#* WRITING.

[persicipen-archive]

𑑛 “ARMOUR-CLAD HEART” ﾉ MYDEI. HONKAI STAR RAIL

gn reader ﾉ words 0.9k ᯽ mydei teaches you some self-defence. reader is not made for fighting and rather weak. an awkward display of affection from mydei’s side lol ﾉ no proofreading, we die like kremnoans ᯽ FLUFF ﾉ GENERAL CONTENT ᯽

You hear a displeased click of his tongue — nothing surprising given your stance and previous pathetic tries at blocking his fist — and take a step back with your face embarrassingly hot. His fake hit was nowhere near fast nor strong, just a mere presentation of where such an attack would come from and land at the end.

“You’d be dead within a second on the Strife’s battlefield. Or perhaps should I even say that a mere thug would get through your defence with little to no preparation?” Mydei’s gaze moves all over you in a judging way, and it takes your every strength not to look away.

“I’m not made for battle! You wouldn’t see me anywhere near it. It’s just way too hot today to focus.”

Another loud “tch” escapes his lips, now much more annoyed and agitated than before, as if he has already completely given up on any hope for you. A blazing sun over the terrace is no excuse to stop the lesson, or perhaps it’s precisely because of its presence.

“Surely someone with an ill intent would wait for you to be comfortable and well prepared for their arrival, am I correct?” He snickers in a sarcastic tone, leaving a short pause to give you another opportunity to oppose him.

But again, this time not only is his attitude towards you harsh and insulting, but his words make complete sense, and they burn with embarrassment even more than the scorching heat that surrounds both of you.

Maybe you’re simply spineless and will forever be even under his tutoring. You bite your lip, trying not to appear weaker than you already are, knowing very well that there will be absolutely no use in defending yourself anymore. But it doesn’t matter now. What does he plan to do next?

Your body tenses up out of reflex only seconds before his warm palm wraps around your arm, turning you around effortlessly while pressing your back against his own chest. An uncontrolled gasp leaves your mouth as you are left immobilised in an instant and the forced proximity feels even hotter than midday, yet the one behind you pays no mind to it, completely focused on keeping you in place.

“Most people would assume you cannot get out of this hold unless you’re physically stronger than the aggressor.”

You feel every slight breath he makes pressing harder on you. Not to mention how his voice sends pleasant shivers down your spine by being so close to your ear. All the discomfort disappears the second a faint memory reappears in the most unexpected of places. The way he holds you reminds you of something entirely different from sparring.

Curse your mind, it doesn’t help to focus at all and it’s especially shameful when Mydei’s not affected; calm and composed, with a fiery spark running along the red marks on his body.

“You’ll most likely always have a free hand or two. Instead of wriggling them mindlessly, use one to press on the bottom of your opponent’s nose or even punch them. The nose is always sensitive, even under the slightest pressure.” He eases the grip around your body and demonstrates what he just said and although he doesn’t apply force at all when bringing his knuckle above your cupid’s bow, you squirm involuntarily in an attempt to escape.

But since he never lets go of your other arm, there’s nowhere to run.

“Now, try it yourself.” Yet instead of waiting for your move, his hand — armoured in golden claws, a trap for your smaller palm — grabs yours and brings it behind towards his face. You peek over your shoulder, a little afraid.

To add on top of everything, he is as serious about this sparring lesson as ever, not paying attention to the closeness between your bodies. The red lines decorating his chest seem brighter than usual, with sweat glistening along his collarbones and hair dishevelled by the breeze.

Your heart skips a beat in anticipation when you are almost certain he’s about to kiss your fingers instead, but in the last second, he inches away and brushes them against the underside of his nose. “Here. Remember this.”

“I’m sure that my enemy won’t navigate my hand towards their weak spot.” A shaky sigh of disappointment escapes your lips.

He chuckles lowly at your comment, raising the corner of his mouth in a sardonic smile.

“You’d rather aim blindly than focus on where and what to attack? You’ve just earned the disapproval of the crown prince of Castrum Kremnos.” He moves in front of you, abruptly pausing all physical contact. “Be thankful that I’m not only willing to teach you how to defend yourself but also for that I will protect you with my own strength as long as you’re near.”

He pushes a damp strand of hair out of your face, the lightest touch of his bare finger causing more tingles to travel down your spine. At the same time, he flinches when realising what he has done and lets his hand drop to his side; the victorious glint in his golden eyes changes to bewilderment. His armour rattles at the subtle gesture of humanity and betrayal of his emotionless posture.

“We’ll practice again until you gain the approval from me. Do not expect me to be lenient.” The heat spreading on your cheeks becomes a problem only after Mydei finishes the sentence and moves away with haste, surely caused by his discomfort.

A gentle breeze runs through the illuminated terrace and cools your skin. You watch him walk away without turning around (you wish he would). This feeling of shame mixes with admiration and unadulterated curiosity to stir up something completely bizarre in your heart.

A pomegranate-sweet infatuation with the prince.

[ghostlychaosfoil]

um um fanart for @dettiqueen ‘s one shot “But he was in love…”

long awaited

[resourcesofcolor]

[makemeactup]

Ringo Starr x Reader - Stolen Glances

Summary: Ringo has feelings for his long time friend, but cant bring himself to do more than steal glances.

This is actually something I wrote for my oc but thought everyone would enjoy it. So — here ya go!

---

It wasn't that Ringo was scared to say anything to you. No, he wasn't the least bit worried about the outcome. You were adults now, it'd be fine. But, perhaps, he was just being cautious about the situation. Weighing up the possibilities and the comfort of the now. Such as:

Everytime you would playfully shove him, or playfully punch his shoulder, or playfully try to fight or wrestle, or just sit next him or drape your legs over his lap or put your head on his shoulder, Ringo held a humongous grin. His cheeks would tint a soft red. His blue eyes took you in as quickly as they could without drawing any attention.

Each time, he played along or dismissed you with a joke. Sometimes he would wrestle or take an exaggerated boxing stance, or he'd put his hand around your legs to make sure that you could relax and not worry about them sliding off. You'd smile at him then, beaming and radiant. And it'd be just for him — until one of the other boys, usually John, demanded your attention.

You were like that with everyone for the most part, Ringo had reasoned. You'd playfully shove George, but you wouldn't try to fight him. You'd use Paul as a pillow, but you wouldn't try to wrestle with him. You'd offer both men your smile, the one they all knew so well. But John, to Ringo's eyes, was too close to how you treated him.

John did get the playful fights and attempts to wrestle, and sometimes you'd get put into a headlock or he'd have his arm wrenched behind his back. John did get sat next to, and he got your head on his shoulder, or legs over his lap. But worst of all, he got the smile. The others got the smile, sure, but that wasn't the same. It was a specific smile.

But who was Ringo against John? Clint Eastwood versus Larry Fine?

Oh well, Ringo would shrug to himself at the thought. You were all long time friends, nothing more. His feelings had to pass, right? The denial certainly wouldn't, but that was neither here nor there.

Sat behind his drumkit, drumsticks held loosely in hand, he watched his friends interact. He watched you as you laughed at something George had said, waving him away. He admired your side profile, your shiny hair. Your shirt was nice today.

Sporadically, his eyes flickered to whoever was talking, an attempt to cover his tracks. He'd crack a smile and laugh at a joke or story, but he wasn't actually listening. Not as he gently hit the cymbals absentmindedly, and not as he looked at you again.

"—right, Ringo?" Came the sudden voice of Paul, the use of his name knocking him back into the room.

It was only then, under the scrutinising stares of his friends, did the drummer realise that his face gave away his previously absent mind. His eyes, dark with the apparent lack of sleep lately, grew briefly wide as he perked up and looked at Paul.

"What'd you say, Paul?"

"You alright? You look spaced out."

"Oh," Ringo blinked. "Yeah, I'm fine. And you?"

"You're gonna get bug-eyed if y' keep starin'," John hummed, smirk wide. He had obviously seen something the others hadn't.

"In me own world," Ringo raised an arm and moved his drumstick in a circular motion beside his temple for emphasis.

"Can I join your world?" You asked innocently, brows arching, as if you'd have to plead for him to say yes.

"'course ya can!" He beamed softly. "None'a these jokers can, though."

"What have I done?" George asked, sounding offended to be included with John and Paul.

"Dunno, let me get back t' you," Ringo offered, earning a small laugh and smile from his friends.

His eyes met yours, and he offered a small shrug. When you didn't immediately turn around, he swore he felt his neck grow warmer and the grip on his drumsticks grow ten times tighter. His lips grew into a lopsided grin, nose turning a soft shade of red.

When you did eventually turn back around, he released a breath he didn't know he was holding. Swallowing thickly and lightly hitting his drumsticks together, he feigned interest in whatever joke or story was being told. All the while, as subtly as he could in the background, he kept stealing loving glances at you.

[k0yaz]

guys what the actual hell?

Why did I lose so many followers? If it’s because of my recent fic I will delete it and remove it from my master lists but can I have an explanation as to why I lost over 150 followers in under a few hours?

I’m not blaming anyone ily all but im just curious as to WHY I lost followers over one single fic which didn’t even contain anything problematic in it, and there’s plenty of other fics for you all to read so why focus on ONE just because it’s from a game that you don’t like?

Again I’m sorry if this came off as harsh I’m just upset and not in my right mind rn because this feels ridiculous

[irladagio]

in light of my recent posts and reblogs, i really want to share my recreation of finch AND ink how it is possible that i made them to be able to be stand alone characters. finch and inks backstories. how they are interesting and how ink can be autistic without it being a terrible and rude stereotype. :) also with them being able to keep much of their og personality if you wanna even call it that.. finch, though i do ship him with hacker, does not need him to be interesting or even involved… I’m going to start with Finch (bc i love him just read my blog page..) his backstory. It’s a lot heavier than what it was made to be. As someone who is familiar with racism and has read many books on his time…I can confirm it was not “yup war and that’s it :)” no. it’s dark and traumatic and I wanna make sure I write it in that light. War/Racism/Transphobia isn’t light or easy to deal with.. and that definitely would explain his “i can’t open up because i’ll get hurt” mentality. I have so much so many extra characters that balance out the excessive amount of men in ds (i understand why tho) they’ll be his friends, subordinates, enemies? World building!!!! I headcanon that he has BDP and I am in no way a mental illness expert and I’ve actually done research like someone who wants to write a character with a condition.. but i want to be as accurate as possible, so i’ll step away from focusing on that for now. But i would basically explain how he manages it, his day to day and stuff like that. This Man Love To Dance And Write and IDC what you say people. Yeah also he’s also texan. deep south, has a slight country accent. Odessa, Texas. No changing my mind on that one either. Katja, I think i wrote a post on her um yeah more on her later. I know im mostly focusing on Finch and yeah i tend to do that i’m sorry. But what im saying is!!! I rewrote him, and I’d love to share it! (ALSO IF YOURE INTERESTED PLS MESSAGE ME, KEEPING THIS TO MYSELF IS PAINFUL AND ITS ALL I THINK ABOUT ACTUALLY..PLSSS)

obviously im not sharing the entire thing rn but whenever i have time i’ll work on the post. hopefully..🤞🏽

[bloodwr4th-a]

If you get married, would you take your partners last name ?

question kol on relationship.

" i would. in a heartbeat, i would. i would not love for either my wife or husband to wear à name that can be sometimes heavy to bear. though, if they were a mikaelson, they would be feared. they would have anything. fear does that to people when they saw a mikaelson enters a room. "

[suscaping]

MODEL BY WALLOWS

* lyrics from the album that could be utilized for writing + plotting inspiration. listed in no particular assortment!

› would you give in or would you relent who's been trying to get in your bed? › i'd rather tell you a lie before predicting what i don't know could lead into false hope. › 'cause i know you can see we're more than a secret, you know i can be just what you want. › let's make up the best years you and i have ever had. › and i know you can see we'll have people talking, you know we can be just what they want. › are you running away from something? are you worried you're feeling nothing? › did you cross your fingers when you said forever? › does it linger when days are still young? › am i just a name you flip through in your story of people you've made to love you? › you could've given me a warning if you knew that all your walls would cave in. › and i'll come by when you don't mind, but not if it'll only waste your time. › there's a lot of things that i could tell you, but some things are left better if you never knew. › when my back’s against the wall, everything else gets stalled. › don't apologize for crying, i will always hold you space. › two more blank eyes lookin' through me, thinkin' of a place from where you maybe knew me. › if the mood's right, we'll talk all night. it might be a road to nowhere, but it's alright. › old wounds seem to open up with you. › you're what i've been chasing, show me where my days went. › can't think of the last time that i truly smiled 'til you looked up at me, could you stay a while? › i'm not in your head, can you help me understand? › do i need someone? i think about it all the time. › i'm just craving a connection, can you tell that i'm nervous just by my complexion? › i've fallen off the track, and it's harder to look back at you. › i knew the feeling would be forming after i took a look into your eyes. › just wake me up when it's over, my headache shows when it's sober. › i'll keep running until i crash into something. › is my life all wasted nights? this isn't what i had in mind. › i don't want to be forgotten, but i've been avoiding being found. › i'm hesitant to tell you something doesn't feel right. i'm nearing a collapse, but i swear that i'm intact. › maybe what i owe myself is an open heart to someone i wanna keep around.

[persicipen-archive]

𑑛 “PROMISE TO TAKE IT” ﾉ BLADE, DAN HENG, JING YUAN, LUOCHA. HONKAI STAR RAIL

fem reader ﾉ words 2.1k ᯽ rough scenarios, separately. blade — prone bone. doing it raw. creampie ﾉ dan heng is in his dragon form, but not entirely. missionary. implied mating season lol ﾉ jing yuan — size kink. riding him but he’s still in control and a menace ﾉ luocha — “little thing” petname, oddly comforting situationship or one night stand ﾉ rewritten ᯽ ADULT CONTENT ﾉ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ᯽

BLADE ﾉ

While the bedroom itself remains an oasis of solace and a delicate space where you can be yourself, never judged by his ruby eyes despite his low huffs and puffs at any of your antics, it is now also a jail for your sobs. Cries disappearing in the supple cotton of the pillow as Blade pounds into you, rough hands gripping your wrists like a rope. Oh no, he will not allow you to push his hips away.

Not after you begged for this just moments ago with that adorable whine of yours.

The dripping slickness saving you from the punishment that is him rutting into you with abandon. His cock stretches your pussy wide, filling you to the brim with every thrust, and you arch your back against him, letting him impale you over and over again on his heavy girth.

He growls, his fingers digging into your soft sides, leaving reddened imprints, as he pulls you towards him. He slams into you roughly, his balls slapping against your overly sensitive clit as he fucks you without mercy.

You squirm in his grasp, trying to break free, but no, his grip on you is firm. He doesn’t want you to move. You’re here just to take care of his needs.

The man above you breathes out, his long black hair falling over his arms and tickling your shoulders. Using your body as he pleases, relentlessly pushing until only his base can’t settle into your cunt. You whimper, your legs shaking as you feel his tip brush against your deepest spot, and he chuckles. He likes how you clench around him, unsure if you want him to leave you or to welcome him deeper — this is how he knows you’re getting close.

And so, Blade leans forward, his breath burning your neck, and bites on your irritated skin. You cry out, your soppy walls throbbing to lure him into your heat, and he grunts as he hears your juices plapping down his thighs. The way you cream all over his cock — awfully erotic — your wetness coating his length, and he picks up his pace, pounding into you with renewed vigour. He wants to cum inside you. To fill you up.

A high-pitched squeal escapes your lips, your silhouette shivering with uncontrollable intensity. The overwhelming sensation becomes too much to bear, and you find yourself unable to endure it any longer; still played with like a pretty doll, pressed to the mattress with all of his weight. Blade groans, his girth pulsing, and he snugs himself deep into you, cumming in thick, hot spurts, your pussy milking him until the very last drop.

You mewl at his treatment, your wrists aching from his bruising grip, and he smirks, his red eyes gleaming. The way you look right now, his favourite image of contained desires. His dear beloved.

He will make it up to you later with sweet kisses and gentle caresses, but for now, he enjoys the sight of his cum oozing out of your well-fucked cunt, dripping onto the bedsheets.

DAN HENG ﾉ

This position isn’t something new, however, and even though the fact is pleasant to think about, you do wonder what caused him to get so bold. Maybe at the sight of you admiring his partially changed form, eyes drinking in the beautiful shimmer of his scales, he understood that you find him so attractive — as always, but now also intrigued by other parts of him that might be different.

His hand traces the lines of your ribs as you inhale at the feeling of him entering deeper — the unfamiliar shape of his cock nesting comfortably against your soft insides — and then he puts some weight on top of you, pressing you further into the pillows, his lips barely touching your own, unsure if he already wants to kiss you.

“Tell me if it hurts you.”

“It’s alright, really. You can… you know, continue…”

“Now I’m more concerned that you seem to like it more than when we’re doing it… gentler.” Surprised at his own talkativeness, there’s a red splash of colour on his cheeks as he bites his lips at the end of the sentence and buries his face in the crook of your neck. You giggle at his comment, but it turns into a needy moan as he moves his hips to rest snugly between your legs.

With your tongue, you slide across his upper lip, capturing it softly and biting on its tenderness, tasting a faint trace of his salty sweat and humming as he shivers, your fingers tangled in his hair, brushing through the ebony black locks, before whispering, “I know you’re holding back. No need to, I trust you.”

“Mmh,” Dan Heng mutters with a shaky breath as his shaft hardens and thickens at your reactions. Your reassuring words have such an impact on him; they're teasing him with this pleading tone of yours, allowing him to mate with you during the times when he gets so incredibly hot in your presence, unable to keep his hands off of you.

His thrusts start slow and measured; however, with each minute passing, he finds himself succumbing more and more to the instinct calling upon him; it is so much different now that you’re within his reach — how you react, how you look at him — everything makes him lose his cool. Soon his lips find your nipple again, teeth grazing sensitive skin until you hiss, yet push yourself towards him, arching your back. The sting of his bite stimulates you to the point where your inner walls spasm, clamping down on him tightly as you almost cry out.

Even the shallowest strokes produce audible squelching noises whenever he loses his rhythm. He’s just as intoxicated by the new sensation. The little details that change in his build now make you two melt in each other’s arms; his cock glides with fervour and carelessness against the spots that usually required precision.

The pleasure is overwhelming, even a bit eerie how accurate at bringing the sweetest of your sobs out. His instincts still force him to grip at your shoulders — you let him do this — to slam harder inside of your pussy. And you can barely take it, but he quickly looks at the side on the clock, and it’s been barely minutes since he started…

JING YUAN ﾉ

He embraces you tightly, wide arms with ease, groping your entire body as you shudder, and let him bring you closer, your back pressed to his soft yet firm chest — allowing his cock to reach deeper, spearing your entrance until your essence seeps out in abundance between your bodies.

Usually, you would expect Jing Yuan to prefer being face to face with you, but also knowing what a menace he can be, there must’ve been something more on his mind. Which catches you by surprise when you notice his fingers circle your clit from the front, sort of caging you between one pleasure and another as you helplessly try to wriggle out of his iron grip.

At that, what you hear is a chuckle — deep like the ocean, sweet like honey, dripping with both love and lust, and making you all fuzzy from within. The waves of immense enjoyment lap at your limbs from all sides, and you gasp out when his palm rubs you so skillfully, with care and adoration.

“No matter which part of you I touch… It’s a pleasure to watch you shake in my arms.” He purrs with a small smile, nibbling at your earlobe and inhaling the sweet scent of your hair. You wish to nod but can't, in fear that it’ll only spur him further on to bounce you on his cock and enjoy how you struggle with each thrust. “Does my beloved bird feel good?”

Before you can answer — which you would love to, gathering the strength and courage to wail and sob into his lips as your head falls back on his shoulder — his palm moves up from your bundle of nerves to your tummy, pressing on the soft flesh there. Intently. He knows exactly what to do to get a specific reaction out of you, to make himself moan as you clench abruptly on his girth despite your walls sobbing at the stretch. You feel so full in that moment, choking on your breath at the additional pressure, too occupied with his cock filling your body so wholly.

As he starts to fuck you relentlessly — you cry out, the pitch of your voice higher and higher as you slowly become incapable of maintaining any volume at all — the tiniest sounds, broken huffs of air leaving your mouth; your eyes are glassy with tears, and all you want to do is bury yourself in the pillows and blankets, somehow escape from this prison of bliss. But he holds you close, one hand fondling your breast and the other playing around your lower abdomen, always there where you don’t want him at the moment, just to tease and make you more and more desperate.

A little flick of his thumb against your pearl, a press on your belly, maybe even fingers parting your folds as he drags his fat tip in and out at the perfect angle. It’s enough to throw you over the edge again.

As if your body belonged to him — and he, being the ever caring lover, already knows everything about you, that you enjoy it too much when he manhandles you like this.

LUOCHA ﾉ

The immense pleasure causes your mouth to whine and moan out his name. “Luocha, Luocha…” Is all that can be heard in the room besides muffled gasps and melted noises of naked bodies colliding with each other.

Certainly unpredictable was meeting someone who’s but a travelling merchant, skilled enough to render you putty beyond measure with just a verse of his saccharine voice and touches. You don’t believe him anymore. Though you cannot find an answer to it at the moment whilst your brain just refuses to think of anything else except how well you’re currently getting fucked by that gentleman.

The beauty above you lowers his face close to your own, his treacly lips catching your own with a delicate bite, trailing down your jawline and neck with slow kisses. Lukewarm and wet, like the summer mizzle. Just merely too fast for you to appreciate his features before the golden curtain of his bangs falls across his cheekbones.

“Are you doing well, little thing?” He asks quietly into your collarbone, immediately switching your focus from his words to his cock. With a tender push, he stays still for a moment, pulsing flesh pressing constantly on all your sensitive spots.

“Too well…” you utter with a weak, genuine smile.

He smiles back. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

Luocha continues thrusting in and out at a suave pace, pounding into you with a special sense of skill and gentleness. Hauling into your cunt with each drag of his lean hips, his pace is unbothered, almost lenient with the offputting care. As if this meeting is sensible somehow, way above than what it truly is — a transient exchange of lecherousness, nothing more.

With his hands clamped around your waist, lifting you up slightly up from the bed, his swollen length reaches far inside of your aching core at that perfect angle, the tip gliding repeatedly against the sweetest patch of your walls. Drizzles of pre mingle with your essence and souse your puffy petals whenever he retreats from the confines of your insides, a proof of enjoyment that none of you is able to say out loud.

To keep him close — merge into the comfort of feeling someone’s warmth — you wrap yourself around his willowy silhouette, a ribbon made of entangled limbs.

“I wish we could meet again before we part ways.”

“You’re still here with me.” He hums into your ear, once again leaning in to smooch the side of your head, tickling your sweat-sodden hairline. “You should focus on that for now.”

All the overstimulation is taking your breath away, specs of drool sprinkled in the corner of your lips. His palm pets you softly between your legs, extracting another weep from your throat and a wobble of your tense thighs. The sudden impact of his digits rubbing on your clit draws you nearer to your orgasm; and he wishes to see it soon, so he concentrates on your reactions, tongue slightly peeking out from behind his teeth in concentration.

Your whimpers and cries — pure eroticism that makes him consider if it’s even worth to waste the softness of your fevered skin for a meaningless exchange. If one night can turn so satisfying, a pity it would be to say goodbye instead of promising another and another meeting after that. Perhaps…

AUTHOR’S NOTE — most of those are old thirsts that i put into one post with slightly edited past typos. but the hilarious thing is that luocha’s part had to be almost entirely rewritten today — and maybe it’s not visible to others, but i giggled comparing my writing. it’s like a rollercoaster from my perspective hehe

[rzmusings]

if all my tears could be exchanged for something, i'd buy one last dance with you. i'd hire the peaceful night to make an appearance, breaking into my savings for that magic that once lay in the way you looked at me.

you would touch me the same way you did that night, gliding across my skin like it were made of petals. you would smile my favourite smile, small eyes beaming like crescent moons, and you'd whisper your love for me with the unwavering certainty you once had.

— and i would try to believe you again.

[resourcesofcolor]

[lovelesslittleloser]

HOW DO I BE SUBTLE BUT BLATANT ABOUT THE FACT THAT THESE TWO WILL GET TOGETHER IN THE END

I don’t want to write ‘omg he’s so hot bark bark bark’ because THAT’S NOT IN CHARACTER!!! :)))

SO WTF AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?!

[desirespeaks]

I love writing traumatized characters.

One of my favorite quotes (that I'm probably misquoting) is from Maya Angelou. It's something like, "People always remember how you made them feel."

Because I'm not a sociopath like my characters, it's something I use to remind myself to always be kind to others etc IRL just as a life rule.

More importantly, when writing or developing a character, I'm actually obsessed with this in the context of trauma. Some of my narcissistic/sociopathic characters get off on the fact that they can be so cruel and heartless that their words or actions might have a lifelong effect.

For my most toxic characters, there is a sick sense of ownership they feel with this. Think, "XYZ lives rent free in my mind". (I know that is associated with things that bring joy or humour etc. But consider it for trauma.)

For a controlling character, the thought that what they did or said can affect your actions is still a way for them to control you. This is pretty common for abusive people and any therapist or psychologist will tell you that you need to work on not letting it control you anymore as you will struggle to truly move on from the person/experience/trauma. That itself can be a lifelong pursuit, which a controlling or abusive character could derive some kind of sick enjoyment from in itself, especially if the work to "move on" isn't working/has moments of relapse. An abusive person will move on if they feel like they can no longer control you. Sadly, IRL, that often ends fatally.

On a less morbid scale, it's like if you break up with someone at a museum because you told yourself you should do it in person in a safe space and not at an eatery where you might not be able to leave so easily. But despite all that it's still brutal because he begs you not to. And you leave him there crying because you are embarrassed and wanted it to be over. Some people would hate that museum now or may even be unable to visit that same spot. IRL you would hope they are able to move on and don't associate the two. But for a character, I'm really drawn to the idea of such an experience being so impactful (mostly in a negative or traumatic way) that it actually changes your life or how you interact with the world.

Obviously this is how we all go through life. We experience moments of life, both good and bad, and they shape us and impact how we live our lives. Not that revolutionary.

But for a character, I just love the idea of exploring the most fucked up experiences that impact them. Imagine for the museum break up the museum itself becomes the focus of a revenge plot as the 'scene of the crime' LOL I'm talking about the unhinged person kidnapping their ex, breaking into the museum at night, and holding them there at gun point. "This is where it happened. Do you remember what you said to me that day?" I'm obsessed already.

Another example is some sexual abuse survivors throw up or have other physical reactions if they return to the scene of their abuse. That's on the more extreme end of the trauma scale and would be hard to explore authentically in writing, especially in roleplay. But it's a good example.

On a less dramatic scale, consider just the simple instance of someone saying something offhandedly to you that might not even register as fucked up with other people, but the way it hits you in that moment at that time stays with you for years, decades, or possibly even forever. I've had this quite a lot and sometimes it has taken me months, even years to realize why it hit the way it did. Mainly because I'm curious about my own mind. Sometimes you never find out why, or worse, there's no reason at all! It's just how it hit you it at that moment in time.

Obviously this is all more relevant for sensitive characters because there are lots of types of characters who would probably not experience this kind of thing. Sometimes a bad break up at a museum or a string of hurtful words happen to you and your body/mind processes it, and lets it go. That's the goal IRL, for sure. I'm sure there are lots of sexual abuse survivors who have gone on to lead functioning and successful lives because they were able to overcome the trauma.

But in writing, "People always remember how you made them feel," is such a perfect way to add to the complexity of your muses that our words and actions can have really unintended (and long lasting) consequences, especially for emotionally sensitive characters.

[am4zon]

@n0thingandnobody said: you’re always late , what am i supposed to think ?

Somehow, Diana always returns when dinner has just grown cold. It matters so little how sincere her apologies are when this happens time and time again. The truth is that Steve had been a solider, and the truth is that all her allies are warriors, and the truth is that Mikey is none of those things. He fights a different variety of demons than the ones who fall from the skies. And Diana loves him for this. She loves that he does not understand her burdens. There is nothing in the world she would change about him. Or, at least, she would have said this, before seeing the look that clouds his face in this moment. It's going to haunt her for a very, very long time.

Maybe it's in her imagination, but when she locks her arms around him, he feels stiff beneath her. ❛ That I'm always racing home to be with you, baby. ❜ She tries to kiss him, but suspects that he shall deny her.

[bloodwr4th-a]

❗❗❗

send “ ❗❗❗ ” for your muse to suddenly and unexpectedly kiss mine.

he doesn't know if it's reality or a dream anymore. because being with nausi, sometimes, seems to be like a dream. he doesn't know how many times he thought about her, even when she wasn't physically there. he had this machiavellian and sweet, hot woman anchored in him. every part of his body reacted when she touched him. would he let himself be burned for her? oh, yes. he would. would he be one of her lovers who would give everything to see their sweetheart happy and fulfilled? yes, he was that guy too. even if, being mean and shows to the other a completely different side of him, when she looked at him, he couldn't be this mean guy that everyone tried to escape.

sitting on the latter's bed, he couldn't help but tilt his head when he admired her comb her dark hair. he was a sane person at that moment. something he wasn't. usually, he would be behind her, whispering little shushes to watch her break down and then be feral on his own person. but he also liked to play with her head, that's why when his eyes darkened a little more, he couldn't help but think and whisper little sh sh sh, loving to see her fall in his trap. knowing what was going to happen next. especially when she swoon at her knees when he does that with that suave tone of his.

seeing her turn around and rush to him to make him fall on the bed and kiss him without even saying a word took his breath away for a moment, while he grabbed her thigh and pull her closer and sitting her on his lap, smiling against her lips and whispering a little more to make her lose her mind.

" sh, sh, sh….. "

@wickedslip.