#their conflicts are very layered and complex

[bird-inacage]

Only Friends Finale: Ray & Sand vs Boeing

Admittedly it's taken me a few days to unpack the resolution to the Boeing conflict (aka final boss arc), how Ray and Sand went about this, and how they came out of it unscathed as a couple. There’s a fair bit to cover here so hang in there folks - this is a long one.

Sand's Uncertainty: Questioning the Present or Tributing the Past?

I can see why people had grievances about Sand not being more assertive, why he allowed Boeing to kiss him, why he wasn't definitive when Ray accused him of still having feelings for Boeing if he did not.

The scene in which Sand apologises to Ray briefly touches on this but doesn’t really convey the extent of it. By Sand's own admission, it is hugely difficult to be confronted by someone you used to love, especially a first love. Sand had planned his hopes, dreams and future with Boeing very much in the picture. Boeing's sudden return brought that all back and the lack of closure that came with it. Sand’s hesitancy to act is not due to a resurgence of his feelings from back then, but rather the nostalgia and sentimentality attached to this chapter of his life. Boeing very knowingly plays on this too.

During the pool scene, Sand hasn't made this distinction yet, and is generally lacking clarity on what exactly he feels for Boeing. So when Ray suggests they kiss to find out, Sand does question himself. The 'what if' from his past makes him wonder; an open-ended question he never got an answer to. 'What if Boeing came back to me?' But indulging in such a curiosity is never going to be satisfactory because the circumstances are no longer the same. Time has moved on and Sand along with it.

I believe Sand was also keen to pass Ray's test. He later refers to the kiss as Ray 'challenging' him to do it. We've seen him rise to Ray's goading before, only he's never quite as assured in his execution as he thinks he is. The most obvious example being when Ray suggests they have sex first and initiate a friendship second. Sand agrees with a sense of misplaced confidence that Ray will be hung up on him, when he's promptly the one to catch feelings. As much as Sand tries to be objective, he's consistently tripped up by emotion. Boeing's return is no different. His downfall is that he cares too much.

The way Sand behaves when Boeing kisses him is extremely telling. It feels like an attempt at muscle memory, retracing something he can't quite recall anymore. He looks lost, detached, slightly thrown and overpowered in Boeing's presence. This may be residual patterns of behaviour caused by Boeing controlling the end to their relationship. This is in stark contrast to how Sand kisses Ray, which is passionate, needy, mutually engaged and eager.

Sand's inability to push back against Boeing's advances is because his judgement is coloured by their history, their shared past, the feelings he used to have for Boeing. Not by the present. In an ask I received last week, I mention that Sand's apparent leniency is out of politeness, a final act of kindness even. It's his way of saying 'I don't like what you did to me but I'm trying to be civil because I owe it to who we once were to each other.' Sand's attributing that last bit of leniency to the Boeing he used to love, not the Boeing in the here and now.

Sand doesn't like to hold grudges. If someone apologises to him sincerely, he can let it go. When Ray does this back in Episode 1, he immediately forgives him. Since Sand has now moved on, it doesn't serve any purpose to harbour animosity with Boeing or to go out of his way to actively hate him. It's a lot of wasted energy to be resentful and Sand has far better things to do. So when Boeing makes his reappearance, Sand's initial reaction is not anger. Therefore I do believe his sentiment to "let bygones be bygones", which may explain why he was willing to let a few indiscretions slide. What he didn't anticipate is that Boeing would try to manipulate him, and cause a wedge in his newfound happiness with Ray as a result. Having his final act of decency thrown back in his face was rightly the last straw for Sand, and irrefutable confirmation that he doesn't owe Boeing anything. Sand wants to continue looking forward, not back.

Ray's Ultimatum

As much as I praise Ray for being noticeably more level-headed and mature in this episode, he still falls prey to being over-zealous; boxing Sand into an highly uncomfortable and sexually charged battle between himself and Boeing. Ray initially expects Sand to take responsibility, even if Boeing is the instigator. Largely because Ray presumes what Sand is feeling. "You still love him," he claims, though Sand is yet to confirm or deny. And that is the exact genesis for Ray's concern, because he can't fathom why Sand is puzzling over what this means to him and why he can't provide an immediate answer.

The fact that Ray thinks Sand's kiss with Boeing proves he's "second string" is absurdly untrue. Anyone with eyes can see Sand is miles more passionate and responsive with Ray. "Anyone can see he wants you back," Ray echoes (ironically), which is later debunked by Mew. It just goes to show how blindsided you can be when you're in the situation itself. Ray is misinterpreting this as a 'me vs Boeing' issue but it's really not about that at all. Sand isn't trying to compare the two. Neither is he planning to make a choice between them, because that wasn't even on his radar. What Sand is unsure of is how he feels about Boeing, irrespective of Ray. He never managed to reconcile his feelings for Boeing after his betrayal.

I don't think Ray is wrong for demanding that Sand determine this. However, the man probably had emotional whiplash from seeing his ex and boyfriend in the same room together, let alone watching them aggressively make out, all in one night. Sand was hoping to deal with this on his own terms, without Ray complicating the equation. Whilst Ray proceeds to do exactly that, hastily jumping the gun in order to provoke the answers out of Sand by force.

Essentially they wanted the same result but didn't discuss it. So it’s no surprise when their separate approaches don't sit right with one another. Sand appears far too permissive and ambiguous by Ray's standards, and Ray appears far too irrational and defiant by Sand's. This is partly due to Ray feeling compelled to intervene as Sand was struggling to be decisive, but Ray is also hugely impatient by nature.

Once Mew tells Ray that Boeing is intentionally trying to rock the boat, Ray recognises this is no longer Sand's burden to resolve alone. His concerns rested on the belief that Boeing genuinely wanted Sand back, and attempts to display guilt or regret may have tugged on Sand's heartstrings, causing him to waver. But since there's no truth to this, there's no basis for Sand giving him another chance. Sand's past with Boeing is very much 'dead and buried', with Boeing being the one who put the nails in the coffin.

Mutual Respect or Ownership?

By the time Ray and Sand have their final confrontation with Boeing, they are both on level footing. They have aligned their intentions. When Ray says "he's my boyfriend", what he's saying is 'his problems are my problems'. Similarly when Boeing quips "that's up to him", Ray retorts with "that's up to me too". This is what they've learnt from their earlier run-in with Boeing. As a couple, they will stand as a united front going forward.

Ray defending Sand on his behalf does not belittle him in any way. Sand allows him to do it. You see the air of pride he has in watching Ray fight for him. Besides, Ray is merely saying what Sand is already thinking, he's just allowing him the satisfaction of hitting back at Boeing for trying to demean his position at Sand's new boyfriend. What little leniency Sand may have reserved for Boeing is now gone because he actively tried to exploit Sand's good will and patience.

This is further supported when Sand states himself as being owned by Ray (only because Boeing started the analogy of referring to him as a dog). Sand is purely making a point about his loyalty. His loyalty will be steadfast based on the sincerity of the recipient. Ray has proven himself worthy of Sand's loyalty, and that's why he's happy to let Ray take control or be more dominant at times. You can only do this with someone you truly trust.

Though declarations of ownership such as 'you're mine', 'you belong to me' can sound like there is an inherent power play, but actually the language of 'owning' someone is a more possessive way of saying 'I take responsibility for this person and their wellbeing'. If I own them and they belong to me, I will be responsible for their everything.

As Sand has generally taken the care-taker role in their relationship, Ray's way of returning this sentiment is often through this love language, "I'll handle it." "They're gonna have to deal with me." The least Ray feels he can do is to defend his boyfriend's best interests and honour if the situation ever calls for it. Sand no longer has to deal with things on his own.

[normalbrothers]

there's something compellingly simplistic about how completely antithetical tommy and arthur are as characters to each other; they exist in almost perfect dichotomy and the subtext around them turning into their mother and father respectively makes it so quintessentially gothic to me .... crazy stuff

[p1utofairy]

PICK A CARD: “when i look into your eyes, i know it's real.”

★ which romantic tropes will you and your fp embody?

DISCLAIMER: 18+ mature themes. take what resonates leave what doesn’t. this was such a cute idea – thanks for requesting this anon. 💞 i hope you all enjoy!

— PILE ONE.

tropes → star-crossed lovers, forbidden love & opposites attract.

there’s a distinct polarity in you and your fp’s personalities & backgrounds, pile 1. you’re more reserved, cautious and patient and they’re more free-spirited and spontaneous. they say whatever they want and deal with the consequences later; this isn’t in a bad way either, i’m more so picking up that they like to stand up and fight for what’s right. they could be an activist of some sort. they’re confident and brave, and you’re really going to admire that. as far as finances go, this person has MONEY, like big money! they either come from money or they are in a profession that pays extremely well and that’s where i see the forbidden love trope coming in to play.

remember how allie in ‘the notebook’ comes from a wealthy, privileged background, while noah is portrayed as more working-class? the contrast in their backgrounds and personalities added depth to their relationship and created a lot of tension and conflict, but ultimately it made their love story more compelling and dynamic – that’s what i see here with you and your fp. you’re tired of over-working yourself for low pay and working jobs that don’t fulfill you financially, mentally and emotionally. you feel stuck…wondering when things are going to change. i see someone looking out of a window in a house, there’s a strong sense of longing and their eyes look sad. they’re waiting for someone or something to arrive, but when? you’ve been telling yourself to keep going and keep pushing through, and then you will see progress and reward in the long run – very saturn/saturnian energy.

it’s interesting because you’re looking for a way out of your situation and your person is looking for an adventure. your fp is very comfortable financially, but they’re lacking in their love life. right now they’re very much single and they’re fine with that, but that fiery energy that burns inside them can’t be dimmed for long. when they cross paths with you they’re gonna be awestruck like “whoa! who is that?” lol. your fp might have some sagittarius/fire sign placements, or they just carry themselves very pompous and matter-of-fact, which might throw you off at first. that’s why i was also picking up on that opposites attract trope because princess belle & the beast from ‘beauty and the beast’ immediately came to mind. belle loved her books and independence, which was a stark contrast with the beast’s initial gruff and hot-tempered nature. you might think they’re a bit arrogant at first, but once you get to know them you’ll understand that there’s layers to them.

their family plays a big part in their life, which ties into the forbidden love trope because i’m ngl their family lowkey can be a lot to handle. as i said before, some of your fps come from money so some of their families might be a little snooty and strict like allie’s mom from ‘the notebook’ but i think with patience and time – you and your fp will learn to not give a f*ck what their family or anybody else thinks. this relationship is destined and you’re meant to show each other the different aspects/complexities of life and love. the energy is very reminiscent of mr. darcy and elizabeth from ‘pride and prejudice’ like remember how much longing and yearning it took for them to finally be together?! it was sooooooo worth it.

additional messages → wealthy, 2 years from now, ego, aries, very lowkey, the blackest day by lana del rey & cultural differences.

— PILE TWO.

tropes → second chance & age gap.

your fp is dominant af, pile 2. they possess everything within reach, and they’re admired by many. you may establish boundaries with them from the very beginning and they will respect that, they value you and wouldn’t dare do anything to hurt you. however, despite the love, passion, and devotion that will be present in this relationship, there will also be a need for compromise. it seems that this relationship will fulfill your hopes and dreams, but it will also come with its share of responsibilities. in the early stages, both you and your fp will feel a strong urge to make your relationship official and commit to each other. whatever you need or want – they will provide for you. you may not have expected to fall for them, but you couldn’t fight the obvious chemistry between you two. i picked up on the age gap trope mainly because they have provider energy. for some of you, they might already have a kid/kids? your energy feels a little bit more flighty and young. you like to be in your own personal space most of the time, and not everyone understands that, but your fp will.

actually, i think the idea of compromise i was picking up on earlier has to do with your personal space. you might be a bit of an introvert and the idea of constantly entertaining someone 24/7 and not having a moment for yourself is a bit jarring to you. now i’m not saying this person is taking your autonomy away, what i’m saying is that there has to be some sort of balance with the give and take in this connection. it’s reminding me of olivia pope and fitz from ‘scandal’ like one minute he’s showing her the house he had built for them in vermont and then the next scene she’s crying that she needs space and they can’t be together – like OLIVIA what’s it gonna be?! it’s like your heart is saying yes but your mind is saying no.

you’re gonna have to use your discernment and figure out if this is what you want – true commitment. it’s gonna take trust and dedication to make this work, pile 2. it might get to a point where y’all take a break and you choose to see someone else, and then you realize how much of a greater difference your fp makes in your life. they’re your home. that's the second chance trope coming into play. wow, pile 2. this is a very dynamic and complex relationship, but that’s what keeps you two going and loving each other through thick and thin.

additional messages → infrunami by steve lacy, you will meet through friends, extremely dedicated, workaholic, ass kisser, there’s someone in your inner circle you need to cut off, moving abroad, younger sibling & love drought by beyoncé.

— PILE THREE.

tropes → high school sweethearts & enemies to lovers.

your fp is the life of the party, pile 3…sometimes to a fault lol. they’re capable of being responsible and making good decisions, but sometimes they just say f*ck it and wild out. they can be impulsive and unpredictable at times which is quite the opposite from you. i’m picturing haley and nathan from ‘one tree hill’ and kat and patrick from ‘10 things i hate about you’ AND no by meghan trainer just randomly started playing in my head. i’m honestly so amused by this energy cause you’re like “nope! you’re not gonna fuck my life up.” being all dramatic 🤭 and they’re like “what?! me? i would never!” lol there’s gonna be a lot of witty banter between you both. your friends are gonna encourage you to just give them a chance, cause it’s obvious that you do like them — you just can’t stand how “friendly” they are.

your fp is extroverted as hell and loves a good social outing, whereas you on the other hand, rather curl up in bed with a good book or binge-watch your favorite shows/movies in the comfort of your own home. there’s this energy of “been there, done that.” the party scene just isn’t it for you anymore, and you’re content with that. this connection will really help your fp mature and get more in tune with their emotions, instead of masking them behind reckless behavior and nonchalance. that high school sweethearts trope really comes through strongly, not in the sense that y’all are actually in high school, but that nathan & haley vibe – that puppy love! once y’all are together, nobody can tell y’all shit. you and your fp will RIDE for each other.

nathan and haley definitely had their ups and downs, but they always found a way to make it work once they put their egos aside. haley brought out a side of nathan that nobody else got to experience but her. sometimes butting heads is necessary, it helps you confront things within yourself that you don’t always want to acknowledge. you’re so nurturing pile 3, you bring water to their fire. i don’t see you immediately jumping into this relationship, but that’s the beauty of it. that’s where the enemies to lovers trope kicks in, you’ll have to warm up to them first before you truly understand who they are at the core. your fp is used to fast-pace, hot n’ heavy, fleeting relationships but this is stable. this is pure. they’ll realize you can’t rush true love like this, it’s the journey and build-up that makes it so magical.

additional messages → 1st house placements, sagittarius, very soon, get out of your head, nice and slow by usher & family feud.

— PILE FOUR.

tropes → friends to lovers & forced proximity.

your fp has very high-energy, pile 4. i feel out of breath like i just got done doing 8 different tasks at once lol they might be very athletic or they just like to keep themselves busy. you and your fp are opposites, but the more you get to know each other, you will begin to realize that you have a lot in common – i’m hearing that you two will have a lot to talk about. sometimes you might find yourself holding back from saying things that you want to say in fear of judgement but with this person that anxiety goes out the window. they want to hear your thoughts and ideas, because they truly value your wisdom and knowledge on certain topics that they might not have been aware of. i’m hearing that they want to know your lore lol this is too cute. maybe you’re really into movies? marvel? fashion? idk there’s something very specific that you could go on and on about for hours and hours.

that’s why i picked up on that friends to lovers trope because i feel like they will show immediate interest in you and want to pursue something more, but you’ll be like WOAH hold it there…let’s build on this and see where it can go, no rush. i’m ngl pile 4 they might have a bit of a reputation or vibe of being a player…which will make you hesitant as to whether or not you want to take this seriously. i don’t even think you two normally run in the same circles – this is more like a chance meeting. yup here goes that forced proximity trope, you’ll probably meet them in some sort of unconventional way and be “forced” to spend time together.

you and your fp kind of remind me of holly and eric from ‘life as we know it’ which is a very underrated but amazing rom-com. i don’t think you’ll initially hate them per se, you’ll just be a bit cautious of them and wonder if they’re actually being genuine. however, by spending time with your fp, you will develop a deeper understanding and appreciation for them; which will then lead to you falling for them and establishing a close bond. you two might’ve gotten off on the wrong foot and then after a proper conversation with them you’ll be like: huh…you’re not so bad after all. there’s this flirty energy that comes in the form of sly/sarcastic remarks, and you’ll come to realize that it’s their own way of saying “i really like you.” it’s giving 2000s rom-com lol hot n cold by katy perry just came to mind.

the sexual tension between you two will be palpable, your friends will be like just f*ck already!!! this relationship will have it’s fair share of ups and downs, but that’s what will make it worth fighting for; nothing and no one is perfect and you will learn that in this relationship. no one could ever compare to you in your fp’s eyes – they will always have love for you even in the moments where you two don’t see eye to eye. the difference in you and your fp’s personalities will be what draws you two together even more.

additional messages → jealousy, jealousy by olivia rodrigo, lots of traveling, you manifested this, different lifestyles but we’ll make it work, your angel guides got your back & when one door closes, another one opens.

[ecoterrorist-katara]

Why I feel like Ka/taang is one-sided, despite textual evidence 

ATLA does try to convince us that Katara has romantic feelings for Aang. For example: she seems thoughtful when she realizes that Aang is a powerful bender; she’s offended that he didn’t want to kiss her in the Cave of Two Lovers; she gets jealous when Sokka says On Ji and Aang look good together.

So…what’s wrong with anti-Kataangers? Do we just lack media comprehension? 

To be clear, on their own, these gestures can indicate romantic interest. But at the same time, we have stuff like “Aang is a sweet little guy, like Momo.” We have her ambivalent facial expression after he kisses her before the eclipse, and her hedging during Ember Island Players, and her anger when he kisses her anyway. In the context of these conflicting cues, Katara’s possibly romantic reactions can absolutely be interpreted in a different way, because: 

Acknowledging a friend as a potential romantic interest is not the same as actually being romantically interested in them. (Imo this is something young women struggle with, due to a combination of romance-centrism and heteronormativity that make women feel like they should be in romantic relationships, and that boys and girls who share intimate and deep feelings for one another must be romantically into each other) 

Wanting someone to find you desirable is not the same as desiring that person. (Which is something a lot of women, especially young women, struggle with. Remember all the discourse around Cat Person back in 2017?) 

Being jealous when someone flirts with your friend is not the same as wanting to be with your friend. (Especially when you see your friends as family, or if you’re accustomed to a specific type of devotion from that friend. It is jealousy, and it is possessiveness, but it doesn’t always arise from romantic feelings) 

Growing up in a patriarchal society means that your desires are always filtered through what men want from you, sometimes in an abstract male gaze-y way, and sometimes in a very visceral and interpersonal way when a boy wants you specifically. And Katara’s reactions are just that — reactions. Reactions to what other people — including Aunt Wu, Sokka, Aang himself — have insinuated about her and Aang. She’s not really proactive in her interest in Aang: we don’t really see Aang, romantically, from Katara’s POV. Under the framework of “Katara is reacting to a romantic prospect she’s kind of uncertain about,” it is completely plausible — and indeed likely — that she would sometimes act in ways that indicate romantic interest, in addition to moments where she indicates the opposite. 

Ka/taang shippers often bring up other evidence, like Katara’s despair when Azula hits Aang with lightning, or how protective she is of him when Zuko joins the Gaang. The thing is, these pieces of evidence aren’t necessarily indicative of romantic love. The fact that Katara genuinely loves Aang makes the whole thing more complicated, not less, because — especially at that age, especially when Aang is twelve years old and grew up in a sex-segregated society of monks — it is really difficult to tell the difference between platonic love and romantic love. Their mutual devotion is layered and complex yet straightforward in its sincerity. What was not straightforward, until the last five minutes of the show, is whether this devotion on Katara’s end is romantic. The romantic arc for Katara and Aang is not really an arc, as Sneezy discusses in this classic ZK video. Katara actually becomes more conflicted over time and we never see an event that clarifies her feelings. She seems more interested in him in The Headband than on the Day of the Black Sun, and she has never been more hostile to his romantic overtures than in the penultimate episode. 

And in light of this, it’s pretty easy for fans to fill in the blanks with a different interpretation: maybe Katara’s weird expression after their kiss at the invasion means she didn’t enjoy it; maybe the kiss made her realize that she doesn’t actually feel that way about Aang; maybe against her will and her better judgement, she’s developing feelings for another person, a person who hurt her and whom she fervently tried to hate until he pulled off what is in my opinion the greatest grovel of all time in the form of a life-changing field trip. Maybe. Am I saying that Zutara has more romantic interactions than Ka/taang? Of course not. But ironically, the lack of romantic interactions means that it’s not inherently one-sided, the way Ka/taang became in the latter half of season 3.

I’m not arguing that Katara’s unequivocally not into Aang. Obviously the text declares that she is, because they get married and have kids. But I am saying that there’s a very good reason that so many people, especially women, see Katara’s interest in Aang as ambiguous. It’s not because we can’t pick up “subtle” hints of growing affection. It’s because we know not all affection is romantic, and it’s really easy for someone else’s insistent romantic intentions to muddle what you want.

P.S. I first started thinking about these topics (platonic vs romantic love, desiring someone vs wanting to be desired, etc) in the context of compulsory heterosexuality, a term describing how queer women contort themselves into relationships with men even if they’re not really into men. I saw a post a few days ago joking about why so many queer women seem to be into Zutara. I wonder if part of the reason is because as queer women, we are very sensitive to the ways in which we can talk ourselves into wanting things we don’t actually want, and Katara’s romantic interest in Aang can be easily seen that way. 

[azrielslittleslut]

"The Lost Queen"- Chapter 6

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: A magical incident causes Azriel to unexpectedly tumble through a portal into modern-day Earth. Confused and injured, he is discovered by a compassionate human woman with a hidden past. She takes care of him and helps him discover the complexities of the modern world, completely unaware of who she truly is. Meanwhile, Azriel struggles with his conflicting desires: his duty to the Night Court and his growing love for the woman who saved him.

Their journey unfolds amidst ancient prophecies and the looming threat in Prythian. As they uncover the truth about forces conspiring against them, they must confront their deepest fears and make choices that will change their lives and the world forever.

Warnings: language, angst, very spicy dancing and sexual themes, mentions of alcohol, jealous!az

Word Count: 8.5k

series masterlist

a/n: the song I imagined them dancing to is Midnight Oil from this playlist.

Enjoy!

“What do you think about this one?” you asked Azriel, who was sitting in the chair next to the dressing room.

He looked up from the magazine he was reading, his hazel eyes raking your body from head to toe, his expression completely neutral. “That one is nice,” he murmured before returning his attention to the magazine.

He had said that about every dress you tried on today.

You sighed as you looked at yourself in the mirror. It was a nice dress. The gown was crafted from emerald green silk that clung and flowed in all the right places. The bodice was tight and adorned with intricate beadwork of delicate, swirling patterns. It featured a sweetheart neckline and off-the-shoulder sleeves that showed off your delicate collarbones.

The skirt of the dress billowed out in soft, cascading layers of tulle and silk, and the material gracefully swept against the floor as you turned back to Azriel. “I don’t think it screams masquerade ball, so I’ll keep looking.”

Azriel hummed quietly as he turned the page of the magazine but said nothing. You rolled your eyes in frustration as you picked up the skirt of the dress and walked back into the dressing room, slamming the door behind you.

As you looked at the next dress in the line-up, you leaned against the wall, shoulders sagging as your thoughts took over. The past two days with Azriel had been… awkward. More awkward than when he first arrived on your front lawn.

Ever since Thursday night, since that almost-kiss and that damned nightmare, Az had closed himself off from you completely. He barely laughed at your horrible jokes. He rarely puts in the effort to have a conversation with you.

Hell, he barely looked at you.

It was as if a switch inside of Azriel had been flipped, and you wondered what you could have possibly done to make him so upset. He didn’t ask questions about this world anymore. He just sat on the couch and watched you move around the house, looking more like a ghost than a real person.

Perhaps it was for the best that it was like this. He was going to leave soon, and it was better that the two of you kept your distance from each other.

Still, you couldn’t deny the pang you felt in your heart last night when he had declared he was going to be sleeping on the couch. You had selfishly hoped that when you woke up this morning, he would be in your bed again, with those strong arms wrapped protectively around you.

For the first time in your life, you had hoped for one of those horrible nightmares, knowing that he would come to wake you up again.

I will always come for you, he had promised.

But that was a lie. It was just sweet words he had said to calm you down from your nightmare.

You didn’t remember much from the nightmare you had that night. It was mostly blurry, but you had vague memories of a woman you didn’t know standing over you in a forest. Azriel had been there, holding a black dagger to your throat, his hazel eyes full of rage.

His soft voice had called you back, bringing you back to reality. You remembered him whispering something in a strange language, a word that sounded ancient and foreign. When you had woken up that morning, you had asked him what it meant.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. It must have been something you heard in the nightmare,” was all he had said.

With another sigh, you reached back to unzip the dress. It slid onto the floor in a pool of green, and you stepped out of it, reaching for the next dress. Your hand paused on the hangar, your body suddenly becoming overwhelmed with a near-crippling exhaustion.

“Fuck it,” you whispered to yourself. You quickly put your clothes back on and grabbed the dress you were about to try on. It was midnight blue with silver adornments, and it looked good enough for a ball. “I’ll just get this one.”

When you emerged from the dressing room with the gown thrown over your arm, Azriel was still in the chair. He had finished reading the magazine, so he was now looking out the window of the tiny shop, observing the traffic zooming by outside.

“I found the one I’m getting,” you mumbled to him as you walked toward the cashier.

Azriel quickly stood and followed you, grabbing the bag that contained the suit he had bought earlier in the day. He hadn’t let you see it on him, of course. He had been in the dressing room for all of three minutes before walking back out in the clothes he originally had on, claiming the suit would work.

You hadn’t let your disappointment show as you paid for the suit, your mind going back to the conversation about trying on dresses and suits for each other. That had been a moment of weakness for the two of you, and the impenetrable wall Azriel had built around himself told you enough.

Nothing like that would ever happen again.

He stood silently behind you as you paid for the dress, watching closely as you inserted your credit card into the reader. “Oh, this dress will look beautiful on you, young lady,” the woman behind the counter said. “That color will complement your skin tone well.”

You looked down at the dress, running your hand over the soft silk. “Thank you,” you replied with a gentle smile.

She glanced over to Azriel, her dark eyes full of amusement. “I think you’re going to like it too, young man,” she said as she winked at him. “It’s very… tight.”

Your eyes widened at her words, wondering what kind of dress you had just purchased. From behind you, Azriel cleared his throat loudly. “I’ll be waiting outside,” was all he said before practically sprinting for the door.

You sighed and turned back to the woman as she finished putting the dress in a bag. She chuckled, glancing out the window to where Azriel now stood on the sidewalk. “Don’t worry,” she said, handing you the bag, “I’ve seen this dress on one of the mannequins. And trust me when I tell you, it’s going to knock him on his ass.”

“Hopefully we’re standing next to some stairs when he falls,” you mumbled as you turned around the leave the shop. Suddenly, you remembered the two of you still needed one last thing for the ball.

“Do you sell masquerade masks here?” you asked the woman, turning around to face her.

The woman smiled and pointed to the back of the store. “This way,” she said, making her way around the corner and gesturing for you to follow. “I think I have just the ones you two need.”

As you followed the woman, your thoughts raced, thinking back to how normal things were a few days ago. You were over this whole ordeal, and you wanted to get this over with as fast as possible.

For your heart’s sake, you needed to get it over with as fast as possible.  

You closed your eyes for a moment, ignoring that whispering voice that told you normalcy was a thing you weren’t going to be returning to anytime soon.   

---

“Mom. I know. I know it’s Saturday, but Azriel and I had something really important come up,” you said into the phone you held to your ear.

Azriel listened to the conversation as he watched the buildings go by in the car window. He smiled to himself as he watched a group of young boys playing in the front yard of a house. They reminded him of himself and his brothers when they were younger.

He closed his eyes as the memories of those early years flooded his mind. At the time, he had hated being in that war camp, surrounded by horrible people who were only focused on war and slaughter.

Now, he would do anything to go back.

The past two days had been a whole new hell for Azriel. After that night he spent sleeping in your bed, he had vowed to himself that he could not, would not, let himself get close to you.

He would be going back to Prythian soon, and you deserved better than to be strung along like that. You deserved someone who would be here to love you and take care of you.

So, he had distanced himself, closing himself off in the only way he knew how: silence. He had stopped talking to you and carrying on with your silly conversations. Though he kept his face neutral, his heart had shattered at the look of hurt on your face each time he pointedly ignored you.

Ironically, the very resolve to keep you at more than arm’s length only deepened the ache in his chest, as it illuminated the truth he fought so hard to deny: he was falling in love with you. Even though he had known you for three days, your presence had woven itself into his heart, his being, making the thought of leaving not just painful but almost unbearable.

Yet, his history of unrequited feelings for Mor- a long, torturous path of loving something he could never have- reminded him of his inadequacies in relationships. This reinforced his belief that keeping his feelings hidden was the kindest thing he could do, sparing you both from a future weighed down by impossible choices and inevitable goodbyes.

You deserved better than that. You deserved better than him.

But after seeing you in those beautiful dresses… After witnessing how graceful and powerful you looked… His resolved was wavering. The sight of you, so poised and radiant, made it increasingly difficult for him to maintain the distance he believed was necessary. Each moment he spent near you, each glimpse of your confident, powerful presence, tugged at the fragile threads of his self-control.

He desperately wanted to be selfish and say to hell with it. He wanted nothing more than to laugh with you again and sleep with you in his arms. He wanted to go with you on random adventures in this city, discovering more of the strange occurrences in this world.

He wanted to see those beautiful dimples light up your face again.

But he couldn’t do that, not to you. It was better this way, he reminded himself. It would be easier for you to move on and forget about him when he was gone.

He would be a distant memory for you one day, but he knew, deep down in his cold heart, you would live on actively in his.

“Fine, we’ll be there in five minutes,” you snapped, pressing on the screen of the phone before throwing it into your lap.

Azriel looked over at you with an arched brow. “Everything alright?” he asked, keeping his tone steady.

Your grip tightened on the steering wheel as you stared at the road, your jaw clenching slightly. “It’s Saturday. Family dinner night with my parents,” you said, turning the car onto a different street. “My mom is pissed we’re missing it for this stupid ball.”

Az looked down at his hands, his voice soft as he said, “You don’t have to go to the ball. Just leave me there, and I can take care of it.” He looked over at you and sucked in a breath as his eyes met yours for the first time in two days. “You should spend time with your family. This ball could be a waste of time, anyway.”

You turned your attention back to the road and let out a chuckle. “I said I would help you get back to your world, and I meant it, Azriel,” you said, your tone uncharacteristically sour.

Az bit the inside of his cheek, ignoring the pang in his chest at the sound of his full name coming from your lips. You hadn’t called him “Azzy” in two days, and he suddenly missed the stupid nickname. “Whatever. Have it your way,” he grumbled, turning his attention back to the road.

After a few minutes of tense silence, you pulled the car into a driveway in front of a small, two-story house. The exterior was buttery yellow with white trim, and the wraparound porch was filled with wicker furniture and hanging ferns.

The front yard was meticulously landscaped, with a clean lawn and a variety of flowering shrubs- hydrangeas and azaleas- providing pops of color. A cobblestone path led up to the wooden front door that featured stained glass panels.

You got out of the car, Azriel silently following behind you. He willed his features into kindness, removing any trace of the internal agony he felt. He liked your parents; they were gentle and welcoming. But he wasn’t in the mood for conversation.

Celeste was standing on the front porch watering some flowers on a small table. She was dressed in a simple pair of khaki trousers, paired with a floral printed shirt. Her kind eyes lit up as she saw Azriel following you up the sidewalk.

“Azriel!” she exclaimed, setting down the watering can before running down the steps. “I was wondering if we were going to see you around again.”

Azriel nodded and forced a smile onto his face. “It’s good to see you again, Mrs. Fontenot,” he said, remembering an earlier conversation with you about your last name.

“Oh, please. Call me Celeste. If I hear ‘Mrs. Fontenot,’ I expect to turn around and see my students or my mother-in-law,” she said with a bright smile.

“I’m right here, Mom,” you drawled, moving to step between Celeste and Azriel. “Good to see you, too!”

Celeste rolled her eyes and pulled you into a hug. “Stop being so dramatic, Y/N. I’m just glad to see you haven’t run your friend off yet.”

You stepped back, placing your hands on your hips. “And why, pray tell, would I do that?” You glanced back at Azriel with a smile that didn’t quite meet your eyes. “He doesn’t annoy me like the rest of them. Yet.”

You said that last word with enough bitterness that Celeste quickly glanced between the two of you, her gentle eyes squinting slightly.

Az’s shoulders tensed under her intense gaze, and he forced a smile to appear on his face. “You can be annoying, too, you know,” he said, casually throwing his arms around your shoulders. He didn’t miss how you tensed under his arm, your body going taut like a bowstring.

“Well,” Celeste said, that warm smile returning to her face, “as long as you two can put up with each other, then there’s no harm, I guess.”

You swiftly stepped out from under Azriel’s arm, lacing your hands in front of you. “Where’s Dad?” you asked, looking around the front lawn as if you were expecting him to be hiding behind one of the bushes.

Celeste pointed to the house next to them. It was similar to theirs, but it was painted a pale blue, and the landscaping was atrocious. “Over there. He’s helping the new neighbor move in.”

You looked at the house and grimaced. “Didn’t Old Man Bill die in that house?” you asked, taking a step back. “Who would want to live there?”

Celeste sighed. “Old Man Bill was a nice man who always gave you candy as a little girl,” she said, her usually kind tone full of exasperation. “He passed away peacefully in his sleep. Show some respect, Y/N.”

You shivered. “It still gives me the heebie-jeebies,” you muttered, looking over at the house with disdain in your eyes.

Azriel opened his mouth to ask what “heebie-jeebies” meant, but he was interrupted by your father calling out, “Y/N! Azriel! I thought I heard voices over here.”

Az looked over just in time to see Lou walking across the lawn, dressed in dirty brown pants and a ripped shirt. His hair was matted, and his face was covered in grime and sweat.

Azriel’s attention was quickly drawn away from Lou as he looked at the man who followed closely behind. He was wearing a clean pair of black pants with a red shirt, his face notably less dirty and sweaty. His hair was a coppery brown, framing an ordinary face with dark brown eyes.

Despite his insistence on keeping his distance from you, Azriel found himself drifting closer to wear you were standing, his hand barely touching yours.

“Hey, Dad,” you greeted, flinching as Lou tried to pull you into a hug. You stumbled back, your shoulder bumping into Azriel. “Ew, you’re sweaty! That’s gross.”

Lou rolled his eyes, but Azriel didn’t miss the look of hurt on his face. “You work in an emergency room. I’m sure you’ve been covered in worse things.”

“I try to stay away from bodily fluids when I am able, thank you very much,” you snapped back. You turned your attention to the man who had been following Lou, who was now standing next to your mother. “Who are you?”

The man smiled, his face radiating friendliness. “I’m Matthew,” he said cheerfully, extending a hand towards you. Azriel’s body stiffened visibly as he watched Matthew’s hand approach yours. The very sight of another man reaching out to you triggered a sharp, instinctive tightening in his chest. “But please, call me Matt.”  

You smiled back at Matt, and Azriel clenched his jaw as those dimples appeared.

Those dimples were for him, not anybody else.

“It’s nice to meet you, Matt,” you said, gesturing a hand over to Azriel. “This is my friend, Azriel.”

Matt’s eyes met his, and Az did absolutely nothing to hide the pure look of intimidation on his face. “Nice to meet you, man,” he said, but he quickly turned his attention back to you, and he smirked as you took a step toward him. His eyes raked up and down your body, and his gaze filled with a hunger that Az knew all too well.

If he kept looking at you like that, Azriel would wipe that fucking smirk off his face. Cut it off, even.

You pointed at the blue house. “You moved in there?” you asked, laughing softly. “A man died in there, you know. Have you seen any ghosts?”

Matt laughed, deep and joyous. “Yeah, your dad told me about Old Man Bill. But no, I haven’t seen any ghosts. Not yet at least.” He winked at you, and Az suddenly wanted to rip the man’s eyeballs out. “I don’t believe in ghosts, anyway. But you’ll be the first to know if I see one.” The smirk returned to his face, and Azriel clenched his fists at his sides.

Lou, who had been watching the whole interaction in silence, clapped Azriel on the shoulder. “So, what brings you two over here?” he asked, tightening his grip enough to make Az look at him.

Lou’s eyes were filled with understanding as Azriel looked at him. I see it, they seemed to say, but Lou kept his silence on the matter.

“I called them here for an explanation on why they wouldn’t be attending family dinner tonight,” Celeste replied, crossing her arms. “You haven’t missed a dinner in ages.”

You finally tore your attention away from Matt. “Azriel and I made plans to go to a party,” you said, looking over at Celeste. “We already RSVP’d, and we can’t get out of it.”

“Oh, a party!” Matt chimed in, tilting his head to the side, his gaze still locked on you. “I do like parties. Do you think they would accept one more?”

Azriel could no longer keep his silence. He stepped forward, placing himself between you and Matt. “You,” he said, his voice like cold death, “will not be attending.”

Matt blinked at him, raising his hands as a form of surrender. “Hey, man. No need to be like that,” he said, taking a step back. “It’s Saturday night. I’m just looking for some fun.”

Celeste placed a hand on Azriel’s arm, gentle enough that it shook him from his rage. “If you don’t have plans, you can have dinner with us, Matt,” she said to him, but her eyes were on Azriel.

She searched his face for a few moments, and he felt utterly bare and exposed under the gaze of a protective mother. “It seems we will have an extra place for you at the table,” she continued, turning away from Az to face Matt, “since Y/N and Azriel will be busy.”

Azriel jumped slightly as he felt your warm hand wrap around his. You pulled him away from Matt, taking a step toward your parked car. “Well, since that’s settled,” you said, hauling Azriel toward the car, “we need to get going.”

Matt waved a hand at you, that smug smile returning to his face. “See you around, Y/N!” he called out as he turned around to head back toward his house. After a few steps, he looked over his shoulder at Azriel, the smile replaced with a mask of cool calm. Matt looked him up and down once, and with a shrug of his shoulders, he sprinted away, disappearing behind the house.  

After a quick wave to Lou and Celeste, you stepped around to your side of the car, opening the door to get in. Azriel was about to pull on the handle, but a hand on his back stopped him. He turned around, his eyes widening as he saw Celeste standing there.

She looked at him with that same intense stare as earlier, her voice low as she said, “Keep my daughter safe, Azriel.”

Azriel blinked, wondering if there was any possible way Celeste knew the truth about tonight. At a complete loss for words, he nodded once, his hand tightening on the door handle. “I will.”

The passenger side window rolled down, followed by your annoyed voice. “We don’t have all day, Azriel,” you snapped.

“Go,” Celeste whispered to him, ushering Azriel into the car. “You two have fun tonight,” she said with a smile, leaning down so she was level with the window. All traces of the intensity from a few moments prior were gone. “Call if you need anything.”

You rolled your eyes and reached down to grab the stick at the center of the car. “We will, Mom. I’ll see you next week!” you said as you drove away.

As the car pulled onto the street, Azriel heard Celeste call out a quick “I love you,” but you didn’t respond, your attention fixed solely on the road. He looked in the side mirror, watching as your parent’s house faded into the distance. He smiled to himself as he watched Celeste walk up and kiss Lou, a gesture full of a familiarity and intimacy that Azriel himself longed for.

“You have good parents,” he muttered, looking up at the sky as dark storm clouds gathered along the horizon.

You rolled the window up, your gaze flicking over to him for a moment. “Yeah. They’re great,” you said curtly. “What the hell was that back there? With Matt?’

Azriel shook his head, crossing his arms as he settled against the seat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” In truth, he was genuinely perplexed by the intensity of his own reactions. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly why seeing you so cheerful and engaged with someone else had sparked such a strong response from him.

Fuck, he needed serious help.  

You huffed a laugh. “You’re insufferable. You know that?”

“I’ve been called worse,” he drawled, forcing his voice to remain steady, despite his inner turmoil.

You reached down and turned the radio up. The car was filled with loud screeching music that made him want to cover his ears. “Whatever,” you yelled over the music. “Let’s just get through this ball and figure out how to get you back to Prythian. I’m ready for my life to be normal again.”

Azriel sighed, leaning his head against the car window. “Me too,” he whispered, but his words were lost in the music.

---

The Obsidian Manor was truly a sight to behold, even for the city of New Orleans.

It was built with Gothic architecture in mind, with pointed arches, elaborate ironwork, and towering spires that pierced the night sky. Its walls were constructed of dark stone, perhaps basalt, giving it an obsidian-like appearance from which it no doubt derived its name. Large stained-glass windows, mostly in deep hues of purple and red, adorned the manor, casting colorful, spectral patterns on the grounds as you and Azriel made your way up the cobblestone path.

“This place feels very… ominous,” you whispered to Azriel, looking up at the dark sky. It looked as if a storm was rolling in soon.

Azriel hummed in response, his hazel eyes taking in the manor from behind his mask. It was crafted from soft black leather and adorned with silver accents. The design vaguely mimicked the shape of wings, and it had small gemstones embedded along the edges.

It went perfectly with his suit, which caused you to stop breathing for a few seconds when you had first seen him in it.

The suit was black velvet, tailored perfectly to fit his muscular body. Like the mask, it had subtle silver accents lining the sleeves and cuffs, which caught the light each time he moved. Underneath, he wore a crisp, dark gray shirt, paired with a matching vest. On his feet, he wore black leather boots, comfortable yet stylish.

He looked… handsome. Sexy. Amazing. Your brain couldn’t come up with the words to describe how good he looked.

You let out a breath, running your clammy hands down the bodice of your dress. You weren’t a woman who necessarily enjoyed dressing up, but you had to admit, this dress made you look hot.

The gown was floor-length, made from midnight blue silk. It was embellished with silver adornments that sparkled like stars, and it had a flowing train that trailed behind you. The bodice was tight against your body, lifting your breasts in a way that made you feel somewhat self-conscious. It was filled with intricate beadwork and lace detailing, minimal but perfectly designed. The sleeves were sheer and embellished with small crystals that glittered in the streetlights.

You paired the dress with some black stilettos and small, dainty jewelry. You had pulled your hair back into a simple chignon, which showed off the mask perfectly. It was made of fine, black lace and decorated with tiny silver and sapphire stones, a perfect match to Azriel’s.

Even though the two of you hadn’t seen each other in your outfits before putting them on, you had somehow managed to pick ones that correlated perfectly.

“Shall we?” you asked, offering Azriel your arm. He took it, graceful as any courtier, his eyes locked on the entrance of the manor. He had glanced at you once the entire night, which had been when you walked out of your bedroom earlier in the evening.

He hadn’t looked at you since.

You wondered if he liked the dress, but then you quickly reminded yourself that it didn’t matter; he would be out of your life soon enough, and you could forget he even existed.

Or you could try, at least.

Azriel led you up the stone steps leading into the manor, your heels clicking loudly against the stone steps. You were greeted by a doorman, dressed in an immaculate tailored suit, wearing a simple yet elegant masquerade mask.

You silently handed him the invitation. He glanced at it for a few short seconds before saying, “You may enter.” He reached over and twisted the crystal doorknob, pushing the door open slightly. “May the shadows be your guide this evening.”

You smiled at the doorman as you entered the manor, but that smile dissipated as your expression turned into one of awe as you took in your surroundings.

The foyer was large, with high ceilings and elaborate crystal chandeliers. To your right, there was a grand staircase, flanked by large statues of mythical creatures, and you swore you could see their eyes following you as you and Azriel walked.

The foyer led into a grand ballroom, boasting high, vaulted ceilings that were supported by dark columns that rose up like the trunks of ancient trees. More chandeliers hung from above, casting a soft, ambient light that reflected off the polished black marble floor.

Around the edges of the ballroom, heavy velvet curtains in deep purples and blacks were draped over large windows. But a closer look revealed that they weren’t windows at all- they were massive doors, leading out to what looked like balconies.

The ballroom was filled with guests, all dressed in fine attire- gowns shimmering with sequins and beads, suits sharp and well-fitted, every person behind a mask of various shapes and sizes. Waitstaff dressed in discreet black uniforms drifted throughout the crowd, holding platters of food and drinks.

On the far side of the room, there was a large stage, filled with musicians playing soft jazz music. The melodies drifted over to you, and you felt yourself long to dance to the beat. You had always loved dancing, but you reminded yourself that you weren’t here to enjoy the festivities.

You were here to get rid of Azriel.

“Whoever this mistress is,” you murmured to him, pulling your arm out of his, “she knows how to throw a party.”

Azriel glanced around the room, his eyes wary. “Where do you think she is?”

You sighed softly. “If she wants to speak with us, she will show up. Until then, let’s enjoy ourselves.” You glanced over at him with a smile. “After all, this could be our last night together.”

Azriel rolled his eyes but said nothing in response. You didn’t know if this mistress would be of any help. You didn’t even know if she was indeed the person Serena had contacted.

But you had experienced enough strange shit in the last few days to expect the unexpected.

With a hand, you flagged down one of the waiters. He quickly made his way over to you, smiling slightly as he lowered to platter in his hands. “What’ll it be, miss?”

You bit your lip, surveying the various drinks on the platter. “That depends… what do you have?”

The waiter pointed at each drink as he named them. “Champagne, Chardonnay, Ale…” he trailed off, lifting up a glass filled with a dark, shimmering liquid. “And this one. ‘The Obsidian Elixir’ is a specialty drink for the night. Black vodka, crème de cassis, and soda water with blackberry garnish.”

It sounded good enough to you. Besides, you needed something strong to calm your fraying nerves. “We’ll take two, please.”

The waiter smiled as he handed you the drinks. “Enjoy your evening. May the shadows be your guide,” he said before sauntering off to serve the other guests.

As you turned around, you were met with a glare from Azriel. He looked down at the drinks in your hands as he said, “Didn’t anyone teach you not to take drinks from strangers?”

“It’s a ball, Azriel,” you grumbled, forcing one of the drinks into his hand. “Look at how many people are drinking them,” you said, pointing to the crowd full of people with glasses in their hands. “Besides, you’ve been an ass all day, so I think you need something to take the edge off.”

His jaw clenched, but he raised the glass to his lips and downed the drink with one gulp. He grimaced as he said, “I miss the liquor from Prythian.”

You took a sip. The drink was bitter, more so than what you usually enjoyed, but it burned your throat enough to take away the pain in your heart. “Don’t worry. You’ll be there soon enough.”

Hopefully, this woman would be able to make that happen.

Suddenly, the lights in the ballroom dimmed, leaving only the spotlight on the stage for illumination. A man dressed in an elegant suit walked up to the microphone, and he gestured to the crowd as he said, “Ladies and gentlemen, cherished guests, welcome to the illustrious Obsidian Manor. Tonight, under the veil of moonlight, you are invited to partake in an evening full of splendor and intrigue. As the shadows gather and the clock strikes the hour of enchantment, let the masquerade commence!”

The guests cheered, raising their glasses up in the air. You drifted closer to Azriel, your tense muscles relaxing at the feeling of his warm body next to yours.

The man continued in a cheerful voice, “Allow the music to guide you tonight. Here, behind masks of velvet and whispers of silk, you may discover secrets long hidden and desires previously unspoken.”

The air in the room grew thick, the shadows around the room seeming to darken. Azriel wrapped his hand around your waist, pulling you closer. “Something strange is happening here,” he murmured. “Do you feel it?”

You nodded, your mask scratching along your face. “The shadows… Do you feel them?” You didn’t understand anything about the shadow powers he claimed to have, but maybe he could sense something here that you didn’t.

“No,” he responded, his voice tight with frustration.

From somewhere in the room, a clock chimed, the loud bells ringing out with an ominous tone that echoed through the ballroom. The man on the stage smiled and waved a hand at the musicians behind him. “Enjoy your evening,” he said, his eyes scanning along the crowd. You felt Azriel tense as the man looked directly at you, his gaze piercing. “May the shadows guide you.”

The crowd erupted once more, their cheers swelling into a thunderous applause.  

The man clapped his hands, and the dim light in the room changed color. What was once a soft yellow was now a deep red, and you blinked your eyes as they adjusted. “Now,” the man said, a wicked smile forming on his face, “it’s time for that midnight oil.”

The lights changed to a deep green as the musicians started to play. The music was no longer soft and calm; now, the beat was darker and more sensual. The guests laughed as some of them paired up and started to dance. Others swayed their hips to the music by themselves, raising their glasses into the air.

Everyone around was dancing, save for you and Azriel.

You spun around to face Azriel, your chest pressing against his. “If we don’t dance, we will draw attention to ourselves,” you murmured over the beat of the music. You stared at the way the changing lights reflected in the gemstones on his mask.

Azriel’s hand tightened on your waist. “I don’t know this music,” he mumbled, his eyes dark. “I’ll follow your lead.”

You smirked at him as you laced your arms around his neck. He was much taller than you, but the heels you wore made it easy. “They don’t have music like this in Prythian?” you asked as you started to sway your hips, your dress gliding along the floor.

He shook his head as he gripped your waist in both hands, slowly guiding you. “No. Nothing like…” he trailed off, his gaze wandering down your face, down to the swells of your breasts that were nearly spilling out of the bodice of your dress. He took a deep breath, but his eyes remained there, his gaze hungry. “Nothing like this.”

Perhaps you should laugh and keep carrying on with the conversation, asking him more questions about Prythian. Perhaps you should ignore the way he was staring at you with those lust-blown hazel eyes.

But the half-empty drink in your hand had given you a confidence that surprised you. Your skin was burning with desire, and you decided it was best to take advantage of this moment.

This could be the last night you have with him, and you sure as well wouldn’t waste it.

You quickly spun around so your back was pressed to his chest. Azriel made a noise of surprise as you started to grind your hips against him, and you gasped at the feeling of his hard body against yours. But his body was tense, as if he was holding himself back.

That wouldn’t do. At all.

As the beat dropped and the lights changed again, you reached back with a hand and cupped the back of his head. You pressed yourself more against him, relishing in the low groan that escaped his throat. “Dance with me, Azzy,” you whispered, your voice low. You met his gaze, and your heart stopped at the intense heat in his eyes. “Please.”

Whatever control he had been holding over himself snapped. He gripped your hips with his hands, his fingers digging into your skin through the thin material of the dress. He pulled you back against him as he started to move with you, his hips staying pressed against yours.

Azriel moved his head down to nuzzle your neck, his lips trailing along your skin. “You look divine tonight, Y/N,” he whispered into your skin, his breath causing a shiver to run through your body. “I haven’t been able to think straight since I saw you walk out in this dress.”

You smiled softly as you leaned your head back against his shoulder to give him more access. “I didn’t think you liked it,” you said to him, lacing your fingers through his hair with your free hand. “You haven’t looked at me all night.”

He kissed a spot on your shoulder that caused you to gasp. “I haven’t looked at you because my thoughts were… less than pure,” he responded, his deep voice full of longing. “I can’t control myself around you, fyrvor. You make me want to be something I’m not. You make me feel human, as if I could belong in your world, here with you.” He moved his hand up, tracing it along the outline of your breasts. “But that’s dangerous for me because I can’t stay. My responsibilities, my life… They’re in Prythian, where being ‘human’ is not a luxury I can afford.”

You lifted your head from his shoulder to look at him, searching his shadowed eyes for the torment he so often masked. “Azriel, while you’re here, why can’t you just be you? Who says you have to be anything else?”

His hand came up to gently caress your cheek, a tender gesture that belied the turmoil in his eyes. “Because ‘just being me’ here with you makes forgetting who I really am too tempting. It makes leaving you, when the time comes, seem impossible.” His thumb traced the line of your jaw softly as he spoke, each word measured, yet laden with emotion.

His confession startled you. You started to think back on everything that had happened over the last two days, and your stomach turned as the realization hit you.

Azriel had distanced himself from you, but it wasn’t anything you had said or done… he was trying to keep the two of you safe from the inevitable pain of his departure. Azriel’s distancing was not a rejection but a shield, an attempt to protect both of your hearts from the deep pain that would come with is return to Prythian.

“You are my fyrvor, my wildfire,” he whispered. “You ignite something in me that I didn’t know existed. But I fear that fire could consume us both if I’m not careful.”

The earnestness in his voice struck a chord deep within you, a resonance of the potential heartache that lay ahead if you both ventured too far down this path. Yet, the pull between you felt as inevitable as the dawn following the night.

You reached a hand up, cupping his face in your palm. Damn everything that stood between you and him. In that moment, as you gazed into his eyes, the realities of your two vastly different worlds seemed to fade away. The constraints of Prythian and the mundane rhythms of your own existence dissolved into insignificance. All that mattered was the connection, the raw emotion that pulsed between you, urging you to forget the barriers, the duties, and the destinies that awaited beyond this stolen slice of time together.

“Let it consume us,” you whispered, your eyes searching his. “I don’t care if I get burned. Let it consume us whole, just for tonight.”

Dangerous words, dangerous promises. You knew you were walking a very thin line with him, but you didn’t care.

Azriel groaned as he spun you around so you were facing him. The movement startled you, causing you to drop your glass onto the floor. But some of it had splashed onto the bare skin of your chest, and his gaze followed the droplets as they slid down between your breasts.

He leaned his head down, and you moaned as you felt his tongue licking your skin, cleaning up the stickiness of the drink. You dug your fingers into his hair, holding him close to your body. He kept licking up, laying a trail for himself to follow as he made his way up your chest, your neck, stopping only once he got to your lips.

“Azriel,” you whispered, unable to think of anything but him.

He dug his fingers into your hair, not caring about the hours you had spent fixing it. He tilted your head back, his eyes searching yours. You licked your lips and gave him a small nod of permission.

Azriel let out a soft moan as he lowered his head toward yours, his eyes fluttering closed as his lips finally met yours.

The kiss was tender, a delicate exploration that quickly deepened with shared urgency. His lips moved against yours with careful intensity, each motion speaking volumes of the restrained desire he had been holding back. His hands, strong yet gentle, cradled your face, fingers threading through your hair as if to anchor himself to the moment.

The world around you seemed to still, the music and laughter of the guests fading into a hushed backdrop. It was a kiss that transcended the simple act itself, becoming a symbol of your mingled fates- both a farewell and a promise, a momentary lapse in the walls of your separating worlds.

You nipped at his bottom lip, and he groaned as he opened his mouth, his tongue dancing deliciously with yours. You pressed your body close to his, your breasts crushed against his chest. He held you against him, cradling you gently in his strong arms.

Azriel pulled away, causing you to cry out in protest. He silenced you with a chaste kiss. “Follow me,” he murmured, pulling you after him as he made his way through the crowd. He led you to a set of red velvet curtains that covered a door to one of the balconies.

He pushed the door open, pulling you after him as he closed it. You quickly glanced around, noticing the wrought iron railings covered in vines and flowers. There were some iron chairs and a small table, which held a vintage lantern that cast a soft, flickering light.

You whirled around to face Azriel. “What are you doing? Shouldn’t we stay in there and wait for the mistress?”

Azriel stalked toward you, grabbing your hips and pushing you against the brick wall next to the door. “I don’t care,” he said as he hoisted you up, your back pressed against the wall, your legs wrapped around his waist. You gasped as you felt the hardness of him pressed against your sensitive flesh. “I don’t care about anything right now, except for you.”

He kissed you again, this time full of more passion and desire. Earlier, the kiss had been gentle, a sweet communication between lips. But this was a storm. His tongue brushed against yours repeatedly, and you moaned at the sweet taste of him. The kiss was passionate and consuming, leaving you both breathless and aching for more.

Lightning lit up the dark sky, quickly followed by the rumbling sound of thunder in the distance. You jumped at the sound, wrapping your legs tighter around Azriel’s waist, softly grinding yourself against him.

“Stop that, or you’ll ruin my fun,” he groaned, moving his hand down to trace it up the sensitive skin of your leg. He pushed the material of your dress up, until your thigh was exposed to the chill of the night air.

You giggled and moved again, your breath catching in your throat. “Azzy,” you pleaded, moving your hands to run them along his back. You dug your nails into his shoulder blades, running your hands repeatedly along his spine.  

He shivered, his eyes rolling back slightly. “Do that again,” he whispered. At your confused look, he explained, “I’ve never felt that before, because of my wings. Do it again.” His voice was a purr, full of longing and desperation.

You happily obliged him, and he groaned as he started to kiss down your jaw, licking along the tender skin of your neck. You arched into him as his hand went higher up on your thigh, his fingers toying with the waistband of your panties.

In that moment, you forgot about the fact that you were on a balcony at a masquerade ball, where anyone could see you. You could only focus on his lips on your skin and his hand as it went dangerously close to that place you wanted him the most.

Lighting struck and thunder cracked, but the only thing that mattered right now was you and Azriel. The storm that was rolling in mirrored the tumultuous emotions you felt, yet all that existed in that moment was the magnetic pull between you two.

Azriel pulled away from you, his eyes searching your face through his mask. They were full of desire, but they were also full of adoration… and love. “Come back with me,” he whispered, leaning forward to press a kiss to your nose. “Come back to Prythian with me. This doesn’t have to be our last night together, fyrvor.”

His words hung in the air, and you could feel your heart pounding. The thought of leaving everything familiar behind… your family, your job. It filled you with a mix of fear and exhilaration.

Could you really do that? Could you truly step into his world, and leave your own behind? Could you live in a land of magic… as a human?

Doubt clouded your mind, and your skin turned ice cold as your thoughts raced. Yet, as you looked into Azriel’s hopeful eyes, a part of you longed to say yes. After everything, after tonight, you didn’t think you could go back to a normal life.

You didn’t want to go back to a normal life.

And you most definitely didn’t want to lose Azriel.

You smiled at him, running your hands through his hair. You opened your mouth, the words from your heart ready to pour out, but you were interrupted by a low chuckle.

A woman’s chuckle, a husky laugh that was steeped in amusement. “Well, this is interesting.”

Azriel let you go, gently dropping your legs back to the ground. You braced a hand against the brick wall to steady yourself, your dress falling haphazardly around your legs. He stepped in front of you, shielding you from the woman.  

You silently thanked him as you did your best to straighten your dress and hair, which had been utterly destroyed thanks to Azriel’s hands. He wrapped an arm around you, holding you close to his body as he asked, “Who the hell are you?”

You peered over his broad shoulder at the woman. She wore a flowing gown of deep emerald green that draped elegantly around her body. It was embroidered with intricate patterns of silver threads that traced unknown ancient-looking symbols.

Her black hair was styled in a beautiful updo, strands artfully twisted and pinned with small bone and silver charms. Around her neck, she wore a necklace made of various amulets and talismans that clinked together as she laughed.

Her face was strikingly beautiful, with sharp, intelligent eyes that glittered with wisdom. Her dark skin was smooth, the color of rich mahogany, and she had full lips that were upturned in an amused smile. Her mask was made of fine, black lace, and decorated with small stones and feathers, veiling her eyes while still allowing them to pierce through.

The woman gracefully laced her hands in front of her as she walked toward you, moving so silently that it was like she was floating. The air shifted, as if her powerful presence seemed to alter the very atmosphere.

You felt a cool shiver run down your spine as her eyes met yours. They held a glint of otherworldly knowledge- piercing and ancient, like gazing into a pool so deep that its bottom was lost to darkness. Something deep within you stirred, and you took a deep breath to settle your nerves.

Azriel must have sensed it as well because he tightened his grip on you, his fingers pressing into your lower back. He let out a low growl of warning as the woman drifted closer.

The woman chuckled again, completely unphased by the protective man in front of her. “Welcome to my masquerade ball, Azriel and Y/N,” she said, her silky voice full of serene authority. “It seems you two have been… enjoying yourselves.” She looked the two of you over, her smile growing as she took in Azriel’s rumpled suit and your wrinkled dress.

“I will ask you one more time,” Azriel snarled, “who the hell are you?”

You hated to admit it, but his sudden protectiveness over you was sexy as hell.

“I am the Obsidian Mistress,” the woman announced cheerfully, her voice carrying an air of command softened by warmth. She turned her gaze to Azriel, and her expression softened noticeably, a glimmer of understanding flashing across her features. It was as if she could see the threads of connection woven between you and Azriel, acknowledging them with a gentle nod that seemed to reassure him of her benevolent intentions. “But you may call me Mama Laveau. Come,” she continued, her tone shifting to one of gentle command as she turned and gestured for you both to follow her back into the manor.

Mama Laveau continued, “The artist Serena Rousseau contacted me, saying she knew a male who needed help getting back to Prythian. It seems we have much to discuss.”

Your blood chilled and your stomach sank at the thought of him leaving, a future suddenly real and looming. Could this woman truly know how to get Azriel back to his world?

A more pressing question flooded your mind, a life-changing choice that filled you with doubt and hope intertwined…

Would you be going back with him?

tag list: @starofanotherworld @lilah-asteria @melmo567

@shadowsingercassia @xxemmarldxx @a-frog-with-a-laptop

@rcarbo1 @saltedcoffeescotch @that-one-bibliophole

@happyt0exist @thefandomswhre @serxndipity-ipity-blog

@doodlebugg16-blog @berrikun @i-am-infinite

@wolvesnravens @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @bluejayswhistle

@vera0214 @jananigk @fourthwing4ever

@historygeekqueen @carnelshephard @isnotwhatyourethinking

@lovetia @bsenpai @anarchiii

@hedgehogperalta @st4r-girl-official @roseodelle

@kitcat912

[darkshelbyfiction]

Personal Whore (Kink Series)

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Female Reader

Summary: This Series will explore different fetishes including an innocence kink, somnophilia, anal play, watersports, bdsm, marking, edging, and anything else you would like me to include!

In this series, you are Thomas Shelby's maid. You are innocent and shy. This is your first job. Thomas Shelby takes an interest in you and pays you to become his personal whore. He makes you have sex with him in exchange of money, every day, using perverse techniques to satisfy his needs.

PART ONE: ORAL SKILLS

"You have been working for me for two weeks now Love and you recently turned 18, right?" Thomas questioned and you nodded timidly, nervous about what might come next.

"I... yes sir," you whispered softly, averting your gaze slightly out of shyness. The room seemed impossibly large and dimly lit, accented only by the flickering candlelight reflecting off the pristine white sheets upon the bed.

"Very well, that means that you are of legal age for my proposition." His voice dripped honeyed promises.

"Now let me ask you, Love... Do you know what some of the other maids here do for me in order to earn some more money?" your employer asked quietly, watching you closely.

"They perform various tasks, sir," you answered hesitantly, trying not to imagine where he could be going with this conversation.

"That's right," he said before looking at you with even more intensity in his gaze. "And do you know what these tasks entail?"

He asked, leaning closer, his proximity sending waves of anxiety through your body.

"Well," you began cautiously, choosing your words carefully. "Sarah said that, occasionally, she would touch you down there," you blushed, feeling mortified at having revealed such intimate information, albeit indirectly. You noticed a flash of excitement in his eyes when mentioning sensitive areas—a sign that perhaps this wasn't all just talk?

Thomas nodded thoughtfully, his expression unreadable as he processed your response. Then he rose gracefully from his seat, moving deliberately toward you like a predator closing in on its prey. It felt odd being so close to someone with whom you had worked for almost two months without any physical contact beyond casual banter.

"She occasionally touches me, yes," replied Thomas, maintaining eye contact. "But it isn't always required – merely desired. So I wonder, my dear, how far would you go for some extra compensation?" He smirked subtly, inviting himself deeper into the territory where you were reluctant to venture.

The heat of the moment caused you to feel flustered and uncertain as you attempted to gauge the severity of Thomas' intentions. Your heart raced faster than ever before, threatening to escape your chest as sweat glistened lightly along your brow.

"You want me to touch your pe..., uhm, you know...down there..." your voice trailed off, unable to find the courage to say the word 'penis'. Thomas smiled reassuringly, appreciating your discomfort as he realized you hadn't quite grasped the extent of his proposal.

"Yes, sweetheart. I want you to touch my cock and, maybe, one day, you will even take it in to your mouth or let me put it into your pussy, eh," Thomas stated confidently while running his hand across your cheek, causing involuntary shivers to run up your spine.

Your face colored deeply with embarrassment, though it also held an undeniable hint of curiosity. While your desire to please and satisfy your newfound benefactor burned intensely, something inside you screamed that taking things further than simple caresses went too far - yet another layer of turmoil added to the complex relationship unfolding between you both.

Having sensed your inner conflict, Thomas chose to approach the subject tactically.

Slowly, tenderly brushing aside a lock of your hair, he asked: "How does that make you feel, sweetheart?" His tone betrayed no judgement or impatience, instead offering understanding and acceptance. "Do you think you can handle that sort of responsibility?"

You trembled underneath his gentle ministrations, torn between fear and arousal, struggling to process your rapidly evolving feelings towards your once strictly professional superior.

"I never even seen a man's private parts before, sir. I was saving myself for marriage, but some extra cash would sound nice too," Your statement came out as a quiet plea for guidance, a confession of ignorance that exposed your vulnerability.

"Well, for what it's worth, no one would ever find out, Love. Not even your future husband," Thomas said and there was a sinister edge to his tone.

"I know that you are a good catholic girl, but sometimes it is worth doing bad things for the right incentive, wouldn't you agree?" Thomas said before he decided to lay bare his plans for you. "So, listen very carefully. If you agree to carry out these tasks, then I promise you that I will give you double your usual wages for the duration of your employment. In addition, I will give you £500 for your virginity and loyalty. How does that strike you?"

Stunned and bewildered, you stared at him in disbelief. Double your pay for doing things you didn't understand fully and parting ways with your cherished purity – your whole world suddenly seemed to spin wildly out of control. Yet despite the magnitude of the choices facing you, one thing remained clear: continuing as your present self would lead to financial ruin.

With tears swelling in your eyes, you found yourself considering Thomas' offer, wondering whether surrendering everything you believed in truly amounted to nothing less than selling your soul. Still, it was difficult to resist the lure of instant prosperity, particularly given the dire straits you faced otherwise. As you struggled internally, Thomas watched patiently, waiting for you to decide. Finally, with a heavy heart, you made your decision.

Nodding solemnly, you declared, "Alright, Mr. Shelby, I agree, but I need you to triple my wages and add another £500 for my virtue."

With an approving smile curling at the corner of his lips, Thomas conceded, "Agreed. I will triple your wages and pay you a lump sum of £1,000 for your precious purity," your employer said before unbuckling his belt without bothering to remove the rest of his clothes.

"Understandably, you may need time to become comfortable enough to execute these duties adequately, so I shall start you off slowly," Thomas explained calmly before unzipping his pants and thereby exposing his erect member. Despite your reservations, you couldn't help but notice the size and firmness of his cock as he pushed down his pants halfway. 

"It doesn't look so scary, does it, Love?" he murmured, his voice holding an undercurrent of amusement, attempting to ease your apprehension as he reached for your hand, guiding it tentatively towards his penis. With an anxious breath, you followed his instruction, marveling at the weightiness of his organ, still unsure of exactly what he expected from you.

As your fingers traced delicate patterns over his length, you discovered small nubs on the underside, eliciting a deep groan from him. Uncertain about your progress thus far, you glanced upwards briefly to catch sight of his reaction, finding satisfaction etched upon his features.

"See, Love, we're making headway already," Thomas commented gently, encouraging you with warmth.

Despite your lingering apprehensions, the confidence exuded by your master proved infectious, allowing you to relax somewhat and follow the path laid out before you.

Inch by inch, your exploration continued until you encountered the tiny knobbiness located near the base of his organ. Upon stimulating it, Thomas' moans grew louder, confirming your suspicion that you had struck gold.

Encouraged by this success, you bravely moved onto his sacrum, discovering that a soft ticklish patch accompanied it. Smiling sheepishly, you proceeded to explore the area thoroughly. After satisfying yourself with a leisurely tour, you finally turned your attention back to the main event – his impressively throbbing phallus.

Feeling emboldened, you took hold of the tip, applying a slight pressure that resulted in a low grumble emitting from Thomas.

Taking hold of your hand again, he positioned it correctly, demonstrating proper technique. Encouraged by his expertise, you mirrored his movements and gradually increased the strength of your strokes, matching his fervent pace.

"That's it, love! Keep going!" he urged, his hands now wrapped tightly around yours before making a somewhat unusual request.

"How do you feel about taking my cock into your mouth, Love?" Thomas whispered huskily, watching your every move closely.

"You want me to do what?" you asked, still feeling uneasy about performing such acts. The mere idea sent waves of nervousness coursing through your body, prompting your limbs to quiver.

"I want you to practice sucking my cock, Love," Thomas insisted matter-of-factly, a commanding authority evident in his tone.

Swallowing hard, you hesitated for a brief moment before asking timidly, "Like a lollipop?" 

"No, not like a lollipop, Love," Thomas replied, his words filled with amused indulgence. "Just wrap your lips around the head first and start by licking off my pre-cum. Trust me, it won't be as terrible as you might imagine."

His assurance did little to alleviate your anxiety, but nonetheless, you nodded obediently.

Gingerly, you took his thick shaft into your small hands, immediately experiencing a strange mixture of revulsion and fascination.

Carefully lowering your head, you pressed your tongue to the engorged head, savoring the salty taste of his precum.

"There you go, sweetheart. Lick around the ridge just above the hole," Thomas instructed you kindly, clearly aware of how intimidated you were feeling.

"That's a good girl," he told you and, just as you obeyed his directive, your fingers simultaneously worked to stroke the entire length of his impressive manhood.

"Now take me in your mouth, sweetheart. As far as you can," Thomas commanded authoritatively, his voice full of raw demand as, with trembling fingers, you complied, opening wide to accommodate his girth.

"Beautiful," Thomas breathed, appreciating your attempt before holding onto your hair and pulling slightly to guide your mouth deeper down on his erection.

As your lips grazed the sensitive skin beneath his glans, a wave of dizziness assaulted you, leaving you gasping as you tried to regulate your breathing.

"There you have it, sweetheart, take it all," Thomas directed firmly, pressing your mouth harder against him. Gulping reflexively, you felt the foreign object filling your mouth, causing your cheeks to bulge comically.

"I will fuck your throat now," Thomas muttered roughly, thrusting himself further into your open mouth, causing you to gag involuntarily. Your eyes watered with the unexpected intensity of sensation. But even amidst the choking panic, something inside you recognized an undeniable thrill.

Thomas held you firmly in place, ensuring you maintained eye contact throughout the experience. As your struggle to maintain control intensified, so did his aggressiveness.

"Good girl," he growled approvingly when you managed to adapt quickly, albeit tears streaming down your face and saliva dripping from your chin.

His cock now nestled comfortably within your tender throat, Thomas began moving faster, building momentum. His touch became more forceful as you submitted to his demands blindly, consumed by newfound passion.

"Do you know what happens to a man when he orgasms, Love?" Thomas asked teasingly, raising an eyebrow playfully as he continued to use your mouth and throat for your pleasure. 

Confusion crossed your face, unable to discern the meaning behind his inquiry as you shook your head.

"Well, when I cum, seed will spill out from my cock right into your eager mouth," Thomas clarified casually while fondling your wet cheek. "Are you ready for that?"

Your brow furrowed, processing the implications of his statement. It dawned on you that your role as his sexual submissive required complete submission, including receiving the ultimate release from your employer.

You nodded silently, acknowledging your willingness to accept whatever fate awaited you. And as Thomas' hips started bucking violently, indicating his imminent climax, you steeled yourself, preparing for the inevitable outcome.

"Good girl. I want you to swallow my load completely," Thomas ordered, his voice rough with anticipation as he thrusted in and out of your throat. Without question, you opened wider, bracing yourself for the sudden explosion. As Thomas' hips jerked forward, releasing a torrent of hot semen directly into your gaping mouth, you could barely contain your shock. The searing liquid burned your throat, stinging fiercely, but you endured, determined to satisfy your master. Consequently, Thomas let loose a powerful roar, his muscles tensing powerfully, as his body convulsed in ecstasy.

Pulling away from your tender mouth after the volley was spent, he looked deeply into your eyes, searching for any signs of resistance or regret. Finding none, a satisfied smirk formed across his lips. "Very good indeed, Love. Now open your mouth and show me your tongue once again," commanded Thomas, placing one palm on either side of your face. Submissively, you parted your lips to expose your reddened tongue, waiting patiently for further orders. "Keep practicing, because soon you'll be giving me blowjobs regularly until, in two weeks or so, I will fuck this virgin pussy of yours," he informed you confidently, running his finger along your neck, arousal evident in his gaze.

Understanding implicitly that your services would extend beyond the confines of today's encounter, you silently accepted your fate without protest.

After all, despite the humiliation and unfamiliar experiences you underwent, there remained an inexplicable allure. Something about submitting entirely to the desires of another piqued an unidentifiable desire deep within you, stirring feelings that seemed almost forbidden. In time, perhaps these indistinct yearnings could evolve into something concrete and tangible. For now, however, you must focus solely on perfecting your skills as Thomas' personal pleasure provider and you soon learned that his requests are more than just a little unusual. 

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

Mastering the Art of Necromancy in Your Fantasy Novel

Hello fellow writers and conjurers of fantastical worlds,

In the tapestry of fantasy literature, few elements hold the allure and enigmatic charm of necromancy. The art of communing with the spirits of the departed, wielding the powers of death and undeath, and delving into the mysteries of the afterlife conjures a rich and eerie tapestry that captivates readers and writers alike. In this comprehensive guide, I shall help you embark on an odyssey into the realm of necromancy, unraveling its nuances, and harnessing its potent essence to enrich the worlds and characters within your fantasy novel.

Embracing the Essence of Necromancy

Necromancy is a mystical strand woven into the very fabric of fantasy literature, offering writers a gateway to explore themes of mortality, forbidden knowledge, and the uncharted territories beyond death. The art of necromancy beckons us to navigate the delicate balance between life and death, weaving a narrative tapestry that shimmers with eerie allure and spine-tingling intrigue.

Understanding the Arcane Threads of Necromancy

1. Unraveling the Nature of Necromantic Magic:

Necromancy encompasses a vast array of mystical practices, ranging from communing with spirits and animating the dead to harnessing the energies of the afterlife. Understanding the scope of necromantic magic is crucial when integrating it into your fantasy world.

2. Delving into Ethical Quandaries:

The art of necromancy often delves into moral ambiguity and ethical quandaries. As a writer, explore the complex interplay between wielding power over life and death, and the consequences it imposes on both wielder and world.

3. Crafting Necromantic Characters:

Characters draped in the shroud of necromancy carry an undeniably enigmatic allure. Whether they are enigmatic necromancers, vengeful revenants, or tormented spirits, imbue them with layers of depth, conflict, and the allure of forbidden knowledge.

4. Cultivating the Atmosphere of the Necromantic World:

Infuse your narrative with an eerie and otherworldly ambiance that resonates with the essence of necromancy. From desolate graveyards to spectral realms, let the setting itself exude an aura of haunting allure and metaphysical mystery.

5. Unraveling the Consequences:

The tendrils of necromantic magic often carry unforeseen consequences. Delve into the ripple effects of wielding such potent powers, shaping the fate of both the user and the world they inhabit.

Enchanting Your Narrative with Necromantic Flourishes

1. Rich Lore and Mythos:

Weave an intricate tapestry of lore and mythos surrounding necromancy, invoking ancient rituals, mysterious tomes, and the whispers of spirits to deepen the mystique of this arcane art.

2. Enigmatic Rituals and Spells:

Craft spells and rituals that exude an otherworldly aura, invoking the presence of specters and the echoes of forgotten souls to imbue your narrative with the esoteric essence of necromantic magic.

3. Ethereal Companions and Servants:

Bring forth spectral allies, reanimated guardians, and enigmatic spectral entities that serve as both catalysts and enigmas within the narrative.

4. Narrative Pivots and Twists:

Infuse your story with unforeseen twists and narrative pivots that stem from the tendrils of necromantic magic, shaping the destiny of characters and worlds with its potent influence.

Mastering the Art of Responsible Representation

1. Portraying the Nuances of Necromancy:

Embrace the multifaceted nature of necromancy, delving into its allure and peril, and steering clear of reductionistic portrayals that fail to capture the complexity of this enigmatic art.

2. Navigating Sensitive Themes:

Acknowledge the sensitive themes surrounding necromancy, portraying its enigmatic allure while respecting the boundaries of respectful representation and narrative integrity.

Navigating Ethical Quandaries and Moral Ambiguity

1. Delving into the Temptation and Consequences:

Illuminating the temptations and consequences inherent in wielding necromantic powers, delving into the moral turbulence and ethical crossroads that define the narrative and its characters.

2. Shaping Characters' Moral Journeys:

Embrace the moral odysseys of characters enmeshed in the tendrils of necromancy, illuminating their struggles, choices, and the transformative impact of their interactions with the enigmatic art.

Embracing the Mystique of Necromancy

The enigmatic tapestry of necromancy holds the potent key to unraveling the mysteries of death, whispered secrets of the afterlife, and the spellbinding allure of enigmatic power. Embrace its allure, wield its essence responsibly, and watch as your narrative flourishes with a haunting, spine-tingling allure that captivates readers far and wide.

Warm regards and unwavering encouragement on your enigmatic odyssey, Ren T.

[enviedear]

i've been going solo now ⟶ ben solo

description ⌙ when you get a distress signal from your dad and his life-long goon you're quick to try and come to their rescue. only problem? so is ben solo.

pairing ⌙ smuggler!ben solo x f!reader

warnings ⌙ childhood crush/frenemies turned adults with horrible communication skills, reader is the daughter of lando (biologically or not you decide), ben is a jerk, reader is a brat, petty arguments, forced proximity trope, inner conflict all the time, han and lando are just two pals getting into serious issues that their kids have to fix don't mind them (they're just mentioned), most likely incorrect knowledge of the falcon & starship parts, smuggler!ben solo au because that's canon to me, ben calls reader kid (affectionate, kinda), typos probabaly

word count ⌙ 4.1k

— request | masterlist

i just think ben solo is very much solo by future coded and i wanted to write about smuggler!ben and his smug attitude. special thanks to @crucifiedfaerie for letting me gush over this idea constantly in our dms <3

you never had the stomach for killing— the thought of it or the act itself. the notion of ending someone's life has always been abhorrent to you, leaving a sour sensation in your mouth that lingers long after the deed is done. but right now, you sit, filled with a growing and seemingly unstoppable rage that practically demands blood.

"don't even think about jumping into hyperspace, solo!" your voice is loud but erratic.

the black-haired man piloting the ship gives you a side eye, "and waste hours getting there? sure thing, kid."

you grip the co-pilot seat as hard as possible as he sends the absolutely geriatric ship into lightspeed. the force of it sends your head back onto the headrest, and you screw your eyes shut until the motion of the ship stills.

you've been flying with ben solo on the millennium falcon for a day and a half now, and this isn't even the first time you've wanted to kill him.

no, you'd harbored a hatred for ben solo for as long as you could remember. when you were little your father frequently left you in the care of the organa-solo's. any trip too risky for you to follow him on had you spending time on chandrila han and leia— and ben.

he was a few years older than you and so insufferable - spoiled rotten and full of mischief. the two of you would inevitably end up in scuffles over something, whether it be who got to shower first or which holovid show to watch. you often wondered how your father, han, or leia had managed to handle both of you. a hardheaded pair of troublemakers that needed little excuse to start bickering with one another.

but beneath it all, there had been another layer to your complex relationship with ben solo. even though you feigned anger whenever near him, deep down there had been an admiration growing since those early days spent together. your naive heart fluttered when he would absentmindedly flash his ever-present smirk in your direction. but you'd never admit or act upon any such feelings.

naviagting your crush had been difficult at first. especially having lando calrissian as a parent. you were forced to spend weeks around the source of your teen angst because of your father.

what use is a dad that can sweet-talk a jablogian if he can't fix your unwanted crush on his best friend's son.

you've cursed at his image in your mind every time you look at your ridiculous companion. if not for him, you wouldn't be with ben right now— you'd have never had the displeasure of his company.

you got away from the young solo, and most everyone else, for a good five years, hopping from planet to planet, picking up any honest work. which usually meant boring work— factory jobs, service stuff, a few instances of babysitting.

your life without ben solo is predictable and a little boring.

but you'd rather be bored than deal with the recklessness that becomes your life every time you see the smuggler.

but here you sit beside him, forced to spend an unknown amount of days with him until the both of you find your idiotic fathers.

you had gotten a rouge comm-link message from your dad just days ago. he sounded fine, voice still leisurely and warm, but it was his words that were worrisome, "han's got us in a bit of trouble, little star. would you mind coming to help your old man out? we're somewhere in the trilon sector— i'd try batuu first!"

when you got the message, your mind had gone into autopilot. you had rushed to comm leia, which had been a fatal mistake, as she had ordered her son to pick you up and accompany you. so now you're here, stuck with ben solo and his frightening flying.

"you know, dad should have warned me i'd be flying with a coward." ben's lips are curved into a grin, as usual with his teasing.

you whip your head in his direction, eyes ablaze, "well my father should have warned me that you've gotten even more annoying, somehow."

ben narrows his eyes, a stupid smirk still plastered to his face, "whatever you say, kid."

you feel your blood go hot, why he decided to start calling you kid, you didn't know, but you do know you hate it.

ben's barely your senior, only twenty-three years of age in comparison to your twenty. besides he behaves like an out-of-hand teen away.

"stop calling me that." you groan.

ben chuckles, "aw, what's the matter, kid? tired of following orders already?"

you grit your teeth, the way he talks down to you will forever get under your skin, "i don't take orders from you, solo."

"sure you do. you're on my ship, remember?" ben retorts, his eyes focused on the coordinates displayed to his left.

you cross your arms over your chest, "we're supposed to be working together to find han and my father and get them out of trouble, not bickering like children."

ben rolls his eyes, "it's not my fault you're so uptight."

you take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. you can't afford to lose your temper and start a fight, not when you're relying on him to get you to your destination safely. so, you force a smile, "look, can we just be civil? we're both here because we care about our dads and want to help them."

ben's expression softens a little, "fine. but if you start nagging at me again, i can't promise i won't call you kid."

you roll your eyes, "deal. now, can you tell me more about what's going on? my dad was pretty vague in his message."

ben hums, "same with mine. all i know is that lando got mixed up in some kind of shady deal, and now he's in trouble with a gang of criminals called the ninth sun. my mom's been trying to negotiate with them, but they're not ones to bend the knee."

you groan, "of course not. what's the plan?"

he shakes a stray black strand of hair from his eye, "no plan, just find them and go from there."

"lovely, that's totally going to work," you bite your lip, "oh and, it was han who made the sketch deal, not my dad."

ben shrugs, "and who told you that?" he rests his elbow on the armrest and brings his hand to his chin, "lando?"

you clench your fists, "let's just focus on finding them. no need to dwell on the semantics."

ben glances at you and for a moment, you swear there's a flicker of something in his eyes. something other than his usual teasing, mischievous demeanor, but it's gone as quickly as it came and he turns back to the console.

the ship hums steadily beneath you, and the silence between you two stretches on, broken only by the occasional beep from the controls. you fidget in your seat, uncomfortable with the unfamiliar hush. you've never been around ben so long without saying anything, and you're about to speak up before he interrupts you.

"we'll have to make a pit stop, i need to refuel." his voice sounds tired.

you nod, "alright. any nearby planets we can stop at?"

ben checks the navicomputer, "yeah, there's one a couple of light years away. i've been there before, it's not too bad."

"okay solo, lead the way." you say, leaning back in your seat.

as he pilots the ship toward the destination, you can't help but study him from the corner of your eye. he's changed since the last time you saw him. the boy who used to pull your hair and steal your toys has grown into a man. he's lean and toned with longer hair, still as sable black as ever. it falls into his eyes, despite how much he wills it not to, giving him a slightly disheveled look that you can't help but find attractive.

you rue the thoughts plaguing your own mind.

the embarrassment you used to feel over your crush has come back ten-fold. the feeling shocks you. he's trying to act all suave and mature, but you know deep down that he's still the same old ben who annoyed the life out of you. you can feel the familiar tug in your heart every time he speaks, and you know he can't have changed much over the years. not when he's making you feel just like you're fourteen again.

but there is something different about him now. maybe it's the way he pilots the ship with ease– no longer the boy who'd cover his ears ar take off, or maybe it's just the way his muscles flex under his tight-fitting shirt. he's almost mesmerizing.

it's clear that he's been doing this for a long time, navigating the stars all alone with nothing but his shitty attitude and perfect hair. you find yourself marveling over him, sure and smooth, his hands deftly moving over the controls.

ever the realist, you try to shake off the feeling, but it's proving difficult. you feel a strange urge to preserve your current addiction.

as you watch him fly, you feel a fixation building within you. it's a sentiment you haven't felt in years, not felt since the last time you saw him.

you try to push the feeling down, knowing that it's not the time to have those kinds of thoughts. you're supposed to be focused on finding your fathers and not getting killed by some lethal syndicate, not lusting after your childhood nemesis.

you feel wrong stealing glances at him, trying to understand what's changed and why you're feeling this way. you're towing a dangerous, line. especially if those feelings are inspired by ben organa-solo.

finally, after what feels like hours, you arrive at the refueling station. as soon as ben lands the ship, you stretch your legs inside the falcon, looking out at the new scenery. the planet is bathed in the evening light, and the scene around you is wide awake. the station itself is a bustling hub of activity, with all kinds of alien species milling about.

ben leads the way to the fueling station, where he begins filling up the ship's tanks. you stand by the ship's entrance, people-watching. your eyes find ben's figure again, and you let them stall. when he looks your way, you advert your gaze and step out of the falcon, swiftly approaching him.

the evening air is cool as it hits your skin. this planet is a strange one, with vibrant purple plants and thick, white fog swirling around. but you don't pay too much attention to it, your eyes are locked on ben.

he's leaning against the ship, checking over the fuel meter with a frown on his face. you walk over to him and clear your throat, expecting to get his attention.

he looks up at you, eyes meeting your own. you feel your heart skip a beat, and you curse yourself for being soft for him.

"you know, you didn't have to follow me out here." he mumbles, hand coming to brush the hair from his eyes.

you hum, "i didn't have anything better to do."

he ignores you and looks back at the fuel gauge, his eyebrows furrow, "i found something for you to do." his voice is monotone, but you're all too familiar with the subtle cut of annoyance within.

"what does that mean?" you own voice comes out a bit too anxious.

ben groans before looking at you, "one of the damn tanks has a leak— i told chewie to fix that weeks ago." he follows up his words with a few curses before kicking the faulty gas tank.

you roll your eyes, "can't we just get another one? i'm sure if we go inside someone would know where we could get another one."

"the problem isn't finding one," he tsks at you, "the problem is that this tank has been leaking fuel into the beacon finder. without that, we're never finding our dear old dads."

your heart sinks. you had been so sure that you would find your dad quickly, but now it looks like that might not be the case. "so, what do you suggest we do?" you ask, crossing your arms over your chest.

"i'll have to fix the beacon," he sighs, "luckily i have the tools for it, but i need to find one more part, and with the sun setting soon…" he trails off, letting his silence complete the sentence for him.

you take in a deep breath at his implication. you can tell what he is suggesting without explicitly stating it.

you will be stuck on this planet with him tonight and forced to share the same cramped room. you thank god for separate cots, at least.

you try to ignore the warmth creeping up your ears, but you know that it's a losing battle. you haven't shared a room with ben solo since you were kids, endless unwilling sleepovers at each other's houses. but those instances were filled with innocent pranks and arguments, not the tension and longing glances you've found yourself giving him.

"alright," you say, trying to keep your voice even, "we'll just get the part and fix the beacon. the faster we fix this, the faster we can find our fathers and get back to our lives." you move towards the entrance of the fueling station, wanting to put space between you and ben.

"you mean so you can get back to your life." he calls out to you, and you look back at him only to be met with contempt in his brown eyes, "the one where you avoid me."

you give him a sharp eye roll before making your way toward a small gaggle of vendors, much more interested in finding this part. ben follows closely behind you, and you can feel the weight of his stare on the back of your head.

you're at a loss as to why ben solo would ever care that you've been avoiding him for the last five years. the ben you remember would've never batted an eye. when did that change?

you find a vendor selling the part that ben needs, and you both split the payment before heading back to the falcon. ben sets to work on the beacon, and you sit nearby, supposedly looking over the coordinates but mostly watching him work.

there's an abnormal sense of calm that fills you as you watch him. concentration is etched on his face, lips bitten bright red. you can't help but admire him, not for the sake of not trying.

you're brought back to reality when he starts cursing under his breath, "what's wrong?" you ask, moving closer to him.

"this damn thing won't budge," he grunts, trying to pry apart two pieces of the beacon.

you move to his side, peering down at the device. his breath is hot on your cheek, and you feel an urge to shiver. trying to focus on the task at hand you take a few breaths.

your eyes keep drifting to his lips, the way they move when he curses. you shake your head, trying to clear the inappropriate thoughts from your mind. "let me help," you offer, reaching for one of the tools he's using.

he hands it to you, and you lean in closer, your sides pressed together as you work the tool. you can feel his heat exuding into you, a warmth that isn't just from the planet's humid air. you try to focus, but it's becoming increasingly difficult. every time he moves, you catch a whiff of his scent, musky and rich, and your mind starts to wander to places it shouldn't.

finally, after what feels like an eternity, the piece pops free, and ben lets out a sigh of relief. he turns to you, a small smile on his face, and you can't help but smile back. his eyes lock onto yours, and suddenly, the air between you is charged with something foreign.

you let your tone come out sardonic, "looks like i saved the day. you're welcome, solo."

ben tilts his head, eyes narrowing, "you're a brat, kid."

"i thought i told you to stop calling me that." you want to hit him.

"i said i had a condition," he pauses, arms coming to either side of you, palms pressing into the falcon's floor, effectively trapping you against him, "a condition you just broke. so you're back to kid, kid."

you feel your resolve slipping, "you're the worst. you always have been, and i can see now that will never change."

he has the audacity to let out an amused breath, "if you're going to say shit like that, at least mean it."

your brows furrow, "pardon me? as if i don't mean that."

his hands creep from the ground and to your hips, you gasp as he pulls you in closer. if he were anyone else, you'd expect him to kiss you next, but he's not anyone else. so instead, he cranes down and whispers in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "i know you want me," he growls, his fingers digging into your clothed flesh. "don't act like you don't,"

you're completely caught off guard, and before you can respond, he's pulling away from you and grabbing the beacon. you watch in silent horror as he makes for the falcon's exit, leaving you confused on the floor.

you sit there, rooted to the spot, your mind and body in turmoil. you know if you follow him you'd just be throwing yourself into a petty or embarrassing altercation.

what did he mean by that anyway? how could he possibly know?

taking a steadying breath, you turn away from your seat and make for the other side of the ship. you need to keep yourself busy until nighttime, and you know that there's some maintenance to do on one of the storage bays. when you get there, however, it's already been taken care of. your fists clench in frustration as you realize ben must have done it earlier.

you start searching around the ship for any other tasks that might help keep your mind off things and pass the time more quickly- checking cords, tidying up shelves or going through supplies lists so nothing gets low.

the hours seem to stretch on endlessly despite how much work you manage to do, and all too soon darkness begins to fill the sky outside of the cockpit windows. with a heavy sigh, you head back towards where you and ben had been working earlier. he's back now, tinkering away with the beacon as if nothing had ever happened between the two of you earlier— as if his words hadn't sent a tremble down your spine and confused the emotions tumbling through your mind.

you catch an expectant glance from him when he finally notices your presence. you're sure he's expecting you to say something to him. maybe he wants you to yell.

you don't say anything though, instead offering only a terse nod before checking the endless cords around you.

your fingers move quickly and expertly over the tangled cords, your mind too preoccupied to focus on anything else. but you can feel his gaze on you, burning through the back of your skull like a branding iron. his presence is suffocating and you know that if you don't get a handle on your emotions soon, you'll combust.

eventually, you're so lost in thought that you almost miss the soft footfalls approaching you. you turn to see ben standing beside you, his eyes locked onto yours. the air between you is thick with strain, unspoken words, and feelings. there are so many things you want to say to him, but you don't know where to begin.

"so," his voice breaks through the silence like a blaster shot. "when are we going to talk about it?"

you hear the depth in his baritone voice and it's all you can do to keep your face neutral, your thoughts collected, "talk about what?" you ask, even though you know perfectly well what he's referring to.

"about me and you," he says, voice low but insistent, "or we can just keep ignoring it. the tension seems to be getting us pretty far."

your expression shifts as you take in his words, the longing that had been coiled in so tightly before now coming to the surface. you can feel yourself flustering under the intensity of his watch but you refuse to look away, instead lifting your chin higher and narrowing your eyes.

"there is no us, solo," you say firmly, though your voice is riddled with a hint of something else entirely, "there never has been, and never will be."

ben seems unfazed by your words, his eyes steady and intense. "you say that," he says, his voice softening. "but i know you better than anyone else. and i know there's some part of you that actually likes me. i bet it pisses you off, doesn't it?"

he's right— it does piss you off that your heart can't seem to let him go. no matter how annoying you find him, he's beautiful and confident. and he does know you better than anyone. he knows what buttons to press and how hard. with ben, there's always the thrill of how perceptive he is— that he can see through the walls of anger and indifference you try so hard to build up around yourself.

you can feel your will crumbling under his words, your heart throbbing in your chest, but still, you push back, "even if there is something there, solo," you say, your voice shaking slightly, "it doesn't change anything. we're two different people living two very different lives."

ben smirks, "you don't know anything about my life."

you let your eyes roll, "as if the life you lead is some kind of mystery," you take a deep breath, "i mean, what's to know? you fly alone, smuggle, and rack up credits. that's your life, solo."

he hums, right hand finding a home beside your head on the wall, "you know me so well, kid. you should write a book."

you feel inexplicably hot, "maybe i will. a long book of all the reasons you piss me off."

he doesn't respond, just looks down at you for an uncomfortable amount of time. he pushes himself from the wall and you, twisting and letting his back hit the durasteel wall. his face is turned to you, eyes downcast.

"you know," he says finally, breaking the silence, "i remember when we were kids, it was always you who used to be the one to instigate. you probably don't remember it that way, but i do, and i loved it. you never hesitated. you were fearless."

you look at him incredulously, wondering what this has to do with anything. but he continues, "you were the only girl that would play with me, and not just that, the only one that could beat me. but then one day you just stopped. you ignored me completely."

you stiffen, unwilling to admit even through body language that he might be right. a pre-teen you found avoiding your ben sized crush the most viable option. you just never thought he'd care.

he continues, eyes unwavering from yours, "you used to look at me like i was the only person that mattered. and then, you just stopped. it's was like… like you had something to hide."

it's like he can read your mind because he reaches out and grasps your wrist in his hand. his touch is nice against your skin, sending a comfortable feel through your veins.

"i miss you, the girl who wasn't afraid of liking me," he whispers, his voice low and husky. "and i want you to admit that you miss me too."

you struggle to find words, to make sense of everything inside of you, but before you can speak, his lips are on yours. his kiss is hot and demanding, and instinctively lean into him, body melting against his in perfect harmony. his hands slide around your waist and hold you close as the kiss deepens, and you can feel all of the frustrations of the past slipping away. when he finally pulls back, his eyes are bright with emotion and a hint of a smile graces his lips.

he looks down at you for a moment before speaking in a low voice, "you want me to do that again?" he steps closer to you and cups your face in his hands, his eyes twinkling with amusement. you can feel the warmth radiating from his body and if it weren't for his strong arms around you, you would have melted into a puddle.

you nod slowly in agreement, too lost in the moment to say anything else. he leans down and brushes his lips against your cheek before pulling away completely, "then be honest. right here, right now. you like me."

you screw your eyes shut, basking in the shame of being found out, "i like you, solo. i like you a lot, but if you don't get off your pedestal and kiss me again i'll withdraw the opportunity."

he gazes down at you with an expression that's tender yet mischievous all at once. "i like you too," he whispers before chuckling lightly, you open your eyes to see.

his dimples are on full display, and for a second, he's the spirit of the little brat you fell in love with all those years ago. "c'mere, kid." his voice is soft as he pulls you back into him, lips meeting yours.

[phantom-0-writer]

scene 03: get in loser, we’re going shopping

original prompt: gotham academy's mentorship program

more at: table of contents

timeline: much later after scene 1 & 2

Danny and Damian sat at one of the corner tables in the library. Danny had finals coming up, and was busy reviewing the term’s worth of topics from all his classes. Damian, who had insisted on joining him, sat bored. having nothing left to study. 

Danny looked at the younger boy when he sighed for the 3rd time in the past five minutes. Deciding that maybe he should take a break and indulge Damian, Danny finished the last problem, and let his book shut with a loud finality. 

Damian looked up at him hopefully, “Are you done, now?” He asked. Danny could tell he was trying his best to not seem too eager, but Danny couldn’t help but laugh at his antics. 

“Yup,” packing his things away first, he waited for Damian, when he noticed what the boy had taken up in his boredom. “Woah, Damian.” He whispered in awe, picking up the paper closest to him. “You did this?” 

Damian seemed to need a moment to understand what Danny was referring to before becoming flustered and embarrassed, a soft pink spreading on his ears, “It was simply mindless work.” He sounded defensive, like someone had berated him for his artist interests before. Danny tried not to react to that, knowing Damian would probably find it insulting. 

The sketch was on the back of a math worksheet Damian had long since completed, it was of a fighter who seemed to be using his sword to attack a nondiscript opponent. Danny knew from his many intensive training sessions with Pandora that the figure's form was slipping into leaving them open for an easy frontal attack from their opponent, while simultaneously leaving the fighter to not have the range of motion they might need to defend themselves. Most of the lines of the drawing were scratchy and short but overly repeated giving the fighter the illusion of fast movement, directly in contrast the hard outline of the fighter’s form made it seem like the fighter was stuck in their position. 

Liminals and liminal-agencent people by definition did not have a strong awareness to manipulate ectoplasm consciously like other more ghostly beings could. Coincidentally, liminals tended to leak their own internally produced and stored ectoplasm when they acted on their deep emotions. Scientifically this usually showed itself as a person ‘harnessing their full potential’ in moments of crisis or in some more extreme and rarer cases accessing their metagene (meta’s were not to be confused with liminals or ghostly beings they hold few to no similarities outside of coincidence). Danny had known from the beginning that Damian was a liminal, likely from prolonged exposure to ectoplasm, and paradoxically had a difficult time understanding and accessing his own emotions. Emotional negligence was never healthy for an ectoplasmic being, and Danny knew it would be a long process for Damian to learn how to properly deal with his layered and complex emotions. 

  That being said, there was a steady level of ectoplasm spread over the paper, something that did not match what Danny would have expected from Damian’s current state with his emotional and subsequently his ectoplasmic abilities. The fighter was clearly a character Damian had either consciously or subconsciously created to represent himself. 

Danny could work with this. 

During the long moment of silence Damian seemed to have grown more and more anxious for Danny’s reaction. Danny let his emotions display easily on his face, wide eyed, “This is so good, Damian. I didn’t know you drew. Do you like art?” 

“I do not draw. Art is a meaningless waste of time and only those without higher goals would indulge in such an activity.” Damian sounded conflicted, and the words he was saying were pretty obviously echoed from what someone else had said to him. 

“That’s ridiculous,” Danny scoffed, “Art is a very important basis for almost everything. I mean it would feel pretty stale to live in a world where there was no uniqueness anywhere. Drawing, painting, writing, acting, sculpting, singing, or whatever else, are all unique forms of making something that no one else could truly ever recreate exactly. Even if it’s minute, there are always differences in the way that one person would commit to something than another person. It’s the basis of humanity and in the core of the human mind. If you try to block it so harshly from yourself, you’ll end up locking up an integral part of yourself that sets you apart from the other 7 million people on this planet.” 

Damain stood there, considering what Danny said. 

Not waiting another moment, Danny grabbed Damian’s bag heading out of the library. “What are you doing?” Damian asked suspiciously, quickly falling in step with Danny, grabbing his bag back. 

Danny smirked at him, “We’re going shopping, Loser.” 

Damian looked scandalied at the nickname, not understanding the reference. “I am not a loser.” he huffed. 

Danny just laughed as they waited for the next bus. Once they got to their stop and entered the store, Danny beelined for where he knew the art supplies to be. Damian followed behind him, unfamiliar with the store.

Sure, if Damian wanted, he could easily buy the more top of the line supplies, after all he was a Wayne. But Danny was pointedly a broke scholarship kid right now, and it didn’t sit right to let Damian pay for things he was buying, no matter how much of a trust fund kid he may be. Not that Danny was exactly broke, but he imagined the cashiers at their local supermarket wouldn’t appreciate him trying to pay for a sketchbook, a couple sketch pens and pencils, and a 25 pack of Crayola markers with solid gold coins. 

It was around 4:30 when they left the store with their stuff, Damian eyeing the bag curiously the whole time. They walked the rest of the way to a local cafe, and Danny sat Damian down. 

“Okay, we’ll be here for the next hour,” He pulled out his own sketchpad, the concepts filling the pages were more accurately  blueprints more than drawings, “Draw whatever you want.” 

“I don’t know what to draw.” Damian huffed, awkwardly taking the supplies from Danny, and examining his surroundings carefully. Damian sat in the corner for a while, blending into the surroundings as he watched how the world spun around him. Danny was half-way through reviewing one of his older designs when Damian finally decided to open the pack of pencils and the first strike on the paper was made. They stayed there for long over the allotted hour, both sucked into their own projects. 

“I finished.” Damian breathed in satisfaction, stretching his hand and back in his chair at the admission. 

Danny eyed him with curiosity. “Can I see?” He asked. Danny wasn’t sure how right he had been about Damian using drawing to help regulate his ectoplasm and emotions, and he wanted to check how consistent it would be. Also he was really curious to see what he had drawn. 

Damian looked a little bashful at his request, but he nodded, handing the sketch book over to Danny. Danny could easily feel the ectoplasmic energy scattered across the page, it wasn’t as constant as the first drawing had been, but it was still there. So he was right. 

The drawing this time was of what had likely originally meant to be the barista, based on the outlines of the industrial coffee machine and register that had started out but been forgotten later for the center of the piece. The man was wearing an apron similarly like the one the barista had been wearing and a similar uniform, but that was the only similarities that Danny could draw from his surroundings in the drawing. The man, unlike their teenaged barista, was quite aged, with thin but well groomed hair, and a mustache. He had a longer face scattered with wrinkles of old age. The old man was looking down, presumably working on something, and seemingly happy with whatever it was. The ecto-signature was more concentrated around the old man, leading Danny to believe it was someone Damian likely loved and admired. 

“You’re so good at this.” Danny complemented, honestly. “Did you have fun?” He asked, it was starting to get dark and they had stayed at the cafe longer than Danny had asked him to without complaint. 

“Yeah, I did.” He answered after a moment. Danny ruffled his hair affectionately, “Hey, you’re gonna mess it up.” He complained, making no effort to remove himself. 

“C’mon, let’s get you home. I have to go to work soon.” Danny led them out of the store, just in time for an expensive looking black car to pull around the bend and expertly stop in front of him. 

“Young Master Damian, I’ve come to pick you up.” An old British gentleman spoke from the driver seat, it was the man from the drawing. 

“Understood, Alfred.” Damian turned to hand the art supplies back to Danny. 

“They’re yours.” Danny refused. 

“I’ll take care of them.” Damian promised, placeing the supplies carefully inside his book bag. 

“I’m sure you will.” Danny nodded, stepping back so the car could drive away. 

“Mister Daniel, I would have no problem taking you home as well. It is quite late now.” The driver spoke kindly. It surprised Danny how accurate Damian had drawn that picture without so much as a reference. 

“No it’s alright.” Danny waved away the idea, “I have to go to work now, and it’d be too out of the way for you.” He explained. 

The driver didn’t press, but Danny noticed how his eye caught on something in the distance before he bid his farewells and left. 

Danny made his way to the bus stop, and waited, mindlessly scrolling through his phone. Moments later another older teen approached the bus stop as well, waiting idly for the transport to arrive. He had black hair with a white tuft in the front, a sign of prolonged ectoplasmic exposure Danny knew all too well, roughly 6’ and some inches, and wore a hood of his red jacket over half his head. 

Danny supposed it was fitting for someone who called himself the Red Hood. 

The bus arrived, and both Danny and his co-passenger got at the stop before Arkham Asylum. Park Row AKA Crime Alley. By the time Danny clocked in and changed into his uniform for his shift it was already dark outside. 

“Welcome to BatBurger.” He said in chorus with the rest of the workers at the bell chime of the door opening. The man walked to the counter silently, his white tuft of hair skillfully swept under a baseball cap he hadn’t had before. When he approached Danny’s station, Danny took his order, and right before completing the transaction, as per procedure, “Can I get a name for your order?” He asked. 

“Jason Todd.” 

[lioncunt]

ok so.

1976. anne rice publishes interview with the vampire, a meditative novel she used as a way to understand and articulate her grief over the death of her five year old daughter. lestat is the fun antagonist (but really there isn’t a clear villain.) louis is anne’s grief projection of herself. armand is the wise but ultimately selfish second romantic interest. subtext that louis is in love with lestat, but it’s very much hidden beneath grief, as all his emotions are. this was intended to be a standalone novel.

1985. anne has thought about lestat for a decade and decides to make him the protagonist. she doesn’t like louis anymore (you could probably write a psychological essay on why.) lestat loves louis though! actually, lestat loves everyone! lestat is great in fact. and armand is fucking insane and tragic, and louis has always loved lestat and now they’re in massive massive love. and they will be forever, despite breakups and anne going back to the church and all the other crazy shit that happens for 30 years.

so they’re making a movie! except this movie is only interview with the vampire, and it isn’t really incorporating much or any of the rest of the series. lestat is his shallow antagonist self, louis is miserable, armand is old and wise. it’s the original vision of interview, without the 180 in characterization anne does. they don’t make the vampire lestat. they make queen of the damned but it sucks so oh well.

so amc is making a tv show! and they want it to be the ENTIRE SERIES. they WANT to put back in the fun loving and ultimately humanistic lestat that anne developed in the sequel onwards, the louis that deeply loves him, hopefully the armand that’s so complex and messed up. but the thing is, anne didn’t write those characters and relationships initially. she essentially retconned them, for the better. so in order to adapt ALL the books, necessary changes need to be made. lestat needs to be more layered, more lovable. louis needs to be more conflicted in the romance. there needs to be a CLEAR EXPLICIT INITIAL ROMANCE. they need to believably get to their dancing, living in a castle endgame. and the whiplash of the books just won’t translate to television.

so that’s the explanation of the change in loustat’s relationship from the book to the show. there’s reason for the other changes as well, but people have discussed that at length and no one’s discussed this so i thought i’d try and help people understand who may not know any of it.

[asksythe]

Dead languages and maybe Wei Ying is long-lost royalty

Today I had a discussion with @pakhnokh​ regarding why Wei Wuxian didn’t know the deeper layer of meaning behind the Lan forehead band. It was a long discussion on Twitter, so I figured I should just make a post here and leave this information out for anyone who might find it useful. 

To start off: The reason why Wei Ying didn't know the deeper layer of meaning of the Lan forehead band was in the book. But it was written in a very opaque way, in one single throw-away line. In the book, when Wei Ying had to copy the Lan rules, he specifically complained that the rules were written in seal script. 

The Useless Ye Olde’ Script

Seal script is a script that predated traditional Mandarin. It was infamous for being needlessly complex and having dozens, if not hundreds different dialects and writing methods. Some forms of seal script were entirely different languages altogether. When Qin Shi Huang united ancient China, he burned a lot of books and forced people to adopt a standard way to write, thus cementing traditional Mandarin as a singular language that is still used today, 2000 years after. A way to visualize how complex seal script was, is that there were 22 different ways to write the word 'sword'.

That is how mind-bogglingly complex it was. And worse, it was the source of much conflict in ancient times. To explain it simply, it was supposed to be one language. But if people could not even agree on how to write the same word, then how could they agree on more important things and cease warring against each other? 

Language standardization was one of Qin Shi Huang’s greatest achievements, if not the greatest, as it laid the foundation for more peace and eventual unification in later dynasties. 

This topic was made into an Academy Award-nominated movie, Hero by Zhang Yimou in 2002. 

(the word ‘sword’ that Qin Shi Huang decided on, thus wiping out the other 20+ ways to write the same word) 

Dating Mo Dao Zu Shi in real history (or, Wei Ying might actually be long-lost royalty) 

In a very interesting turn of events, MXTX has confirmed in her latest interview in Subaru magazine, that the events of MDZS happened during Wei Jin, Southern and Northern Dynasties (commonly referred to as the Six Dynasties era by English-speaking historians, even though these two don’t perfectly line up).

Yes, the same Wei 魏 in Wei Ying 魏婴, Wei Wuxian 魏无羡.

So the events in MDZS took place in the era immediately after the fall of the Qin dynasty (caused by Qin Shi Huang’s death and his sons not being able to measure up). Therefore, Wei Ying’s generation is in a time after the language has standardized into a single form. 

The Lan rules, at least the first set and the meaning of the forehead band, were written about 500 years before Wei Ying’s generation, at the founding of House Lan. So that would put it squarely in the pre-Qin, pre-lingual-standardization era. 

So by Wei Ying’s time, the Lan rules were essentially written in a dead, kinda useless, and very very hard-to-read-because-it-has-some-hundred-different-dialect language. 

That’s on top of the fact that it was probably written in the highest level of 书面语 shumianyu (written language) possible. I.e. extremely condensed and truncated (with zero punctuation). 

So the Lan rules are more or less a very thick law book of a different nation written in the strictest, most condensed dead language that is in no way, shape, or form still in practical use for Wei Ying (and most other people not Lan). Do you feel like reading it? I don’t. 

And that is why Wei Ying never figured out the original meaning of the forehead band despite having copied the rules hundreds of times (first day in class, he was already punished and sentenced to copying the rules 100 times by Lan Qiren). 

Because he was just copying the words without really reading them. This was mentioned when Wei Ying asked Lan Wangji the meaning of the Lan forehead band, and Lan Wangji replied with, you have copied the rules so many times and you still don’t know?  

But isn’t Wei Ying really well-read and smart, and what about the Wen book?

1/ Wei Ying is smart and well-read. There was one throw-away line in the book that mentioned his having read all the books available to him in Lotus Pier, and that he had read all kinds of trivia (including the Thousand Sores and Hundred Holes curse that got put on Jin Zixun). But it was also stated that he favored practical things or things that interested him. Lan rules in dead, extremely hard to read language are… well… yeah…

There was never any mention in canon where he remembered specific Lan rules unless it was literally beaten into him by teenage Lan Wangji.

2/ In the novel, the Lan rules are singled out as the only materials written in seal script. The Wen books were standard issued to everyone who took part in the Wen education camp. So the chance that it was written in seal script is low to none.  

Wei Ying is not the only person who doesn’t know the meaning of the Lan forehead band

Jiang Cheng didn't know either. Jin Ling didn't know either. During the Wen archery competition, when Wei Ying pulled off Lan Wangji's forehead band, he did ask Jiang Cheng what the hell was that, when Lan Wangji and other Lan members reacted like he did something shameful. Jiang Cheng replied with, how the hell would I know? Their house has so many rules. Just stop poking them. 

Jin Ling didn't know until the other Lan teenagers told him. The only characters who know this in canon are all members of Lan house. The impression that Wei Ying is the only one who doesn't know is 100 percent fanon. Keep in mind both Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling are clan heirs, so their education and knowledge of other houses absolutely are not low. 

In fact, the novel specifically shows that.....the rest of the cultivation world is not that clear on the actual specifics of Lan rules either. This is shown when Jin Zixun pressured Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji into drinking wine, a clear violation of Lan rules, and the rest of the cultivators in the banquet cheered him on.

 These cultivators were also heads of Houses or very high-ranking members. Many of them would have studied in Cloud Recess. So again, people who have high education… still know shit all about the actual specifics of Lan rules beyond a vague, general monk-like impression.

About the only other person aside from Wei Ying (and Lan members) who knew the specific rule that Lans do not drink in that banquet was Jin Guangyao, a character whose trademark is high intelligence and extreme social savvy (plus having roomed with Lan Xichen and taken care of him for unknown amount of time right before the Sunshot campaign)

Are there secret parts of the Lan rules?  

No. The Lan rules are public. The book is very clear on this. All Lan rules are carved into a massive stone placed at the foot of the mountain where Cloud Recess is, where anyone passing through or coming into House Lan can see it. 

This rule stone was first mentioned when Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian met for the first time. Wei Ying complained that he didn’t know the rules and why are there so many things forbidden in the Lan rules? Lan Wangji replied with, rules are written on the stone. Go read it yourself. 

The second time it was mentioned in the book, was Lan Qiren’s first class. The first thing he did was complained that even with the stone and rules being in open space, nobody bothered to read. So he will read the rules now. 

The book mentioned at least two different sets of Lan rules that both need to be obeyed: 礼则篇 Lize Pian (Book of Rites) 上义篇 Shang Yi Pian (Book of Justice). Whether the rules are separated further into more sets or not is unknown. 

Why are some Lan rules better known than others? 

Because Lan rules are based on 克己復禮 Keji Fuli, a real-life Confucius asceticism that calls for the restraint/purge of one’s ego and to return to the core rites. This is also newly confirmed in MXTX’s new interview, though it has been more or less heavily suggested in the book itself, with House Lan being known as the House of Gentlemen. 

Gentlemen here is not the Western ideal of Gentlemen, but rather a Confucius ideal and set of values. Confucius is the person who created this ideal in the first place. 

So it’s not that some rules are better known, but rather the entire image of Lan House is a huge pointer as to how they live their life: with great restraint. 

[shini--chan]

Hi, hello!! If possible, would it be ok for me to request the first yandere character sheet for america?? I absolutely love the way you characterize him!!

Yandere Character Sheet I

1p America: Alfred F. Jones

Trigger warnings: neglect, starvation, white torture, abandonment, forced assimilation, murder, physical and verbal abuse, mind games

Attributes - What sort of Yandere is he/she?

The problem with Alfred as a yandere would be how his base personality affects his yandere tendencies. Fundamentally, he wants to be a hero, he wants to help people and be selfless, but it is ruined by his self-centred worldview and his egoist ideology. At the end of the day, he is far more concerned about how you can benefit him, rather than how he can ensure and protect your happiness and health. America would only really be willing to change his actions if he faces negative consequences or it ruins his glorious self-image. Though, by putting you in a position where you are powerless in relation to him, he’ll be able to brush off/mitigate many of the negative consequences that could arise. Even if there is something that he wouldn’t be able to simply flick away, he would likely frame somebody else than engage in any soul-searching. To synthesise a few concrete characteristics out of all of this, he would be arrogant, self-righteous and in denial about any wrong doings on his part. 

That being said, Alfred would be perfectly capable of being a gentleman. Should he put some effort in it, then he’ll be the roguish and handsome boy-next-door to you. It would even feel very off or false since it would be partially true and not just an act. America is absolutely capable of being decent. All in all, it would just make everything more difficult, though. Since you wouldn’t be dealing with a pure sociopath, but a complex, layered person, he would be unpredictable in the worst way possible. No pure evil, but no pure good either - if anything, he would nourish any conflicting feelings you have about him. So, he would really take the phrase from Machiavelli, that it is best to be feared as well as loved, very much to heart. America would take you on dates, shower you with gifts, compliment you and take you home with him. He is so desirable, isn’t he? Above everything, he would want you to be smitten with him, since it would stroke his ego. 

He is also delusional, so he wouldn’t take much offence should he have to drag you to his side kicking and screaming. At the end of the day, what Alfred believes in most is his own hype. If he was a religion, then he is his own god, or at very least, the Chosen One. Any criticism would simply be water off a duck’s back and he’ll laugh at you. Here, he would also bring one of the worst of Christian traits to the fore and claim that you know the truth, know that he is good and moral and heroic, and that you’re just trying to lead him astray. So, rather than him having to repent, you should. Alfed would prove to be hard headed in everything, though on minor issues and things he would be more inclined to listen and admit that he’s wrong than on major ones. In total, he wouldn’t be extremely communicative on things he doesn’t like, excluding it is something that is tied to his idiosyncrasies, since he would think that rules of the game are clear to you. So, from a certain point onwards, you’ll find yourself walking on egg-shells around him, unless you figure him out and fast. 

Additionally, he is a very busy man. This is a person that can’t sit still for even an hour and has a mind that would constantly race from one train of thoughts to the next set of ideas. Life with him would never be boring (unless you are bad and don’t obey him), so you yourself might end up being too busy to notice all the red flags in the beginning. The start would also be the get-to-know-you phase, where you would have considerably more freedom, so life with him in it would feel exhilarating. While luring you in his fold, he would also be very indulgent towards you and take you where-ever you wish to go. A holiday to Tuscany? Booked and the luggage packed. Need help with your bills? They are already paid. Advise on some future life choice? His lecture/prep talk is going to be over two hours. 

Though, he is also calculating. Not only in the scheming, villain manner, but also in the most literal sense of the word. His actions regarding you, and even just the choice to engage with you is weighed against a set of internal scales. Like any savvy businessman, he wants the costs to him to be as minimal as possible while making maximum profit. To him, this is how the world works and there is absolutely nothing wrong with it. So, you would have to bring something to the table as well. Should he help you, then we’re supposed to help him in return. Get a loan from him, then pay it back full and with interest - should you have troubles with that, then he’ll have no problems in … tweaking you or also parts of your life to achieve the desired end result. 

Alfred is also manipulative, and to a horrifying extent. He’d not shy away from restricting your access to information, and sculpting your views to his liking. Even the information that you would be able to get your hands on would be framed to influence you and play on your emotions. He would know a whole array of psychological tricks and shortcuts that he wouldn’t hesitate to use on you. However, if you would do the same to him, he would scream foul. Rules for thee, but not for me indeed. That is a further problem with him - his own perceived exceptionalism dictates that he is above everybody else, and the other’s are just chess pieces on his game board. 

Cornering - How would they get you?

With the carrot and the stick. Ideally, you should never be aware of the stick, though if you put a toe out of line, the stick will become very noticable. In the case that you cooperate, then it would be a Hollywood romance (and like those protagonists in movies, he’ll be similarly incapable of accepting rejection). The future with you should be white and fluffy, akin to a picture-book perfect fantasy. He would also use promises and allusions to such a fate to get you where he wants you. If you have doubts, or if you are a not-so-willing bride, then some pressure would be applied - he would convince your relatives and friends that he’s the best option for you, and have them press-gang you into marrying him. 

Else, he’ll appeal to your naked self-interest, if you have such inclinations. He’ll present himself as the ideal protector, or a way to grant you financial security, or find some other way to awaken your interest. Perhaps you’ll even be convinced that you want the union more than him, that you’re the one using him to your advantage. 

Of course, if push comes to shove, then he would simply abduct you, break you down and rebuild you to his liking. To make an omelette, you have to break a few eggs - that would be his line of thinking if the. Asides, it would all be your fault for not having the right values. 

Expectations - What do they expect of you?

This is the tricky and controversial part. You see, part of Alfred’s expectations, ones that he isn’t even conscious of since he takes them as given, would be that you fit in his world view. What that would entail would be that you hold capitalism and liberalism to be the most progressive forms of politics, that the world must strive towards more freedom and more democracy to reach the end of history, that people are selfish and vainglorious and every interaction between people is nothing more than a transaction. That your lines of thought run on the exact same structures as his do - a liberal, faustian worldview. The matter here is, if you have a different outlook in that regard, then he wouldn’t accept it as valid. You would be declared evil or stupid, or both, by him and he would strive to “save you” and bring you to the light. 

One trait that he would consciously want of you, would be that you’re entertaining. If there is one thing that he wouldn’t tolerate well, then it would be boredom. Don’t induce that in him, don’t let him become bored with you - if you are already in his grasp and he grows disinterested in you, then you’d have a cruel fate ahead of you. Be unpredictable (but not too much, he wants to keep you under lock and key) and challenging to him. In the show that is his life, be either the villian that he must defeat or the love interest that he must save and conquer. . Hence, you'll always have to find ways to be novel and exciting to him - not an easy feat with such a capricious individual. Challenge him, change the rules of the game, make him suffer to have his pleasure. Not too much though - harm could befall you if you make matters too difficult while not having the upper hand. 

Whatsmore, he would expect you to heed him and look up to him. Let him up your knight in shining armour, your shining city on the hill. The trick would be finding the right balance of relenting and resisting; the tricky part would be that this balance would change over time and not in a very predictable fashion. Still, laud and lionise him, make him feel special and wanted. Should he have the feeling that you understand him like no other, then he would be less inclined to throw you away. This could be an advantage or a disadvantage, depending on how your overall standing to each other is. 

Further, he expects you to be of a cheerful disposition. You don't have to be sweet as sugar and everything nice, you are allowed to have a temper and swear and rage from time to time. Blazes, your niceness and optimism is allowed to be very selective. Though, it would have to be in the range of what he would deem as normal. That being said, if you don't entirely fulfil his expectations there, then he wouldn't see it as a dealbreaker. He can "fix" you after all. The end result should then be a person who is committed to him, who greets him at the door and reciprocates his affection. Him and you against the world. Shake your fist at everybody else; it is alright if he is the only one you give your smiles and heart to. 

Beauty is another characteristic that he would seek in a partner. You wouldn't even have to be conventionally beautiful to fulfil his expectations, or even healthy. That being said, he would want you to be pretty in a sense that sickness wouldn't tarnish your looks, like the Victorian ladies that suffered from tuberculosis. In a way, you should be the sort of person that could be cast in a movie. 

Faded - Would they let go of you in any way?

In the case that he would find somebody more enticing, then you would just be casted aside like a ruined doll. Not that he would necessarily throw you out onto the street; it would be more likely that you would be “stored” somewhere, withering away since that you wouldn’t be the centre of his attention anymore. Chances are that he would forget about you, forget to give you sustenance or maintain your hygiene - most likely he’ll only remember you when the stench of your decomposing body reaches his nostrils. That, or he would just drop you off in the middle of nowhere and leave you to fend for yourself. What happens to you beyond that, won’t be his business, or so he would insist.  

On a less macabre front, you could also just slip away in such a scenario and he wouldn’t really care, unless you divulge state secrets and/or sic the police on him. Aside from that, if something else would take up all his attention and commitment, you could actually have a fair chance of making a break for it and staying free forever. By the time he could spend time and attention on you, the trial would have gone cold. Maybe he would even give up on you then. 

Another possibility would be if he would be forced to let you go. Say, if his actions actually lead to negative consequences for him and his power wanes, third parties could intervene and rip you away from him. It could be that he would even become so powerless that he would be forced to live with the outcome. Other than that, there are some lines that even he (or especially he, depending on how you look at it) wouldn’t be able to cross. Should one his rivals take you under their wing, or a weaker person/nation even just successfully hide you, then there would be little he could do about it. 

Punishment - How would they proceed if you do something they disapprove of?

Oh, he can be very harsh. The tricky part with Alfred would be, that he takes a set of ground rules to be self-evident. So, should you break said rules then it wouldn't be because of a misunderstanding, a lack of knowledge or even just an accident. Instead, he would view it as you being purposefully disobedient. That's why you might find yourself spontaneously hulled away and locked in a closet, or tied to the bed. America wouldn't be above giving you a "time-out" in the corner either. 

Else, he would be a fan of white torture. Repeated violation of the ground rules would land you in the white room. You'd stay there for some time, living a very colourless life. Your meals would be white, just like your clothing and bed and overall surrounding. There wouldn't be anything in the room with which you could entertain yourself, just a bolted down bed and a waterless toilet. Other methods that would fall in the same category would be depriving you of sleep, waking you up at random times, or also exposing you to noises that are of very low frequencies. 

Or he would make you live the same day on repeat. The same food, the same books/movies, the same clothes, the same music - those parameters would be fixed, and none of your actions can change anything about it. It would only stop when he decides you've been punished enough. 

Alfred wouldn't resort to physical or sexual abuse to teach you a lesson. Not because he is such a decent person, or because he respects you so deeply, but to keep up appearances. He wouldn't be able to show you in public if you're black and blue, and you should spread your legs for him without him having to pry them apart. Though, if you ask him to lay you over his knee and spank you, then he'll gladly indulge you. And he'll make you ask him or trick you into signing a "permission slip". It would let him punish you as he would deem fit, without ruining the picture of a picture perfect relationship. That being said, if you gain the upper hand, then it would be a different picture. 

Aside from the aforementioned ground rules, there would be variable rules that he would introduce, implement, or discard at will. America would inform you of some of them. However, he is a busy man, and would forget to tell you about changes at times. You'll still be punished, no matter how much you'd protest, though he would be a bit more lenient here from time to time. So it could be some yelling and insults, or it could be him putting you on random medication so that you can suffer from the side effects, and from the intended effects as well. 

Reaction - How would they react to you escaping?

For a short answer - look at all those Hollywood movies. 

For a long answer - shouldering a rifle with a tranquiliser dart and hunting you down like a deer. He'll be tracking your phone and constantly looking into your bank transactions. A missing person report would be put out with a finder's fee or he would have you declared a wanted criminal on some trumped up charges. 

Various surveillance cameras will be monitored and followed, and he'll have agents stationed at airports and the like to intercept you should you appear there. If that wouldn't work, then he'll call in some favours to have somebody stab you in the back and return you to him. 

Should all that fail, then he'll issue an ultimatum to you in a way he would sure that you'll notice. 

Turnabout - Scenario: You have the upper hand? What would be different from their usual MO?

There is a way you could turn the tables without him realising it, or protesting against it too much. The interests of individuals as well as collectives don't always oppose each other, sometimes they align. So, you could manipulate him into doing your bidding by pulling his heart strings or playing on his fears. Since power isn't a zero sum game, and since he has a very skewed view of reality, chances are that he wouldn't even notice. Furthermore, he might be so engrossed with his own "supremacy", that he'll willingly turn a blind eye. 

Though, should he feel threatened or that you're gaining more power over him, then all hell would break loose. Defamation would ensue, and he would do anything to drag your reputation through the mud, with tactics and assertions that would seem straight up ludicrous the longer this situation would play out. Should matters escalate, then he would resort to even graver tactics right up to killing you. With his status under threat, he would pull guns out on you, break your bones, or even strangle you. 

Vengeance - What would they do in the face of competition?

If the person can be bought, they will be bought. Alfred would just through some meaningless things their way to get them to pipe down, make some empty promises, make them sell their soul to him. He would love the opportunity to pull the rug from under them, and he would surely find a way. The despair that they would display is something that he would live for. 

Naturally, there are other methods he would apply. Such as threats and physical intimidation. In those cases, he might end up acting too much like a Disney villain. Funny how the heroes become the villains, eh? As such, he wouldn't have any guilt in swinging his fists and granting his unfortunate opponent a trip to the hospital. The whole affair would be depicted as him defending your honour. 

And if the person goes missing to never be seen again, then what can he do about it? Any and all clues that would point to him being involved would be purely coincidental. 

[ellesliterarycorner]

Writing Subplots

Who doesn’t love a good subplot? Some of my favorites books are the ones that have super interesting subplots because who doesn’t love hearing about that secondary character development arc or those lovely side characters with the inevitably doomed romance? What’s not to like? But, subplots can often be one of the hardest to write and the most misunderstood storytelling elements. They aren’t part of the main narrative thread, so they can’t overtake it, but they also need to have their own story arc separate from the main plot. It’s a delicate balance that can be kind hard to strike, because subplots aren’t just secondary plot-lines, they have to serve a narrative purpose and engage with the story’s central conflict. 

First, let us define some different kinds of subplots

Mirror Subplot: A subplot where a side character experiences a conflict that mirrors the protagonist’s main conflict and gives the protagonist the insight or motivation they need to resolve their own conflict.

Romantic Subplot: The protagonist’s relationship with a love interest complicates their journey to resolve the story’s central conflict.

Parallel Subplot: a subplot where something seemingly unrelated occurs at the same time as the main plot and then all of a sudden the two plots collide towards the end of the book.

Complicating Subplot: a subplot where a secondary character’s actions actively complicates the protagonist’s journey with the central conflict

Foil Subplot: a subplot where a secondary character experiences the same or a very similar conflict as the protag but wants to resolve that in a different way (this contracts or creates a “foil” that highlights the protagonists qualities and characteristics)

There are a lot more different kinds of subplots, but these are some of the most common, so here are some tips for writing subplots!

Is That Necessary? 

This is the first question we should ask ourselves anytime we add anything to our stories, but especially subplots. Sometimes, authors (meaning me) will get to the end of writing their first draft and realize that they are not anywhere close to their goal word count. To remedy this, they will just throw in a cute little subplot. Unfortunately, friends, this does not work. The best, effective subplots should be integral to a story’s central conflict. If you can remove your subplot from the story without their being a big impact on the central conflict, then the subplot doesn’t really serve a strong narrative purpose. We most often see this problem arise in romantic subplots. Authors will just throw in a romance or the dreaded love-triangle as a subplot for absolutely no reason. I’m the first person to admit I love a good romantic subplot, but I also like it to be there for a good reason. That is why the Hunger Games will never go out of my top five all time books/series because despite what a lot of people think the romantic subplot in that story is essential. Katniss and Peeta’s love story is the reason they both survive the Games which is the central conflict of the book. It works perfectly, and if you want a good example of a subplot done well, look no further.

Keep the SUB in Subplot

Honestly, sometimes the subplot really is better than the main plot. That’s not necessarily a good thing, but I think we have all read a book where the main plot just drags and you just can’t wait to get back to your favorite side characters and their little adventure. But, a good subplot shouldn’t steal the limelight from the main plot. It should enhance the main plot and maybe add a layer of complexity but never overshadow. Going back to my example for the day, the Hungers Games does a really good job of this. I read something once where someone said Katniss’s romance overshadows the Games and the Rebellion, and I was like, did we read the same book? If you go back and read the books, Katniss doesn’t think about her romance with Gale or Peeta all that much. She’s mostly thinking about her own survival and the survival of her family. Both of which relate directly to the main plot. We never forget about the romance in the book because it is important, but in my opinion, it never overshadows the main plot of the Games and the Rebellion even in the first book where it’s more heavily featured. 

But, Its Still A Plot

On the flip-side of that, even though the subplot shouldn’t overshadow the main plot, it still needs to follow its own narrative arc. This is where a lot of new author’s get lost. A subplot is way more than just a short conversation or a quick event that inconveniences or helps the protagonists. All your subplots need their own beginning, middle, and end. Make sure that you definitely developed all of your story’s subplots accordingly. That includes paying attention to all of your characters’ goals, motivations, and the conflict that they experience. Generally when I’m in the development stages of the subplot, I develop it the same way that I develop one of my main plots. While they do not necessarily need the same attention or development as your main plot, developing them with the same goals in mind will only help you in the long run!

[knife-moth-mc]

a non-comprehensive but pretty long list of specific things about the baby is you that i think are good or make it good art in some way

The specificity of “what the fuck are you doing on the ground writhing in pain”. I feel like a more normal thing to say would be something like “Are you okay???” It’s very This Gun That I Have In My Right Hand Is Loaded

The layered voices when dave denies being pregnant

The fact that john’s immediate next question after “who’s the father?’ is “who’s the baby?” as if that’s in any way a question that makes sense

Woooooo….. police sirens police sirens…… wooooooo……

John meowing fully unprompted

The extremely Homestuck-specific euphemisms throughout

“I’m not even born yet, that’s not fair!”

Karkat showing up out of absolutely nowhere

Karkat voice “I must be the…. mmmmmidwife.”

Karkat immediately interrupting the unfolding baby situation to sing a little song about his hatecrush on john

Rose’s VA’s ooc lines just kind of thrown in there at what initially seems like random but if you pay attention it makes a certain kind of rhythmic sense

The reveal that rose is pregnant being followed by a betrayed “Rose!” said by both dave and rose

“Suck that bitch’s dick!” “I’m going to—That’s not what I’m doing! That’s the opposite of what I’m doing!”

Hearts. And minds. And souls. And hearts.

The genuinely catchy sung section of the rose rap

The slant rhyme of serengeti with spaghetti

Dave basically turning to the camera to say “incest is bad” before immediately proposing to his sister

The pathos of rose’s confession that she lied about being pregnant, followed by dave’s extremely flat, emotionless reassurance

“Being pregnant might be against the rules of the MSPA forum but shipping us together is not, for some reason”

Bro showing up to provide a new conflict now that all the rose stuff is resolved

The conflict being specifically that he wants to eat babies

“He’s never tried to eat my babies before” implying that there were previous babies

Bro’s forbidden technique being just “words that rhyme with themselves” and then him almost instantly fucking it up

“Actually, a fight sequence was entirely unnecessary, so it was deleted, and what happens is that in the end, it turns out Bro was a robot, I mean… it was just complex, given the fact that this is a normally simple story about, you know, like a thirteen year old boy giving birth to his bre—best friend. It didn’t fit the archetypes, so I’m going to move on to the next song, and you can just… chillax a little bit.”

KC Green (the guy who made This Is Fine and I Guess and a bunch of other well-known images used as memes) being there completely unexplained to lead a sing-along. Like it makes sense historically but in the album itself it just kinda happens

Andrew hussie being directly addressed by name just to really drill in the fact that this is pointed commentary

The very confident implication that babies are a different species entirely

compiled because @420technoblazeit doesn't know how to appreciate this masterpiece

[flower-boi16]

I genuinely hate how Season 2 derailed Loona as a character

I actually liked Loona in Season 1. She wasn't an amazing character, sure, but she was decently compelling and nuanced in Season 1. Despite Loona's cold hearted & gruf attitude, she did show genuine care for Blitz as her father.

Spring Broken is the first episode where the two have a major conflict with each other, with her developing feeelings for Vortex and Blitz just being a bit overprotective of her.

Despite the drama...not getting resolved within the episode, it works fine enough and you can kind of understand Loona's perspective here; she was almost going to be eighteen, until Blitz adopted her and now she was under his wing, plus Blitz being heavily over-bearing to her as shown in this episode. And it is shown that she does immediantly regret what she said to him, that she didn't need him then and she still doesn't need him now.

Despite the uh, very big world-building issues Queen Bee causes, I actually do really like the episode for the development it gives for Loona's reletionship with Blitz. The episode does show that, although Loona is very cold-hearted and frequently gets annoyed at Blitz constantly babying her all the time, she does have genuine care for him as her father. She comforts and takes care of Blitz in the episode and even proudly proclaims that she is her dad, showing that she's proud to be his daughter, in spite of how over-bearing he might be.

It's good development for her and her reletionship with Blitz that adds more nuance and depth to her as a character. You can understand her frusterations to Blitz to an extent from her perspective and the show makes it clear she isn't completely an asshole. It makes for an interesting and complex father daughter reletionship, where the two don't always get along with each other (and frequently may have conflicts with each other) but they do still genuinely care for each other. It felt like she had real layers to her in Season 1...

...and then Season 2 came along and ruined everything. Seeing Stars completely character assasinated Loona as a character on so many levels. She suddenely starts acting extremely aggressive towards over asking her to just be slightly nicer to clients. I already talked about before why Seeing Stars' thematic messaging fails but the rest of the episode THEN makes Loona such a massive hypocrite; she's out here telling Octavia that she learn to apperciate how hard her father tries to do his best to be the best father for her when SHE in the SAME EPISODE treats her OWN FATHER like complete shit.

Even worse, Loona never apologizes to Blitz for how she previously treated him before, and even after he apologizes for threatening to replace her, as he's running straight to her to give her a hug, Loona kicks him in the balls. This is extremely OOC for Loona and directly spits in the face of her past development in Season 1. It's character regression and assasination, plain and simple.

Western Energy continues new characterization in Season 2, now making her even more aggressive than she was in Seeing Stars with her flat out acting like a wild animal. Like, she litteraly goes to attack the docter once he brings out the needle and just fucking looses it.

I really hate how Loona has become so much more needlessly aggressive to others in Season 2 when that wasn't who she was in Season 1. She had more of the attitude of a moody teenager rather than this.

Loona went from a character with a decent amount of nuance to being completely derailed into an overly aggressive bitch who attacks others, and it's another example of Season 2 ruining one of the show's most interesting characters.

[zahri-melitor]

I think one of the interesting things about comics is the depth of characterisation. And one of the ways characters get that depth is by effectively ending up hypocrites. And how they get there is by taking a story where often people are yelling that it's bad characterisation, and looking at it to work out 'okay, but it happened, how do I fanwank that into fitting?'

It's the next line on from 'he would never say that!" Okay, but now he has said that. What made him say that, and why? What do you have to do to the character to set him up to say that?

Because generally, I would in most circumstances find a way to make the story fit, rather than discard it. Because by working out how to fit it, it can deepen characterisation, by showing when and why they cross a line.

For instance, take Dick. Dick in Resurrection of Ra's Al Ghul is convinced that trying to resurrect loved ones in a Lazarus Pit is a lost cause and you won't get back the person you lost. Dick in Batman & Robin 2009 however puts what he thinks is Bruce's corpse in a Lazarus Pit to try and get Bruce back. That, on the surface, is an obvious contradiction. Why is Dick crossing that line? Well, Dick's a hypocrite, because when it's Bruce, he has to try, even though deep down he's aware it's a lost cause. A contradiction that almost certainly occurred because Morrison fundamentally does not pay attention to what other writers are doing with characters leads to a situation that gives more depth to Dick and Bruce's relationship, because we see where Dick had to struggle with his own instincts.

Take Tim. On the face of it, Tim and Damian's rivalry was unexpected and out of character. Tim is a character who makes friends easily, has worked with difficult characters and antiheroes on multiple occasions, who is good with children and known to form solid bonds with them. Yet Morrison clearly wanted Tim off panel and unavailable for their story, and so...Tim's reaction to Damian's arrival turns into a rivalry. And the reason why it works? Because we find that Tim and Damian are simultaneously occupying the other's biggest blindspot and insecurity. Tim has to work hard to accept Damian (and Damian equally has to work hard to accept Tim) because of how much they press the other's buttons. And it's a huge part of their long term relationship now! But on the face of it, it was not an expected reaction on Tim's part, especially since in the same period, Tim is extremely sweet and welcoming working with Chris Kent and Helena Kyle.

Take Barbara and Helena. The thing I love most about Babs and Helena's relationship is the layers of conflict that build up between then. Because while some writers gloss it as "Babs is jealous that Helena and Dick had a one-night stand", that's not all of it or even the largest part of it. Helena, by becoming The Bat in No Man's Land very specifically did something calculated to piss Barbara off: she saw Helena as trying to be Batgirl, and a Batgirl who was violent and ready to kill if necessary, of having assumed the mantle without asking. And Babs hated that. But equally, Helena had reasonable grievances: she wasn't thinking of Batgirl, she was trying to be BatMAN, and Barbara is rude to her and often refuses to work with her even as Babs will support other violent characters (Jean-Paul particularly in that period) and sides with Bruce against Helena. Helena doesn't like Babs because she sees Barbara as too close to Bruce and not getting called out for her behaviour (almost shooting Black Mask in No Man's Land!). Barbara doesn't like Helena as she won't follow the rules that keep vigilantes safe and working with the GCPD in Gotham (and because she's got a jealous personality and yeah, doesn't particularly like people who've slept with Dick). And this complex net of perfectly reasonable dislike between the two makes their relationship far more interesting, even as it built up largely via writers who did not care why they disliked each other and just wrote them as 'jealous' because women don't like other women, right?

Take Bruce and his varying reactions to his children dying. Because even as some of it is tied up in Dc's changing approach to the finality of death between the 1980s and present, it says such interesting things about Bruce, because Bruce was torn up but put in the work to move past his grief over Jason's death, to move on and keep living, to the point he rejected a villain offering the opportunity to resurrect Jason (Neron, in Underworld Unleashed). And that contrasts to the way he reacted to Damian's death, where he tried to accept it, but kicked and fought once a villain offered the opportunity to resurrect Damian and worked to get Damian back alive, in the most desperate circumstances. And that also contrasts to Tim's 'death', where Bruce is again horribly cut up and guilty over it, but accepts the death and doesn't investigate it like he does Jason or Damian's, leading to the situation where Tim is certain that Bruce will come to rescue him, but Bruce isn't even looking because he's sure Tim is dead and he's not fighting to get him back. And that's hypocritical! Bruce fights so much harder to get Damian back than the other two! Tim has to rescue himself, and Bruce is horrified when he realises that he should have been looking for Tim, especially when Tim fought so hard to find him when he was missing. It's a contradiction! It says things about Bruce's reactions to the deaths of loved ones around him and how far he'll go to get them back. Because Bruce will not resurrect his parents (Tower of Babel you will always be famous). He won't resurrect Alfred or Jason or Tim. But he did resurrect Damian.

And so, when I read Damian getting stroppy in Batman #149 over Bruce's Zur-Clone, I both see why people who are very fond of Damian think it's bad characterisation, but I also see it and think: Damian's being a hypocrite, and he's hurt and cut by the fact that Bruce's focus isn't on him.

Yes, Damian has a fascinating relationship with his own clones in Robin: Son of Batman. I've read it, and I saw his growth and acceptance of his disfigured clones, who he saw as representations of the bad parts of him that also deserved acceptance. That's some powerful imagery. But just because Damian accepts his own clones, doesn't mean he is going to be accepting of someone else's. Damian's rude and pointed about Kon's existence as a clone. For Damian to be grumpy and disparaging over the personhood of a brand new, fast aging clone who attacked him? Yeah, that's a personal hypocrisy I can see.

Everyone was just fine about beating up and destroying the Failsafe robots and ZEA robot Batman, who also had transplanted personalities. There are plenty of robots in DC who are awarded humanoid status (the Metal Men and Red Tornado just for starters). What is the line that makes ZEA robot Batman not 'human' but Bruce's Zur-Clone human? If Damian's mentally categorising the clone with Zur rather than in the set of 'human', of course he thinks Bruce is dwelling and obsessing over a clone that is shortly going to die, and who he doesn't see as being worth fighting to save.

And so what is a bit of characterisation largely for narrative reasons (Zdarsky wanted someone in the scene to go 'why are you fighting for this, Bruce') turns into another layer of the Damian story: where he can be a little hypocrite, who often reacts very differently when an issue is personal to him to when a similar issue is affecting someone else. That's repeated behaviour for him. Damian doesn't tend to react well to other characters getting attention that he sees as his.

I dunno. I see the complaints but it's also something that I can very easily fanwank into my perception of the character. It gives Damian more depth. Contradictions often do.