when you take your next step, blurring like thick taffy for a split second. You stumble towards your bed and realise as you sink onto your knees on the edge of it, you need to dress your wounds.

Another bloody cough. Has your nose stopped bleeding yet? It's impossible to tell between each and every other ache.

What were you doing again?

Without meaning to, you begin to slump over, nearly lying down in your bed.

Dressings! That's right, you need to make sure the wound on your side isn't still bleeding, need to make sure it's clean when it finally begins to clot, need to...

Need to... what did you need to do?

That's right— you need to sleep.

Your head crumples against the pillow like a dead-weight as you collapse against it, exhausted. As your consciousness wanes, you cough again, a splatter of red spraying your pillow.

Not good, you think absentmindedly. Eyes slipping shut, you miss the familiar figure out the window, approaching through the storm.

—

You're wincing before you even realise you're awake.

Crackling. Logs spitting out little snaps fill the air, the quiet roar of a hearty fire; the first things you hear when you come too, far too slowly for your own liking. Your left ears hum loudly in discomfort— no doubt a result of one of the harsh hooks you had caught in the face earlier today.

Next, you smell something... clean?

Your tongue comes out gingerly, licking your cracked lips and you realise quite suddenly, there's an absence of blood on them. The thought slams into you at the same time you realise; you hadn't been able to stay awake for long enough to even light a fire.

Panic reaches through your ribs and grips your heart, tight, and you sit up without thinking.

Pain follows you closely like a lazy afterthought that slams into you, soaking into your body meanly and making you regret moving so fast. Your head swims heavily, throbbing dully.

A pained noise threatens to leave your lips and you force it down. Then force your head up, eyes blinking rapidly, trying to assess the threat, trying to do something.

Panic squeezes your heart painfully again when your hazy vision clears just enough to reveal the shape of a body before you— your blood chilling in your veins as you realise there's somebody else in here with you.

The whimper you held back before slips out before you can help it, your body squirming backward without thought. Your breaths comes out in sharp pants, bursts of pain accompanying each one, and right as you hit the wall, your vision focuses.

Your lungs empty in relief.

It's Azriel before you, on his knees, his scarred hands are held out in front of him.

They aren't touching you, just hovering, his palms up to indicate he means no harm. His wings are tucked back, hunched down to be smaller than usual, and all around him, his shadows whirl about animatedly.

There's an expression on his face you've never seen before.

"—on't move," He's saying, his low voice finally registering in your ringing ears. His hazel eyes are fixed on your face, darting about quickly. "You'll re-open your wounds."

He's talking about your wounds but for some gods forsaken reason, all you can think is how surprised you are that he came back.

The thought loops endlessly, like a holy mantra —he came back, he came back, he came back— and you realise that you were both terrified and also sure that he wouldn't be coming back at all.

That somehow, somewhere along his trip back to his home, he would have realised you weren't anything worth coming back for.

"Azriel?" You wheeze.

Just to check—you have to check.

Maybe he's a mirage. He certainly would be the kindest mirage you can think of.

You think you see something soften on his face, his wings dropping an inch lower behind him. His hands are still held out before you, still waiting. He's endlessly patient. His shadows seem to slow a bit, less frenzied.

"Yeah," He murmurs gently in response. His hazel eyes burn as they take in the sight of you again. "They got you pretty messed up. huh?”

You're sitting on your bed still, you realise. Blinking slow, you take an inhale, trying to put together how he got here— your eyes fly to the door. It's locked, this time with both deadbolts secured.

Azriel follows your gaze, turning his head slightly. "They're a good precaution. Don't be dissuaded that the spymaster of this court managed to get past them."

You wheeze again, some delirious laugh that gets cut off when pain splinters through your side. You groan lowly, unable to hold it in and your hand creeps slowly to paw at your side.

Faintly, you can feel the scrape of bandages on your skin, covering the wound, and sigh in relief. It makes your diaphragm sink down, the bindings around your chest shifting and that sends a frantic bolt of alarm through you once more.

“You—” The word scratches out your throat and you cough weakly. Every instinct starts to light back up, hackles rising— there has never been someone else around when you're too weak to defend yourself. It takes a moment with eyes closed and measured breaths to lean into your trust. You trust him, you know you do.

“You... patched me up?”

The question comes out wary and pointed despite your efforts. Though that might just be the gravel in your throat from having your face beaten in.

You don’t know how to covertly ask if he saw— if, that when he pushed your bloody shirt up to nurse the slash in your side, he noticed the gauze around your ribs.

It's an alien and terrifying thought, Azriel finding out. A worry deep in the marrow of your bones warbles in response, a thousand hairs standing up on end at the possibility.

How a revelation of that magnitude could sever the first trust you've had in years.

How it could lose... the first friend you've ever truly had.

A string of nausea tugs in your throat, bile threatening, and you have to swallow it down with the crippling fear that's been thrust into your system.

This is how it goes. The intrinsic balance of the world —to be gifted closeness and friendship, is to submit to the possibility of losing it.

Back against the wall, it settles into you very starkly, a thought sharp and clear; you do not want to lose him in any way.

Some part of you thinks he must see you as some kind of starving mutt, growing far too attached to the first hand that feeds it. But looking at him now, his shadowed face and kind expression, the depth of his eyes... you're convinced he sees something more to you.

And you want him to, desperately.

In a way you can't comprehend, can't begin to understand— how can you be so tied to someone you've known for so little? How can it hurt so much to be parted from him when you're barely friends? When he doesn't even know who you truly are.

Perhaps, you think, this is what all friends are like. You wouldn't know, you haven't had any before.

Azriel nods mutely, a strand of his dark hair falling over his forehead. He seems to be considering his words carefully and you take the moment to steal a few deep breaths.

When he speaks, his voice is softer than you’ve ever heard. "I understand that might be... crossing a line. But—" A waver in his voice. "— but I could smell the blood from out in the storm."

There's something left unsaid in his sentence, his tone clipped. Whatever it is, you're far too tired to discern it. Your body, overwhelmed with tension, abruptly loosens as the perceived threat of danger seeps away. It drains you, a sudden wave of tiredness cresting upon you— because you know, undoubtedly, you're safe now.

Not quite meaning to but unable to stop yourself, you sink down and fall limply against your bed. Your wing curls over you defensively, a blanket and shield all in one.

Azriel's hands finally lower, resting gently atop his thick thighs. His shadows dim their chaotic activity, almost lazy with how they whirl about his neck and shoulders. You wonder absentmindedly what they feel like against his skin.

Looking back at his face, you find his eyes haven't broken their watchful gaze on you— intense enough to stir up an unfamiliar warmth within your chest. You avoid it and his eyes, your tired eyes catch sight of something behind him.

"You brought...?" You can't quite finish your sentence, a vicious shiver wracking your frame, making you curl up closer. Tiredness chases it, the threat of sleep looming closer and closer.

Your eyes close without meaning. In the darkness, Azriel's voice swims before you, muted and far away.

"You have to get better before I can give it to you." His voice has dropped to a whisper. It makes your lips twitch in an attempt of a smile. It's funny, hearing a legendary Illyrian warrior like him whispering.

"Okay," You might say back— though you're not sure if it sounds like a word at all.

It doesn't matter. You're already asleep.

[NEXT PART: CONFIDANTS]

—

tags <3

@strangerstilinski @janebirkln @itsswritten @mischiefmanagers @hnyclover @waytoomanyteenagefeels @idkitsem @illyrianbitch @jeweline16 @fightmedraco @iamjimintrash @maeandering @spideytingley @aneekapaneeka @cassianswh0reeee @viciane @astarlitsoul @mybestfriendmademe @archiveofcravings @reputaytionn-13 @bionic-donut @chessebookgirl @itseightbeats @littleblackcatinwonderland @twsssmlmaa @fanworrior @skysayhi @vintageoldfashion @tequilya @fabulouslyflamboyant5

[gortash-did-nothing-wrong]

Things Enver does as a Father:

When their oldest was four, he started to understand what explosives were, so Enver spent three days teaching him how to make fire powder because, "What's the harm? He can't reach the shelf with the ingredients. So he'll never make them without my supervision." He may not have been able to reach the shelf, but that cunning toddler learned how to climb into chairs really fast after that.

When their children started being interested in tea parties, Enver gifted their children a sturdy but beautiful silver tea set. They couldn't brew the tea themselves, nor could they bake their own pastries to go with it, but Enver instructed their servants to fill the teapot with a caffeine free tea anytime the children asked. The trays of croissants and cookies were, of course, also provided.

When Enver joined those tea parties, he used it as a time to test his children's leadership abilities. He asked them how they planned on handling fake issues in the kingdom. Often, he assigned names to fake groups of people, inventing far off countries that sent either banes or boons to their doorstep. "What shall we do about all these refugees?" "The crops from the west fields have failed. Shall we attempt to grow more before harvest, or should we depend upon our reserves?" "Two different political factions are at each other's throats. One is the farmer's guild, and one is the merchant's guild. Who should we side with?" "There's only room in this year's budget to donate to the orphanages, or the trade school programs in the Lower City. Who do we support?" His children sometimes waved his questions off, wanting only to eat the snacks and play games, but sometimes they paid attention. Sometimes they even gave insightful solutions to these problems that were simultaneously fake and yet very real. Enver was always careful to nurture any of his children that showed promise in these matters

Of course, some of his children simply weren't suited for positions of higher leadership, which was fine. He loved his children all dearly, and loving them meant meeting them where they were and accepting who they were. His children that weren't leadership material had other talents. Archery, swordsmanship, art, dance, and more. His youngest daughter, the middle child of the family, actually had a knack for making friends and organizing events. While it wasn't something most would consider a highly prized skill, in her teenage years she turned it into a passion for charity work, especially with orphans and refugees. Something that he made sure the newspapers always reported on. Why not make sure the public viewed him and his family in a favorable light with the candle of his child's charity cases?

One of his children showed a knack for archery at a young age, and Enver wasted no time in designing moving targets for her to sharpen her skills with. His wife introduced their little prodigy to that vampire friend of hers, and soon his daughter was sneaking around the castle with a bow and quiver full of enchanted arrows. The servants only complained a little.

His brood grew in number until he was often walking around the city with a gaggle of eight children at his heels, looking every bit like a proud father goose. His youngest was almost always in his arms, a young boy with chubby cheeks and his father's grin. The public went wild with love for the sight of his hoard of children, calling them the Pride of the Gate. His wife insisted nicknames didn't count if he ordered the press to call them that, but Enver disagreed.

Enver was a firm believer in raising his children with an iron fist. Not in anyway did that mean physical punishment, of course. He detested the thought. But his children had a busy routine of tutors, governesses, coaches, and many extra curriculars from very young ages. His wife was often worried they were expecting too much from them, but Enver was always quick to remind her that they lived in a cruel world, and their children needed to be ready for that. His children were loved, but not coddled.

And as Enver grew older, he felt comfortable delegating more and more tasks to his children. Until finally, at the age of fifty seven with the entire sword coast under his iron fist, he named his heir, split up responsibilities among his other children to ensure there would be no infighting, and retired with his wife to a nice little castle in the upper city. Somewhere close enough to help should his clan require it, but far enough that he and his lovely wife could relax in their old age. He loved spending his mornings sitting on the balcony and having breakfast with her while he read the paper. His middle child, the charity worker, had taken over propaganda, and she was quite skilled at it. He would chuckle with his wife over humorous tidbits from his children's accomplishments.

And of course, then there came grandchildren. Little heathens running around his home, always so happy to visit "Grandma's House". Enver often rolled his eyes at the title of his castle. "I bought the damned thing." He complained to his eldest son one day. His son laughed at him, "Father, don't pout. They may call it her house, but they're always talking about wanting to see your inventions, play with your magic items, and um... Steal your shoes." Enver sighed at that. "None of you ever inherited my glorious fashion sense, and I regret that every day... Maybe one more child-" his wife interrupted them, "No."

[eyesxxyou]

Hobie Headcanons

↳ ❝ [mix of sfw and nsfw because I've been thinking alot] ¡! ❞

❝ sfw ❞

Hobie is Jamaican British and you can't change my mind. He uses Jamaican slang in the movie and some of punk culture takes from Jamaican culture. When he feels very big emotions, his accent definitely comes out whether he wants it too or not.

Did all his piercings himself. Has a keloid behind one of his ears because of it. It's a miracle most of his piercings haven't been infected or rejected.

His starter locs were terrible. He thinks it's the most embarrassing part of his loc journey. The length was uneven and he had to start over 3 different times. For a while he did have regular locs before letting them do their own thing and become freeform.

Has siblings. Two sisters, one older, one younger, and he loves them to death. Would go to hell and back for them. They're partially the reason why he's so comfortable in himself and his own masculinity. Why he's all "fuck Capitalism, patriarchy, and society in general" because he wants to live in a world where this sisters and every woman can walk down the street feeling safe, get paid equal to men in their jobs, etc

Undiagnosed autistic and I say this as a unofficially diagnosed autistic. His special interests are politics, punk bands, and My Little Pony (blame his sisters).

Gets matching nails with his s/o. Let's you paint his nails and do nail art and all of that. Let's you do his make up too, a full face beating if you want. A little bit of a simp

Definitely has a type. Earthy spiritual black people who wear crystals in their hair, wear layers of necklaces and bracelets, flowy ankle length shirts and tube tops, gold rings and waist beads layered on top of each other (definitely not saying this cuz it's an exact description of me) love a black woman from infinity to infinityyyy

❝ nsfw ❞

Has a dick piercing (and no he didn't do that one on his own). Either a Prince Albert or a magic cross. It was a haphazard decision he just decided on and BOY was it painful but he feels cool as fuck now and it makes you feel all the better.

Has nipple piercings too. Just thought they looked sick. Only downside is that they took a long time to heal and wearing a shirt for the first few weeks was literal hell.

LOVES giving oral regardless of sex. Adores the sounds he can draw from you with just his tongue and his fingers. Has you cumming in minutes. His fingers are perfect for it, long and slender, and his tongue is godly (he also has a tongue piercing).

His moto is save a horse, ride a cowboy. Loves getting rode, watching you bounce on his cock however you'd like with your hands on his chest for support. He'll hold your hips, trace patterns on your skin while praising you. "Ya look so pretty, luv. Keep goin', jus' like tha'."

Loves eye contact during sex at all time. "Keep ya eyes open fa' me, luv. Can you do tha'? Yeah, tha's righ'." He likes the intimacy of it, makes the act more special.

Might be a controversial opinion but I think Hobie's polyamorous. Or at least open to the idea of an open relationship. He doesn't get jealous easily and trusts you wholeheartedly so he's be okay with something like that. If that's not what you want, he's totally okay with that as well. On the up side, threesomes ;)

[desert-horned-lizard]

At 3 P.M. today, Tidus, the beloved main character of Final Fantasy X, best known for his swordsmanship and happy-go-lucky attitude, will be struck by an impossibly unfortunate streak of bad luck that will render him unable to hit enemies with a single attack. According to experts, this unprecedented series of misses will not be the result of some latent bias in the random number generator, but rather can only be attributed to sheer coincidence. The astronomically small possibility of such an occurence has left fans and mathemticians equally baffled, but according the latest models this pattern is expected to continue until many billions of years from now, when the increasing entropy of the universe renders the Playstation 2 inoperable.

According to Final Fantasy X walkthrough youtuber slammedunk95, Tidus's inefficacy will make completing the story impossible: "Although other party members such as the Ronso, Kimahri, can make up for Tidus's shortcomings with their attacks and special abilities, there are a number of encounters where Tidus is expected to kill enemies on his own, something that he will no longer be statistically capable of." Additionally, he added that he was "concerned" about how Tidus's condition might "affect his sense of self wirth [sic]", adding that "Auron is... certainly not going to be pleased with him."

A number of theories have been proposed in order to explain Tidus's condition, though none have so far proven completely satisfactory. One explanation that had made the rounds on social media is the so-called "Reading Glasses Hypothesis". Proponents of the hypothesis suggest that Tidus is far-sighted, requiring a pair of reading glasses in order to read without strain, and that by some accident he has left them on his face, rendering his regular sight so blurry as to reduce his accuracy to nothing. Critics, however, have pointed out that a pair of reading glasses would clearly be visible on Tidus's model, and numerous analyses have failed to find any visual indication of their existence. Supporters counter that Square Enix programmed the game not to render the glasses onscreen, likely as a convenience to the player. Confusing the matter further, a number of conflicting screenshots have emerged, some showing Tidus with glasses, some appearing to show the barest outlines of a nearly invisible pair, others depicting him utterly bare-faced except for his signature smile. Square Enix themselves have been strangely silent on the matter, and nearly all attempts to contact them have been met with silence.

Yesterday morning, longtime series composer Nobuo Uematsu was spotted leaving a downtown ice cream parlor with two two-scoop waffle cones, one in each hand, alternating his licking between them as he strutted down the crowded sidewalk, deftly weaving through oncoming pedestrians, cones perfectly balanced, his blushing tongue darting out from between his lips to catch every stray drop melted by the sun, never losing even an ounce of that precious ambrosia, smoothing the surface of the strawberry scoops to a glossy sheen with his warm papillae, wearing away at the mountain of mint chip with nothing but the determined rubbing of that pinkish organ - stained pinker by artifical strawberry colorings - whose articulate flapping might, with any luck, reveal the secret of Tidus's bizarre condition to our news crew, who were approaching him at that very moment. Unfortunately, the revered composer politely declined to answer our inquiries, but our quick-thinking cameraman managed to capture a seventeen second clip of him biting into his wafflecones as he walked away. It is unknown at this time if the foootage will prove relevant to the investigation.

Fans of Final Fantasy X are advised to make the most of their remaining time with the profoundly moving story of Tidus and Yuna before the 3 P.M. deadline. Social media is already awash with fan-art and tributes to the critically-acclaimed title, with many lamenting soon-to-be defunct features such as Blitzball and Kimahri. Use the hashtag #TidusFailure2023 to share your favorite moments and memories of the game.

"guys i think it might have started early my tidus just missed five times in a row #tidusfailure2023"

"never mind he hit again. >_< just bad luck i guess"

Additionally, at 2:30 P.M E.S.T, a live contest will be aired on Twitch, with over 150 gamers competing to be the last person ever to hit an enemy with Tidus. The winner will recieve a cash prize of $100, and, unusually, the intellectual property rights to the character himself. Explaining this decision, the CEO of Square Enix remarked that; "He is of no more use to us now than a dried-up piece of lettuce."

Update: As of 4:05 P.M., Square Enix has announced a revised version of the game, entitled "Final Fantasy X: Niimen's Story". Though Tidus still retains his status as the story's protagonist, he no longer participates in combat, instead flying above the party in a hot air balloon and shouting words of encouragement as the rest of the party defeats fiends. Tidus recieves experience points alongside the rest of the party, reflecting the contribution of his motivational shouts. By utilizing the sphere grid, Tidus can unlock new words to use in his cheers, such as "great" or "wonderful", while others, such as "wacko" and "dingbat" may be used to express Tidus's disapproval with the party's performance. In order to maintain the balance of encounters, Tidus's slot in the roster has been filled by a new character named Niimen. Niimen can use all the same attacks and abilities as Tidus, but he is older, and his pant legs are of equal length. As of this time, it is unknown if Niimen will miss with every attack, but all evidence seems to indicate that the probability of such an occurance is so low as to be essentially impossible.

[eye-in-hand]

Alexander, 27 (18+), ✡ autistic bastard trans man ✡

Currently learning Russian and trying to start learning Ladino wish me luck lmfao but feel free to message in English, Russian, Spanish or Italian!

Art blog: @sova-dozhd

Fandom blog: @torn-slander

And I have a lot of political opinions, but since I post about these the most and it's gonna give me the most shit lmfao:

On Israel and Palestine:

I am not qualified to have an opinion on how to end the centuries old conflicts in the Middle East. I urge people to listen to those in the region who support Peace and coexistence, whatever that may end up looking like.

Israelis and Palestinians both deserve to live in the Levant for different reasons. Jews are indigenous to the Levant, but you can't displace people who's ancestors moved there a few hundred years ago without destroying lives.

While the conflict centers around Jews and Arabs, there are other groups of people in Israel and Palestine that also deserve safety.

Hamas is using Palestinians as human shields. Hamas and Hezbollah are terrorist proxies of the Iranian regime, and Arab colonialism is just as awful as European colonialism and has resulted in numerous native cultures being erased.

Donate to anera to make sure your money goes to Palestinians and not Hamas! Tumblr fundraisers are not properly vetted and are not transparent with where their money goes. Let your money matter!

To actually care about Palestinian lives you MUST condemn Hamas.

I will not engage with historical revisionism, propaganda, or Nazi rhetoric on any topic, but especially Israel/Palestine. I will not engage with terrorist sympathizers. And I will not engage with anyone who claims Israel is committing Genocide when that is not a proven fact and everything says the opposite of that (like the Palestinian population actually growing. Which you know, doesn't happen during a genocide.). I will not engage with anyone who refuses to accept that Jews are indigenous to the Levant, and Arabs are indigenous to Arabia. This does not mean I support killing arabs in the Levant, as I believe anyone should have the right to live where they want. I just support Native rights to self determination in their indigenous lands, no matter how long they've been forced into exile. My position on Israel is not founded by Religion or the Torah, it's founded on archeological fact. If you ignore these facts, I am not engaging with you.

On Ukraine and Eastern Europe:

Слава Україні! Героям слава!

Westerners really need to get a grip on not supporting the USSR/Russia or Russian supremacy.

Communists are not the opposite of Nazis - the USSR did not fight the Nazis because they cared about human rights.

Misc:

I'm neither a capitalist nor a communist because we need an entire re-hauling of human society and the only way it'll ever get better is to demolish the economic system all together. However this is an idealized world view and not the reality we live in right now.

I support unions, a 4 day work week, paid maternity and paternity leave, and not having to work when you're sick!

Anyone or any movement that tries to get you to hate an entire group of people for traits they were born w is trying to sell you something.

Trans people exist, deal with it. Someone else's identity is none of your business.

Whiteness is a western social construct but that doesn't mean it doesn't affect people in different ways. We need to be open to talking about race if we want to take a stand against racism.

To truly be anti-imperialism, we have to stand against it regardless who is doing it.

Not voting is compliance with Trump which is compliance with fascism. Vote while you still have that right! Waiting for a revolution is not going to save you. The "revolution" is not going to save you. To protect each other we need to engage with positive social change!

Politics are not sports, you don't have to choose a "team"

Being safe from bigotry is not conditional. I don't care how much you disagree with someone. You can disagree/hate someone without being discriminatory.

Most Importantly:

Value human life. Value companionship. Value peace. Value understanding. Value communication. It's harder to be radicalized by hate groups when you put loving human beings over ideologies.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for calling out my friend's spending habits?

✈💸 to find later

I (NB 20s) have been struggling to find employment for a long time. I've been struggling a lot with money- I'm technically indebted to my bank due to an overdraft I dipped into during my last weeks of university while paying off surprise fees, and in the entire year since have been unsuccessful in paying it off for any meaningful length of time. The stress has been immense and I've been avoiding like the plague any kind of personal purchase or leisure activity that might cost me anything. It's a mindset that's been making me profoundly miserable and that I'll probably struggle to get out of for a long time.

However, in the past few weeks, I've managed to land what I can only describe as my dream job. It doesn't start for another couple months, and the pay won't be fantastic (it's an internship), but without a doubt it will change my life. Desperate to do something nice and give myself a break, members of my family agreed to lend me money via plane tickets to do a nice trip this summer and see my best friends abroad, my last big hurrah before entering the full-time workforce for the rest of my life (and being able to pay them back). And I've been really excited! I've been saving even harder than usual, scraping up cash and politely asking grandparents. It won't be easy to support myself in another country in my financial situation, I understand that, but I'm at a point where I think I can do it for a short time and not be a burden on the people who are hosting me.

However, the only issue comes with my friend (NB 20s). I've known them for years, we're extremely close, and we've been waiting for a chance to see each other again for most of that time not knowing if it would ever happen due to my financial situation, so this is the opportunity of a lifetime. They really want to host me, for at least 2 weeks, and do all these nice things together we've been planning. But in the past month or so they've all but drained hundreds of dollars from their bank account in art commissions and room decorations for themself, all of which they've been excitedly showing off to me and our other friends, all the while running out of money entirely. They can't pick up work from their (seasonal) job anymore, either, so there's no way for them to earn back the money now, and recently they've started having to push their commissions just to cover their student loan payment this month. In ordinary circumstances I wouldn't mind and would try and help them out, but I won't be in any financial position on the trip to cover their bills as well as my own (at least not regularly), and I feel like this would have been so preventable if they'd just... picked less wildly expensive things to buy as a treat, knowing the circumstances.

They've said they're also stressed and need to buy themselves nice things sometimes, which I totally agree with! I'm not that much of a party pooper, they are in a rough situation themself right now and the stuff they bought does make them genuinely happy. But it also sucks to watch them then have to struggle to pay for bills and necessities because of it, and I feel really selfish for thinking of it in the framework of our time together later as well. I've done my absolute best to be able to spend at least a few weeks having a great time with them not worrying and pinching pennies while taking care of myself, but now I'm worried we're just going to spend the trip with both of us stressed out of our minds and stuck at home struggling to pay for gas. I'm an anxious person, and the few times I've tried to bring up my worries in a more gentle way, they've vehemently reassured me everything will be fine, but now I'm leaving in just over a week and everything seems like it's getting worse instead of improving.

I know I should be just glad to spend time in their company, even if it is just at home, but I can't stop feeling like the way they've been spending money in the leadup to this has been really irresponsible and preventable. But even if so, it made them happy in the moment so i should be happy for them too, and surely it's just straight up none of my business? It's also not like they can take it back now- it's already happened, and they can't earn the money back if they wanted to. I feel like if i called them on it at this point it'd just be a dick move and come across pointless and jealous, but I also can't help but think it's unproductive to let this gnaw at me the entire time, like I should really be communicating this kind of upset and talk it out first in case it comes to a head and boils over and ruins our whole time together.

I'm aware I'll be long into the trip by the time this posts but it'd be nice to look back and see other perspectives.

[berryhobii]

Hello! I hope you are doing well! I love your work and I think what you are doing is amazing, thank you so much! I was wondering if you could write a drabble about YN and namjoon where she is jealous because someone is flirting with her man, but joon does not realise, so it ends up in really steamy sex where namjoon reasures reader she is it for him!

Thanks for your request! I really hope you like this!

~

There was no doubt that Namjoon was the ideal guy for a lot of people. He was the kind of person you’d be proud to take home to your parents.

Educated. Well spoken. Clean. Polite. A gentleman.

He was just wonderful. The absolute perfect man for you.

And only you.

Don’t get it wrong, you were very secure in your relationship with Namjoon. You’ve been together since college and were still going strong all these years later. Through college and your first steps in your respective careers, you two have always been joined at the hip. Supporting one another through every obstacle and loving each other through every milestone of your relationship.

There was no doubt in either of your mind’s that you two were meant for each other. It was wildly obvious that you were obsessed with each other.

But despite all of that, there were still some people out there who just didn’t know how to take a hint.

Namjoon had told you of an art show that one of his old friend’s was hosting and of course, you would be coming as his plus one. Supporting your man was very important to you and being there for him just made him feel so loved.

So you both got dressed to the nines—him in a sharp suit and you in a gorgeous floor length dress that made him want to marry you all over again.

The event was lovely, the art timeless and innovative, and the conversation both hilarious and inquisitive. Both you and Namjoon were in your element.

After chatting for a little while and browsing the art, you went to the bathroom to relieve yourself and touch up your makeup.

“I’ll be right back.” You said in Namjoon’s ear, taking your purse from his lap. He almost always carried it for you since you’d grow tired of it after a while. Especially if it didn’t have a strap.

He hummed and nodded, accepting a quick kiss from you before you stood to your feet to walk off. His eyes diligently watched you the entire time until you disappeared. Good thing he could see the opening to the bathroom from his seat. That lessened his nerves just a tad. He honestly hated when you weren’t in his eyesight. Not that you couldn’t protect yourself but he just always felt protective over you.

After you were done in the bathroom, you made your way back to Namjoon. A few people stopped you to chat, admiring your wedding ring and exchanging information for future business conquests. By the time you made it back to where Namjoon was sitting, your feet were killing you and you were about ready to call it a night.

As you caught sight of your giant of a husband, you paused in your tracks at the current scene going on in front of you.

Namjoon was surrounded by three people, 2 of which you’ve never seen before—2 men and a woman. The men were standing just to Namjoon’s right, laughing at something that was said and the woman was to Namjoon’s left, talking about something that you assumed was dumb.

But all you could focus on was her hand that was placed on his bicep. And did she just squeeze it?! The only person who could feel him up was you! Who the hell did she think she was? Does she not see the wedding band around his finger? An undeniable sign that he’s already spoken for?

Knowing Namjoon for all these years, you knew he wasn’t always the type to voice his uncomfortablenesses. He didn’t like making scenes over small things. You could tell he was the slightest bit uncomfortable with her hand touching him, judging by the way he kept lifting his arm to adjust his glasses so that she’d stop. But then she’d just laugh again and place her arm right back on his arm.

You couldn’t help the little feeling bubbling inside of you. It surprised you a little, honestly.

It wasn’t really jealousy though. No, that wasn’t it.

You weren’t jealous.

You were…….ticked off.

Straightening your face, you fixed your posture before strutting right up to them. Namjoon caught sight of you immediately, his eyes brightened and a smile spreading across his face, those kissable dimples indenting his cheeks. Goodness, he was so adorable. You just wanted to kiss his face and smother him with love.

He stood to his feet, her hand dropping from his arm again. Good.

“Darling, you’re back.”

You smiled lovingly at him, fluttering your eyelashes in a way that made his heart soar.

“I am. You look like you’re enjoying yourself.” Placing your hand on his arm, the same place she had, you leaned into his embrace but not before making quick eye contact with the woman behind him. She simply raised an eyebrow which ticked you off just a little more.

“Oh yeah. These are some of my old friends.” He moved so that he could introduce you and so that the others could fully see you. “Everyone, this is my wife, y/n.”

After introducing you to everyone, you learned Ms. Touchy Touchy’s name was Yui. Apparently, she was one of the people Namjoon studied abroad with during freshman year. That was before you even met him.

Namjoon offered you his seat but Yui jumped up from hers. “No she can sit here. Those shoes look painful. Cheaper ones normally don’t have support.”

Oh this bitch.

“Yeah. I guess my Jimmy Choo’s are cheaper than most of my shoes.” You shot back with a smile, stepping forward to take her seat. “I like your shoes too. I think I saw them when I was shopping for phone cases on Shein.”

Sucking her teeth, she moved to sit on the other side of Namjoon, placing a hand on his arm once again.

“So Namjoon, we were planning on grabbing some drinks later. You should join us. We can catch up some more. Unless you’re still as much of a lightweight as you were in college.” She leaned forward a little more, the opening of her blouse revealing her cleavage.

Namjoon lifted his hand to touch adjust his glasses again but her hand remained firm.

“Oh uh….” You could see the nerves in his face.

You decided to intercept before it got too far. “We can’t. We have to be up early to meet our friends for brunch, don’t we baby?” You lifted your own hand to place on his chest. It just so happened to be the hand with your enormous wedding ring on it. Her eyes caught it, just the hint of a sneer twitching at her lips.

Namjoon glanced over at you and then to her. “Yup! That’s right. We have brunch. Maybe some other time.”

Or maybe never.

“My love, I’m actually really tired. Don’t you think it’s time to go home?” You batted your eyelashes at him, bottom lip jutting out in a pout.

He kissed your temple again. “Of course baby. Let’s go say goodbye to Lee and then we can go.” He stood and held out his hand for you to take. “We’re gonna go guys but we should catch up soon.” He gave Jackson and Joshua a quick guy hug before turning to Yui and giving her a side hug.

“You should take my number down, Namjoon. We could catch up…..privately.” Her suggestive tone made you want to snatch her right out of those cheap shoes.

“His phone is dead. He always forgets to charge it. Come on baby. There’s Lee. It was nice meeting you guys and seeing you again Jackson.”

~

Once you and Namjoon got back home, he went to take a shower while you sat at your vanity to remove your makeup and take the pins out of your updo.

You couldn’t stop thinking about that Yui chick. What was her deal? Commenting on your shoes? Ha! Your credit card didn’t have a limit. You could buy every pair of shoes in her closet a thousand times over. And being all touchy feeling with your husband. It’s like she was asking to get taken out at the kneecaps.

The bathroom door opened, steam billowing out and your sexy husband stepped out. Water dripped from his hair and down his pecs, a towel hung low on his hips and another in his hands that he was drying his hair with.

Your sharp eyes followed him across the room as he walked over to the closet to pick out a pair of boxers. The thick muscles in his back contracted and shifted with every movement, light red marks stretched across the honey kissed skin, remnants of your love making from this morning. And you could still feel the bruises his fingers indented in your hips when he was giving you the back shots of the century.

Namjoon was yours. All yours. Pushy women like that didn’t make you nervous.

“What’s bothering you?”

You blinked out of your daze, just now realizing that Namjoon was crouched down next to you.

“Huh? What do you mean?”

He placed his hand over yours in your lap, his palm slightly cold from coming from the shower.

“You were quiet the entire ride home. And you didn’t come into the bathroom with me to have a conversation about dinner like you always do. What’s wrong?”

You couldn’t fight the smile that rose to your face. He knew you so well.

Sighing, you reached out a hand to cup his cheek. “It’s just, that Yvette chick kept touching you and I could see you were uncomfortable. You only fix your glasses that much when you’re uncomfortable.”

“You mean Yui?”, he asked.

“Yeah.” You nodded. “I didn’t like how she kept touching you. Then that comment on my shoes? Ugh.”

Namjoon thought you were adorable.

“Baby, are you jealous?”

You sputtered, scoffing and waving your hand around. “I rebuke that, of course I’m not jealous. I just don’t like people touching what’s mine.” The hand that was cupping his cheek went to grip his chin, tilting his chin up so that your dark eyes could lock with him.

“You’re mine. I’m the only one that can touch your arms like that.”

He smirked, lowkey loving how slightly possessive you are. Seeing you get all pouty over some girl touching him made him remember one of the many reasons he was head over heels for you.

“Oh yeah?”

~

“When will you learn you’re the only one I want? Huh? Fuck, you think I’d let this sweet little pussy go?”

You could barely hear him. The force of his thrusts was knocking your cute little brain all around. You’re pretty sure you just forgot your name but why did you need yours when you knew his?

“Na……nam….” Damn, you could barely get his name out.

Your moans and whimpers were only pushing him further. He’d fuck you until his cock was imprinted in your slick walls, until there was no amount of doubt left in you.

Grabbing both of your ass cheeks in his hands, he pushed his entire cock into you, the head of it resting right against your cervix. Your mouth dropped, hands scrambling to grab onto anything only to meet the mattress since you’ve already ripped the sheets and pillows off the bed.

You tried to run from him but he held firm. “No.” He growled in your ear. “Tell me who I belong to. Tell me.” One of his hands went around to your clit, pressing into harshly and rubbing quick circles on it.

You shook your head, mouth dropping and eyes crossing as he pushed you to your nth orgasm of the evening.

His hips started again, this time even faster, his fingers working your clit and stimulating the little nub past the point of overstimulation.

“Tell me. Who do I belong to?”

With drool dripping off the corners of your mouth, you let out a strained, “Me….”

“Again.” His hand that wasn’t on your clit placed 3 slaps in succession on your ass.

“Me!”

His grin was almost animalistic, ego flaring at hearing you moan out your claim on him.

“That’s right. I’m yours. All yours. Don’t forget.”

In a flash, you were flipped over on your back, feet pushed up to your ears. You instinctively brought your arms around your knees to keep yourself folded.

Namjoon bit his lip. Why would he let go?

Grabbing his cock, he lined back up with your abused cunt before pushing back into your dripping heat. Your head repeatedly hit the bed, the feeling of him filling you back up too much to handle.

The pace he set should be considered criminal, his own orgasm close.

He couldn’t take his eyes off your pleasured face. Your eyes were hooded and unfocused, your plump lips wet with drool and his kisses, your breasts bouncing with each thrust. You were so beautiful. He’d be damned if he ever let some old friend he barely paid attention to make you feel like he didn’t want you. He only wanted you. That ring on your finger, this house, all those Chanel purses—they were all for you. He meant what he said in his vows. You were the only person he had his eyes on and you would be for the rest of your lives.

If he needed to fuck it into you every now and again, he’d happily oblige.

Reaching out, he gripped your face, squishing your cheeks and making your lips purse. He leaned down to whisper, “I’m all yours baby. I promise. I love you and only you, okay?”

You knew that. Of course you did.

“Now cum all over my cock.”

[ozzgin]

I love the idea of Papa Pickle and his mate with a little one! What if the little cave child wanted to spar with the fighters and tries instigating fights with each of them?

Their reactions?

I know you requested headcanons of the fighters meeting the baby first, I figured it’d be a nice intro to this one. I recall writing something birth related, but upon further inspection it was mostly focused on the reader and not the baby (twins). This will be written for an infant as singularity, but the twin AU partisans can double that.

Baki Headcanons: Meeting Pickle & Prehistoric! Reader’s baby; sparring with the Prehistoric! Child

Featuring the fighters and their reaction to the newborn, as well as a time skip of the now grown Jurassic child showing interest in training.

You’d think Baki is the most excited given his attachment to the Jurassic mom and vice versa. And to his credit, he is dutifully standing there with a wide, nervous grin, ready to welcome the little creature. He’s the first one after the parents to be allowed to hold the infant, although he’s a trembling mess and requires a nurse encircling him with her arms, constantly reassuring him. “You can’t just drop a newborn, Baki. It doesn’t work like that. You’ve…you’ve carried heavier. I promise.”

Against everyone’s expectations, Katsumi is the one that seems to mesh right in with the news. He comes from a healthy, loving family and the event is nothing new nor surprising to him. He doesn’t need any advice and casually scoops the infant up with his arm, using his large hand as a head rest. Pickle is surprised by this confidence and cautiously approaches him, observing his technique and taking mental notes. Baki chuckles at the unanticipated sight.

Retsu is the next in line to be introduced. After listening to a short briefing on the proper and safe ways to hold a baby, he breathes in and solemnly receives the child. He allows it to rest against his broad chest and supports the back with both hands. A laugh escapes your mouth as you observe the extremely concentrated frown of the Kenpo master. He’s a little embarrassed and a blush spreads lightly to his ears. “O-one cannot be too cautious when handling such fragile beings. I do not see anything worth of amusement.”

Jack prefers to keep his distance and politely refuses the invitation to also hold the infant. He is grateful to be part of it, but he doesn’t trust himself around delicate things. Perhaps when the child grows sturdier he will approach it with more confidence. Until then he doesn’t mind watching passively. There are other ways to contribute.

The way I see it, growing up among modern humans kind of guarantees that the child will be able to speak proper language. And in the few years that have passed I’m hoping that reader and Pickle have also picked up some basic communication skills. So there might even be some rudimentary dialogue coming from the parents! I wonder how Pickle’s voice would sound like.

The kid’s favorite sparring partner is most likely Katsumi. Within his family Katsumi has always been the younger sibling, but in the Dojo he is the authority figure most people look up to. From the moment your child showed the intent to train, the Karate prodigy promptly responded with tips and playful fights. He’s been teaching for years and knows how to assess the capacities of his opponent without using too much force or harming them. Compared to the rest of the fighters he has the most experience in dealing with novices and amateurs and acts accordingly.

On the opposite end of martial arts teaching is Retsu. He doesn’t like to joke around and believes his Chinese Kenpo isn’t some playtime activity for children. He has no problem explaining certain techniques to your kid, but it will be done by the book. Retsu is a great help if you need a break for the day. Kid has too much energy? It will be jogged and worked until late evening just to learn a fancy kick. No other way around it. The youngster will be returned completely passed out from exhaustion, but with a proud, satisfied smile plastered on its face.

Baki enjoys the idea of having a younger sibling, although he can be clumsy when it comes to sparring. If he’s too enthusiastic he might overdo his hits and next thing he knows, the child is on the grass crying and wailing. He scrambles to tend to the superficial wounds and frantically attempts to silence the screams. He doesn’t want to explain the ordeal to a dangerously powerful mom. Outside these small accidents, Baki is also one of the most preferred opponents.

The child is initially very cautious around Jack, but it doesn’t take too long to warm up to the idea of sparring with him. Jack has a lot of patience and most of the time just acts as a punching bag. If the youngster wants to try out a new move or practice some technique he’s seen somewhere, Jack will gladly receive the little blows and offer advice or encouragements. Sometimes after training they will hang out together doing small things like feeding the koi at the Tokugawa estate. “You’ve been training an awful lot lately. Any reason in particular?” Jack questions the little human, curious about the change. “I wanna hurry up and be strong already. Like mom!” the child looks up, beaming. Jack laughs at the last statement. “You’ve picked one hell of a goal. Good luck with that!”

[phoenix-is-the-hottest-thing]

Some people need to understand queer coding opens character identities and relationships up to a solid queer interpretation, but that doesn’t equal “this character 100% fits my headcanon and if you disagree you’re a [REDACTED]”

From a literary analysis perspective, as long as your interpretation is reasonably evidence-based it’s valid. As this is fandom, I’d add “sincere” to that since unlike an academic setting we get bad faith actors but that’s it.

So, to have a valid “interpretation” you have to do the work in good faith, and you have to be able point at the text to support your interpretation. If you can’t, or don’t want to, that’s a headcanon, and it’s totally fine.

“But this character is a lesbian she likes a girl!” There’s more to queerness than straight and gay. You could reasonably interpret a girl who likes another girl as plenty of different things:

Lesbian

Bi

Ace/aro and something else

Straight and closeted trans

Straight and lover is closeted trans

And so on.

So when you have an interpretation, someone might tell you, “I think this other thing.” The polite way to handle this if you don’t like it is to say “that’s so cool we can see different things in the ambiguity of art”. Maybe blocking each other if you dislike their interpretation that much.

That’s of course unless you both want a debate to further refine your understanding of the text or just like to argue or whatever. Which is fine! As long as it’s not overly bitter or whatever, it’s fun to discuss.

“So how do I know which interpretation is more canon than another?”

See, that’s the thing, you can’t. Canon is kind of shaky in the first place. The canon is just what’s written that’s recognized as true/correct text, not the way to understand it (and not what the author says is true, some people take Word of God as canon because it allows the following of one concrete interpretation instead of acknowledging multiple, but strictly speaking it is not). You can only interpret the canon.

For example, 4-komas bonuses of serialized manga are usually non-canon because they are jokes and not meant to be taken seriously as a part of the story’s text. That’s what canon actually is for, originally it’s to talk about which books are genuinely part of the Bible and which are to be deemed offshoots that shouldn’t be taken as a Catholic Church-endorsed religious text.

I guess that’s what gets people confused? That there’s no actual truth to imagined worlds, only what happens in the eyes of the beholder when they interact with art?

Because that’s what it means, canon often has nothing to do with who’s “actually a lesbian” short of them saying it directly. An onscreen wedding is said to “make a couple canon” precisely because there’s only so many ways you can interpret a wedding, but all that means is that the text says they’re together at a point in time. One way I can think of having a canon sexuality would be a canonical character sheet, or an omniscient narrator saying so, but everything less is basically an interpretation.

Note that interpretation obviousness can go from “that’s a stretch but I like it”, to “you only need eyes to see it”, they’re both still interpreting. Even a character talking sexuality technically only makes canon that they’re willing to say so, but that’s when critical thinking comes in.

If you hear a character say “I’m a married lesbian” and think “they’re just confused” with no evidence, you look like an idiot. You absolutely can argue which interpretation is more valid or likely by pointing out inconsistencies, stretched evidence, or that one interpretation has a higher volume of evidence/etc. This is how you avoid relativism and “nothing the text says matters” trolls.

Occam’s Razor is another way you might be tempted to try and determine whose thesis is stronger. This technique works through figuring out which interpretation requires the least amount of assumptions (saying something arbitrary is true as a basis) but it doesn’t make anything canon, or more interesting, it’s not a concrete sign of superiority. Just means it has stronger fondations.

However… your interpretation being stronger, more popular, better worded etc. or you thinking someone else’s is immoral, stupid, etc. doesn’t give you license to be a bully, to call people names, to dox them, dig up dirt to make them look worse, and so on and so forth. Thinking you’re right and they’re wrong does not make you above basic respect, politeness, or consequences. You’re not better than everyone else.

As a child, I used to think I was always right because I was logical, and I clearly made logical sense so there was no way for there to be a logical reasoning that arrived at a different conclusion. (Newsflash: Child me was very wrong! Sometimes multiple things can be equally valid! And even if they were not equal, that didn’t give me license to deride people publicly!)

Queer coding is by its nature interpretative. Coding is the author leaving hints about their characters by using a “code”. Some hints, almost everyone in your section of fandom might have the exact same interpretation about. Some hints might be dead obvious. Some hints might leave you overjoyed. Some hints you might ignore because they make you uncomfortable.

Some people will disagree with you about how they interpret the coding, or might even just state that they believe people have a right to interpret the canon however they want, even in ways you don’t like. That is normal. That is not a threat to your interpretation.

Don’t be a petty cunt about it.

Essentially,

[tsukii0002]

RAD headcanons

Thanks to a tawdry publication I was able to read comments and opinions about why demons go to school and it left me thinking about it for days…. So here goes the headcanon resulting from that meditation about RAD.

Long text is coming!!

Headcanon on the structure, politics and history of the RAD!

The RAD is a recent new institution, established some time after the war.

Most of the nobles, the court and other powers of Devildom opposed or objected to this new institution.

Diavolo was also supported by many intellectuals and power figures (poets, sorcerers…)

So once the RAD was in place, Diavolo's identity as leader of the Devildom was consolidated (whatever the prince said went without saying).

Now, if Diavolo and Barbatos are among the most powerful demons... why aren't they teachers? Well, because in the society of the demons each type of demon had a function, they were super specialized.

In a manner of speaking, demons know a lot about their own and nothing about other things. For example the incubi and succubi were specialized in manipulation magic or curses that stole vital energy, while they did not know about potions or other types of curses (super specialization) .

Therefore, one of the goals of the RAD was to have experts in any subject to teach ALL demons about that subject. Barbatos may know a lot about potions but surely there would be a demon who would have dedicated their entire life to the art of potions and would be superior to the butler in that aspect.

This would explain why the "bosses" are Diavolo and the brothers, but they are not teachers but students.

Although Diavolo is a "student" everything must be reviewed and approved by the prince in order to move forward.

Considering that there would probably be a very wide range of the population in which age means nothing, we have teachers that are younger than some students.

This brings us to the next point, the RAD is an institution that seeks, in a way, social equality. By providing the opportunity for demons to have a general education, it frees them from having to follow a particular profession.

And this gives rise to a modernization of society with the emergence of new professions and companies such as Corvo or food and fashion franchises, models, magazines, amusement parks…

So a minor demon does not have to dedicate himself to what a minor demon used to dedicate himself to and can dedicate himself to something different, like cooking for example.

The RAD allowed Devildom to break out of the traditional structure that dominated the pre-Davolo reigns.

All with the intention of pursuing his dream, before achieving equality among the three kingdoms he will have to achieve equality among the people of his own kingdom.

With that said, we move on to the fact that RAD is one of the fundamental pillars for the aspirations of our demonic golden retrier: to break the taboos and myths of the Celestial Realm and the human world.

And there is no better way than education.

Diavolo's dream goes in steps, first we teach how the celestial realm works, then we try to establish bonds of cordiality, then that angels are not so threatening and then we bring in an Angel (humans are easier).

To achieve this, a school that is teaching the truth is essential.

Surely the RAD has also taken examples from the Celestial realm or from human educational institutions to create a unique institution that encompasses something of the three worlds, hence the various contacts with witches, wizards and other creatures.

Solomon helped to create the first curricula, zero evidence but no doubt.

As many of you commented, living a very long life means having to be constantly learning, imagine human society how fast it advances (evidence in season 3) in order to keep up with it is necessary to keep learning.

Also there were many reigns, a lot of history prior to what we know, to unravel all that and teach you that history it takes time, new inventions, new contributions or corrections of what is already known...

However, the RAD is divided into blocks, for basic studies, medium studies and advanced studies (which would be where our demons and ourselves are), according to what each student wants to learn.

Attendance at the RAD is not obligatory for demons, only those who aspire to certain jobs, such as historian, professor or politician have to have specific mandatory training.

In the RAD the youngest demons are those equivalent to 12 or 13 years old. Luke is a clear example (I'd like to write about his interactions with demons his age, Mephisto's brother perhaps?)

It took Mc months to understand the structure of the RAD because of its complexity and apparent meaninglessness.

Barbatos attends only the classes he likes.

Diavolo goes to all the classes because he wants to experience the most normal life possible, as some of you commented.

Lucifer attends almost more tutorials with teachers for problems caused by his siblings than he does classes.

Only Barbatos, Diavolo and Lucifer can leave class whenever they want, the other brothers need permission for special situations.

Solomon has pacts with a professor or two, and the tension in his classes are fun to watch.

Mc has been and continues to be lost in the RAD.

Diavolo will try to incorporate any funny events from the human world (thanks MC) even if they are preschoolers.

In short, to say that the RAD is an institution that goes hand in hand with the government and attacking it means attacking Diavolo's reign.

If you have come this far thank you very much, I know that a brick like this is hard to swallow, (re-reading it I have decided that soon I could write the constitution of Devildom XD)

Again thank you very much for reading and I would love to read your headcanon about the RAD, its students, teachers, etc. …. Best wishes.

.

.

[tower-girl-anon]

Asteroid Queen's (5457) and King (2305): What type of ruler would you be?

Hello!! I came back with another astrology post. It took me a while to decide wether to describe just one of these asteroids or both since I was doubtful if these energies aplied based on the genre we were born with but, at the end of the day, I've realized they both aplied in our charts since we all carry the dual energy of the masculine and femenine within. Having a deeper connection to the femenine or masculine energy will depend on the person but they will both affect us. Putting aside this early considerations, it can be said that these asteroids, Queen's and King, signifies not only what type of power we possess once we embrace this hidden leadership power, it also describes what type of ruler would we be so, in this post, I will describe how will your leadership and power play out based on the sign and house these asteroids falls in.

As always, take this with a grain of salt, hope you enjoy it, and don't repost this without giving proper credits to the owner.

Aries/1st house: these are the warrior queens/kings. The fearless queens/kings. The rulers who possess a natural attitude and energy of a queen/king just by looking at them and are not afraid of pursuing what they want. Even if it means sending others to fight in a war. Braveness and a fighting spirit are some of the good traits of this rulers, but their impatience, impulsiveness, and bad temper could make them take bad decisions in some cases.

Taurus/2nd house: these are the practical and traditional rulers that wants to improve their kingdom by carefully working on a set of projects that could increase the security, food, and money. They are not impulsive when it comes to decide something or waste money, they will think through every opportunity to find every possible disadvantage, and some plans will be accepted depending if the benefits will last in the long run. Be careful though of greed and obsession with money.

Gemini/3rd house: this is the group of the intelectual and intelligent queens/kings. They could know every possible topic that exist or, at the very least, there is some level of familiarity of these natives with different subjects that allows them to share what they know or think. Literature, history, music, art, politics, lenguages; all of this and so much more is open in the mind of these queens/kings. They know how to act in each situation. No matter if the scenario is a relaxed one or of conflict. Be careful of using lies or manipulation to get what you want.

Cancer/4th house: this group of queens/kings have a natural warm power that allows them to establish emotional bonds between them and the people they rule over. This natives will feel close to the land they rule of and may appear motherly, caring and loving towards the people who needs their support. On the downside, they may appear moody, possesive or jealous, and many of the decision they will take may come from their emotions which can be a good and bad thing.

Leo/5th house: this is the sign that many astrologers assimilate with royalty. This natives could have the strenght, power, confidence, and pride to become one of the most famous queens of all time. They don't neither the charm or the ability to lead others through all the different periods of your reign if you were a queen. Now, if people remember you, it could either be by your grace, charm, and power or either for your selfishness, stubbornness, and immaturity.

Virgo/6th house: this sign is for the practical rulers who follows strict rules, ceremonies, and practices. They are intelligent, organized, and talented when it comes to think and resolve every kind of situation along with the smaller details that other ruler could overlook. These abilities can be a great tool if needed in case of war or to establish some political connections between reigns. On the downside, you could make you or your people to overwork in order to fulfill your desires.

Libra/7th house: these are the rulers that bring balance and justice to the society they rule in. They don't forget about the responsabilites they have towards the subjects, what should be done with the power they were born with, or the expectations of their families, but they also know that they are the queen/king and no one should take a step over them. They are the ruler and only them can bring justice and equality to the kingdom. The downside of this could be their tendency to please many people at once.

Scorpio/8th house: these group of queens/kings have an intense power that is difficult to compare. People could say they will never get to the throne or the days in it will be short lived but it is just a complete lie. They are meant or capable to lead and they have a fighting spirit that will keep the competition away. Even if sometimes it means to kill them. With the amount of power they possess, they could change the whole history of the kingdom, granting them power, but also it can destroy it if the need for power is not carefully controlled.

Sagittarius/9th house: these queens/kings could be religious by nature, may rule over a different place that they were born into, or they will learn a lot throughout their life, being it by lessons from very early on or through personal experience. They will learn a lot about different lenguages and subjects, and the manners they could show in different occasions is impecable. The only downside of this sign I can think of would be that they could try to appear as they know more than others or they will try to impose their beliefs above others.

Capricorn/10th house: these queens/kings are serious by nature. In general, they don't let their feelings or their own interest come in the way of rulling their kingdom since they know that the only way to do it involves putting a lot of hard work and responsability. They would rule by a hard hand, a straight face that may make them look cold many times, and a serious consciousness of what people expect them to do. Even if they are struggling, they will try to make their reign work at all costs and to leave a legacy afterwards.

Aquarius/11th house: these group of rulers could be very spontaneous, intelligent, rebellious or exotic in some way. These queens/kings could be very fixed in their ideals/beliefs or they would want to do everything on their own terms even if it means to change all the rules and traditions. They could create some conflicts due to these traits. On the positive side, their honest humanitarism and care towards all kind of people could make them extremely popular in society.

Pisces/12th house: if anyone has Queen's or King asteroid in this sign or house, then you could be an intuitive ruler, a psychic leader who could lead based on their own instict rather than by physical evidence. You could be a very emphatic king or queen, filled with a huge imagination and a little bit of elusiveness since this sign needs alone time to recharge. The downside of this sign comes from the fact they spend so much time inmerse in their subconscious, imagination or they could drink a lot.

This is all that I have for now. Hope you enjoy it.

Tower Girl Anon