#AND IT CONVEYS THINGS SO WELL WITH SIMPLE DESCRIPTIONS

[superkitten-poison]

im going insane if i dont describe every action i see play out in a scene i feel like it's incomplete HOW do you know what is needed and what isnt how do you trust the reader to know what youre trying to do how how how how

[msgexymunson]

Highest Bidder

Description: When you get Eddie to agree to be on auction for the Valentine’s Ball, you don't count on jealousy affecting you this much. To be fair, you didn’t think Chrissy Cunningham would be there. But maybe, just maybe, he likes you just as much as you like him? 

Warnings: Angst, fluff and smut, my favourite horsemen. NSFW, Minors DNI or I'll shoot you with arrows and not the cupid kind. Slight older, 25 ish Eddie Munson x 23 ish fem reader, confessions, BFFs to lovers, oral fem receiving, p in v unprotected sex (dress before you impress irl) 

A/N: So this was meant for Valentines but I decided to catch Covid instead. Inspired by the auction scene in Groundhog Day. I loved writing this, hopefully you get the desperate pining feeling that I was trying to give off. I love all of you, not only on Valentines but every day. 

Comments and reblogs keep this little paper heart from bursting Into flames. Please, comment and reblog, it makes me so happy you don't even know. 

7k words

Masterlist

“So sweetheart,” Eddie begins, a sly smile creeping over his face as he steeples his hands in front of him, elbows on his knees, “are you gonna tell me why you did it?” He's sitting across from you in his armchair, like this is some sort of bizarre job interview. 

The surroundings are familiar. Eddie's second hand couch, the worn fabric soft under your thighs. The coffee table you helped drag up four flights of stairs, adorned with a coaster placed entirely for your benefit, of course. It's not like Eddie cares about water rings. The comforting smell of the fabric softener Eddie uses intermingled with cigarettes, and incense to cover the smoky aroma. That, and Eddie's aftershave; faint after a night in proximity of it, but there all the same. 

The situation is not familiar. The wayward glances, the lingering touches, the tension filling the air so thick it's like trying to move through cake batter. Wading through some dense, sweet, all consuming feeling that sticks to your ribs and pulls you into its gravity.

Torn between looking at him and shyly stirring your drink with its straw, you think about it. Why did you? The answer wasn't simple. It never was, with Eddie.

It all started with the Valentines Charity Ball your mom roped you into helping to organise. She was a force to be reckoned with, your mom. The human equivalent of a wrecking ball. When she got involved with any good cause, no one and nothing could stop her. Including you. 

So, when she ran to you in desperation last night, you didn't hesitate. One of the guys for the date auction had taken ill and she was stuck for a fourth. So, the first name you could think of spilled out of your mouth. It took some convincing. No, he's not just some freak. Yes, he's doing well for himself. Yes, he's got a steady job, an apartment. No, he doesn't deal anymore. Yes, he's good looking, obviously. No, we aren't a thing, we were never a thing. 

You were never a thing. It was much more complex than that. Affairs of the heart always were. When you'd met Eddie at school you were quiet. A loser, living on the fringes of obscurity; not popular, but not strange enough to be bullied. Eddie was safe. A shield. You'd entered Hellfire without a second thought. And sure, he was handsome, ridiculously so. But at the time, he was seeing some twig called Stacey or Samantha or something, and you bit down on your attraction. Hid it deep within the tissue of your heart. Swallowed it whole. Then, you'd dated Thomas, and after that, he had seen Wendy, and then it was circumstantial. At no point had the pair of you been single together until recently, so it clearly wasn't meant to be. Whatever attraction you'd been harbouring was mellowed, dissolved and disintegrated in yourself. After that, he was just Eddie. 

Convincing Eddie to do the auction had been an entirely different story. It wasn't nerves. He had stood on tables in the cafeteria to speak his mind, after all. He had conveyed his innermost thoughts to almost any who would listen, like some wayward preacher at a bizarre sermon. It could never be nerves, not with him. It was always the fear of not being enough. The fear of himself. After many words of encouragement, he'd agreed. If only to shut you up, but it worked. 

What you hadn't accounted for was the sight of Eddie climbing out of his beat up van in a goddamn button up shirt and fucking dress shoes. In jeans that weren't ripped, with wild hair scooped back into a low bun. You hadn't counted on the easy smile you'd seen a thousand times now winding into your stomach and sending raven wing beats into your heart. In the soft wink that loosed a thousand moths within your core. Moths, they say, live at most, a day, but these seem ancient compared. Alive in an enclosure you had created years ago, set loose suddenly and all at once, their once fixated caretaker ignoring his responsibilities. 

“Hey sweetheart, am I late?” 

When had his voice gained that huskiness, that depth? When had looking into his chocolate brown eyes melted your insides? A twinge in your back brought on by the stress of the night took you back to the here and now. Gazing back at him whilst you attempted to rub it away, you replied.

“N-no, not at all. You, you look really good, Eddie.” 

He scoffed aloud, shaking his head in disbelief, a cascade of loose curls flowing around his face. 

“That's a load of crap. You, hey, you look amazing. Seriously, smoking hot.” 

Your head span with the compliment, as you looked down at your own outfit. It was a ball after all, and for once your mom had insisted on a dress. It was a deep red, cheap satin, low cut, a tasteful hem at the knee, with a slit up the side providing at least a little mobility, and kitten heels. Currently, you felt like an outsider looking into a different world through plexiglass, but the way Eddie looked at you made you feel like you belonged. 

‘It's nothing, just a dress.” 

“Hey,” he replied, crowding your space with the confidence he embodies, “you look incredible. Trust me.”

His knuckles dragged across your flushed cheek, and for a moment all sense of who you were and why this was happening was lost to the feel of his skin on yours. But only for a moment. Dipping your eyes down, you took a tiny step back. 

“We should head inside Eddie. You ready?” 

After a couple of hours of cheesy music and weak as fuck punch, you tapped your fingers on your plastic cup and turned down the latest pensioner who thought you were here for his amusement. Until finally, the host tapped the microphone and asked everyone to gather at the front for the main event. You made your way to the side of the stage in case you were needed, and waited for the bidding to start. 

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, we have the highlight of the night. For one night only, Hawkins’s most eligible bachelors will be yours, to an extent. Be prepared to be wined, dined, and entertained, by our finest gentlemen, all in the name of charity, of course. And first up, is our very own George Heights! Give it up for George everyone!” 

The crowd clapped as George walked onto the stage, an early balding man with just the hint of a pot belly poking through his chequered blue shirt.  

“George is an artist, and an aspiring architect, with a penchant for poetry and an insatiable appetite. Give it up for George, everybody!”

After a lukewarm auction, which ended with George being bought for 65 bucks, the next one was sold. And the next one. Pretty soon, it was Eddie's turn. He stepped forward, and whispers began to float around you. You expected that, to some extent, but there were woops, and even a wolf whistle too. Ever the showman, he bent into a low bow, straightened back up, and winked at the audience. 

“And last, but not least, we have a handsome young man up for your bidding pleasure. Put your hands together for Eddie!” 

As he did a turn on the spot, hands outstretched, the rouse of applause went on for longer than you thought it would. Enthusiastic hands clapped for your man.

No. Your friend. Just a friend. 

“That's it, that's what we're looking for! Eddie is a mechanic, and a talented guitarist, who is looking for your company tonight! So, starting bid, can I hear twenty dollars?” 

“Here! Twenty dollars!” An old lady waved her programme enthusiastically in the air. Eddie's eyes rolled and caught yours momentarily, and you flashed a smile at him. 

“There we go, twenty! Can we go to twenty five?” 

“Thirty!” an equally old lady shouted, earning you yet another look from him that made you laugh. 

“Fifty dollars!” 

The crowd went silent as a man in the back shot his hand in the air. 

“Woah, a high bidder! Anyone want to beat fifty?” 

Before the crowd had a chance to recuperate a young and extremely pretty woman's hand shot upward. 

“One hundred dollars!” 

Everyone fell silent. The only thing not getting the message was your heartbeat. The beautifully manicured and delicate hand belonged to none other than Chrissy fucking Cunningham. 

She looked more beautiful than ever. Hawkins’s sweetheart, all grown up. The popular girl, the pretty girl. Prettier than you, at least to your mind. Prom queen, beauty pageant winner, and the icing on the cake? Actually a nice person. No one could hate her, it would be like kicking a kitten. 

But as your heart dropped like a lead weight into your chest, you thought you wouldn't mind seeing a bit of fur flying across the room, guided by your heels. 

You saw it, you couldn't fail to. The sudden way Eddie stood a little straighter, chest puffed up a little more, as a slow smirk crawled over his face. 

“One hundred? Wowee! Thank you young lady! Anyone for one twenty?” 

The man at the back called out, “right here!” 

Chrissy giggled, small hand held up covering the cute noise, and made another bid. 

“One thirty!” 

It seemed like the entirety of your body's blood had rushed to your head. You felt dizzy and sick, watching this happen, like some slow motion car crash. Again, your damned back hurt. you rubbed it in vain, and gazed back at the ruin in front of you.  

“One fifty!” The man at the back bellowed. Eddie's eyes widened, and he put his hands together, as if in prayer. His gaze was begging, pleading, and directed at Chrissy. 

The frozen spell you seemed to have been under lifted suddenly. This was not going to happen, you wouldn't let it. Chrissy had everything she could possibly need, she didn't need more. She couldn't have him. 

He's yours. 

Through watery eyes, you fiercely trawled through your purse, and came across the little envelope you tucked in there earlier. The money you had scraped together to go towards buying a car. You'd almost forgotten it, intending to drop it home before you came here. 

It looked like you'd have to be a pedestrian for a while longer. 

At the same time Chrissy placed delicate fingers in the air, your whole arm shot up, purse clutched in hand. 

“Two hundred and fifty two dollars and thirty nine cents!” 

Gasps and grunts from the crowd echoed throughout the hall as everyone turned to face you. Even Eddie's jaw hit the floor. It took a moment for it to register, but when it did people were cheering. 

“Well, I think that wraps it up folks! The highest bid of the night, sold to the very eager young lady in red right over here! What a great donation!”

He continued talking, wrapping up the show, and signalled for the music to start once again. Blood was hammering in your ears, making you almost oblivious to everyone around you. All you could focus on in your tunnel vision was Eddie as he walked to the edge of the stage, climbed off in a smooth hop, and started sauntering toward you. 

“You know, if you wanted me that badly you could have just asked, sweetheart.” He said, as he flashed you a smug grin. 

“Hey, I was just saving you from that guy over there, pretty sure he wanted more than a date.” Your words came out calmer than you thought you were capable of as you clenched a fist at your side to hide your shakes. 

“Oh, really?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest, “That's what you were saving me from, huh?” 

He knew it was a lie. You knew it was a lie. You're pretty sure the entire hall knew it was a lie. 

“Of course, don't want some old geezer putting his hands all over you. Not a fun Valentines. Plus, I own you now. You've gotta do what I say.” 

Your hands dropped to your hips, holding them as you smiled at him. 

“Kinky,” he replied, stepping closer, making you falter in your confident stance as you’re forced to look up at him, “so, what are your orders, princess?” 

“Can you, get me a drink. A proper drink, from the bar? Please?” 

Taking your hand in both of his, he brought it up to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to it that turned your insides upside down. 

“Easy. Your wish is my command. Jack and Coke, right?” 

Gormlessly nodding, all you managed to say was a stunted “uh huh.”

He flashed that grin again, and bounced off with more of a spring in his step than usual. 

You turned on your heel, begging yourself to get your head together, and busied yourself with gathering the donations for the auction, including your hefty one, and passed the cash to your mom to be locked away. When you approached, she opened her mouth but you wildly waved a finger at her. 

“I know, I don't want to hear it. Not right now.” 

She smiled, and just said, “pretty sure you could have got that date for free.” 

Rolling your eyes and simultaneously rubbing your back, you passed over the cash and turned quickly, nearly slamming into someone. 

“Easy princess, I know you bought me but I won't stand for full on tackling.” 

He was holding your drink high, arms up to protect it.

“Sorry Eds, just escaping from-” 

You looked over your shoulder, but your mom had disappeared. 

“-nevermind. Thank you.” 

As you grabbed your drink you took a generous gulp in a vain attempt to steady your nerves. 

“So, now you have me, what are you gonna do to me?” 

As he guided a wolfish grin to you, you simply rolled your eyes, trying to hide the fact that several unsavoury thoughts were swimming through your mind. 

“What if I told you to hop on one leg and bark like a dog, huh?” You replied, sending a grin right back. 

“Oh you don't think I would? Don't test me princess.” 

You simply folded your arms and cocked your head, daring him with a look. Eddie nodded, and started fucking bouncing on one leg. 

“Woof! Woo-” 

“OK OK stop you weirdo!” Gasping a laugh, you grabbed him by the crook of his elbow and dragged him away from the curious stares of those around you. 

As the song changed to a slow ballad, Eddie whipped the drink from your hand despite your protests and placed it on a nearby table. 

“What are you doing?” 

Grasping your hand he escorted you to the middle of the dance floor and suddenly pulled you so close that the air expelled from your lungs. There was no air, just music, and feeling, and Eddie. 

“I'm dancing with you. Isn't this what you do on dates?” 

As he held your hips, thumbs rubbing into your sides, your mind cleared. Like a bubble of smoke had popped. This felt good. This felt right. You circled his neck within your arms and relaxed for the first time that evening.  

“This isn't a date, Eds.” 

Your words held some spite, but it was belied by the smirk tugging at your cheeks. 

“You are right. This isn't a date. If it was, well, we wouldn't be surrounded by geriatrics.” he nodded at the crowd around you, eliciting a high pitched giggle from your chest. 

As you swayed in step with him, gazing into his chocolate eyes, the smirk only grew, fuelled by the mischief in his eyes. 

“So, if this was a date, what would we be doing instead?” 

A part of you wants to feel bashful and turn away, but the spell his eyes have you under is in control. No force on earth could tear your gaze asunder. The couples around you could burst into flames and be chalked up to little more than background noise. 

“Well, first, I would have picked you up at your house, bought you some flowers too,” he said as he brought his hand to yours, holding it and pushing you into his frame even more, so you strained your neck up to him. His breath fanned delicately against your ear as he continued his explanation. 

“Probably took you to a fancy restaurant, with fabric napkins,” he said, making you giggle at his understanding of ‘fancy’, “would have paid too. Maybe had some wine. Shared a dessert.” 

“Yeah?” You nearly whisper it, words falling into the exposed skin of his neck. 

“Yeah. Then, I would have taken you back to my place, offered you a cup of coffee,” suddenly he spun you, pressing his lithe front to your waiting back, his fingers scooping the hair from your neck sending comet trails of sensation down your spine. He continued, words making your head dizzy, “Then, I would kiss you, properly. Like you deserve to be kissed.” 

As he spun you back to face him, you held his gaze for a moment, seeing every ounce of honesty etched into those big brown eyes. 

“Eddie?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Let's get out of here.” 

You shake your head, bringing yourself back to the here and now. Here you sit, opposite Eddie, invaded by his scent, debating whether or not to just tell the truth and hang the consequences. 

Taking a gulp of your drink, you set it back down and look Eddie in the eye. 

“Listen, I'm gonna be honest. I saw the way you looked at Chrissy and I… I was jealous. I didn't think, I just kinda acted. I'm sorry if it was weird.” 

Bravery fleeing your bones leaving behind an airy wobble, you look at your own lap, fingers twisting over and over. You're only slightly aware of the shuffle and rustle of Eddie rising to his feet, of footsteps, of the dip in the couch next to you. Then, Eddie's large hand comes to rest over both of yours. 

“Do you know why, sweetheart? Why were you jealous?” 

His hand is steady, fingers stilling your movements confidently, but there's a quaver to his voice that seems entirely unlike him. Grasping his fingers, you absentmindedly play with his heavy rings. 

“I feel stupid. I've had… kind of a crush on you, since high school.”

Of all the reactions, you hadn't expected a deep laugh to reverberate from his chest. Recoiling in horror, you shift your hands away from his and move to stand, your only thought to run, flee. 

“No no no, please, sit,” he asks, hands grasping at your waist to keep you there, as you rub at the twinge in your back again. 

“Turn around,” he says, and you don't find it in you to disobey. Firm hands stroke softly down your back, “you've been rubbing your back all night. Right here?” 

Fingertips circle the spot that's been aching and you nod, confused.

“Eddie, if this is a rejection, it's a really odd one- oh fuck, right there.” 

He chuckles lowly, knuckles working at the knot near your spine. 

“It's not, it's really not. You're in pain, and I know you'd never ask. Plus, I, ha, don't have the balls to say this to your face.” 

You don't say anything in response, you can't. Of course he's noticed you're in pain, he always notices stuff like that. The fact that this isn't a rejection though? It has your head reeling with so many thoughts that you can't express the words. Eddie clears his throat, hands rubbing into your skin through your dress, easing some of the building anxiety. 

“I've got a secret. I've- had a crush, on you, since middle school.” 

“Shut up!” You gasp, mouth hanging open at his confession. 

“Absolutely not.” 

“You didn't even know me in middle school Eds.”

“Yeah I did. Well, sorta. You remember that day I ran into the library? I asked for help?” 

You pick at the scab of a memory, itching it to the forefront of your brain. 

“Oh yeah, you were running from that idiot... Johnny?”

“Jimmy Salinsky. He was gonna beat on me. You, you didn't hesitate. You didn't even know me, but you told me to hide under your chair, you even threw your coat over your lap to hide me.” 

“What else would I do?” 

He snorted derisively, continuing his impromptu massage, “ignore me, tell me to fuck off, just like anybody else. But you, no, you didn't. Jimmy ran in looking for me and you didn't even lie! He asked if a freak had run in and you-” 

“-I said ‘the only freak in here is you’, I remember.” 

“That's right!” He laughs, squeezing your hips appreciatively, “Then he asked if you'd seen the poor kid, Eddie. You said, ‘I've never even met an Eddie’, which was true too. Not like I introduced myself before I dived under your chair. I remember crouching there, trying not to laugh, watching your little legs swinging. You had odd socks on, and you smelled really good. Anyway, I crushed on you hard.” 

Head buzzing over his words, you try to organise your thoughts. 

“Did the guys- did Hellfire know?” 

“Sweetheart, I'm surprised you didn't know, it was common knowledge. I just thought you never liked me like that.” 

Turning to face him again, you stroke hesitant fingers over his knee. 

“Didn't say anything, you were seeing Stacey.” Eddie's face screws in confusion until clarity rings like a bell in his mind. 

“Her? I wasn’t- that wasn't a relationship. I would have stopped in a fucking heartbeat if I'd known.” 

“Oh. I dated Tom to get over you.” 

“I dated Wendy to get over you!” 

Sharing a laugh, you both hold eye contact, giggles dying at the realisation of what this means. 

“So, Eddie, about that kiss…” you inch forward, ever so slightly nearer to him. A pink tongue darts out of his mouth, wetting his bottom lip. 

“Yeah, that. That was me, running my mouth,” he says, anxiety wracking his voice as he strokes his neck compulsively, “Not that I don't want to kiss you, I do, just, erm, don't expect fireworks?” 

It's almost like he's back at middle school, the nerves radiating off of him. Smiling sweetly, you take his hand and place it on your jaw, leaning into its touch. The breath he exudes is shaky as he moves closer, eyes darting to your lips as yours flutter shut. 

It's tentative; a brush of his mouth as if he's scared of you running, of some practical joke. When you make no move to pull away his thumb strokes your cheek, lips now moving more confidently against yours. Your heartbeat is echoing inside your head as your hand slips to slither down his chest and around him, circling his side. 

Only then does his tongue slowly snake out to wet your bottom lip; a silent plea which you happily grant. Still, it's delicate, tongues moving leisurely against one another as if you have all the time in the world. It's by no means dispassionate; far from it, it may be the most emotionally  charged kiss of your life, but it feels like he's holding back. 

So, you pull him closer by the front of his shirt, flicking your leg over his knee as your fingers tug hard. It's then that his tongue licks into you in earnest, thick and smooth, filling your insides with need. Just when you feel utterly consumed, whining inside his mouth, he breaks away. After a few pecks to your lips, he presses his forehead to yours, breath uneven, cooling your swollen lips. 

“I'm in love with you.” 

It comes out of his mouth in a rush. All you can do is stare gormlessly. 

“Huh?” 

“I love you. I just needed you to know that. This isn't just a- a thing. I'm in love with you, I have been since forever. I know it's a lot to take in, and I don't expect you to say it back I just need you to-”

You shut him up, pressing a hard kiss to his parted lips.

“Eddie, you lied.” 

“What? I'm telling the truth I-”

“You said don't expect fireworks. You were wrong.” 

Wasting no more time, you force your body onto him, tongue clashing against his teeth as the force of your kiss presses him backwards. His head makes contact with the arm of the couch, hands hot and heavy on your hips, pushing you into his bulge. 

The fabric of your dress is constricting your movements, making you huff into his mouth. 

“Eddie,” you manage in between spit slicked kisses, “unzip me.” 

There's a cross between a grunt and a moan that vibrates from him into you as his hand wanders across your back, groping its way to the zipper. In a few short bursts he manages to unzip it, not once breaking the kiss. 

Cool air hits your skin and you stand up, shimmying the dress to the floor and you straddle him moving in for- 

“Woah, slow down a second, just, just wait.” 

You try to kiss him again but he pushes you back, your ass flush against his crotch as you sit up. His gaze is scrutinising, examining every inch of your form, making you feel more exposed than you've ever felt in your life. 

The desperate urge to shy away works into your arms as you cross them over your chest, but Eddie's having none of it. He tugs at them gently, pulling them to your sides as his thumbs rub encouragement into your skin. 

“Sweetheart, there's a thirteen year old boy doing backflips in my head. Let him have a moment.” 

A little laugh you let out comes out as a snort whilst he gazes up at you in wonder. So, you give him a show, flicking your bra undone in one practised movement and sliding the straps down your arms, eventually letting it fall to the floor. 

“Jesus H Christ and all the angels.” He breathes, grip tightening on your forearms. 

A quivering hand reaches up, and to your surprise, cups your face. 

“You are so beautiful.” 

Eyes suddenly watering, you blink twice to will the onslaught of emotion away. 

“Not like Chrissy though,” you shrug, eyes downturned. 

“No, you're not like her. You're beautiful, like you.” 

Tugging you forward, he pulls you in for a breathtaking kiss, the full force of his feelings overflowing and filling your heart with heat. With a nibble to your bottom lip, he lets up for a second. 

“Can we go to my bedroom?” 

Nodding, you clamber off him and stand up. Eddie just makes a noise like you knocked the wind out of him, holding his hand to his heart. 

“What?” You ask, hands on your hips, like it was normal to be standing in front of him in just a pair of panties. 

“Don't look all stern like that, or I'm gonna bust in my pants,” he jokes, standing and crowding your back. 

The journey to the bedroom takes a while. Mostly because you can't keep your hands off of each other. He's grinning, giddy as a school boy, firm hands pressing into your sides, hips, ass. You respond in kind, nearly ripping his shirt in your efforts to remove it, only managing to unbutton the offensive material to expose his lean tattooed torso. 

Eventually, your spine hits Eddie's mattress, the soft furnishing welcoming you, begging you to sink in further. His touches are soft too, almost reverent in their delivery. He stands to remove his shirt and jeans, bulge prominent in his black trunks with little patterns on them. As he coaxes you further up the bed you squint and realise what they are. 

“Eds… are you wearing Star Wars underwear?” 

He chuckles, following your eyeline. “They are Darth Vader pants, to be specific, very manly.” 

The smile you flash him almost hurts your cheeks, the situation feeling so close to normal. Normal adjacent at least. 

“Yeah, very manly. Almost caveman like.” 

“Look, I didn't think I'd have a hot girl watching me undress tonight, let alone the woman of my dreams. Just forget the nerd pants.” 

You're laughing now, even when he's grabbing a pillow and getting you to lay on top of it, positioning you just where he wants you. Your giggles stop however, when he asks a question that steals your breath away. 

“Do I need to put a towel down?” 

“That's very presumptuous of you.” You smile, batting your eyelashes at him. 

“Look, I'm just asking. I don't mind sleeping in a wet patch I just want you to be comfortable.” 

He hovers over you, lips pressed into a line of concern. pressing your mouth to his to will the tightness away, you whisper into his face. 

“You want me to stay?” 

“Sweetheart, I'd ask you to move in tomorrow.” 

The next kiss is a searing heat, all heaving tongue and grinding hips. His hand winds into your hair, tilting your head to get you just where he wants you. No longer the blushing boy, he's the confident man, taking just what he needs and giving you what you crave. It's fire, it's want, it's everything. 

“Eds?” You murmur into his mouth as your hips chase his form. 

“Hmm?”

“Get the towel.” 

Hopping off of you, he practically skips out of the room, leaving you to debate whether or not to take your panties off. As you finally decide to strip them, fingers wedged into the fabric, he returns. 

“Nope, just wait, please?” He asks, propping you up with ease to lay the towel down under you. So, you let go, allowing your arms to fall to your sides.

“Lemme look after you,” he says, climbing on top of you to plant open mouthed kisses to your neck. You nod, gasping when his teeth graze a sensitive spot on your neck. Short nails dig into his back as you whimper at the contact. 

“Right there princess, hmm?” He chuckles, mouthing at your neck. 

“Uh huh- oh fuck,” as he bites softly, tongue flicking out to lather at the spot. 

Moving down, his lips press to your collarbone, then down your chest, until he places a peck to your nipple. 

“I've been dreaming about these tits, but nothing can compare to the real thing,” his tongue darts out, swirling around the pebbled nub, sending goosebumps over your skin, “fuckin’ flawless sweetheart.” 

You want to say a smart remark, shaking your head, but all thoughts fly out the window when he sucks, rough fingers reaching out to rub the other. Back arching, your legs clamp on his little waist, saying their own prayer to keep him there. 

As he releases his mouth with a wet noise, the thoughts flood back, all barriers forgotten. 

“I've been thinking about you too, what you'd do, what it looks like,” you admit, truths flying free in the heat of the moment. 

“Yeah?” He smiles up at you, “been thinking about my dick?” 

“Yeah, how'd it feel in my mouth, how'd it feel inside me,” you breathe out as he continues his worship of you, tonguing and kissing at your tummy. 

“Fuck,” he says, hot air fanning over his wet string of loving kisses, “you're gonna kill me, saying shit like that.” 

“Don't die, I'll never find out,” you joke, breathing unsteady as he falls between your thighs, playfully nipping at the sensitive flesh. 

“Oh we wouldn't want that. How else could you know what this feels like?” 

Lifting your head, he locks eyes with you as he licks thickly over your clothed clit, pressing hard. 

“Oh Eddie, yes,” you wail, wriggling under his touch. 

He merely smiles in response, hooking rough fingertips into the waistband of your panties and pulling them down almost torturously slowly. They stick between your legs so much that your cheeks flush. Eddie doesn't seem to mind in the slightest, working them off your feet and tossing them on his bedside table. You briefly wonder if you're going to get them back, but then his lips are sucking at the soft skin on your ankle and you stop caring. 

Up, up, up he moves, showing each patch of skin just the same amount of love, until he reaches the crease where your thigh meets, tongue rippling over it. You huff in frustration, hips wiggling. 

“I'm getting to it sweetheart,” he says, pressing a kiss to your mound, “I wanna savour this.”

Words of protest dissipate when he laps at you, rooting out your clit without a moment's hesitation. Any clandestine thoughts you had about this very moment are nothing compared to this. To the feel of Eddie sucking at your clit, his pillowy lips wrapped around it. To the sudden roughness of his fingers as they graze your entrance. To the breach of one, slipping deep inside of you, immediately seeking out your sweet spot. 

“Eddie, ri-right there, oh God!” 

He moans into you, vibrations tickling you in the most delicious way. It's an amazing feeling, but you can't help but think about the noises you're making. Maybe they're pathetic, and not what he's used to?  You bet he's heard some beautiful moans in his time. Some pretty blonde things with long legs and big tits. Girls who know what they're doing. Oh God, what if you start feeling him up and he laughs at you? What if- 

“Hey, sweetheart, you here?” 

He gazes up at you between your legs, eyes boring into you with the question. 

“Sorry, so sorry, I'm here I-” 

“Hey. Don't apologise. You in your head?” He asks, head resting on your thigh, “you know we don't have to do this right now.”

“No, no I want to, honest, it's just- I dunno, second guessing myself? I'm just thinking about-” 

“See? That's the problem. Stop thinking. Lie back and enjoy it. Just, get out of your head. No place I'd rather be.” 

His brown eyes are wide, wet with honesty. He was never able to hide his real emotions, at least not with you. 

“OK, I'm so- I'll enjoy it.”

“That's it. Close your eyes princess, and just feel.” 

Eyes fluttering shut, you concentrate on the feel. Of his lips, suckling softly at your clit, tongue running around the hood. Then, fingers slipping inside once again, curling within you. Moans slither out of your hoarse throat as your hips roll up to meet his lips. 

“That's it, so good for me,” he mumbles into you, “doing such a good job. You sound so sweet.” 

Sweet. You sound sweet. 

In that instant, all your hang ups begin to melt away. The pleasure he's giving you is hitting just right, making you forget all your worries. Pressure builds in your tummy; a whirling, winding force hitting you from the inside out. You're squirming, but it's as if someone outside of you is letting you know. It must be Eddie's firm palm, the one that presses into your abdomen, keeping you steady. Keeping you here, in this moment. 

There's no rush. Time loses all meaning. He could be between your thighs for minutes, hours, days. All you know is the ball of desire tightening within you is fit to burst, bubbling over in a melting pot of raw emotion. 

“Eddie, I'm so close, s-so close!” 

He doesn't falter, doesn't deviate in his ministrations. He continues, tongue circling, fingers curling so deep inside you think you can see God. A swirling, cloying heat encapsulates you, winding around that feeling you buried in your heartstrings and tugging it loose. That deep emotion you pushed aside years ago, a healed splinter, set free by the love and care he's pouring out of his flowing tongue.

It reaches its crescendo, vision darkening as every nerve is coddled with an inner fire. You're not even sure what you feel; release, blinding pleasure, pure love? It could be all three as you cry out, fingers tugging at Eddie's hair. 

He rides it out with you, fingers coaxing your orgasm to the very brink and beyond until you flop back into the bed. 

The first clue you have that something different just happened is the wet feeling underneath your ass. It feels damp, and cold? Opening your eyes, you haul yourself onto your elbows to look down. 

“Now are you glad I said about the towel?” 

Never have you seen so much of your own release coated on a man. It's covering his mouth, chin, cheeks, hand. You briefly wonder at how it could have happened, how that much could have come out of you. 

Eddie wipes his mouth and hand on the towel underneath and makes his way to hover over your heaving form, eyes practically shooting hearts at you from deep within.

“You alright princess? We can stop right now if it's too much.” 

Blindly you reach out, clumsy fingers rubbing at the hard swelling of his member inside his underwear. 

“Don't you want me to return the favour?” You ask, confused. 

“Sweetheart, one kiss of those pretty lips on my dick and I'll be done for.” 

“Then- I'm on birth control. Fuck me, please.” 

The groan that he lets out is deep and guttural, moving his limbs for him. He gets up to whip his pants down and you see it for the first time. You see him. 

It's big. Fuck, its the biggest you’ve seen; not just long but thick, even thicker than your fumblings thought. A glint of silver throws you for a loop, almost making you think you imagine it, but there it is again. 

“Holy shit, Eddie- are you, pierced??” 

“Oh yeah,” he chuckles, glancing down to follow your eye line, “you didn't know about that huh.” 

He climbs on top of you, kissing as he goes, plush lips on your skin. Soft, delicate, and warm. Guiding his hardness to your opening, you can't help but rub your thumb over the tip, pre cum slipping on the balls of the piercing. Eddie's breath stutters, nearly panting in your mouth as you smirk. 

“Now that's not fair sweetheart.” 

You continue to smile, gathering your slick to slide him in, but it quickly turns into a wince. 

“Fuck, Eddie, you're too big,” you whimper out as your eyes screw shut. 

“You're fuckin’ flattering me princess.” 

“I'm not, seriously, you're- oh goddamn-” 

He's pushing into you, slowly, but it still burns, the sheer stretch at his girth almost too much. Gnawing at your lips, tears well in your eyes. 

Eddie looks shocked, taken aback by your reaction. 

“Really? Fuck, OK sweetheart, you're OK. Look at me, you can take it, yeah?” 

Trust Eddie to say the hottest thing by accident. He's just trying to check in, but by God it sets your insides on fire. 

“I-I'll try.”

“That's it, atta girl, little more.” 

Reaching down to where you're joined, you wrap your hand loosely around the base, realising he's only halfway in. 

“Eddie, jeez you could- oooh- you could have f-fucking warned me, ah!” 

“Just relax, I've got you princess, you're taking it so well, you can take the rest- oh Jesus H Christ you're tight.”  

A long drawn out cry echoes out of you as he bottoms out, tears loose and running down your temples. He's leaning on his elbows, fingers stroking at your hair, leaving snowflake kisses on your cheeks. 

“Uh- mmmph- Eddie, you've got a pornstar dick.” 

Gritting his teeth, he looks at you almost sternly.

“You can't say that or I'll cum right now, please.” 

Eyes softening, you kiss his lips instead. He envelops you, tongue dancing in your mouth making you forget the dull ache. Nothing can make you forget how full you feel however, your pussy quivering uncontrollably around him even though he's not moving. 

“This is so nice,” he says, entwining his fingers with yours over your head. 

“Eddie, you're literally balls deep in me and it's ‘nice’?” 

Laughing so hard you feel it in your chest, he kisses you again. 

“Sorry, I mean, just being this close with you. It's everything I've ever wanted.” 

Lips quivering, you stare at him, eyes wide and wet. 

“Eddie, I lo-” 

“No, don't. Not like this. Just- can I move?” 

You nod, biting back the words, and he slowly rolls his hips. Eyes nearly hitting the back of your skull, you moan, meeting his movements. He's so deep, it's like he's everywhere. Every pore, every capillary, pulsing with him. 

“Oh my God, baby, oh God!” 

You're rambling words but it doesn't seem to matter, mind filled with fog, with feeling. With him. He links one arm under the fat of your thigh, coaxing you to curl it around him, and everything seems to fall into place all at once. Each rolling movement is pressing into that sweet spot inside of you, that spot he seems to find so easily like a gravitational pull. He smiles, panting in tandem. 

“Right there princess?” 

Nodding like a puppet on a string, he lets out a long groan. 

“Good, I-I’m not gonna last, you feel too fuckin’ good.” 

Pleased at his reaction, you link one arm around him, stroking at the taut skin of his back as he drives into you harder. Grunting with each thrust, he's tensing, holding back. 

“You can come, Eddie,” you say shakily. 

“Not before you sweetheart,” he replies, doubling down on his efforts. 

It all feels so intense, each whirl of feeling sinking deep into your bones and fanning the flames of your heart and desire. 

“Eddie, s-so close, come with me, please.” 

Almost as soon as you say the words your climax springs out, overflowing with every emotion he won't let you say. It fizzes through your nerves, throbbing with each beat of your pulse. 

Eddie groans, releasing at the same time, two bodies with one heart. As you both relax, melding together, you giggle at the same time. A laugh of relief, of pure happiness. 

“Sorry, thought I'd last a little longer.” 

He seems embarrassed, lifting his head enough to look you in the eye. 

“Eddie, that was perfect.” 

He snuggles his head deep in your neck, inhaling your scent as if it were the last time. 

“I'm gonna get you cleaned up, hang on.”

Lifting his head once more, he kisses, and kisses, lips moving against you with pure feeling. 

“OK, now I'm really gonna go.” 

You giggle as he just keeps kissing you, staring up at him with each unspoken word swimming in your mind. 

“Right, now, just hang on.” 

With a final peck, he slips out of you, returning with a warm cloth. Not used to this affection you merely lay there, allowing him, and wriggle out of the way when he takes away the towel. When you move, you see there's still a wet patch, but it's been mitigated at least somewhat. 

“I can change the sheets if you want-” 

“Eddie, I don't care, just hold me.” 

Grinning like a boy he climbs back into bed, pulling blankets over the both of you. Fitting together like you were always supposed to, you sigh with relief. 

“Eddie? Can I say it now?” 

You whisper it into his chest as he holds you close, almost afraid of breaking the spell of the evening. 

“That depends sweetheart,” he says, fingers tracing unknown patterns on the skin of your arm, “you have to mean it. I couldn't take it if you didn't mean it.” 

“I mean it. I love you Eddie, I think I always have.” 

The smile in his voice makes you smile too.

“I love you too. Happy Valentine's Day."

Taglist

@liminalpebble @eddies-puppet @rip-quizilla @micheledawn1975 @vanilla-demon @millercontracting @roanniom @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @mrsjellymunson @usedtobecooler @eddiesprincess86 @ali-r3n @choke-me-eddie @littlebebebunny @big-ope-vibes

[dreamingofaizawa]

Posession

Ulquiorra Cifer x Fem!Arrancar!Reader

***18+ Fic*** If you are under the age displayed, please find your way to another station.

Warnings: Penetrative sex (p in v), biting/marking, fingering, edging, overstimulation(?), choking/breath play, rough sex, VERY posessive Ulquiorra, spanking (ass and pussy spanking), liberal use of 'master' (both sexual and not) squirting, creampie, cockwarming if you squint, teeny bit of praise kink, dom! Ulquiorra, sub! reader, tiny bit of aftercare (ish), brief mentions of suicide (not descriptive, it’s used as a power grab/show of loyalty)

Word Count: 3.6k

Auhor's Note: Yeeeah....I'm making writer's block my bitch LMAO

Anywho, enjoy the depravity~

Being a fracción was a simple thing, really. Obey. Apologize. Obey. Especially under the fourth Espada, your job was easy. He’s reserved, quiet, but his silence does not convey weakness. It’s calculated, like everything he does. So you must be as well. You match his stoic facade, keep everything in check. You’ve learned to read his every fractional expression, most of his thoughts you’re able to read without struggle. Once you’d begun thinking like him, it became infinitely easier to remain as his fracción and remain unpunished, for the most part. 

With all of that in mind, you can’t fathom what you missed. 

He’s cornered you in your personal quarters outside of your usual fracción duties. If he needs something urgently, he can easily summon you to his side instantaneously. Clearly, it wasn’t urgent enough to warrant a summons. So what exactly do his barely furrowed brows and unusually dark glare mean? You stand, awaiting orders of some kind, while he stalks slowly closer to you. His footsteps are measured, as always. He doesn’t stop, however, when his chest bumps your own. His frame pushes against yours as you easily step backward, matching his pace until your back hits the wall. It isn’t often you can’t read his mind.

“A thousand apologies, Master Ulquiorra, I am unable to discern what you need tonight.” His viridian glare flickers over your features, schooled to match his own usual indifference. The silence is long, stretched thin over the seconds you spend trying to decipher the Espada’s thoughts to no avail. All you can do is study his face. Those piercing, unwavering eyes that you could lose yourself in forever. The tiny tick in his sharp jaw, the tiniest pinch in his brows. Dark lines reminiscent of tear tracks streak down his pale cheeks, drawing the eyes down his neck toward the hollow at the base of his throat. It isn’t often he chooses to leave it exposed. 

“Has anyone paid you a visit today?” The deep baritone vibrates through your body, snapping your thoughts back to the present. No other Espada would dare come to you, unless it were urgent or a special case. None of the humans would bother with you either, even Lord Aizen is far above seeking the assistance of a fracción. He should already know the answer to that question.

“No, Master Ulquiorra.” You don’t bother to elaborate, he hates hearing unneeded explanations. A simple answer is all he ever needs. At the confirmation, his features relax. His expression is blank once again, the calculated persona clicking into place like a puzzle piece. You know you’re one of the very few that can read his micro expressions, if he were talking to any of the other Espada or fracción they’d probably never notice whatever inner turmoil plagues his mind. But you do. 

When he turns to leave, you can’t help but want to ease whatever troubles him. It’s second nature, for a fracción such as yourself. You were made to serve him, to assist him, to do anything and everything necessary to help him reach his goal.

“Master Ulquiorra?” He stops on a dime, casually turning to face you once again. He wants this kept short, he always does. So you don’t bother beating around the bush.

“May I be of any assistance? I can see something is on your mind.” His eyes swiftly trace down and back up your entire form. If you weren’t looking for it, you’d have missed it.

“No. Good night.” Swiftly, he turns and leaves, the door to your room closing softly behind him. How odd. 

The next week is spent assisting the fourth Espada with research of the hogyoku. There isn’t much to be gathered besides what Lord Aizen already knows, and each night you wonder exactly what has Ulquiorra wound so tightly. Yes, his mind still lingers on whatever it is he confronted you about that night. Unfortunately, an answer does not come to you, but instead a new series of questions is given to you when you’re visited once again in your quarters. You feel him approaching long before he arrives, that spiritual pressure is unmistakable. But why is he here?

You’re down on your knees before the door swings open, head bowed down, not from the pressure but out of respect for the man. Lord Aizen steps over the threshold, his footsteps heavy and booming, into the small space of your room. You’ve only ever seen him across a hall or room during a meeting of some kind, and he’s never ever addressed you directly. Any and all orders came through Master Ulquiorra, even if they were from Lord Aizen himself.

“So respectful. Ulquiorra has trained you well, fracción. Stand.” You waste no time, standing at full height and keeping your eyes focused on the ground. Making eye contact could be fatal. You have to tense every muscle in your body to keep from flinching when a large hand reaches out toward your face, and you stop breathing when he grabs your chin and begins to turn your head this way and that. He’s…examining you. Releasing your face, he begins a slow, steady pace circling around you as you stand perfectly still. You don’t know what this is about, but you don’t dare ask, his piercing gaze is more than enough warning not to speak at all, let alone move.

“Very interesting.” It takes all of your resolve not to scream and protest when you feel two large hands, suddenly and harshly, grasp your waist and tug your back against his chest. His chin hooks over your shoulder and his voice is too close, too deep, too dark.

“What a darling fracción. Tell me, why is Ulquiorra so distracted lately? One of my most loyal Espada has been faltering lately.” He’s been faltering? Oh no, what could have him so worked up?

“My sincerest apologies, Lord Aizen. I have not been able to discern his troubles. He has hidden all of his mind from me lately. I have failed as his fracción.” You know you’ve failed. If his mind is so distracted that Lord Aizen has noticed a difference in his performance, then you have failed to be of assistance. You were created for it, and yet you have failed. The ultimate failure.

“Oh, don’t be so down, little fracción. You have not failed, yet.” Yet? What does he mean by that? He releases you from his hold in favor of meeting you face to face, grasping your chin once again and forcing your eyes to meet his own. It’s a terrifying thing, those eyes are pure bloodlust.

“If Ulquiorra were to have you kill yourself for any reason, would you do it?”

“Yes.” You didn’t even have to think about the answer. Undeniably, you would. No matter the order, you’d follow through. If Ulquiorra ordered you to kill Lord Aizen himself, you would kill him or die trying.

“Very good, fracción. Such unwavering loyalty is not so common.” Maybe not, but fraccións are created for the sole purpose of mindless loyalty and obedience. It should not be a surprise that you are this way. Though something deep in your psyche tells you loyalty is not the only quality you hold for your master.

Another layer of spiritual pressure falls on the room, but you are unable to look over Lord Aizen’s wide shoulders with your face stuck in his grip. Regardless, you know who has joined you.

“Ulquiorra, I was wondering when you’d arrive.” The Espada’s footsteps halt behind the former shinigami.

“Lord Aizen.” Nothing more than an acknowledgement, but all of the questions you know he wants to ask remain unspoken when dark brown meets deep emerald, their sharp gazes piercing each other. The tension is palpable, for reasons you cannot calculate. Never would you have thought Ulquiorra could level such a glare at the man he’s sworn his loyalty. Your chin is finally released, and a boom resonates through the small chamber, the white fabric on Ulquiorra’s back suddenly filling your gaze as Lord Aizen turns back to face you both. A sonido? Here? Now? In front of Lord Aizen? What is going on with Master Ulquiorra? The thick silence is suffocating, the air itself seems to be vibrating with clashing spiritual pressures and tension. You’re having a hard time breathing, your body feeling heavier the longer the silence stretches. It feels like an eternity passes and you fall to your knees, but you know it can’t have been more than a split second. As quickly as it built, the tension dissipates as you sit there on your knees, panting and sweating in the aftermath.

“Tend to your fracción, Ulquiorra, the way we both know you want to. She may not be privy to your thoughts but I can read you like a book.” Lord Aizen’s smirk is measured carefully, and he’s gone in an instant. You don’t dare move until that spiritual pressure is gone completely, and even then you’re struggling to recuperate. Tenderly, lithe fingers brush away whatever hair had fallen in your face, emerald gaze searching your face as you peer up at him. Searching for what, you don’t know. 

“Stand.” You do as asked, wobbling for a moment while your strength returns. Strong hands, one on your shoulder and one on your waist, steady you. It’s strange, he’s never actually touched you before. Not like this. You don’t know what to do about the sudden feeling in your chest, warmth and contentment spreading like a wildfire to your mind. Even more so you’re left unsure about your newfound feelings, when instead of giving a command he chooses to lift you in his arms. The boom of a sonido is so much different when you’re moving the distance, but not of your own volition. The door to Master Ulquiorra’s quarters is thrown open and you’re unceremoniously tossed onto the large bed.

“Master Ulquiorra?” You can’t help your confusion. The past fifteen minutes have been a whirlwind of unnatural occurrences. His movements are almost frantic as he strides over to the door and seals it shut, locking it from the inside and training those eyes right on you. It’s a predatory glare he pins you with, the viridian swirling with something dark and sultry and filled with an insatiable lust. It makes your carefully crafted mask of indifference crack and splinter, eyes widening as your body curls into itself. You aren’t afraid, not of him. But something in his eyes just screams danger, and you can’t help the blistering heat coiling in the pit of your stomach nor the involuntary squeeze of your thighs. It doesn’t go unnoticed. Before anything else, a tension settles over the room much like earlier.

“What was Lord Aizen’s business with you?” What a strange question.

“He asked if I knew why you were lacking in your duties lately. I couldn’t answer.” His chest rises and falls heavily, a muscle in his jaw tensing momentarily.

“Was that all?” You shook your head, not at all inclined to keep anything from Ulquiorra. 

“He asked if I’d kill myself at your order.” He went eerily still, every muscle in his body tensed and ready like a coiled snake.

“And your answer?”

“Without question. I would do anything you asked of me, Master Ulquiorra.” The glare he levels you with is primal, carnal desire. There’s no question about it, his entire being is consumed by lust. In the time it takes you to blink, he’s got you pinned to the bed with a hand wrapped tight around your neck, his lips claiming yours in a display of barely controlled dominance that has your entire body trembling. Teeth grab at every piece of skin he can reach. Blooming bites and bruises form along your jaw and neck, carefully skirting around the hollow in your own chest, his fingers squeezing around your throat in increments sending your vision blurry. Your clothes are shredded off your body and you’re left completely exposed for the arrancar keeping you pinned to his bed. Pain shoots through you, jolting your body, the sensation of teeth burying into your shoulder and it’s all you can do to bite your lip to stay quiet. The hand on your throat squeezes, Ulquiorra’s voice rattling your brain.

“I want to hear you. Not a single noise you make will be stifled.” It’s a proclamation, a statement of fact, rather than a request or demand. The next bite is accompanied by a sharp pinch, your nipple peaked between his index finger and thumb as he tugs at it, your voice coming out in a yelp and slowly melding into a low moan while he toys with your breasts. 

“Beautiful.” That single word sends shivers down your spine. There isn’t a single moment you can remember being praised in any way, and your head is spinning from it. His mouth continues its assault on your skin, following the curve of your shoulder and down your breasts. You can see the bite marks scattered over your chest, it lights a fire beneath your skin you can’t quite describe. He takes his time marking you, one hand ghosting over you and the other remaining planted on your neck, his lips mapping your body. You’re trembling from the attention he’s lavishing you with, you know he can feel the way your body shakes from all the stimulation. When his wandering hand finally reaches between your thighs, you’re shy knowing how messy you’ve become. His fingers are toying with the folds of your pussy, teasing around the entrance and barely ghosting over your swollen clit, his lips still sucking and biting and marking. He’s claiming you, completely dominating your being and making you his. 

He’s squeezing your throat in longer stents now, giving you short spaces to breathe between the dizzying cut off of your air supply. He can see the effect it’s having on you, your legs weaker as they try to close around his hand toying with your cunt, tears falling down your cheeks, your eyelids fluttering shut the longer he keeps your breathing controlled. And your pretty pussy is leaking so much more now, dripping onto his sheets and soaking his fingers. His emerald gaze stares up at you when you reach up and grasp at his arm, weakly clawing at him for a breath. He loves seeing you like this, completely reliant on him, even to do something as simple and basic and breathing.

The edges of your vision spot black and you’re shaking harder the closer you get to unconsciousness. You can’t fight it much longer, as much as you want to. Your eyes roll back into your skull as two long fingers plunge into your pussy and you’re granted air once again, the gasping breaths you take making your head spin and the fingers buried deep inside you curl up to hit a spot that makes your back arch up off the bed. It’s euphoric. You’re shaking hard, your legs clamped around Ulquiorra’s hand as something snaps in your abdomen, sending you head first into a freefall of blinding pleasure. Your guttural moans bounce off the walls after being ripped from your lungs, a sinful melody in the arrancar’s ears. When you can finally focus again Ulquiorra is standing above you in all his naked glory, clothing tossed into a random corner. He’s a beautiful man, pale skin flawless and smooth, and you can’t help the way your eyes trace down his toned body to lock onto his hard leaking cock as it stands proud.

“Get on your knees. Turn around and present yourself to me.” The command is clear, the dominant cadence of his voice making you tremble as you obey your master. Dropping your chest to the bed, you spread your knees and grip the sheets tight between your fingers, exposing your ass and cunt to the lust crazed Espada. Shivers wrack your body from the groan he lets slip past his lips, you yelp and jolt when a sharp slap lands on your bare pussy. 

“Look at you. So obedient, so submissive. Such a pretty, slutty little fracción for me.” A moan is punched from you at the praise, and your cunt clenches down around nothing. One hand smooths over one of your ass cheeks and slides up your back, reaching all the way to the back of your neck and keeping steady pressure, pinning you in place. Again you clench around nothing as Ulquiorra teases the tip of his cock at your entrance, never delving further, bumping your clit and making you jump with every pass. You know better than to speak out of turn, but you can’t take it anymore.

“P-please…” Everything halts, even your breathing stops at the realization of what you'd just done. A heavy hand slaps your ass, leaving a blooming red mark in its wake, your whole body jerking at the contact and a moan tearing from your throat. Another slap lands in the same place, harder this time, and another. They keep coming until your moans are sounding more like screams, but Ulquiorra knows better, the gush of your cute pussy giving away just how much you’re enjoying yourself. Mercifully, he rubs at the raw skin in soothing circles.

“A fitting punishment, don’t you think? For speaking unprompted,” you nod as much as you can still pinned beneath him, tears staining your cheeks and the bedsheets.

“Y-yes, Master Ulquiorra.” You can’t see it, but you can hear the devious grin in his voice. If only you had the pleasure of witnessing such an expression.

“Good girl, you’re learning.” Your loud moan is swallowed by the sheets.

“Oh? You like the praise, sweet thing?” It’s formed as a question, but it feels like he’s taunting you, like it’s something shameful to enjoy. You can’t bring yourself to answer, embarrassed to be so affected by his praise. His hand comes down again on your still painful ass.

“I asked you a question. I expect an answer.” Between small hiccups and sniffles, you squeak out a response.

“Yes! I love hearing your praise, Master.” Satisfied, he chuckles, deep and dark and dangerous. He doesn’t bother speaking anymore, focused solely on dragging out your torturous pleasure as long as he can endure. His fingers are shoved into your pussy, ripping a groan out of you and he sets a punishing pace, pumping and curling and spreading to prepare you to take his sizable cock. You can feel that sensation again, tightening in the depths of your belly, feel your legs begin to shake like before, whines and moans spilling into the room. But just before that tension snaps, you’re left empty. You could cry, being denied that release. Ulquiorra just laughs again before rubbing tight, quick circles into your clit to build up the tension again. You desperately want to beg him to let you cum, want to sing his praises in hopes that he’ll pull you over that blissful release, but you know you can’t. Your chest is heaving, entire body shaking as he builds you up to the point of snapping, only to stop just before you’re shoved over the edge again. You cry, sob as another orgasm is stolen away from you. Your body is shaking so hard he doesn’t even have to move his fingers to rub at your clit, just hold them while you tremble and let you work yourself to that peak again and again. Then he stills completely, listening to your pathetic sniveling at being denied so much pleasure.

“Go ahead. Beg.”

“Please! Please Master Ulquiorra make me cum! I want to feel it so bad, I need it. I can’t take any more, please make me cum!” You can hear his evil chuckle, he’s adoring this. In one fluid motion he buries his aching cock all the way to the hilt, your scream is punched from your lungs and your vision blanks, his heavy balls slap against your clit as he slams into you with his full weight. You can’t hear anything as you cum hard, feeling liquid gush from your cunt and drip down your legs, squirting all over Ulquiorra’s thighs. He doesn’t stop, leaning over you and pounding into you until he feels his own orgasm quickly approaching. Shaking is all you can do, pinned down and at the mercy of your master as he empties into you, hot ropes of thick cum filling you to the brim as he finally stills. 

You’re both sucking in heavy breaths in the aftershock, slowly he releases your neck and lays the both of you down on your side, cock still plugging your cunt, keeping all his cum inside you. He holds your trembling form close, gently massaging your shoulders, hips, neck and thighs. Every piece of you that he’s sure aches, he tenderly soothes. It takes a long while for you to pick up the shattered pieces of your mind, he can see your eyes regain their focus as he places soft kisses over your shoulder.

“Are you alright?” You blink away some of the daze, nod slowly to answer. The both of you hiss when he slips his soft cock from you, sensitive as ever. He flips you around to face him, tugging your body over his own so you’re laying on top of him. His fingers caress down your back and massage your scalp and neck, further grounding your mind. It’s comfortable, sweet. You don’t want to be anywhere else. Gently, he turns your head to look into your eyes.

“For the last week I have battled with the notion that you were not solely my own fracción and you would be stolen away by another Espada.” A small, lazy smile graces your features. What a silly concept.

“I’m not going anywhere, Master Ulquiorra.” His gaze turns possessive.

“Of course you aren’t, my dear fracción,” his hand grips your chin firmly, eyes piercing your own, “You belong to me, and only me.”

[afurtivecake]

My hot take on AFTG? At first glance, the original series appears to be amateurishly written, but actually it's like that because it's in an autistic POV.

Ok look, anyone who has read AFTG will notice the language is fairly simple, the vocabulary not particularly varied, the phrasing is repetitive, there's a lot of detail about small, seemingly pointless actions, a ton of exposition and hardly any detail on many of the characters or their emotional states. I'm not denying that. I'm saying it's intentional because all of that is how Neil thinks.

Firstly, Neil isn't particularly well-educated. The longest he's stayed in one place is that one year in Millport. I don't know what kind of an education he's gotten on the road, but it surely could not have been consistent. He also doesn't have Andrew's memory so he's not going to be spouting big words and fanciful adjectives where simpler ones will suffice. (Also, Andrew is an intellectual and considers himself as such, which is why he talks the way he does, but that's a whole other tangent) It would be a wildly different character or a different style of POV altogether if it was written in a more literary style.

As for why it feels specifically autistic, it's hard to explain because for me, it's very intuitive and largely based on personal experience and exposure. But I can say that the books read like what some of my autistic friends (and I) have going through their heads. It's the methodical thought processes, the meticulous observation, the internal exposition, the logical reasoning that gets applied to every small thing, the conscious decisions that go into every action. It's also how there's an absence of descriptions of people and their personalities and how sometimes it seems like it suddenly shifts to a complete non sequitur. It reads like we're inside Neil's head and the inside of Neil's head feels really familiar.

Now, I'm not sure how much of it is the author herself and how much of it is just Neil, or if it's a case of Neil being exactly the sort of character Nora Sakavic's natural writing style (at the time) just happened to fit precisely. But my point is that having the kind of flaws English teachers would wag their fingers at doesn't make it a less effective piece of writing. Not all characters and not all humans are going to tell their stories in a way that sounds like what we think of as 'literature' but that doesn't make their story less meaningful or significant or less well told.

EDIT: I should say, there are literary authors who also have a very sparse, simple style, who nonetheless, manage to convey so much sentiment and emotion in simple, short sentences. AFTG has, by no means, the simplest or sparsest writing I've seen. You don't need complex words or sentences to tell a good story effectively!

[chinchillasinunison]

Some more random bits of Welcome Home observation..............

So the concept of "eating with your eyes" Wally has going on calls to mind the idea of media consumption. Wally Darling absorbs what he needs through his eyes alone, passing his judgments purely on aesthetics (loves apples for the look, not the taste, to the point where he can't even recognize them in different forms). And that's got me thinking about all the varying sorts of creative expression depicted in Welcome Home.

Out of everyone in the neighborhood who has a special "thing," Wally's is the only one limited to two dimensions. The others involve the creation of a 3 dimensional object (Eddie's crafts and Poppy's baking), performance (Barnaby and Sally), or with physicality as a necessary component (Julie's games and Frank's bug catching/studying). You could say that compared to the others, his painting is... much more flat. Perhaps that could be a metaphorical reflection of his outlook? Wally has a vast field of view, but no depth perception, as it were?

The other detail that stands out to me in regards to everyone's "thing" is that Howdy... doesn't have one. Like... think about how weird that is for a second. He doesn't make anything original. He has others share with him their jokes, their ideas, their creations, in exchange for necessities like food. In the context of the in-universe show, what educational function is his segment supposed to serve? Simple: it conveys that art is a commodity that can be bought and sold. It's basically a microcosm of the life of an artistic professional without the middleman of currency.

So then....... what does that mean in the grand scheme of my "Wally is self-aware of his status as a children's TV show character and trying to monitor the neighborhood so the others don't grow beyond their initial roles" speculation? I think it gives a different potential motive to consider: self-preservation. Wally is aware that he is an art piece, but more importantly, that he is a product. Literally, the first line of his description beyond the opening blurb is that he is the most popular character in merchandise. The show must keep itself in top form so The Playfellow Workshop can sell, sell, sell those sing-along records and tie-in Little Golden Books and paper doll playsets. Otherwise? Well, Howdy doesn't just give away hot dogs for free, even if you're hungry. You need to pay for it. That's economics.

So Wally tries to keep the neighborhood agreeable. Palatable. Digestible. Apples always the same shade of red and as thin as the canvas he paints on. Only to swallow up with the eye, not to savor. Otherwise, if things get too complicated? Well, we all know the fate of the in-universe show....

Then again, still, I could be way off base. I just found all of this really interesting and want to share. And it has made me more suspicious of Howdy of all characters, so that's gotta count for something.

[elwenyere]

Crafting Comments on Fics

So with Comment Fest approaching - and with the possibility of bot-generated comments undermining the value of reader-writer engagement - I thought it might be helpful to provide a short explanation of some different approaches I use in crafting comments, in order to identify a few places to get started for anyone who has wanted to leave more (or more detailed) comments but who feels unsure how to get going. 

This is far from an exhaustive list, and the categories are designed to allow for a mix-and-match construction with varying levels of development (from basic to more elaborate). At the heart of it, I think of commenting as a practice of paying attention to what I notice in a story and then crafting language to share those observations with the writer. So each of these categories starts from something we might notice when we read.

1. Affect: how the fic affected you/made you feel

This is a great place to start if commenting feels intimidating, because you’re drawing from your own emotional responses. A basic template might be something like “_____ made me ________.” You can pick a particular moment (the scene with the tooka infestation, the kiss in the Denny’s parking lot, the moment we realize character x was dead the whole time, etc.) or focus on the fic as a whole; and you can describe the effect in simple terms (made me cry, smile, laugh, feel soft, etc.) or extravagant ones (made me want to roll myself into the sea, made me feel like I had ascended to a new astral plane, shook me so deeply it registered a 10.3 on the Richter scale). The idea is to take one or more responses you had to the fic and let the writer know what they were/what about the story produced them. 

2. Memory: what from the fic has stuck with you

If a story has an especially strong effect on you, you might also let the author know what particular moments, lines, or images are going to linger in your mind after you finish reading. After identifying the detail(s) you want to flag (if you were going to bookmark this fic with a note to remind Future You which one it is, what image or scene or plot premise or line of dialogue would go in the “the one with the ___________” slot?), you can describe the way it’s sticking with you in general terms (I’m still thinking about it, chewing on it, rotating it like a Hot Pocket in a microwave), or you can point to some of the reasons why it’s sticking with you (it captures character x’s whole deal so well, it reminds me of y moment in the film/tv show/comic, it crystallizes a larger theme in the story so effectively). 

3. Appreciation: what in the fic seems beautiful, artful, striking

In this approach you’re giving a writer a sense of what stood out to you aesthetically about the story: the moments that made you feel like “put a frame around that fucker because I want to keep staring at it.” This category can feel tricky because there might be terminology specific to the form that we’re not familiar with, so it can feel hard to describe what exactly makes a moment strike us as well-crafted. But we might think about the appreciation approach as having a basic template: “_____ is so ________.” The first slot can be either general (the whole story, a larger scene, the way the author writes dialogue or description or a major character) or very specific (copying and pasting a particular line or passage, identifying a pattern of imagery, pointing out the way the author narrates a specific kind of experience). And the second slot can be just one adjective (beautiful, visceral, unsettling, powerful, stunning, lyrical) or a more elaborate evaluation (so effective at conveying emotions, so hard-hitting after the slow build-up, so vivid I feel like I’m actually there). 

4. Discovery: what the fic showed you/made you think about

Sometimes you read a fic that makes you think about the media/the ship/the characters in a new way, and that’s a really powerful thing to share with the writer. As with the other approaches, you can frame this in terms of the fic as a whole or pull out particular lines or plot points, and you can either describe the effect on your thinking in general terms (this changed my brain chemistry, this blew my mind, this is canon for me now) or in specific ones (I’d never thought about x moment in the film that way before, but now I’m going to think about it that way every time; the line where character x says y was like a lightbulb moment for me - it clarified so much about x’s motivations; I would never have thought about this show as being about z theme, but after reading this fic, I’m seeing z everywhere). 

------

So there you have it: a non-exhaustive list of things we notice about stories and some ways to talk about that. I hope it’s helpful. And of course, when in doubt or when pressed for energy, a string of emojis, a keyboard smash, or an all-caps “I LOVED THIS!!!” are also wonderful ways to share a little love with fic writers.

[zangtang]

Hey I was wondering if you could give a sample ai prompt for how you get such amazing image results, kinda like what works and what doesn’t!

current prompt megaposts i can think of https://www.tumblr.com/baron-bear/731903035856584704/what-do-you-use-for-your-ai-stuff https://www.tumblr.com/zangtang/732882616567627776/everything-can-change-at-any-point https://www.tumblr.com/malegains/733378737717035008/perhaps-it-would-be-helpful-to-include-a-sample it's hard to say precisely what works and what doesn't because there's several ways to get what you want, such as short prompt tricks that let the AI do something crazy by association ("carrying his belly in a wheelbarrow") or stacked multiphrase descriptive prompts that seem to give so much context the AI accepts anything. It's surprisingly tolerant of some things (like male pregnancy) and surprisingly puritanical about others (like having people face away, or lie down.) But the moderation is reactive and stupid, so you might find yourself stumbling on something that gets blocked for no good reason, or something simple that gives you shocking results. I'm open to trying to get a prompt fixed for you if you have a specific one that just isn't working. ~NEW~ butt post https://www.tumblr.com/malegains/734789606810271744/lets-take-a-scientific-approach-to-this-i Clothing post https://www.tumblr.com/baron-bear/734945734958399488/how-well-can-the-ai-convey-wardrobe-failures

[kyouka-supremacy]

If we’re talking about sexism in BSD can we talk about Dazai Osamu’s Entrance Exam? (Not the anime adaptation) I really really really hated how Dazai and Kunikida would talk about Sasaki right in front of her like she wasn’t even there?? And just how they generally were with her…Reading that light novel was a genuinely unpleasant experience more times than I’d like to admit solely because of how egregiously gross it was when it came to Sasaki's character and how the guys would treat her. I've never seen anyone talk about it but it's been bugging me for a while now.

(个_个)

I understand how that's all sorts of fucked up. I haven't read the Entrance Exam novel but in my opinion the Sasaki / Kunikida / Dazai anime scenes rub just as wrong. There's really the whole deal of talking in front of women like they were lesser / objects which is plain atrocious. But then again, the bsd novels produced the unfamous Naomi description, so it's really the author giving their worst apparently.

The sexism in bsd is pathologic. Something I've brought up before but that is really explicative to me, Dazai going “The murder must have occurred in the early morning, because that's the only time of the day a woman wouldn't be wearing make-up”. And it's probably silly of me to pick up on such a small thing when wearing make-up is debated within feminist spaces itself, and it's probably something I have personal issues with, but the way in the story it serves the role of an objective hint, something plain and unconfutable, that women are expected to wear make-up at every hour of the day and them not doing so is just absurd and unthinkable… To me it really speaks of how the world of bsd is a world were women are expected to fit a determined ideal that is very distant from reality, and the author really has a very limited understanding of what women are actually like irl.

If we’re talking about sexism in bsd, can we talk about what was up with the Yosano / buisnessman (?) scene in chapter 7? It's been two years since I've watched and read that scene, and I still can't figure out what it's supposed to mean or convey. First, Yosano is shown being tame and overly polite towards someone who was being extremely rude; then, after he hits her and tells her to know her place, she replies “Well, a thousand pardons, sir. Would it be more womanly for me to crush your puny ××××× under my heels, perhaps?”. Now, her reply is somewhat funny, but really, doesn't mean anything. And I'm not talking about the censure. Why is her behaviour so fluctuating and inconsistent? What does womanhood has to do with anything here? Why would she be so polite and then suddenly backtrack? Really, why was she being polite in the first place to someone being so vulgar and disrespectful towards her? Honestly, that doesn't feel Yosano at all. At most it feels like that's supposed to portray how a woman is expected to react in an imaginary and unrealistic world, but that has so little standing potential irl, not even Yosano in this manga could hold the charade for long, and the result ends up looking awkward and nonsensical. Every time I see this scene I'm just like… What is going on here. Not even in a judgemental way, just as in “I seriously can't understand what the author was trying to say with this”, and frankly, I don't think they do know either. It really makes evident their struggle to write female characters, like women were this strange, foreign, very abstract concept that's impossible to crack or relate to. And when the answer is so simple, that you shouldn't write women as an unknown and indecipherable species, but simply as people— it would almost be endearing if it wasn't so detrimental. I won't even get to her “It is an era of equality for men and women” line which, put in the context of this manga, comes off as the most unfunny joke ever. Here, I can see what the author was trying to do alright, nodding to irl Yosano Akiko feminist viewpoints, but making the character Yosano talk in cheap feminist slogans to rival mcu movies ends up doing her a disservice more than anything, and I doubt it would leave the actual Yosano Akiko positively impressed at all.

If we’re talking about sexism in bsd, can we talk about how Kouyou should be the next pm boss, and the fact that the spot is canonly reserved for Chuuya instead is insane and nonsensical and outrageous to the point that even CHUUYA agrees on the fact that she should be the one? You know, Kouyou, the powerful ability user, experienced, senior in hierarchy, who has been shown to be both loyal to the current boss Mori and close to him on a personal level? Compared to Chuuya who never wanted to be the boss in the first place? But he gets to be either way, because the concept of a woman pm boss is just unthinkable. I feel like there's more reasons to cry for that Cannibalism stage play scene than the Flags' voices.

If we’re talking about sexism in bsd, can we talk about Higuchi? Can we talk about Lucy? Bsd offers so many examples of its sexism, we could be here to talk about it for days. At this point I feel like I might come across as someone who loves hating on things, but in reality every time I write a post of this kind it's a desperate prayer to the author: “Prove me wrong! Please, prove me wrong! Write women with layers and agencies! Expand on their virtues and flaws and ambitions! Dedicate narrative arcs to them! Prove me wrong!”

[the-far-bright-center]

There's a fundamental disconnect between my view of Star Wars and that of, well.... the majority of the SW fandom these days. Whether this is due to lingering disdain for the Prequels (despite fandom claims of acceptance, there's still plenty of prequels-hate going around, it's just taken on a different guise) or the constant onslaught of Disney’s big-budget fanfic muddying the waters, or a combination of both, I don’t know.

But ultimately, it's quite simple. I view 'Star Wars' as the Skywalker saga...aka the six-film Lucas saga, which tells the story of Anakin Skywalker's rise, fall, and redemption. I don't personally see 'Star Wars' as some ongoing, open-ended franchise that can or even should have indefinite *canonical* additions to it. (An optional expanded universe is one thing, but additions that we, as fans, are just supposed to accept as canon without question because Disney says so is another thing entirely.) Because 'Star Wars' is not just some cinematic universe that exists for its own sake. The fact is, almost the entirety of the world-building from the Lucas-era was done in service of the story and characters of the Original Trilogy and the Prequels. The galaxy far, far away was created specifically to be the backdrop for the Skywalker saga.

So when people debate topics like ‘pro-Jedi’ vs. ‘Jedi critical’, I’m often unable to relate to the angle that these discussions take because I feel like they are largely missing the point. Story-wise, the Jedi don’t exist for their own sake, they (along with the Jedi vs. Sith struggle) are simply part of the mythic backstory of the saga. As a concept, the Jedi exist primarily to serve Anakin and Luke’s respective journeys. So, the Jedi Order of the Prequels-era is written as having become rigid and flawed because that is the necessary context for Anakin’s fall to the Dark Side. And likewise, Luke bringing Anakin back to the Light through the power of love and familial bonds is what rectifies the Old Order’s failings and thus restores the Jedi to the galaxy.

That's just... the story. As in, how it was told. So when I write meta about the Prequels and Original Trilogy, and how they work together as one story, my descriptions and interpretations of both the Jedi Order and the Jedi religion (these are related but not exactly the same thing) are simply neutral in my mind. I'm just talking about what the story is trying to convey. I can't relate to this idea that we must leap to the Jedi Order's defense, nor the converse, that we must condemn the Jedi eternally for having lost their way by the time of the Twilight of the Republic. Rather, I step outside of the story for a moment, and look from the outside in to try to see what is happening from that perspective.

I'm not sure that everyone in the fandom is willing or even able to do that.

Whether that is because very few people actually appreciate the Skywalker saga as Lucas told it to begin with (many people still loudly proclaim that 'Star Wars sucks!', which leads me to believe they must not value the core story at its heart), or they have been so confused by the Disney nonsense that they think the 'new canon' has automatically overridden any meaning that once existed in the PT x OT saga...again, I don't know. I have purposefully tried very hard to stay away from any Disney-related SW discussions for years now, so this is just all what I've gleaned from glimpses here and there.

But it seems to me that many SW fans have trouble accepting that the concept of the Jedi (and the Sith) are inextricably linked to the Skywalker saga and the Skywalker saga alone. These things would never have been created in the way they were without that story. But to acknowledge this would means fans have to accept how central Anakin is to the entire thing. All of it exists for Anakin's story. There are fans who don't like this for a slew of reasons, whether it be that they became attached to a certain idea of the Jedi based on how they were portrayed in Expanded Universe stories that came out during the interim between RotJ and the release of the Prequels (stories that were largely jossed by Lucas' canon), or because they hate Anakin for in-story reasons and have never been able to accept that Star Wars is about him whether they like it or not.

It certainly doesn't help that Disney has played into this discomfort by largely ignoring Anakin (at least, until fan-demand forced their hand) or even outright denying his importance to the story as Lucas told it. (Anakin is the Chosen One whether Disney or fans want him to be or not. Being the Chosen One is not about whether he 'deserves' it, it's literally just his role in the story. And Lucas' saga simply doesn't work without Anakin in the central role.) If fans are confused and disoriented these days, I can't entirely blame them. Disney's version of SW doesn't 'match' the Lucas saga and in many places outright contradicts it. But everything can easily be made clear if people step back (and put aside the Disney stuff for a moment) and just look at the actual story being told in the PT and OT. Likewise, any debates about the Jedi can easily be resolved in the same way. It's really not about how much fans like the Jedi as a group or as individual characters, or how much fans might wish they could be a Jedi themselves. It's about the role the Jedi play in the story, and it's about acknowledging whose story it really is.

[wonryllis]

please give writing tips too

sure love! everyone’s different so in no way would the same things work for all but these are some tips that have helped me improve and just you know expand my horizons.

feel free to add your own points to this to help people more!!

001. READ READ AND READ (I CAN’T STRESS ENOUGH ON THIS BUT THIS IS THE MAIN KEY). be it fics, or novels or normal story books even non-fiction. reading will help in expanding your vocabulary and grammar, and give you an idea on how to build words in different kinds of scenarios. how to set the mood and what kind of details will have the most impact.

002. for expanding your vocabulary i would suggest searching up words you come across and don’t know the meaning of. don’t skip them, search them up and try understanding what they mean and look through what other words have similar meanings(synonyms)

003. CONSTANTLY PRACTICE WRITING. even if you’re not going to post it anywhere, just try writing a little bit on different themes. in that way you will be able to find out more about your writing style and flair as well as what points you need to work on.

004. STOP HESITATING TO REWRITE. there’s hardly anything one gets right at the first shot. and the same goes for writing. rewriting pieces will help you figure out what you should’ve added that you didn’t the first time and how changing the order of words or adding new literary devices(metaphors, similes, anecdotes etc) can make more of an impact.

005. DON’T BE AFRAID TO EXPLORE DIFFERENT GENRES. just 100 words can also help with experience. search up different genres that interest you and try coming up with a short scenario if you can.

13 points more under the cut!

006. TRIAL AND ERROR. don’t be let down if you fail to write a specific type of au, theme or trope. it takes certain amount of time and experience to be able to write different genres or anything as such. you need to have exposure to that topic to be able to create imagination on it.

007. with that being said, when you pick up a certain trope, au, theme or any topic you want/plan to write on: DO PROPER AND A LOT OF RESEARCH. trust me, it helps a lot.

008. as well in relation to the point above when writing a story, make sure to plan a rough outline. what kind of characters you’re going for, what events are going to define your story, how do you want the ending and the beginning to be. what your protagonist(s) is going for, what all they would be facing throughout and such.

009. SET A MORAL/POINT OF VIEW YOU WANT TO CONVEY through your writing. it helps you have a basis, a particular aim and drive behind what you wish to leave an impression through. it could be anything complex like dark themes of toxicity or even anything as simple as comfort. you just need to know what you’re writing for.

010. for inspiration i would suggest, LISTENING TO SONGS. any song you’re listening to, try thinking of a story behind it. for example let’s take taylor swift’s “no body no crime” go through the lyrics, the vibe and think what type of story could have this as background music. or what kind of a story could have that type of no body no crime summary?

011. KNOW WHEN TO SHOW THINGS RATHER THAT TELLING THEM. too much of anything is never good. when writing, it’s important to keep the balance between descriptions, narratives and dialogues. try thinking what are the things that would be better when described, for example the relationship between your characters: it’s something which is better shown than told. like how they treat each other, how they see each other, their dynamics in general is not something that can be told through a big lengthy dialogue or JUST one paragraph(short drabbles being an exception)

012. an additional point to the one above would be, try keeping yourself in the reader’s position and see what pulls you in more. what makes you feel the emotions better.

013. PICTURE THE SETTING YOU WANT TO WRITE ON. close your eyes and think of any type of place that you would like to write the story in. a suburb? or an abandoned city for an apocalypse? this will help in brainstorming for ideas.

014. INTO THE CHARACTER’S MIND. this is a very important point. explore the world within the mind of the character, something that defines them. THIS IS ANOTHER BIG KEY TO IMPROVE, pull your readers into the character(s)’ mind, show them the fears, the memories, the feelings, the thoughts, the hopes and dreams. it helps them understand the character and get into the story.

015. when using dialogues keep in mind that the DIALOGUES SHOULD ALWAYS BE MEANINGFUL AND REALISTIC. unnecessary talks aren’t often attractive so write what is necessary, needed. even with humor, excessive fun is not always impressive. and short but impactful dialogues always literally always leave the best impression.

016. CHALLENGE YOURSELF. try starting off strong since the very beginning. strong meaning starting off with words that leave a lasting impression. or words that pull you in with intrigue.

017. LEARN TO PACE YOURSELF. first of all it’s okay to take a break. actually its very important. pushing yourself beyond limits would never give positive results. know when you need to stop, cause being tired is not going to give better ideas or better word building. let yourself go into writer’s block, don’t fight it. you’ll come back better than when you’re forcing yourself to stay put and continue.

018. and last but not least. KNOW THAT IMPROVEMENT TAKES TIME. don’t be disappointed or discouraged if you are not good today. not being good today doesn’t mean you won’t ever be good. keep trying and with little to little progress over time, you will see yourself getting there. don’t lose hope🤗! YOU CAN DO IT!!!

[squeeneyart]

I’ve always been really impressed by how well you handle proportions and anatomy and realistically depict people with different physical traits. (And your art just keeps improving in that respect!) I also love how you convey emotion through the characters’ expressions and body language. Even in a simple pose, or a thumbnail sketch, there’s always such a clear sense of what they’re feeling, which I think is really cool.

Took me too long to answer this, but thank you!! I find gesture and expression to be some of the most fun aspects of drawing people, so I'm glad to hear that it comes across! Hopefully I'll continue to expand the variety of things I can draw, haha

I make no promises that this sketch has any of the characteristics you were complimenting me on, but have some dudes! Thanks again for the nice ask!

[Image description: A greyscale digital sketch of Jonathan Sims, a slightly chubby, darker-skinned man with various scarring and short-cropped light hair, and Martin Blackwood, a fat light-skinned man with long light hair. Martin is laying on top of Jon with his head on Jon's chest. Jon is up against a pillow and looks down at Martin while poking at his cheek., his other hand on Martin's back. Martin blushes with a sweat drop on his forehead.

Jon: Can I help you?

Martin: No.

Jon: Need a lie down?

Martin: ... Yeah.

End ID]

[lunalikestowriteanddraw]

Okay so I’ve been kinda hopping between 2 Frostbek oneshots on and off (one with Frost’s POV and one with Torbek’s), and with the second one I have this very particular way I want to express both sides of Torbek (as in Torbek and the Other) in his internal dialogue but idk how well I’m conveying it but idk any other way to convey it and I just. Hnngh. And I know technically I don’t HAVE to show both sides but also it’s kinda necessary for this oneshot bc of the plot. And in the doc I have the two voices as different colors and even different fonts to further separate them, but on ao3 it’s not going to keep the color and font so I just have to have one italicized and the other in bold to separate the voices from the actual descriptions and dialogue and hnngh.

I know I’m not making any fucking sense but do you understand what I’m trying to convey here? There’s a couple of excerpts under the cut if you’re still not understanding what I’m not saying because my brain isnt wording right but I NEED yall to understand what I’m trying to say here ya feel me?

[Excerpt 1]

When Torbek was younger, a stray kitten had wandered up to him. He was alone in an alleyway, dirty wet and hungry, and no one paid the young bugbear any mind. No one but a small tabby kitten. It couldn’t have been any older than a couple months, and it looked malnourished, and it was missing an eye and half it’s ear. Really, the poor thing was in a worse state than Torbek ever would be (What a fucking joke. Don’t you remember the screams? The cries? The pleas?).

The kitten had cuddled up against the bugbear and started purring. It didn’t need to do that—probably shouldn’t have, considering the state it was in—yet it did. He would be told years later that animals—domestic animals in particular—had a sort of sixth sense. Almost like they knew when someone was sad.

And boy, wasn’t Torbek sad.

Maybe that was why Frost has been hanging out with the bugbear more, ever since Torbek (no, not Torbek. It was Him. Whoever He is) caught up with them at The Inn At The End Of The Road. And it was fine, mostly. Torbek’s pretty sure Frost’s idea of ‘hanging out’ is being in the same room as someone while he meditated. Not that Torbek minded, necessarily, but he didn’t like being alone with his thoughts (because they’re not thoughts, not in the traditional sense. No, it’s Him talking. He’s always talking. He’s always here. Always).

[Excerpt 2]

Torbek never was good at reading. Nobody ever really bothered to teach him beyond a couple of simple words, and he never had the opportunity to learn on his own (you can read perfectly fine if you just let me take over. It’ll only be for a second, I promise). Frost tried to teach him once, but because Carnival Lecroux was the way that it was, Kremy needed Torbek to climb the Harris Wheel often.

Which, Torbek didn’t mind, necessarily. He liked being useful (it let him ignore His voice, for just a moment longer). And besides, being unable to read had worked out for him thus far.

[remembercomic]

Building the Never-Ending Character Sheet

In Various Types, the properties being applied to each player are determined by a central character sheet object. This object is responsible for determining their current creature types, abilities, and other useful information. It also serves as the repository for the things that change those values, such as their selected species and currently-applied templates.

Initially, this was all hard-coded, so that adding a new value necessitated directly changing the character sheet object and updating all of the modifying elements to account for it. Whilst this was simple enough when there were relatively few values, such as when there was only 3 of them, it quickly became a headache as the amount of information and modifying factors increased during development.

Time for a new approach.

Enter the twin registries of ISheetElement and SheetModule. The simplest descriptions of which are the parts of a character sheet you write in (the modules) and the parts that many digital character sheets automatically calculate for you (the elements).

ISheetElements are the individual modifiable values stored in the character sheet. This can be a singular value like the the player's home dimension or volume of nonlethal damage, or it can be more complex like their current abilities. Each element defines what other elements must be calculated before they are, such as types before abilities since types themselves convey abilities, as well as when modules are applied during their recalculation process (for efficiency this "build order" is calculated after initial registration and stored for later usage, rather than calculated each time a sheet rebuilds). Elements can be stored in persistent data (such as activated abilities that require long-term information storage) but most are simply recalculated from scratch as needed.

Modules receive each element as it is recalculated, in a specific ascending integer order. They are the things that change the values, such as species or custom abilities. Modules always initialise blank.

Each character sheet always has a copy of every entry in both registries, even if a new entry was added inbetween times the sheet was loaded into memory. When the character sheet is rebuilt, usually due to a change in one or more of its modules, it recalculates each element in build order, applying the changes of each module as it goes.

New modules can be registered to expand the variety of modifying factors and new elements can be registered to expand what information the character sheet tracks.

This revised approach, though certainly overkill for a character sheet existing with only a small handful of components or with no intentions for future expansion, allows the character sheets to be expanded endlessly by third-party add-ons as well as to hold whatever feature creep inevitably demands.

Changing to this approach early on greatly simplified making changes to the character sheet structure during development, such as implementing custom types and abilities, separating abilities into passive and activated abilities, as well as adding new mechanics such as implementing nonlethal damage as a new tracked value per player.

This essentially makes Various Types into not only a powerful and versatile mod in itself, but the quintessential utility for implementing virtually any game mechanic that necessitates per-player data tracking.

[sam-glade]

Reducing verbosity, improving clarity

Part 3/3 of my editing process. Part 1 link. Part 2 link.

This is what I do to a novel or a novella before showing it to anyone (including beta readers). I’m posting it in hopes that it will help someone, and I’m not expecting it to work for everyone. Take any parts that help you!

The goal of this step is to make the style more crisp and direct. If you're going for a slow or very poetic style, this may not be as applicable.

Two things up front:

‘Imperfect’ doesn’t mean ‘bad’. Good writing can have imperfections.

The goal is to get the manuscript to a stage where the imperfections won’t be distracting to beta readers.

The idea is to convey the maximum amount of meaning in the minimum number of words. Be as specific as you can.

Large paragraphs

I go over the manuscript and compare the size of paragraphs. If they look close to square on a laptop screen, I’ll see what I can do about them. I personally don’t mind a paragraph of description or exposition, but the one rule I adhere to is that it must be immediately connected to what the character is thinking, feeling, or talking about. 

E.g. I need to give a description of the uniform most of my characters wear.

‘So he sat there in the ashen coatee with white facings, unbuttoned to reveal a white waistcoat, both creased after a long day. Little swords on his shoulder straps signified his division, and three stripes on the buttons of his jacket marked him as a sergeant. His long slim Sword was at his side — not as slim as a rapier, and with only a simple cross-guard over the grip. And yes, it looked more silvery than cold iron should, and it glowed faintly in the dark, but when it was sheathed, it looked very ordinary. I’m just a simple Sword, Ianim’s appearance said. Move along; there’s nothing interesting about me.’ → I deliberately highlight the details about the weapon that are out of ordinary, AND explain how Ianim feels about the outfit.

If it doesn’t do that at the end, and is still long, it needs to be shortened or tied into the current situation.

Laundry list of actions

Here, I’m looking for paragraphs that list a handful of actions, without any introspection or description. It usually means I’m spelling out every little action, when the reader will fill in the blanks easily if I remove a good portion of them. It’s things like ‘looked around and located X’ or ‘walked across the room’.

E.g. ‘He rolled his eyes around, trying to locate whoever was speaking. He felt a faint touch on his left shoulder and twitched, promptly hissing in pain. The hand was withdrawn. He gathered his strength and turned his head in that direction.’ → I don’t lose anything by cutting the first sentence. In fact, it works better without a convoluted description of looking around.

Too many clauses

Another kind of sentence that I come across in my drafts is of the form ‘Something was X and Y happened to it’, which can be rephrased as a single clause.

E.g. ‘The roof had collapsed in one corner, and water dripped through it.’ → ‘Water dripped through a hole in the corner of the roof.’

E.g. ‘Once Master Varré had returned and deposited the supplies in the kitchen, the four of them sat down to a simple meal.’ → ‘Once Master Varré had deposited the supplies in the kitchen…’

Reiterating spoken words with actions

I want my dialogue and action tags to add something new to what’s said, not reiterate it. I look for actions like ‘sighed’, ‘frowned’, ‘nodded’, ‘shook their head’. I’m NOT advocating for removing all of them by any means. They’re sometimes needed to induce a pause in dialogue, and are slightly better than saying ‘he paused’. Quite often, an ellipsis will work just as well.

Examples of reiterating dialogue:

“It’s taught in the second year of the cadet course, but…” He frowned. “I don’t see why not? → remove ‘He frowned’

Gullin nodded sharply. “Yes, ma’am.” → the line of dialogue can be cut.

“I can’t deny it. It is regrettable, but I don’t think I can deny it.” He sighed. “I wish it wasn’t the case though.” → remove the dialogue tag. Yes, when I read this sentence, I instinctively hear a sigh there, but nothing hinges on it being there, and removing it doesn’t mess up the rhythm.

“Do you not want to take it outside, sir?” Gullin checked. Master Varré thought about it, but shook their head. “Not necessary. We are not going to release our Swords.” → remove ‘not necessary’

Dialogue thing that I do

On a similar dialogue-related note: as I write I ‘hear’ the words spoken in the character’s voice in my head. As a result, I VERY often end up with dialogue, where the action in the tag is performed by a character other than the one who’s speaking – usually to indicate a pause or a non-verbal reaction.

E.g. 

Master Varré sprang out of their chair and started pacing around the hall. Lissan watched them warily.

“We need evidence, solid evidence before we can mention this to anyone. No offence, kid, but your word won’t cut it.” Lissan nodded seriously; he’d expected nothing less. “I’m going to Redguard to check [their] records.”

→ This is spoken by Varré, not Lissan, though the action tag indicates something to the contrary. I need to add something like ‘they said’ to clarify it. 

Another dialogue thing that I do

A couple of my characters deliberately hide their emotions, and their reactions are measured. I tend to indicate it with phrases like ‘he allowed himself a sigh of relief’ or ‘he permitted himself a small smile’. Now, I want to bring it to the reader’s attention, when the character’s control is important in the scene – e.g. they’re keeping their cool during an argument, and allowing themselves a small smug smile when they come out on top. However, it’s not adding anything when their self-control doesn’t contribute to the conversation – which is most of the time. Even then, not every controlled reaction has to be preceded by a phrase like this; a few mentions are enough to establish the background tension, but soon it gets repetitive.

Hence, I’ll remove it:

Every time – in conversations where the characters can relax, e.g. when talking to their buddies at a pub.

Most of the time when the character’s self-control is important. I’d leave it in no more than half of the gestures (smiling, sighing, rolling shoulders, rubbing their eyes, etc.).

Thesaurusising/rephrasing

Especially in narration and in longer paragraphs, I find sentences of the form ‘they tended/liked/had a talent for doing X and Y’, where X and Y are close in meaning. I can remove one of them or replace them with a more generic word that covers both.

‘She had an incredible talent for reading hints between the lines and figuring out what was not said’ → Yes, that’s exactly what reading between the lines means. I’m removing the second clause.

Sometimes, especially in dialogue, I leave the rephrasing for dramatic effect, but only when I’m confident that it adds something.

E.g. “Because ever since I’ve met him, he wanted to be seen not as the Prince Successor, not as a grandson of the White Dragon, but a normal guy.” → this stays as is.

Describing the obvious

There’s usually no reason to describe something that the reader can reasonably assume to be the case. E.g. if you say it’s raining, you don’t need to follow it up by saying the clouds covered the sky.

UNLESS

The few exceptions I can think of:

One of my characters focuses on their surroundings to avoid doing something. E.g. they aren’t in a mood to talk and they let a conversation happen around them without listening, they focus on the chips in the walls or the grain of wood on the table.

When a character is bored or waiting for something, they might look around their surroundings. Adding descriptions to pass the time is often a good alternative to saying ‘they waited’.

When the ‘homely’ is surprising. E.g. the character has been on a run for a while, squatting in abandoned buildings or sleeping outdoors. When they finally get home, I’d elaborate on the comfort of it, to pull the reader out of the default atmosphere of the last few chapters.

I still consider these tricks to be exceptions to the rules – best used sparingly.

[luaspersona]

march bts archive ♡

a few reminders before you go to the recs:

⇢ the list is composed with 10 bts fanfics i’ve reviewed (reblogged) during the month! it doesn’t include: ongoing series and series i haven’t finished.

⇢ my blog is +18, so even if this list has some sfw stories please, minors do not interact!

⇢ feel like i missed a work? send me your fics for me to review too ♡

Put it on me

authors ⇢ @jimilter pairing ⇢ jimin x reader genre ⇢ smut; humor; pwp; strangers to lovers rating ⇢ +18 | minors do not interact word count ⇢ 8k summary ⇢ When you signed up to model your cleavage for a jewelry commercial, no one bothered to tell you it wasn’t gonna be a solo shoot. It’s unfair being blindsided and you want to protest, but A-list model and flirt extraordinaire Park Jimin’s steel-cut abs have you kinda tongue-tied. And then you get kinda too busy thinking of other ways in which you’d like him to shut you up. why i loved it �� honestly just straight porn, but super well written and with amazing descriptions and jimin is like, the sexiest menace alive, paired up with a ridiculously gorgeous reader. it’s unhinged and funny and i can’t get enough of it.  ⇢ my full review (with spoilers!)

hey, it’s me.

authors ⇢ @yoongiphoria pairing ⇢ namjoon x ex!reader genre ⇢ angst; kinda lovers to exes rating ⇢ PG-13, but the MJ's blog is +18 only word count ⇢ 0.5k why i loved it ⇢ MJ has this amazing talent of conveying big, everlasting and devastating emotions with simple, delicate words. she writes a ridiculously small drabble and represents all the loneliness one can feel, and is so creative too! the whole voicemail concept from closer is used so cleverly here, this feels like a punch but in the best possible way. ⇢ my full review (with spoilers!)

the one with yoongi, netflix, and zero chill

authors ⇢ @eoieopda pairing ⇢ yoongi x reader genre ⇢ fluff; fuck buddies to ? rating ⇢ +18 | minors do not interact word count ⇢ 1.1k why i loved it ⇢ if jade being the author isn’t reason enough, i wanna say this drabble has soft yoongi and delicate, domestic intimacy with a very confused reader lol, it’s super sweet and it’s a birthday story too 🥺 ⇢ my full review (with spoilers!)

Double Take

authors ⇢ @magicshopaholic pairing ⇢ hoseok x oc genre ⇢ angst; idol!au; unrequited love; neighbors!au; brother’s best friend!au rating ⇢ +18 | minors do not interact word count ⇢ 11.7k summary ⇢ Years after telling the neighbourhood brat to get a life, Hoseok does a double take when he realises she’s no longer the skinny kid who worshiped him once upon a time. why i loved it ⇢ i don’t often read unrequited feelings stories, but this one is just… mesmerizing. the best coming of age story i read in a minute, and written with such eloquence and with such interesting stylistic choices! you take zero seconds to empathize with the oc and i think it was so worth it, it made me lay for hours trying to process exactly how it made me feel. it’s part of a series, but you can read it as a one-shot and that’s why i felt like i NEEDED to add it to the list: it deserves so, so much praise! ⇢ my full review (with spoilers!)

Covert Affairs

authors ⇢ @minisugakoobies pairing ⇢ spy!jungkook x spy!reader genre ⇢ angst; crime; rivals to lovers; smut rating ⇢ +18 | minors do not interact word count ⇢ 4.3k summary ⇢ The five times you cross paths with legendary spy Jeon Jungkook. why i loved it ⇢ this was just so perfect, the teasing and tension between the characters was amazing 🥵 if you like that sherlock x irene dynamic of rivals who are attracted to each other you HAVE to read this — but pay attention to the warnings! ⇢ my full review (with spoilers!)

all you’re giving me is friction

authors ⇢ @hot-soop pairing ⇢ surfer!seokjin x lifeguard!reader genre ⇢ travel!au; angst; smut; fluff; strangers to lovers to enemies to lovers. rating ⇢ +18 | minors do not interact word count ⇢ 28.3k summary ⇢ You’ve graduated! Congratulations - you’ve got one thing checked off your parents ten year plan! Now all that’s left to do is start your  dreary office job, drag yourself up the ladder to CEO, marry your (as yet unknown) dream guy, and carve out some time to pop out a few kids before your ovaries shrivel up… Except all of that sounds horrendous, and you’d much rather spend the next three months at Hoseok’s beach house with your closest friends - relaxing, partying, and sleeping late while you still can. And it would be your last perfect summer break, if it weren’t for the most irritating man on the planet (and his chickens) living next door. why i loved it ⇢ seokjin has chickens and he names them after league of legends characters, and i think that’s about enough evidence as to how amazing this story is lol. for real? i was laughing, i was smiling, i was crying: it gave me EVERYTHING i could’ve asked for ⇢ my full review (with spoilers!) 

mixtape

authors ⇢ @jungblue pairing ⇢ yoongi x reader genre ⇢ college!au; podcaster!au; humor; smut; fluff; strangers to lovers rating ⇢ +18 | minors do not interact word count ⇢ 15.6k summary ⇢ Two mystery students from your college run the podcast dubbed ‘mixtape.’ It’s become a sort of phenomenon around campus, listened to by almost everyone. In their most recent episode they discussed various study methods… One of them being oh so tempting. why i loved it ⇢ this fic is just so unbelievably charming, istg. all the dialogue is ridiculously interesting, and yoongi’s dynamic and chemistry with the reader just made feel like a teenager with her first crush. is really fucking amazing, i was completely in love with the story right off the bat. ⇢ my full review (with spoilers!)

the lingerie era

authors ⇢ @yoon-kooks pairing ⇢ yoongi x reader genre ⇢ neighbors!au; fluff; humor; smut; friends to lovers rating ⇢ +18 | minors do not interact word count ⇢ 10k summary ⇢ Sending Min Yoongi, aka your ridiculously hot neighbor/childhood friend, a photo of yourself in lingerie might be the best or stupidest mistake you’ve ever made. why i loved it ⇢ min yoongi teasing the hell out of reader and struggling to communicate like an adult is my favorite trope lmao. this story is so sexy and so wholesome and so fun and so— *ahem* anyway, this was 100% worth it, i loved every second 😭 ⇢ my full review (with spoilers!)

liar, liar

authors ⇢ @eoieopda pairing ⇢ hoseok x reader genre ⇢ fuck buddies; smut; pwp rating ⇢ +18 | minors do not interact word count ⇢ 5k summary ⇢ Hoseok suspects that you’re “phoning it in” while sexting and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t call your bluff. why i loved it ⇢ dom!hoseok. that’s it. that’s the reason (ok maybe jade’s writing too because everything they touch is perfect but that’s beside the point), oh and so much teasing y’all, this is a dangerous one. ⇢ my full review (with spoilers!)

what, now?

authors ⇢ @nabiolive pairing ⇢ jungkook x reader genre ⇢ fluff; smut (pwp); friends to lovers. rating ⇢ +18 | minors do not interact word count ⇢ 13.6k summary ⇢ For as long as you and Jungkook have been friends, your feelings for him have been unrequited. Or have they? why i loved it ⇢ to be honest this wasn’t in the list until yesterday, but then i decided to get through some of my trl and read this and… god, it’s just way too good. jungkook with freaking dick piercings and a sweet confession that leads to the most affectioned yer rough smut out there lol, please read this 😩 harrow is such an amazing writer i can't possibly stress this enough ⇢ my full review (with spoilers!)

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[esther-dot]

With the way sometimes Grrm talks about Dany "hot chick riding dragon" or her relationship with Drogo, idk how to say this, is jarring to say the least. We know he was surprised by people seeing san/san as romantic but I still don't know whether he intended Dany's wedding night to be rape (which it obviously is) but then he denied it. Sometimes I get the feeling he doesn't care for her the way he cares for say Sansa and Arya (he would never pair them with Drogo or Daario or Euron! yes Sansa married Tyrion but Grrm made it sure to be unconsummated and little more than sham), probably because he always intended for her to be doomed.

(in reference to this ask I think)

I don’t know that we can look at how much Martin makes a character suffer as an indication of how much he loves them. Tyrion has been misjudged/mistreated his entire life (even abused as in infant), and yet, he is Martin's favorite character. He’s not dishing out pain based on his affection for a character imo. I think he wants to look at certain ideas, and as much as he loves all his characters, as a writer, they’re tools he’s using to say certain things.

As fans, not the artist, it can be hard for us to emotionally disengage enough to think of it that way, but writers are trying to convey big ideas, and Dany’s lovers/husbands at times are representative of something about Dany, it isn’t always as simple as a sex scene, and if Martin is locked into that type of thinking, it may not be hitting him the way it hits us. I clearly remember being 13/14, I remember my friends at that age, so it offends me to read certain scenes or hear him talk about the girls in a certain way. I am with you in objecting to how he speaks about Dany.

That being said, I did have a new thought about this.

Martin endorsed the famous Meereenese blot essays, and in those, the author argues that Dany's choice in men indicates something about her--that she is moved by violence, that peace bores her. He relates what Martin has written about her sex life to Dany's character development, and I think that may be the light in which Martin views his choices, not the one we adopt, "this is a 13 year old child." If we want to extend that grace when interpreting his writing, we can assume that Drogo, as well as Daario, were created to show us Dany's desires--not write Dany as some sexual fantasy for pervs. They may both have been written to show us that Dany is drawn to violent means, even though it scares her, even though it hurts her, even though it may lead to her demise.

I hadn't really thought beyond my repulsion before, but this ask did remind me, there's a long literary history of writing land/countries as feminine, and seeing as how Martin has used the term, "come-into-my-castle" as a euphemism for sex, it's worth wondering what additional purposes some of these sex scenes serve. Maybe, they're conveying bigger ideas? As in, Sansa's choice to not have sex with Tyrion does mean she remains a virgin, but plot-wise, it matters because this actually protects Winterfell, the North, from the Lannisters. It can be read as Sansa (the North) will not be permanently conquered by the enemy (Lannisters), but will become free.

And if we look at Dany with the same idea, Martin's insistence that Dany's wedding day sex was consensual (yikes) and a “seduction” (fucking yikes) the literary point may be that scene is standing in for Dany being seduced by power and violent means, that rather than protecting her country (Westeros), she will willingly bring destruction and death. It is possible Martin's choices were less about whitewashing statutory rape (he goes on to write about Drogo brutally raping Dany so the way he objected to D&D's rewriting of the scene seemed odd), maybe the focus was always meant to be on what Dany loves, what she desires, it just took us getting to ADWD and her riding a dragon with some...uh, sexual sounding descriptions, for Martin to connect his dots.

All the same, I will not defend him. I am repulsed by how he has spoken about Dany in interviews, and I don't like how he sexualizes little girls. It disturbs me.