terrorism is over

The 3 Elements of a CHARACTER GOAL

You know that moment in a book or movie, near the end, where everything has gone terribly wrong? All has been lost, the main character appears to have been brutally defeated, the mentor has probably kicked the bucket, and generally things couldn’t look bleaker? 

Writing feels like that moment.

Or more accurately, one point in the writing process feels akin to that dark night. It’s that time after the intrepid writer has pushed through the first draft of the story – they’ve brainstormed the development process, sailed through the beginning, blazed through the middle – and then quite suddenly …everything falls apart.

And this despair can be summed up in one soul-crushing sentence: “What happens at the end?" 

The writer realizes that they don’t know. A giddy optimism has propelled them thus far, a chipper little voice in the back of their head assuring "Don’t worry about the end yet! It’ll sort itself out!”

That little happy voice, it turns out, is a liar. 

But your reign of terror is over, lying voice. There’s a way to fix it so you can never trick another writer again. Because knowing what happens at the end comes down to knowing something right in the beginning: knowing three integral facets of the main character. If you know this golden trio, you’ll have a much better chance of knowing exactly what happens at the end: because the end is all about these three. 

So what are these three things? 

GOAL: What the main characters wants, and will pursue throughout the story, overcoming all obstacles and enemies to obtain. 

WANT: Their reasons for wanting it, which is usually to fill some emotional void they sense in their lives, something they believe will fix life and make it complete.

NEED: What they TRULY require to fill that emotional void, to be complete. 

Yup, three of the things listed in that other post “10 Elements of a Main Character”. But now, we’re going to delve into more detail, the elements of a good Goal, a good Want, and a good Need. 

So what goes into a story GOAL? Goals should be …

SINGULAR: The character must have one objective, and only one. A desire, and the overcoming of obstacles to achieve it, form the spine of the story. If there are two, the character is split between two storylines; they are trying to balance two stories at once, confusing them and confusing the reader. 

TANGIBLE: The goal must be something REAL. Something we can see and feel. 

SPECIFIC: In addition to being tangible, it must be highly specific. If the goal was to “escape” it would have to be “escape to a definite destination”. It can’t be at all vague or easily fulfilled by many objects: it must be finding a specific object, winning a specific prize, getting to a specific destination, etc.  

Like in Tangled: The goal is “see the floating lights.”

NOT EMOTIONS/STATES OF MIND: The goal can’t be something like “happiness” or “belonging” or “love.” Those aren’t tangible, they’re not specific, and most of all the reader can’t envision it being achieved. The goal CAN be a physical representation of an emotional state; obtaining this specific and physical objective will mean achieving the emotional state. 

IMAGINABLE: We should be able to easily envision the main character achieving the goal. When we see it, we know it’s happening, know that everything has been building to this moment.

Like in Monsters Inc, we know what getting Boo back home is going to look like (though in the beginning, we don’t know that it’s going to be heartbreaking.)

NOBLE: The goal should be something the reader can cheer on. The reader understands why the main character wants it. The reader can relate to the goal, and the emotional reason behind it.

Cheer like this.

STAKES: If they fail, something will be lost. If they choose not to pursue the goal, things will be very bad. There can’t be a sense that if they stop going after the goal at any point, life could just go back to how it was. When the catalyst came in and shattered their ordinary world and everyday routine, the story entered the realm of “nothing will ever be the same” and the only way to restore order to their universe is to achieve this thing. And that thing that will be lost must be something we can relate to, something significant: love, safety, family, life, future, freedom, loved ones. 

What goes into the WANT? The want is…

CONNECTED TO GHOST: The ghost is a moment from their past that still haunts them, and is the source of their moral and psychological weaknesses. Their reasons for wanting the goal should be connected to this moment. They believe that if they achieve it, their world will be fixed, life will go back to how it was before this haunting moment occurred.

MISGUIDED: And they’re usually always wrong. Achieving the goal just as it is will never fix what’s broken in their lives. 

SAVING GRACE: It’s often this Want behind their goal that acts as their saving grace in the eyes of the reader. Sometimes it’s hard to connect with a character – they’re difficult to understand, easy to find unappealing, even downright unpleasant – until we know why they are the way they are. (Think Marlin from Finding Nemo; he’s pretty unlikable and frustrating half the time, but we know why he’s behaving that way, so it’s easier to forgive him.) 

What do all of these character NEEDS have in common?

HOW TO FIX LIFE: In their pursuit of the tangible goal, something else is revealed that will truly save their lives. This is some truth that will banish the power of the ghost, let the character see themselves clearly for the first time, and show them what needs to be done to live a better life in the future. This usually arrives right after that “Dark Night” moment, which is usually when the goal has been achieved or lost; the truth revealed in this moment will allow them to snatch victory from this darkest defeat, renew their courage, inspire them to soldier on and pursue the story goal once more. 

NEW WORLDVIEW: This crucible of battle and revelation of truth changes them. They’re not the same person anymore. They’ve conquered the thing that haunts them, overcome weaknesses, have greater knowledge of themselves and life.

Okay! So how does this work? Let’s use Wreck-It Ralph, because I’m in the mood.

What is Ralph’s Goal? 

A medal. 

A single medal will suffice. A tangible medal that we can easily envision. A specific medal, namely the one he got from Hero’s Duty.  A medal that we can imagine him obtaining, bringing to the Nicelanders, and using to change his lot in life. 

It’s easy to cheer on because it means Ralph doesn’t have to live in the garbage, alone anymore. We can relate to it, and cheer it on, because nobody wants to be alone (especially not while living in garbage). 

And the stakes for this are obvious: ___.

Now how about what Ralph wants?

This medal is connected to Ralph’s ghost which is years and years of being the bad guy. The bad, unlikable, unloved, unworthy, friendless guy. 

He thinks if he gets it, he’ll become the good guy at long last, and his loneliness and lack of self-worth will end. 

How is this his saving grace? It immediately makes the audience empathize with Ralph. Everyone, at some point, has felt alone and unloved. 


What about what he Needs?

Getting the medal doesn’t work out for Ralph. It doesn’t fix anything. What he NEEDS is this medal:

To become a hero, he needs to be the hero for Vanellope. 

New Worldview: 

“As long as that little kid likes me … “ 

So these three are the destination. These are what everything is going towards. If you know these three elements, you’ll have a much better chance of an ending forming in your head. So take that annoying little liar voice.

You know what that voice looks like?  Her. It looks like Umbridge.

Sorry I wanted you to hate it as much as I do.

“I saw the painting in my mind: the lovely fawn, blooming spring vibrant behind her. Standing before Death, shadows and terrors lurking over his shoulder. Light and dark,the space between their bodies a blend of the two.”

Now I can finally sleep in peace… 

Sorry I have to change the previous Elriel post because I have this sudden urge to change azriel’s pose DX

and still… Mor coming up!!


EDIT: Finally change Elain’s eye color into brown (so sorry I forgot the color > <)

2

YOU’RE NOT WRONG

You know, I really love all those ‘Earth is Space Australia’ ideas and humans as the super tough, super unflappable space badasses who can smile in the face of any danger and who will pet absolutely anything that mostly isn’t toxic and sits still long enough. I adore them. However, sometimes I do wonder … do aliens have phobias?

Because I can’t help thinking that somewhere in this future universe there’s the one human who went to space because spaceships are relatively sterile environments and therefore in space there are less bugs*. And then one day a guest comes onto the ship and their multilegged pet comes slithering out from under their fashionable collar and suddenly from the back of the shuttle bay there’s this high-pitched, hysterical screaming. And the alien crew turn around and there is their human, their badass, amazingly tough human, the one who managed to survive with half her leg torn off that one time long enough to make it back to medbay, the one who bluffed space pirates for a full half-cycle without so much as a quiver, the one who had to be forcibly restrained from petting the nine-foot slavering hregallar on Threlanix because apparently they were 'adorable babies’ … that human, their human, is suddenly clinging to the ceiling in blatant defiance of the ship’s artificial gravity and wailing her head off in absolute terror over a pathetic little xhilitin. The tiny, stupidly harmless insects that about sixteen species keep as pets because their jewelled carapaces are lovely and decorative and they’re so dumb and harmless that they’ll cheerfully sit on your hat as an ornament from here until infinity.

So the mildly shellshocked aliens try and calm their human down and they get her to medbay and they’re asking 'are the xhilitin on Earth dangerous?’, which, probably, apparently everything on Earth is deadly, but none of it has ever terrified their human before, and their absolutely mortified human is going 'no, well yes, some of them are, that’s not the point, it doesn’t matter if they’re dangerous or not, I just don’t fucking like them, okay, please never let one aboard ship again, i will love you forever and fight off a hundred pirates for you if you just keep the creepy leggy little fuckers the hell away from me, i’m so fucking serious right now, i am begging you’.

And she is absolutely deadly serious, and it makes no sense whatsoever, but suddenly the entire crew are 100% for never, ever letting xhilitin aboard the ship again. Because, well. She would fight off a hundred pirates for them, she has fought off a hundred pirates for them, she’s dragged herself back with half her leg torn off that one time after saving Lehm and Ehletol from the nine-foot slavering beasties she still thinks are adorable. There is no rational reason in the universe for her to be afraid of xhilitin, but it doesn’t matter, because she is, and that means this ship is suddenly a no-insect zone from now until forever.

Because hey, okay, humans are tough, humans are insane, humans come from Space Australia, but sometimes humans come with a couple of odd little quirks, sometimes they’re randomly terrified of ridiculously harmless things, and that’s okay. That’s okay. That just means that sometimes aliens get a chance to look out for their humans in return.


* please allow me my comforting illusions and do not inform me of how unsterile and full of bugs spaceships really are, okay, this is future sci-fi land where spaceships are clean and free of creepy crawlies and nobody needs to have nightmares

Malia Obama Caught Breathing in Public

By: Jersey Fonseca

Recently, Malia Obama was seen in a video lifting her skirt and shaking her butt at a music festival in Chicago. At that same festival, there was also a video of her smoking a marijuana. Well, it seems as though her reign of terror is not over. Sources have reported that Malia has been found breathing in public. When the video of Malia breathing went viral, Tomi Loren had some things to say about this.

“Never in my years have I seen someone so heinous,” Loren for some reason yelled. “I mean the PRESIDENT’S daughter. Trump’s children would never be caught doing anything of the sort. This is why all Democratic movements must be put to an end.”

This monstrosity cannot continue anymore, and if Barrack has any control over his kids, as he should, he should realize that they should not be allowed to do things that normal teenagers do.

Disneyland Piano Lullaby
onefine_morning

Disneyland Piano Lullaby // Arranged by ear by onefine_morning

Songs in order: When You Wish Upon a Star, Pirates of the Caribbean (Yo Ho Yo Ho), Peter Pan’s Flight (You Can Fly!), Main Street USA (Married Life from “Up”), Haunted Mansion, Splash Mountain, Space Mountain, Indiana Jones, Mad Tea Party, Tower of Terror (Twilight Zone Theme), Fantasmic!, Soarin’ Over California), It’s a Small World, When You Wish Upon a Star.

Previous lullabies: Star Wars, Jurassic Park, Harry Potter, LOST

ily: I love you

ilysm: I love you so much

titththsiwbuitsiwythwhhtltsnrdtsnsemhwhtfttawrtmhbsabaihcffwtlatprrcrattsisafarmstihsmathcatataaiwowmhettabhbhwtihethratbeaeaneansatsmgihiaassgeewatohbiashtrotdsihnfmotsstmsdbtdbspsiimawasthgthhapthotlbiiiwsywiidkhtuiimsydhtisgcaiscewmwaschfatbcgaaaiwhoahlotbnrsfwhfbohowatsotwihnosalapttkeluaatemhhslothotbistpimmtlfbsvbhsbdsatlohsladtsbtbabotttoboctk : “This is Truth-Teller,” he told her softly. “I won’t be using it today-so I want you to.” His wings had healed-though long, thin scars now raked down them. Still not strong enough, Madja had warned him, to fly today. The argument with Rhys this morning had been swift and brutal: Azriel insisted he could fly-fight with the legions, as they planned. Rhys refused. Cassian refused. Azriel threatened to slip into shadows and fight anyway. Rhys merely said that if he so much as tried, he’d chain Azriel to a tree. And Azriel…It was only when Mor had entered the tent and begged him-begged him with tears in her eyes-that he relented. Agreed to be eyes and ears and nothing else. And now, standing amongst the sighing meadow grasses in his Illyrian armor, all seven Siphons gleaming… Elain’s eyes widened at the obsidian-hilted blade in Azriel’s scarred hand. The runes on the dark scabbard. “It has never failed me once,” the shadowsinger said, the midday sun devoured by the dark blade. “Some people say it is magic and will always strike true.” He gently took her hand and pressed the hilt of the legendary blade into it. “It will serve you well.” “I-I don’t know how to use it-” “I’ll make sure you don’t have to,” I said, grass crunching as I stepped closer. Elain weighed my words…and slowly closed her fingers around the blade. Cassian gawked at Azriel, and I wondered how often Azriel had lent out that blade- Never, Rhys said from where he finished buckling on his own weapons against the side of the wagon. I have never once seen Azriel let another person touch that knife. Elain looked up at Azriel, their eyes meeting, his hand still lingering on the hilt of the blade. I saw the painting in my mind: the lovely fawn, blooming spring vibrant behind her. Standing before Death, shadows and terrors lurking over his shoulder. Light and dark, the space between their bodies a blend of the two. The only bridge of connection…that knife.

Quinceañera

When I was 15, my best friend at the time happened to be Colombian. So when it came around to her 15th birthday, her Quinceañera, she of course invited me. Granted I had never been to a quinceañera before, I had no idea what to do, so I was somewhat nervous. It didn’t help that everyone there was a fluent in Spanish except me. Since I was her best friend, she invited me to sit with her and her parents at the head table. Half way through the party, her pastor got up and started addressing us all in Spanish. Not understanding what he was saying, I would just mimic what everyone else was doing as he spoke. When everyone bowed their head to pray, I would do the same. So I thought nothing of it when a few people started to raise their hand. Suddenly, my friend’s mom jumps across the table and slaps my hand down. I look at her in terror as my friend leans over and whispers “He just asked all the parents to raise their hands…” Now, in case you were wondering, the pastor had in deed noticed this as well. He makes direct eye contact with me, smiles, and says “don’t worry. I’ll say all the important parts for you in English from now on~!”

I was mortified, but boy did I get a lot of good natured and supportive hugs from strangers after that.

all you terrors: arguing over which of the characters from star wars force awakens should bone each other

me: getting shrunk to microscopic size and being eaten by a louse

Nerval: there was a beautiful woman but it turned out she was MADE OF CRUELTY and ATE THE HEARTS OF MEN–

Me: oh here we goddamn go, all right, I guess you all have to do this– 

Nerval: –because she made me PARTICIPATE IN AN UNPLANNED PLAY IN PUBLIC and KEPT MESSING WITH THE LINES 

Me: –nope okay you’re right, she is a FIEND IN HUMAN FORM 

#5 Who is more terrifying? Anti or Dark?

Yes, I’m back at it with the fucking headcanon.  

WARNING:
POTENTIAL NIGHTMARE FUEL
ABUSE & TORMENT & CREEPY SHIT

If you cope with their existence by imagining them as misunderstood or ‘a bit creepy’, to tone down the horrors of demonic possession then this is NOT the headcanon for you.  Move along.  Nothing to see here.  You’ve been warned.

Keep reading

Fight or Flight (Elorcan) pt 1

(in which I am once again a slut for modern day Elorcan. I’ve wanted to do something like this for a while, so I hope it’s okay! ) 

Elide Lochan tapped her fingers impatiently against her jeans, her carry-on bag slung over one shoulder. Airports always made her antsy- part of her expected her uncle Vernon to just appear out of nowhere. He’s in jail, she reminded herself. If he ever gets out, it won’t be for another ten years at least.
   

The day she’d stood against her Uncle as a witness had been one of the hardest days of her life, but it had been worth it. He’d been charged with battery, assault, neglecting a child, fraud, and also dealing illegal substances for his boss’s company. She hadn’t known about that last one, but it had been a definite plus. Three years ago, that had happened.
  

 And for four years now she’d been free of him. Four years since she had hunted down her God siblings Aelin and Aedion, four years since she had met Manon and the Thirteen and had her first friends since she was a child. Four years since she had vowed never to go back to Morath, and that was a promise she intended to keep. Her life was, if she was being honest, amazing. She owned her own bookstore in Perranth, the town she’d been raised in, and was perfectly content living above it in her cozy little apartment.
 

 It had been almost two years since she’d had her last night terror.
  

 She handed over her ticket to the clerk, smiling politely when it was scanned and handed back to her, and limped through the gate towards the plane. Usually, she’d never go directly from one place to another, but Manon had insisted she come for a few days to her home in the Wastes. It had been a damn long time since they’d seen each other, and it seemed her friends weren’t okay with waiting until Thanksgiving.
  

 So that had been the last six days for her, but instead of going home to Perranth and her little bookstore, Anneith’s, named after the Greek Goddess of wisdom, she was going straight to her sister’s wedding. She’d been sure Lysandra was going to be the maid of honor, so when she had been bestowed it instead, she may have cried a little bit. And it wasn’t like she couldn’t afford traveling from one place to the next- not only did she have the steady income of the bookstore, but she had all the money her parents had left her. The money Vernon had hoarded from her for years.
 

  She let a family of four pass her, not wanting to slow them down with her crippled leg, and then started going again, entering the plane. The stewardess smiled and asked if she needed any help after a glance at her ankle. Elide kindly refused- it was insulting, honestly, when people thought she needed help. She had escaped her Uncle, had navigated through bustling Orynth and found her family and friends with that ankle. It wasn’t, and never had been, an excuse for her to not be able to do something.
  

 She shoved her carry-on into the compartment above her head and then slid into the first class seat, glancing out the window. Nothing but concrete and the grey skies of the Wastes awaited her. She wished Manon had been able to come with her to Aelin and Rowan’s wedding, but she had the last of her recently deceased grandmother’s paperwork to deal with, and she couldn’t get away. Her lover, Dorian, would be there to offer her congrats, at least.
    

 There was a shifting, and Elide glanced over as a towering man slid into the remaining seat next to her, not even sparing her a glance. He was incredibly handsome, even with the scowl that seemed permanently sketched into his face, and if the designer jeans and jacket over his black Henley said anything, he had money. She allowed herself to appreciate the dark hair and eyes and the muscle of him for a second more before she turned back towards the window. When she felt the weight of his eyes finally fall on her, she didn’t look over.
 

  They were quiet through everyone settling into their seats, and when the pilot announced that they’d be taking off soon and began to go through safety guidelines as they did through every flight, Elide blew out a breath, buckling up. The handsome stranger’s gaze was buried in his phone, and she moved to dig out her own phone. She texted Aelin quickly, saying she’d be landing on time in five hours, and then powered it off. Her purse carried almost nothing but books- Wuthering Heights, Jane Eyre, Ana Karenina, and a new one she had just started reading, A Court of Mist and Fury. She dug the latter out and opened to the page she had dog eared.
 

  She prayed she wouldn’t get freaked out this time- she’d been on plane rides plenty of times, but she had never seemed to get that fear out of her when they first took off, even if once they were in the air, it felt like she had been made for flying. The plane moved slowly at first, and she was feeling pretty confident that this was it, this was the time that she’d finally be okay for lift off. But then it sped up and her breath hitched, all thoughts of Feyre and Rhysand forgotten as the plane lurched upwards. She scrambled for anything to hold onto. And that ‘anything’ just so happened to be the handsome stranger’s muscled arm.
  

 He turned slightly, raising an eyebrow, and she smiled sheepishly, retracting her grip. “Sorry,” she murmured, going to grip the arms of the chair instead and wincing as her ears popped.
  

 "First time flying?“ He guessed in a smooth, deep voice.
  

 "Twelfth, actually,” she replied, her own voice strained and small. She took a deep breath. “The flying part, I like. But I just can’t seem to get used to the taking off part.” He snorted, and she raised an eyebrow at him despite the fact he was a stranger. “I suppose you love flying?”
 

 He gave her a dry smile. “I hate it, actually. The entire thing. But it comes with the work.”
 

  "And the work is?“
  

 "Ex military.” That would explain how muscled he was. When he chuckled, she realized, in horror, that she had said that out loud. Her cheeks went red, but he didn’t seem to mind, extending a hand. “I’m Lorcan.”
  

 "Marion,“ she replied before she could stop herself. It wasn’t like she’d ever see him again, and you could never be too cautious around strange men. He probably wouldn’t even remember the skimpy girl he’d met on a plane ride. Part of her wondered if she should get back to her book, if she was bothering him, but she asked anyways, "What brings you to Orynth?”
  

 "A wedding,“ he said simply. "You?”
 

  She laughed lightly. “I’m actually going to a wedding too.” Though she was sure it wasn’t the same one. Orynth was huge, and she was sure she would remember if Aelin or Rowan had mentioned a huge, muscled, grumpy wumpy guy. “You’re from the Wastes, then?”
 

  "Doranelle, actually.“ His answer was short, clipped, and she assumed that meant the end of their conversation, but then he spoke again. "Is that where you’re from, then? The Wastes?”
  

 She shook her head. “Perranth. I’m just going for the wedding before it’s time to go back home.” Aedion would drive her there, most likely. Her car was home anyways, and her ankle made it hard for her to drive long distances.
  

 He gave her another one of his dry smiles, just a faint twitching of his lips. “You travel a lot, then?”
  

 She shrugged. “When I feel like it.” The plane had leveled out, and she felt herself relaxing. She should dismiss him, should get back to her book. They’d passed through the 'polite small talk’ stage, and now were bordering on actually chatting. She had enough people in her life, and, frankly, the only men she trusted were Rowan and Aedion, possibly Dorian. But after this, she’d never see Lorcan again. And what was the harm in chatting up the hot stranger? So she asked him, “You said you were ex military. What do you do now?” He opened his mouth to speak, and the book stayed forgotten in her lap.
-
 

  They talked for almost half of the trip. Lorcan found it surprising- he’d only meant to say a few polite words, make sure she was okay. She was obviously young-early twenties, he later found out- and he, frankly, hadn’t wanted her to puke everywhere or something. But no, Marion just HAD to be interesting and intelligent, and instead of resting up to meet rutting Whitethorn and the bitch queen like he should have, he had talked to her.
   

 They had kept the conversation light- Lorcan only mentioned Maeve, his ex boss (that he may have been in love with for a time) once, and she only briefly mentioned a crazy uncle. They didn’t talk about any family, either. Instead they spoke of her bookstore, of what they’d both been doing, of movie genres and that blue book in her lap, along with the others stuffed into her purse. They spoke of music-she liked classical and alternative, he was more of a classic rock and anything angry type of guy- and culture, any light conversation topics they could think of.
 

  She fell asleep first, and he found himself studying her face, though he didn’t go any lower (even if her breasts were tempting.) It was obvious she was attractive and most definitely his type- dark hair and eyes, pale skin- but she didn’t seem the type for one night trysts, so he wouldn’t ask. He fell asleep soon after that, and woke up with a weight on his shoulder.
   

He tensed when he saw her nuzzled there, eyes still closed, inky hair spilled across his shoulder. The pilot announced they’d be landing soon and he tapped her awake gently. Her eyes opened and she practically jumped away from him. He gave her a look, to which she responded with another sheepish smile. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” He looked down the aisle. “We’re landing soon.” She groaned. “Don’t like landing either?”
 

  "It’s possibly worse.“ There was a lurch, and this time, when she gripped his arm, he let her.
-
    

They walked off together, picking up a new conversation that she was more adamant about then him- cats or dogs. She insisted dogs were better- Manon, her best friend, had a pet Doberman named Abraxos and he was apparently the sweetest thing ever. He listened in amusement, but as soon as they both got out of the gate, they froze. Marion turned to him.
  

 "So,” she said. “This is it, I guess.”
 

  He nodded, stone faced. “Thanks for making the plane ride… less droll than it could have been.”
  

 She snorted, tucked a piece of hair behind an ear. “You helped as well, I suppose,” she said, and he almost started in confusion. People tended not to tease him, but that seemed to be what she was doing.
  

 He hesitated for a moment, studying her. Should he offer her his number? Should he ask for hers? Ridiculous- he was ridiculous. So he simply said, “Have fun at the wedding,” and turned. He didn’t look back to see if she watched him go. 

Azriel and Elain are Hades and Persephone.

Okay, okay, okay listen hear me out. I know a lot of people HC Feysand as Hades and Persephone but it was Azriel and Elain too.

“I saw the painting in my mind: the lovely fawn, blooming spring vibrant behind her. Standing before Death, shadows and terrors lurking over his shoulder.”

Persephone is the goddess of springtime, and Hades the god of the underworld. Now we all know the story of these two, that Hades stole her away. And I know you’re thinking, “Az would never”
But he does.
When the Cauldron steals Elain away, he goes to retrieve her. Along with Feyre. Essentially stealing her back.

Azriel is darkness, an outcast. His brothers hated him, and he clothes himself in shadows.
Elain is brightness, a gentle grower of things. Her gardens rivaling those in Prythian even while she was still mortal.

Throughout the book, Az and Elain had a real connection. He watches over her enough that it was him that discovered that her visions marked her as a seer. Not even Lucien, her mate, could have guessed.

byebyebyelilsebastianstan  asked:

WRITE A FIC GO (include a wlw chloe for bonus points not necessary tho)

I want the bonus points and also more wlw chloe :D (also i love your url so much omg) Also this is sprouting from a Chlonette idea I had awhile ago and will, at some point, turn into an actual fic.

  • It all starts with a phone call to the wrong person.
  • Chloe had meant to call Sabrina, but in her tired, teary-eyed state (it being very late/early), she hit one of the first contacts her fingers landed on
  • It rings once, twice, three times, and Chloe thinks maybe Sabrina is too tired to pick up her phone, which happens sometimes. She understands.
  • And then, she hears the tell-tale sign of her call being answered
  • Without waiting for Sabrina to speak, she just starts talking about whatever it was that had woken her up.
  • As she continues, there’s a rising panic in her voice, because Chloe doesn’t just wake up without there being a good reason for it
  • When she pauses to take a breath, she finally hears Sabrina speak
  • Except it’s not Sabrina, but a tired- and worried-sounding Marinette
  • “Um… wha’s wrong now?”
  • Chloe is lowkey panicking over having called Marinette and instead of responding to what Marinette said, she half-shouts, “Forget I ever called you! Forget I said anything! This never happened, got it?”
  • That wakes Mari up a little and she’s quicker to respond, “ Chlo, I dunno wha’s goin’ on really, but I’ll lissen ‘till you can fall back asleep. An’ I guess,” she yawns, “guess I could talk too if ya need. Can tell you some stories or somethin’. It’s okay, y’know. To call me.”

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sylvestriana  asked:

There's no such thing as islamophobia. There is nothing irrational about a fear of islam. In virtually EVERY muslim country, women are grossly mistreated and minorities are oppressed. It is irrational NOT to fear islam.

Anti-Muslim protesters shout ‘hateful’ rhetoric at Toronto-area school board meeting

Anti-Islam graffiti appears days before Calgary mosque open house

Man arrested after alleged threats made at London (Ontario) mosque

Growing Up Muslim Showed Me That Canada Is Not Immune To Hate

Muslim mom denied entry to U.S. says she has filed a complaint

Man charged with terror hoax over Montreal university bomb threats

Police investigating after 2 Muslim men, copies of Qur'an, sprayed with urine [in Toronto]

Late-night fire at Islamic centre [in Toronto] being investigated as arson

Man could face hate-crime charges after Montreal mosque vandalized

All from the past month in Canada.

Islamophobia is real. Muslims are real people and they’re having their human and civil rights violated by bigots like you, just for what they believe in.

To second chances

What if Killian had found out the truth before finding David in that cell…Based on a scene I wrote once in another fandom and suddenly seemed super appropriate to captain charming.   

(Because darn it I wanted this drama wrapped up in one episode) 


The click of the cuff around his wrist was far more insulting than anything else and Killian watched in annoyance until David’s truck vanished from sight.  But there were only so many places to go in this town.  Lifting the chain from around his neck with his hook he found a small silver key, hidden amongst the charms,  very convenient thing to have around, living in close proximity to Charmings.  Taking the key in his teeth he made quick work of the handcuffs and sprinted to Granny’s pushing open the door and calling inside.  

“Drinks on me for a week for the first person to give me a ride-” he gestured in the general direction David’s truck had taken.  

“Sure, why not,” August spoke up from behind him. Killian turned around to see the puppet had pulled up on his infernal contraption.    “But you’ll have to wear the pink helmet.”

“I’m not wearing the bloody pink helmet.”  

“My ‘ship’ my rules,”  August drawled,  then seeming to remember something he dug into a satchel.  “When you catch up with David, would you give these to him?  Honestly there’s nothing else in there but I thought he’d like to have them anyway.”   

Killian glanced down briefly and suddenly his blood turned to ice.  That face-  He must have hesitated for a moment because August looked back at him.

“Thought you were in a hurry, Cap?”  

Killian snapped the pink helmet onto his head and hopped on the demon bike without a second thought.  “We need to find Dave’s truck, now.”

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