#I know I feel a lot more about this show than probably most people do? so I hope I haven't misled you. I really hope you enjoy it

[harryssyndrome]

Darkness and You | h.s

summery: a late night drive takes an unexpected turn when an handsome stranger takes his place in your passenger seat.

wc: 5.3k || 🌕🌖🌗🌘 Masterlist 🌒🌓🌔🌕

WARNING ⚠️ sexual references, mention of unprotected sex. MINORS DNI! you’re responsible for your own consumption, don’t blame me later. It’s your own choice.

Posted on: November 25th, 2024

Tag-List: @fruity-harry @angeldavis777 || TAGLIST IS OPEN!

Surprise lovelies! The first part from serial-killer!Harry series is here and I really hope you enjoy it. 😌 let me know how was it and if you have any ideas for other parts, I just might post some more this week itself. this is my first ever try at writing 18+ stuff tho it’s not really much so I hope it didn’t suck🤭😳 REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

You don’t do this. Any of this. You don’t pick up hitchhikers in the middle of the night. Especially men.

You’ve seen a lot of horror movies and you’ve heard a ton of news stories.

You’re not five. You know what you should and what you shouldn’t do. But you’ve made an array of bad choices tonight so why not continue it?

You don’t know what it was but something compelled you to pull over.

The boy with the curls and those deep green eyes, gets into the passenger seat, a grateful smile on his face. He looks sweet, to be honest.

“Oh, thank you so so much. I’ve been out here for so long. My car just gave out on me and there’s no signal in this shithole.” He says, his English accent very evident as he adjusts his seatbelt. “May I know my saviour’s name?” He asks with a smiles that shows a pair of dimples.

The air is thick with the quiet hum of the engine, and your fingers clench the steering wheel a little tighter than usual. You’re not sure if it’s the cold seeping into the car or the nervous energy building in your chest. Something about this feels surreal, like stepping into a scene you’d only watch from the safety of your couch. Yet, here you are, with a stranger in the passenger seat and an unspoken weight hanging between you.

“Uh, YN,” you reply, your voice more hesitant than you’d like. His accent catches you off guard again, so polished and charming it almost makes you forget the unease simmering below the surface. Almost.

“YN,” he repeats, letting your name roll off his tongue like he’s testing its sound. “That’s a lovely name. I’m Harry.”

Harry. It suits him somehow. Still, you can’t help but glance at him out of the corner of your eye. His curls are messy, probably from standing in the cold too long, and his coat looks worn, but there’s a warmth to him. Those green eyes, so striking, carry a sense of ease—like he’s the last person in the world you should be afraid of.

Still, you’re not stupid. Sweet smiles and dimples don’t guarantee safety.

“So… where are you headed?” you ask, trying to keep your tone neutral while silently calculating how far you are from the nearest gas station or town. Somewhere with people. Witnesses.

He exhales, the sound almost a laugh. “Honestly? Just anywhere away from here.” He runs a hand through his curls, shaking his head. “My car decided to betray me in the middle of nowhere. Tried to call for help, but of course, there’s no signal. Classic, right?”

You manage a small laugh, though it feels forced. Your instincts are at war—one side whispering that this guy is harmless, the other screaming at you for stopping in the first place.

“Well,” you say, trying to sound composed, “you got lucky I came by. Not a lot of cars out tonight.”

“Not a lot of kind people either,” Harry adds, his voice softer now. “I was starting to think I’d be out there all night.”

His words linger in the air, and for a moment, you feel a pang of guilt. Maybe he’s just another unlucky soul, stranded and hoping for a break. Maybe you’re overthinking this. Or maybe this is exactly how every cautionary tale starts.

“So, YN,” Harry says, breaking the silence again. His tone is light, conversational, as if this is the most normal thing in the world. “What’s a girl like you doing out here at this hour? Don’t tell me you’re running away from something, too.”

The question catches you off guard, and your grip on the wheel tightens. “No,” you reply quickly, a little too defensively. “Just… a long drive. Needed to clear my head.”

He hums in acknowledgment, not pushing further, and you feel a flicker of relief. He leans back in his seat, letting his head rest against the window. For a moment, you think he’s going to drift off, but then he glances at you again, his eyes almost piercing in their intensity.

“You’ve got this look,” he says, his voice quieter now. “Like you’re carrying the weight of the world.”

You don’t respond right away, unsure how to take that. “You’ve known me for all of five minutes,” you finally say, trying to deflect with a weak smile. “Bit of a bold assumption, don’t you think?”

He chuckles softly. “Maybe. But I’m pretty good at reading people.”

The car falls into a strange silence again, and you can feel his gaze shift back to the window. There’s something about him—something you can’t quite put your finger on. It’s not just the way he talks or the way he looks at you. It’s the way he feels out of place, like he belongs in a story that hasn’t been written yet.

And for reasons you can’t explain, you let yourself keep driving.

There was some reason he can’t take his eyes off of you, almost as if you’re a rare piece of art he couldn’t help but admire.

“You always pick up handsome strangers in the middle of the night?” He teases with a cheeky smirk on his features.

You glance over at him, briefly, before focusing back on the road. The way his smirk lingers, paired with those dimples, feels both disarming and maddeningly charming. “Not usually,” you reply, your tone even, though you’re acutely aware of his gaze on you. “Just the ones who look like they’ve had a rough night.”

He laughs at that, the sound soft and warm, filling the small space of the car. “Lucky me, then,” he says, his accent turning the words into something smoother, like they carry more weight than they should. “Although, I think the luck might be yours. How often do you get to share a car with a proper English gentleman?”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “English gentleman, huh? You sound like a guy who gives himself that title. Let me guess, you also drink tea at every opportunity and say ‘cheerio’ unironically?”

His hand flies to his chest in mock offense, and he lets out a dramatic gasp. “Cheerio? Absolutely not. What do you take me for, a walking British stereotype?”

“Maybe,” you shoot back, your tone playful now. “I mean, you did say your car ‘gave out,’ and who even says that anymore?”

He chuckles again, his head tilting slightly as he studies you. “Fair enough. But for the record, I’m more of a coffee guy. And I don’t say ‘cheerio.’” His smirk returns, softer this time, as he adds, “I think you might be the first person to question my gentleman status, though. Most people just take one look at me and assume I’m… irresistible.”

You snort, trying to stifle your laugh. “Irresistible? You really do think highly of yourself, don’t you?”

“Can you blame me?” he quips, his voice teasing but not cocky. His gaze lingers again, softer now, almost contemplative. “But I’m serious. You’ve got this… way about you. Like you’re completely unimpressed by people like me, and I can’t decide if it’s refreshing or terrifying.”

That catches you off guard, and you shift in your seat, the smile slipping from your face just a little. “People like you?”

He shrugs, the smirk still lingering but now tinged with something deeper. “You know, the ones who talk too much, crack jokes, try to charm their way through life. The ones who should be lucky just to share the same space as someone like you.”

Your stomach flips at his words, a mix of unease and flattery you’re not quite sure how to handle. You keep your eyes on the road, focusing on the distant glow of headlights in the distance. “You’ve got a lot of opinions for someone who just met me.”

“Maybe,” he admits, leaning back in his seat and letting his gaze wander out the window. “But you can tell a lot about someone in five minutes. Like how you’ve got this look in your eyes, like you’re constantly bracing for something to go wrong.”

You freeze for just a moment, his words hitting closer to home than you’d like. “You’re imagining things,” you say quickly, brushing it off with a casualness you don’t really feel.

“Maybe I am,” he replies, his voice low and calm, like he doesn’t quite believe you but won’t push. After a moment, he adds, almost to himself, “But for some reason, I can’t stop looking at you. It’s like… you’re a puzzle, and I can’t figure out the edges.”

You don’t know what to say to that, so you settle for silence, the tension in the car shifting to something strange and unspoken. Outside, the road stretches endlessly ahead, the darkness pressing in on both sides. And for the first time since picking him up, you wonder if you’re the one being read, the layers of your carefully built armor peeling away under the weight of those deep green eyes.

Harry leans back in his seat, one hand resting casually on his knee as he studies you. His gaze, though soft, feels weighted—like he’s trying to peel back layers you didn’t even know you were wearing. After a beat of silence, he speaks, his voice low and curious.

“Can I ask you something, YN?” he says, his tone gentle, almost disarming.

You glance at him briefly before focusing back on the road. “Sure,” you reply, though the way he says your name sends a faint chill up your spine.

“Aren’t you scared?” he asks, tilting his head slightly. “Picking up a male stranger in the middle of the night? Alone? I mean, you said it yourself—this isn’t exactly normal behavior.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, his words triggering the voice of reason that’s been screaming at you ever since you stopped the car. Your fingers tighten on the steering wheel, and you force a small laugh. “A little,” you admit, though your voice wavers slightly. “But you don’t seem like the scary type.”

Harry’s lips curl into a smile, one that’s almost too perfect—dimples and all. “Well, I promise you, I’m not some sort of serial killer,” he says lightly, his tone almost playful. “Scout’s honor.”

Something about his phrasing makes you laugh, and the tension in your chest eases—if only slightly. “Isn’t that exactly what all serial killers say in the movies?” you tease, glancing at him briefly with a raised brow.

Harry’s smile widens, but there’s a flicker of something behind his eyes—a shadow of a thought you can’t quite catch. “Touché,” he says, leaning forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. His gaze never leaves you, as though he’s memorizing every detail of your face. “I suppose it would be the perfect cover, wouldn’t it? A smile, a little charm… make yourself seem harmless enough, and no one suspects a thing.”

The way he says it sends a ripple of unease through you, and the playful smirk he wears only deepens the strange knot in your stomach. You force yourself to stay calm, trying to brush it off. “That’s… a little creepy, don’t you think?” you reply, half-joking.

Harry chuckles softly, the sound low and almost hypnotic. “Maybe. But if I were a killer, wouldn’t I have already done something by now? You’ve got me here, alone, no witnesses. Seems like the perfect opportunity, doesn’t it?”

Your heart skips a beat, and your hands grip the wheel tighter, your knuckles whitening. His voice is still light, teasing, but there’s an undercurrent to his words that you can’t quite place. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, trying to gauge whether he’s just messing with you or if there’s something darker lurking beneath the surface.

“And yet,” he continues, his tone softening again, “here I am, just a guy stranded on the side of the road, grateful for the kindness of a beautiful stranger.”

Your throat feels dry as you swallow hard, forcing yourself to respond. “Well, for your sake—and mine—I hope you’re telling the truth.”

He lets out another soft laugh, leaning back against the seat again. “Of course I am,” he says smoothly. But there’s something about the way he says it—like he knows more than he’s letting on. Like he’s enjoying this moment a little too much.

The road stretches on in front of you, the darkness pressing in from all sides, and for the first time, you start to wonder if stopping for Harry was the worst decision you’ve ever made. Because while his smile is charming and his voice is calm, there’s something about him that feels off. Like the quiet before a storm.

Harry shifts in his seat, his gaze flicking to you every so often, like he’s studying the curve of your profile, the way your fingers tap the wheel, the faint crease in your brow as you concentrate on the dark road ahead. The hum of the engine and the soft patter of the tires on asphalt are the only sounds filling the car now, a strange kind of peace settling between you two.

“How far’s the city?” he asks casually, breaking the quiet, his voice smooth and easy, though there’s a strange undertone to it—like he already knows the answer but wants to hear you say it.

You glance at the dashboard clock before replying, “Probably around three hours. Give or take.”

Harry lets out a soft hum, leaning back in his seat, his head tilting toward you as though drawn by some invisible force. Three hours. Three uninterrupted hours with you. It’s enough to make his heart race.

He lets the silence return, but his thoughts are anything but quiet. His mind is a storm of emotions and desires—chaotic, consuming, and entirely focused on you. There’s something about you that’s different. It’s not just the way you look, though your beauty feels like something out of a dream. It’s the way you hold yourself, the sharpness in your wit, the vulnerability you try to mask but can’t fully hide. You’re magnetic in a way he can’t explain, and the more he sits beside you, the deeper his obsession grows.

He watches the soft glow of the dashboard lights reflect off your face, highlighting your cheekbones and the curve of your jaw. He wonders what it would feel like to trace that line with his fingers. To know the softness of your skin. To see you look at him not with the occasional suspicion that flashes in your eyes but with trust. Admiration. Love.

His thoughts spiral, wild and untamed, as his gaze lingers on you. What would it take for you to see him the way he already sees you? Would you ever understand how special you are? How perfect this moment is? You were meant to find him tonight—he’s sure of it. The universe wouldn’t have aligned so perfectly otherwise.

His fingers twitch, his desire to reach out, to touch you, almost overwhelming. But no, not yet. He has time. Three hours to savor this moment, to bask in the glow of your presence, to solidify the bond he’s convinced you’re destined to share.

You’re unaware of the storm raging in his mind, the way his chest tightens with every glance at you. You think the silence is peaceful, and in a way, it is—for you. For Harry, it’s intoxicating. Maddening.

He forces himself to take a steady breath, his fingers curling into his palms as he tries to calm the fire within him. He doesn’t want to scare you, not yet. You’re like a delicate thread, and if he pulls too hard, you might snap.

So, he keeps his voice soft, his demeanor calm, though his thoughts are anything but. He smiles to himself, a small, secret smile, as he stares out the window at the endless darkness. You have no idea, he thinks, how utterly and completely you’ve captured him.

And he plans to make sure you never get away.

As the silence stretches between you, Harry's mind spirals further into chaos. He shifts again in his seat, the seatbelt digging into his chest as his thoughts race uncontrollably. His green eyes flicker to the rearview mirror and then to the empty backseat, a dark thought taking hold of him. It's ridiculous, he knows, but the image is vivid, almost too vivid to push away-the two of you tangled together in the small space, your back arching against the leather as his hands grip your hips, holding you in place.

The idea sends a heat rushing through him, and he clenches his jaw, forcing his gaze back to the road ahead. But it's no use. His thoughts keep circling back, no matter how hard he tries to distract himself. The way your lips curve as you speak, the soft rise and fall of your chest as you breathe, the faint scent of your perfume that fills the car—it's driving him mad. You're so close, yet just out of reach, and it's enough to make him want to explode.

He imagines it so clearly: the way you'd look beneath him, your head thrown back, your lips parted in a gasp as he claims you. The sound of his name spilling from your mouth, a mix of moans and screams that would echo in his ears forever. The thought of marking you, leaving his fingerprints, his bruises, his everything on you-it consumes him. He wants you to be his, entirely his, in every possible way. To make sure no one else could ever have you, touch you, or even think of you the way he does.

His breathing becomes shallow as the lust builds inside him, threatening to take over. His hands clench into fists in his lap, his nails digging into his palms as he fights to regain control. Not yet, he tells himself. Not yet. You're driving, unaware of the wildfire burning inside him, and the last thing he wants is to ruin this perfect moment.

But his eyes betray him, flicking back to the rearview mirror, imagining again how easy it would be. The backseat seems like it was made for this-for you. He could pull you back there, coax you into his arms, and let his hands explore every inch of you. He'd take his time, memorizing the feel of your skin, the way your body reacts to his touch. You'd look so beautiful, so utterly perfect, with your cheeks flushed and your voice breaking as you beg for more.

Harry exhales sharply, trying to shake the thoughts from his mind. He turns his head slightly, stealing another glance at you, and it only makes things worse. The way your lips press together in concentration as you drive, the way your fingers drum softly against the steering wheel-it's enough to make him want to lose control.

He shifts again, trying to adjust himself discreetly, the tension in his body almost unbearable now. His lustful thoughts are a storm, loud and demanding, drowning out every ounce of reason he has left. He's trying to distract himself, to think of anything else, but it's no use. Every thought keeps looping back to you-your voice, your scent, your body, your everything.

You glance at him briefly, catching the flicker of something dark and unspoken in his eyes, but you brush it off as nothing. To you, he's still the stranded, grateful stranger, polite and charming, sitting quietly beside you.

But Harry's chest tightens as he fights the urge to act on the consuming need inside him. His teeth graze his bottom lip, his mind racing. He's never felt like this before— this overwhelming obsession, this uncontrollable desire. And it terrifies him. But it also excites him, in a way he can't even begin to describe.

For now, he forces himself to stay still, to keep his hands in his lap and his voice calm. But his thoughts? His thoughts are far from calm. They're filled with you, with every possible way he wants to have you. And the longer he sits beside you, the harder it becomes to stop himself from making you his. Completely, utterly, and irrevocably his.

Harry’s voice cuts through the silence, a casual curiosity in his tone that makes you glance at him briefly. “You don’t have a boyfriend yet, do you?”

You raise an eyebrow, momentarily taken aback by the unexpected question. You keep your eyes on the road, trying to process his words. “How did you know?” you ask, voice light, though you can’t quite place the reason why it feels like an oddly personal question.

Harry shrugs slightly, a devil-may-care smile curling on his lips. “Just a guess,” he says nonchalantly. “No man in his right mind would let a gorgeous girl like you be alone at night for this long. Either that or you’ve got a terrible taste in men.”

His words hit you with an unexpected warmth. You laugh, a soft chuckle escaping your lips, trying to hide the flutter of something that rises in your chest. It feels like he’s teasing you, and yet there’s a charm in his tone, something alluring and carefree that makes it hard not to feel a little… flattered.

“Terrible taste, huh?” you reply, half-joking, your eyes flickering back to him. “Well, maybe I’ve just been too picky.”

Harry’s smirk deepens, a glint of mischief dancing in his green eyes. He leans forward slightly, his voice low, as if sharing a secret. “Maybe I can be your new boyfriend,” he suggests, his tone playful but with a teasing undertone that makes your pulse quicken. “Save you from your bad taste?”

You laugh again, this time more freely, the sound light and natural. “Oh really?” you reply, shaking your head with a mock skeptical smile. “You think you could do a better job?”

Harry’s gaze flickers to you, a knowing glint in his eyes, as if he’s sure he’s exactly what you need, even though you’re not quite sure how to respond. “I mean,” he says, his smile widening, “you wouldn’t know until you tried, would you?”

The playful banter between the two of you continues, the tension that had briefly been present starting to dissipate, replaced by a light-hearted connection that feels easy and natural. But beneath the surface of the conversation, Harry’s thoughts still swirl with that same obsessive desire. He’s enjoying the game, enjoying the way you laugh, the way your eyes twinkle when you tease him back. But deep down, he’s already picturing what it would look like if he were your boyfriend. How it would feel to have you close, to make you his—completely, entirely, and without question.

For now, though, he lets the teasing continue, enjoying the playfulness between you, and the undeniable pull he feels toward you. But he knows, deep down, that this is only the beginning. This is just the start of what’s to come. And he’s more than willing to wait for the moment when you’ll be his.

Harry’s smirk widens as you teasingly reply, “Maybe.” He can’t help it; his pulse quickens at your words. He’s always been good at reading people, but with you, everything feels like an exciting game—one he’s eager to win.

He leans in a little, his arm stretching out to rest on the console between you, positioning himself closer. His breath hitches slightly as he catches the scent of your perfume again, the warmth of your presence filling the car. He’s trying to remain casual, but he can’t help it; his thoughts are moving too fast, pulling him deeper into the haze of attraction.

“Give me some hope at least, moon flower,” he says, his voice softer now, almost intimate. “Let me know I’ve got a shot.”

His eyes never leave you as he waits for your response, and when you tease him back, saying, “Okay, you do. You have a shot at it,” Harry’s grin stretches across his face, almost too excited for his own good. It’s as if he’s won something. Something he can’t quite put into words yet, but it feels like a step toward getting closer to you.

He sits up straighter, a surge of confidence overtaking him. His gaze moves over your figure with a deliberation that makes your stomach flutter. The way his eyes drink in the details of your face, your body, makes you feel… noticed. Seen.

“That’s one hell of a boost for my ego,” Harry says, his voice dripping with a mix of playful arrogance and genuine admiration. “I’ve got a chance with the most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

The words hang in the air for a moment, and you can feel the intensity of his gaze. It’s flattering, but there’s something else in his look—something deeper, something more consuming than mere compliments. It’s as if he’s claiming you in some unspoken way. His eyes linger a little too long, and though he’s trying to be playful, there’s a certain hunger there that catches you off guard.

A part of you wants to laugh it off, but another part of you… well, another part of you can’t quite deny the effect his words have on you. The way his confidence oozes, the way he seems to have you completely captivated even when he’s just speaking casually.

You force your gaze back to the road, but the tension between you both feels different now. It’s charged, electric—filled with unspoken possibilities. Harry, however, doesn’t let up. His eyes keep studying you, as if trying to decipher every little detail about you. His lips curl into a smile that’s both triumphant and knowing.

The atmosphere in the car shifts. The lightness of the teasing still hangs in the air, but there’s a deeper layer now—one that feels almost like a promise. Harry’s made it clear: he’s not here for just a simple ride. He’s here to win your attention, your affection, to make sure you know exactly how much he wants you. And as he watches you, he knows he’s already made his mark on you in some way, whether you realize it yet or not.

The air between you thickens, charged with the energy of his words. Harry's voice lowers, almost like a secret. "This might sound crazy since I hardly know you," he says, his gaze flickering from your face to your lips, then back to your eyes. "But I really, really want to kiss you."

The intensity of his gaze, the weight of his words, sends a rush of heat to your chest.

Your heart skips a beat, then races faster than before. You know it's reckless, impulsive, but it's as if something deep inside you is responding to him, telling you to act, to do something. But before you can process the surge of emotions, your foot slams down on the brake pedal without warning.

Harry's eyes widen, his body thrown forward by the sudden stop. His hands instinctively grip the console as he stumbles against the force of the car halting.

"Jesus!" he exclaims, his voice laced with shock, his pulse spiking.

You breathe shakily, your hands still gripping the steering wheel as the car finally comes to a stop. The silence in the car is thick with anticipation. Harry's heart is racing, not just from the sudden stop, but from the way you're looking at him now-there's something different in your eyes. Something that mirrors the craving he's been feeling.

When the shock of the stop wears off, Harry turns to you, his breath coming in quick bursts. His chest rises and falls rapidly as he stares at you.

"Why the hell did you stop the car like that, love?" he asks, his voice rough, his brows furrowed in both confusion and curiosity.

Your eyes lock with his, and something shifts. The walls you'd both been playing behind-teasing, joking-begin to crumble. His question hangs in the air between you like a challenge. But then, without saying another word, you lean toward him. A glint of something darker passes over your face.

"Because I wanted to do this," you whisper, and without waiting for any further hesitation, your lips crash into his.

The kiss is immediate and intense, born out of the tension that's been building ever since he first got into the car. His lips are soft but urgent, pulling you closer. There's no room for uncertainty anymore; only the heat of the moment, the heat of his body pressing against yours, the heat of desire crackling between you both.

Harry responds eagerly, his hand reaching to cup your jaw, fingers threading into your hair as he deepens the kiss, his lips moving hungrily against yours. The taste of him is intoxicating, sending a pulse of warmth straight to your core. His kiss is fierce, as if he's been waiting for this moment just as much as you. His tongue brushes against yours, a soft, tantalizing pressure that makes you lose yourself in the sensation.

For a brief moment, nothing else matters-the world outside the car, the consequences, the lingering doubt. All of it fades away as you both succumb to the pull of each other, driven by something stronger than logic or reason. The kiss feels like a release, the pent-up tension from the entire ride coming to fruition in one passionate, desperate embrace.

When you finally break away, your breaths are ragged, both of you still close, your foreheads resting against each other. Your pulse is wild, your heart pounding in your chest, and you can't help but smile at the way he looks at you now-his eyes dark with desire, filled with a hunger that matches your own.

Harry grins, a satisfied, almost predatory look crossing his face. "Well... I guess I got what I wanted," he murmurs, his lips barely brushing against yours as he speaks.

But you know this isn't over. The tension between you both is only just beginning, and neither of you can walk away from it now.

“God, you’re so hot,” Harry mutters against your lips, the hand not on your face sneaking down to your thigh, his fingers gently squeezing the flesh through your jeans. He’s getting drunk on you, addicted to the feeling of your lips on his. He’s never before felt this way, it’s like something in him has snapped in half, the primal and possessive side of him awakening. He doesn’t want to let you go.

The kiss gets more heated, the sweet gestures replaced by desperate and hungry ones. Harry’s fingers dig into your thigh almost possessively, his head tilting to deepen the kiss even more.

His tongue runs over your lower lip, begging for entrance.

As soon as you grant him access his tongue immediately pushes inside your mouth, exploring every inch of your wet cavern hungrily. It’s as if he wants to devour you. His hand moves up from your thigh to your waist, pulling you closer, trying to get the most possible body contact.

“You’re driving me insane, princess…” Harry mumbles against your lips, one hand now gently gripping your chin, holding you in place. He’s practically addicted to the way your mouth feels on his, you’ve unleashed something primal in him, something he has trouble controlling.

“Your car is like.. a perfect spot for this, love,” Harry comments, his lips moving off of yours, down to your jawline. He begins kissing the skin there as he speaks, “Plenty of space… dark, private… you should park somewhere. I bet your backseats are really comfortable.”

There was no denying that he get want he wants and you’re now his… and this is just the beginning

[stephiramona]

The tale of two cities according to Heiko and Stephi - Part 500

Unbelievable! This is the 500th part of our "Tales"! So Heiko and I thought that something special was needed.

But first of all, we want to thank you. You are fantastic, and without you and your comments, this wouldn't have been the same.

In the past years we have visited each other a few times, and this week we both wrote something about what we think the biggest differences of our hometowns are.

Let's start with Heiko's text and the photo (the first one) he took in Munich:

Today is our 500th Tale, which is pretty unbelievable. Yet, I admit that we are repeating ourselves a lot when it comes to the seasons (watch our for Christmas time) and we might even have repeated ourselves in some subjects. Still, we are doing the Tales for almost 10 years, a feat neither Stephi nor myself would have ever thought we would accomplish.

We also visited the other person’s city a couple of times and there are some differences about them. Picking out one, I would say that Munich is just bigger and you really need some time to explore the city. It just looked vaster to me. It seemed that you always need e tram or train to get to another spot. In Cologne, on one of Stephi’s trip, we went on foot and within a couple of hours I was able to show her the heart of the city with some of the most important places. I admit that if we took a tram, we would have been able to see other spots as well that are not in the center but more on the fringes, but you can spend a couple of days in Cologne by foot and see a lot of great and important places. I never had that feeling in Munich as the tourist attractions and other cool places were further apart.

Basically, you can spend a day in Cologne and see a lot of the city. I don’t think that would have been able in Munich. Yet, it’s well worth to spend more days in Cologne and go into some local pubs to get to know the people of the city and it’s flair. That will pass you by when you are only in the center that is usually crowded with tourists.

Another difference are the temperatures I experienced. Today it was cold and windy in Cologne. But I have never felt temperatures like on that trip in January 2017. That was cold and could have served as my own personal hell.

My picture from Munich is from that cold January trip and I am trying to show the vastness of the city.

Other things are petty similar though. I have seen some cool parks in Munich in which people hang out. The same is true for Cologne.

Since I spend most time with Stephi and Pete (and Fern on one trip), I didn’t get know other people from Munich. But according to Stephi, the people are pretty cool and open minded, other than the impression you get from Bavarian’s politicians and the way people vote. Cologne also praises itself for being open minded and I usually find that to be true.

I could probably go on for a while but I still want to thank you for sticking with us, reading our Tales and responding from time to time. I rarely respond but I really do appreciate your comments and feedback, read and enjoy it. Thank you all very much.

Now to my text and the photo I took in Cologne:

I think, Cologne and Munich are both great but very different cities. During my visits to Cologne, I was most impressed by the cathedral and the river Rhine. We inhabitants of Munich love our cathedral but - if I'm honest - the "Frauenkirche" isn't very impressive. At least not as impressive as the "Kölner Dom". Munich has a sweet little river, the Isar. It's nice for swimming and for spending some quality time. The river Rhine is way bigger and more impressive, but it's not a good idea to swim in it. I guess, you can't have everything. In my opinion, both rivers belong to the highlights of our respective hometowns, but in a different way.

Munich is close to the mountains and has beautiful surroundings. If you ever visit Munich you should take the time to visit the surroundings as well. Munich and Cologne look very different but the biggest differences for me are the people. When I was in Cologne, I found the citizens so nice, and refreshing, funny, and honest. During my first visit to Cologne, I took a taxi and the taxi driver wasn't only funny, he even wanted to share his breaktime snack with me and offered some radishes. I can't imagine something like that happening in Munich. Munich's citizens are more stiff and not as open as the ones of Cologne are.

Have you ever visited both cities? What do you think are the most differences of our hometowns?

[avelera]

Something something… through Viktor’s actions we see his possible linear mental checklist of his goals in life, and those goals included eventually confessing his feelings to Jayce, but before he did he felt he needed to do other things first. Namely:

1) Make Hextech a reality - Check. Viktor and Jayce actually achieved this one by 1.04. They could continue to refine forever but you can tell they both felt a sense of accomplishment in this.

2) Give Hextech to the people - Incomplete. At the end of S1 they had the refined Hextech crystals but the full benefits of their work had not reached the masses. Nor would it/should it ever.

3) Help the Undercity - incomplete, arguably completely unaddressed or even undermined by their work. The Hexgates drew Piltover’s attention away from the Undercity, which is why it languished while Piltover looked to distant markets. Hextech materially made life worse for the Undercity, as the alternate timeline showed us.

4) Hextech innovations lead to a cure for Viktor’s disease and disability - Successful but in the most horrifying way possible, including a body count.

5) Profit - Confess his feelings to Jayce.

(Don’t get too hung up on the order here because obviously a lot of these things could happen concurrently and I don’t think Viktor is stupid he would know that Hextech innovation could take a lifetime and probably wouldn’t wait to confess to Jayce just for that endlessly moving finish line.)

BUT, joking aide, I truly DO think that Viktor is kind and empathetic at his core and he really didn’t plan to confess his feelings to Jayce until he found a cure for his disease, which would require a lot of Hextech innovation to have any hope of reaching. Literally it would take a miracle.

I think Viktor’s belief in his own inadequacy could have festered in the painful doldrums of his own rapidly advancing illness after the initial glow of making the Hexgates happen.

Any hope of finding a cure was always remote, but as his illness advanced, this is when he may have even begun to push Jayce away, knowing the inevitable was coming. He certainly wouldn’t confess feelings to someone he loved with his days so numbered.

And that’s where I think a thread of actual resentment towards Mel might have crept in. To be fair, I don’t think Viktor hated her as a person, as such, nor was he a swooning teenager wracked by petty jealousy. But I think it must have stung to have his days so numbered and have this woman who represented everything he couldn’t offer to Jayce: health, wealth, beauty, position, prestige, etc distracting his attention away during what might be Viktor’s final days.

The thing is, I think rationally Viktor didn’t say anything because again, his days were numbered and Jayce and Mel were happy and well suited and beautiful and perfect together. He had nothing to offer. And it would be cruel to drag Jayce back just so Jayce would have to mourn him even more. Then as a result, Viktor was even more consumed by trying to save his own life by a miracle, though he now had to do it more alone than he ever predicted he would have to.

But there’s that horrible catch 22. He can’t tell Jayce how he feels because he might fail and die anyway and that would be cruel to someone he loves. But if he doesn’t tell Jayce, Jayce won’t come back to his side to help him out with the research needed to maybe save it.

Then Sky dies to the Hexcore and Viktor realizes just how much he’d lost of the parts of himself he liked, the parts that cared about helping others as PART of the cure for himself, and truly just gave up on any of it. He made his peace, decided to support Jayce during the emancipation of Zaun as a sort of ambassador, and resigned himself to the fact this would be the end for him.

Well, we know what happened next. Jayce saved his life, against Viktor’s wishes, using Viktor’s now-hates innovation.

Ok so now for the part that I was trying to get to:

A newly healed Viktor now has to reevaluate his life’s work checklist. It’s a much shorter list now.

1) Save his own life - check.

2) Figure out a way to make the world a better place - check.

3) Confess to Jayce now that you’re proud of who you are both inside and outside. You are finally worthy of him. You will finally live long enough that confessing isn’t an act of cruelty. You finally have achievements that make you worthy to proposition the creator of Hextech and the man you love, who is as far as you know, currently dating the physical embodiment of perfection.

And that explains Viktor’s catwalk into the Council Chamber in 2.08. He’s decked out in Mel’s colors. He’s ready to compete. He’s perfect now. He’s found a way to save humanity from itself. He is now worthy of Jayce and in a place where he can actually offer a lifetime together.

And Jayce rejects him.

This stuns Viktor. Actually, it fully knocks him into a villain arc, because Jayce has never refused him anything before. And Viktor can’t comprehend why his checklist didn’t work. Why did becoming perfect not work?

Because Jayce didn’t need the checklist. He’d already broken up with Mel. He didn’t need Viktor to be healed or to have already saved the world or to be anything else but Jayce’s partner. Jayce would have been happier if Viktor proposed at Step 0, but Viktor thought that would be a cruelty if he didn’t have a cure yet.

But I truly think Jayce would have preferred even just a day as Viktor’s official partner if that was all they got over a decade of being held at arm’s length until “everything was perfect”.

And that’s what Viktor doesn’t understand.

And that’s what Jayce had to show him in that final act of love.

[guiltycorp]

Damn i really want to know tf happened in the writing room of arcane s2. Some of the downgrades were inevitable due to the show's corporate limitations (not being able to progress the class war story in a meaningful way, having to tie things back to league of legends in terms of making playable characters more appealing to well, play... rip Mel and Viktor in particular), sure. But i still feel like it's even worse than that? There are so many bad decisions that i couldn't even start listing them all... the characters, plot, pacing, themes, it's just such a mess? Even the dialogue writing, it feels much more mm Marvel at its worst i suppose. What i am most bothered by is probably just the straight up harmful messaging so um... Cycles of violence and abuse can be broken by individual decisions to become a better person! Got nothing to do with systemic oppression, living conditions, mental health issues, you can just conveniently ignore aaall the social context, live laugh love and then things get better automatically yep, oppressors famously stop oppressing you when you show them that you're harmless and won't put up a fight anymore. Literally three out of three suicidal characters dying to redeem themselves? Not even in a tragic/cathartic way but in a bittersweet 'they finally atoned for their mistakes' way? Groundbreaking lmao. Romantic relationship between Vi and Caitlyn including no communication about their biggest fight, just conveniently skipping to sex and getting back together - would have loved that if it was framed as the unhealthy fucked up thing that it is, skipping over Vi's hurt and her background to once again become a cop, her girlfriend's direct underling at that (!) due to her not having any other support systems... But nope that was our cute lesbian romance wrapped up, a good thing all around, not concerning at all. Jayce telling Viktor that what he 'always admired about him' was his disability and his deadly disease (??? from a character who spent the whole s1 and first act of s2 desperately trying to help Viktor find a cure? sure) and that those imperfections don't need fixing, just wtf truly. Magic bullshit was also weird, some implications of 'natural magic is ok, but achieving that power through other means corrupts you into a crazy robot bitch or just wilts your trees i guess', but tbh it was written in such a weird and inconsistent way that we can skip this one... Yeah actually a lot of things were just such a mess that I feel silly pointing to specific moments or lines I didn't like, I mean duh, it barely makes sense as a story at all... I am happy we have s1 which comparatively was a masterpiece, and i also really enjoyed s2 act1, i truly believed it would lead somewhere good at the time, my mind still kind of cuts off the story at that point when i think about it, that WAS the open ending of the show to me (is it possible that there were rewrites? targeting act 2 and 3? idk, wishful thinking perhaps). Despite my extremely negative feelings about this season's conclusion i remain glad that so many people appreciate the show regardless, it is clear that there was STILL a lot of love in the process of its creation (although i'd argue that even some of the visual aspects of the show suffered in quality, once again i have to wonder about behind the scenes mood of it all) and i get very upset when i see creatives online despairing over reception of their projects even when i'm absolutely in the disgruntled crowd hahaha... ...however yeah, this wasn't great In a world that increasingly grows more and more right-wing politically... we really needed something different i think.

[ceaselesswatchersspecialboy]

spent a good hour reading up on your Not What He Seems AU, it’s such a perfect mix of angst and whimsy! Ford waking up to find 30 years have passed in the blink of an eye is is the kind of body horror terrifying i eat up, as an avid enjoyer of time travel and its inherent tragedy.

i got a few questions, if you’ll indulge me:

- what kinds of tattoos you think Bill has gotten over the years? i think i saw some arm bands in one of your pieces, but i’d love to hear if you have any specific ideas for placements or images. if he’s doing it for the safe pain experience, i’d think there are some pretty big/detailed pieces involved? and do you think the pain helps ground him somewhat, to find and fit better in the boundaries of the body?

- in the show, Stan feels a lot of guilt for stealing his brother’s identity and he kinda thinks of himself as a fraud, an actor. do you think Bill ever feels guilty for the same? or would he just miss Ford a lot, without the Stan-specific aspect of pretending to be “the better one”?

also any fun tidbits you’ve been rotating in your head lately! it’s impressive how specifically it seems like you’ve thought out how Bill’s presence would affect the canon show events, while trying to keep them as unchanged as possible. also StanFraud is the funniest, most perfect thing I’ve ever heard!

Thank you!! I’ve always enjoyed writing horror based on human response, so Ford’s perspective is probably one of the most fascinating to me in this AU, although, all of it is fascinating and enjoyable to explore, really!

— I haven’t worked them all out yet, but I know for a fact he has a tattoo of the Cipher Wheel on his back, the arm bands as you mentioned, a hyper-realistic tattoo of his ribs where his ribs would be (if that makes sense), and eyes on the back of his hands. Honestly, I’d be open to suggestions for him! I imagine him having some more grotesque, detailed tattoos that reflect the nightmare realm as well. And yes, the pain definitely helps ground him. It also gives him a sense of control as well, in a situation where he has none.

— If he does feel guilty, it’s a complicated kind of guilt. I don’t even think he’d fully process that he’s feeling guilty. It’s this sort of gnawing feeling he can’t get rid of, and it starts the longer he gets to know Dipper and Mabel — he never really felt it before that. He absolutely misses Ford though. He can’t define that feeling either. I’ve said before that he looks at Dipper strangely, and that’s because Dipper reminds him of Ford in certain moments, eager for discovery!

He and Stan never really talk about it, but the have both acknowledged missing Ford before.

Bill’s response was vague though, not an ‘I miss him too’, but an ‘I think I do too.’ He isn’t sure what to make of that.

Bill Cipher doesn’t feel remorse, or miss people, he does everything with intention and he’s never made mistakes. Or, that’s what he’s meant to be. Maybe he has gone soft.

And Tidbits! I have a few! Not as many as usual, only because Arcane’s been taking up a bit of my brain space lately, but I hope these shall suffice anyhow:

(And quickly, thank you again, I think way too hard on all the small details and how Bill’s presence would have a knock on effect. It makes me happy to see it get noticed!)

— In the early days of Bill being trapped, Stan obviously doesn’t open the Mystery Shack, and ends up having to take a few odd jobs around town instead. He’s earned a bit of a reputation for being a decent handyman because of that, and even now, old timers of the town will still come to Stan if they need something fixing, especially cars. He complains about getting too old for it, but he never says no. Money is money! It’s also interesting to think about how the little things would impact his relationship with the townsfolk and how they view him. He’s always been Stanley to them. He’s never had to pretend otherwise.

— I’ve toyed around with making the Blind Eye a bigger threat than they are in canon, being as the kids would have no reason to look into Old Man McGucket. I’ve also toyed around with McGucket ending up slightly different to canon, his mind still broken, but his motivation different, with him being aware early on that the man he sees isn’t Ford, and is in fact the beast he fears and tried to erase from his mind. A more antagonistic Fiddleford who’s been trying to get rid of Bill for years now would actually be really fun? If I can make it work, and make the Blind Eye work in this way, I’ll lean into it! For now though, it’s just an idea I’m throwing around.

— Vague ‘episode’ idea that exists within my brain is Bill accidentally starting a mini cult again after telling some sort of lie that catches on, and it ends up being a Mabel-Bill bonding plot-line as she tries to convince him to just be honest before this whole cult thing gets taken too far. I also love the idea of Bill making a comment about this being like 1952 all over again. He makes comments like that all the time. Surely he’s just joking!

— Another vague ‘episode’ idea I have is Bill taking Dipper and Mabel to the supernatural underground market of Gravity Falls under Stan’s nose, trying to prove he’s the cooler Uncle, and that he can handle the two kids by himself. This goes about as well as you’d expect. Stan isn’t too happy to find out Bill got Dipper and Mabel in trouble, as he tried to get them to do more and more risky things.

— Bill will sometimes start speaking in Euclydian without realising, especially when it comes to cursing, and no one knows how he’s making those sounds with his mouth. Stan’s actually started picking up some of the meanings in context and can roughly gauge what Bill might be saying.

[soapieanxiety]

Hi mootie, I really like your headcanon posts, do you have any headcanons for Sweden and iceland? (ᴗ_ ᴗ。)

Hi mootie 🥺

I’m so glad you like the headcanon posts, I love writing them! Now I absolutely adore Iceland and Sweden’s relationship and find it very wholesome. Like previous posts, I’m gonna preface how I view the relationship before delving into headcanons.

I feel like Sweden is the Nordic that Iceland feels the most comfortable around. Not saying he’s uncomfortable around the rest of the Nordics but their tendency to be nosy definitely makes Iceland uneasy sometimes. In fact, when the rest of the Nordics get like this the first person Iceland turns to is Sweden or the first person who goes, “hey if he doesn’t wanna, then he doesn’t have to” is Sweden.

Iceland respects Sweden a lot and he finds comfort in him being the most level-headed Nordic. Sweden also has this dad energy, a lot of the fandom has picked up on this. I don’t think that Iceland views Sweden in a parental light, however I do think he gravitates towards Sweden because of it. Sweden has this stability about him that Iceland honestly didn’t have for the majority of his life. It makes sense that he’d gravitate towards that .

I definitely believe that Iceland confides in Sweden about stuff he feels he can’t tell the rest of the Nordics. I feel like Iceland really respects the natural maturity Sweden shows because Iceland himself is trying to be seen as more mature. Iceland wants to be taken seriously and Sweden takes Iceland seriously. Norway has stated that he still views Iceland as a child, which is something Iceland desperately doesn’t want to be treated as.

I’m gonna get more into it in my historical Iceland ramble, but Iceland didn’t actually know Finland and Sweden until way later than most people realize. He’s never seen Sweden be that “uncommunicative combat machine” and is quick to turn the idea down. Probably because it doesn’t fit his view of Sweden. He definitely thinks very highly of him.

To conclude before headcanon time, Iceland obviously views Sweden very highly and really respects him a lot. Sweden provides that stable elder figure that neither Norway nor Denmark were able to provide. (This isn’t a Norway and Denmark diss post, I think they did their best but let’s be honest here. Icelands childhood was anything but stable) Sweden also shows to care for Iceland as he sticks up for Iceland when the other Nordics are being nosy. Sweden respects Iceland a lot as well and just wants the best for him. I love their friendship and feel it can be overlooked sometimes.

Ok, now it’s headcanon time:

- Sweden has gifted Iceland hand-knitted sweaters for him and Mr. Puffin before. The real question is, did Mr. Puffin wear it? (After convincing, yes he did)

- I mentioned this earlier, but Iceland 100% confides in Sweden about personal troubles. He’s probably ranted to him about his childhood before and his loneliness. Sometimes Sweden gives advice if Iceland wants it but I feel most times Iceland just wants someone to listen. Sweden is always happy to listen

- Adding onto the previous headcanon, Sweden keeps all of Icelands secrets until he is ready to tell them to the rest of the Nordics himself.

- This can work for any Iceland ship ever but I fully believe that if Iceland were to ever get with anyone, then the first Nordic to know would definitely be Sweden.

- If Iceland wants hot chocolate than he goes to Sweden, Sweden makes really good hot chocolate. You can even combine headcanons and say that Iceland confides in Sweden over a cup of hot chocolate.

[yourstarstruckbeloved]

first glimpse of red

in which seishiro nagi veers dangerously close to the path of nihility.

content/warnings: 1.1k words, blue lock x hsr au??? cross fandom fic— this is not a shipfic!!! acheron is here purely as a guide, a LOT of discussion of nihilism and pointlessness and such, like two mentions of death, acheron might be ooc warning, if there’s anything i missed pls let me know

author’s note: i’ve been OBSESSED with the idea of nihility follower nagi— well, not an emanator since emanators of nihility technically can’t exist, so at least whatever acheron is. this is me trying to coherently put it all into words <3

seishiro nagi rubs his eyes and stretches, yawning as he does so. he boots up his PC once more, and shuts it back off when he realises that even playing another game would be too much effort. nagi is tired. sighing as he closes his eyes, seishiro nagi slumps on his chair. the time blurs into monochrome. 

reason.

what reason did nagi have to do anything at all? why does he wake up in the morning just to go back to sleep at night? he immediately discards the thoughts from his mind, concluding that it would be a hassle to think about them anymore. and unknowingly, he finds himself walking a step closer towards the edge of the looming blackhole in the horizon of existence. nagi isn’t someone who spends his time dwelling on matters like this— he’d much rather get to the root of a problem as quickly as possible and cut it right off, so it would never grow to be a bother again.

nagi doesn’t know what path he treads on. all he knows is he tends to choose those with easy exits and no catches. what does he even want? it just so happens that the easiest path nagi finds himself to be able to tread on is one of listless monochrome. a lot of people have asked him why he finds everything to be a hassle. he shrugs and says that he doesn’t know. it’s true that he doesn’t, but it’s not like he’s ever bothered to find the answer to the question. and it’s not like he’s asked himself why he doesn’t bother.

nagi doesn’t care. he’s been this way for as long as he could remember. 

he meets a purple haired woman in his journey through IX’s landscape. acheron is someone that accidentally stepped into the path of nihility and ventured a bit too far into IX’s shadow. for a fleeting moment, nagi wonders why she couldn’t just have steered course away from nihility, but realises he doesn’t care that much about the answer.

pointlessness.

it finally dawns on him, why he thinks of everything as a hassle. the answer had always been with him, he never had to go look. all of nagi’s actions stem from wanting to eradicate all burden and hassle from his life. he recounts this to acheron, and she comes to the realisation that she and nagi probably weren’t cut from the same cloth; they were two individuals on vastly different courses of life, that happened to intersect at this very moment. unlike acheron who happened to be thrown onto this path completely by accident, nagi seemed like he was destined to follow nihility since birth. he’d always found everything pointless, enough to feel disengaged from everyone and everything around him to some degree, at least. 

but then again, unlike acheron, nagi has an easier exit from this path than she does. she’s carved this one singular path for herself out of the hardest stone, in a resolve to reach the light beyond the black disc of nothingness, and to guide people who cross paths with her by making them pick a certain choice that she offers.

well… calling it a choice offered by her would be putting it in the crudest and vaguely inaccurate terms. she’s not the one steering their lives, even for this fleeting moment; she could never take credit for such a thing. she simply shows people possibilities, and lets them decide for themselves which one they’d like to walk towards.

nagi can articulate now that the basis of his attitude to most things in life is because of the pointlessness he associates with everything. so, what now?

but then this leads acheron to question if nagi truly was someone born for nihility, or if he was just another one of the poor souls that was led astray and accidentally ended up on IX’s monochrome path; because, well, no one’s point of existence could truly be to pursue nihility— anyways, it’s not like the answer to that question matters, she surmises.

there is nothing left for nagi to do in this reality except for think, and so he does. why did he keep pressing on until this moment despite the pointlessness of his existence? well, he wouldn’t say he particularly pressed on to live— had death come knocking on his door, he would’ve followed it out with a shrug of his shoulders. do you keep living despite the pointlessness of it all, or do you actively try to find meaning in your actions?

cut that out, the answer to that question is pointless— humans keep living on, regardless of their answers.

slowly, the pieces of the puzzle come together. some pieces are still missing, but he gets the wider picture. in a first, he asks acheron why humans strive to keep living despite the void of meaninglessness that the universe is based upon. she tells him that red is the colour of existence, and that it will be the first colour that will bloom, only for a fleeting moment in this monochrome universe. she asks him if he would roam in search of that first streak of crimson or if he would pick up a brush and paint it into existence. and when a choice is made, it shall reappear once more. in other words, will you search for meaning, or will you create meaning for yourself?

nagi wonders why her question wasn’t about following the halo of light at the end of nothingness— isn’t acheron a guide to those who walk this path? almost as if she hears his thoughts, she clarifies that it would be a pointless question for her to ask. his mouth opens to question her once more, but the word why? gets caught in his throat, as the realisation hits him like a speeding truck. every life is destined to end with the nihility, no matter what— it’s almost like a primal instinct, the way every being is naturally drawn to the light beyond the nothingness. perhaps, that is why a life that edges closer to death fervently approaches nihility, and further aspires to reach the end of it. so, will you strive to fill your life with meaning, or will you willingly thrust yourself into the meaningless pursuit of the primordial light, like acheron has?

he understands now. he picks up a paintbrush that lies fallen at his feet, streaks and blotches of red trailing with its bristles. he walks, but acheron doesn’t care to discern whether he’s walking towards the blackhole or not. she smiles wistfully, slashing her blade and tearing apart the spatio-temporal fabric of the horizon of existence. seishiro nagi wakes up in a cold sweat, finding himself in front of his PC once more, the words you died plastered in big red letters on his screen.

[ohcorny]

How did you first initially get into the professional graphic novel scene? Was it difficult getting ppl to take a chance on your writing/stories and could you talk about it a bit?

wibbles my hand? i probably had it easier than most people. first of all i'd been doing a fairly popular webcomic for like. six-seven years when an agent cold-called me to offer representation, and asked if i had any graphic novel ideas. hunger's bite was but a tiny twinkle in my eye so i started developing it.

(and then covid happened and i got a storyboard job and also eventually fired that agent but still kept developing hunger's bite)

shortly after firing that agent, and after trying to query traditionally with no real luck (though i think i only queried 3-4), there was an event on twitter called #DVPit which was basically: you'd post the elevator pitch of your story + some art, and agents would look in the tag and like anything they were interested in representing. so once the event was over you'd reach out to them with the full pitch and meet to talk about it and if the vibe was right, you'd sign on with them. i think i had 5 agents show interest, and i contacted 3 who felt like they could be a good fit, and then signed with the one i liked best. (i do not think #DVPit exists anymore for obvious reasons)

after that it was her job to send the pitch out to editors, and i think it was maybe in the second or third wave of submissions (ie, a few months) where i had 2 editors who were interested. they made their offers, i went with the one that had a bit more money (and apparently got a Really good deal) and that was that

like Looking Back, i think i had it easier than people who struggle for years to get noticed. it didn't feel that way at the time, waiting months for rejections, but now that i'm through it, it's less daunting. the main issue i would run into was finding someone who understood the vision and didn't want to change it. there was a lot of 'this would probably be better as a middle grade!' but i didn't want to take the teeth out of it.

iunno! overall i think art and comics is one of those spaces where it's like. you know at a glance if you're interested in it, or if the artist is competent. i've done slush pile with comics, it's very 'you know it when you see it'. i imagine it's the same with acquiring editors.

i fortunately have a style with broad appeal :y so it might just be easier for me on that merit

[damnfandomproblems]

Agreed with most of #6472 until the race, mental disability and height thing.

1. As a POC woman, just do your research if you're making a POC character. I'm not personally offended, but I don't speak for everyone.

2. As someone with autism and anxiety; DO YOUR RESEARCH. PLEASE. Like as long as the portrayal is accurate and research was done, I think a lot of disabled people would appreciate representation but idk. I dont speak for everyone.

3. SHORT PEOPLE EXIST. JUST BECAUSE SOMEONE IS SHORT, IT DOES NOT MEAN THEY ARE A MINOR OR "MINOR CODED" HEIGHT DIFFERENCES SHOULD NOT BE AN ICK.

I think the last three could be rage bait, but idk. Just my opinion.

Posting as a response to a previous problem.

Going to include a few more responses to the same problem below:

Anon:

...is this a parody?

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Anon:

"If your ocs looks young, they are a child." I am 25, last week someone asked me if I was in high school. Some of us just look young idk what to tell you.

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Anon:

Bait used to be believable

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@theofficialkai517:

I'm not a regular OC maker, but I feel like there will be some mixed-bag responses. But in most cases that I've seen "actual [way older than teenager] looks to be way younger than they are" has been a canon thing, not an OC thing. Aang from Avatar and Elena from Elena of Avalor instantly come to mind. It's not just teenage-appearing characters, either, there are several adult characters that don't appear to age past their 30s despite being millenia old, or can change their age and appearance almost as they please. The gods from Percy Jackson (though some of them may not be the best examples to prove a point against you, LOL), many dragons from fantasy & sci-fi novels, vampires, so many different archetypes... I am not standing for or against this-- though the specific ones that I mentioned were trapped at their ages and don't remember much of anything during their times of not aging, and I do ship them both with teenagers they are friends with in their shows; and the archetypes/character designs I listed... Is a mixed bag, to be fair-- but it's not just about OCs, and you can't fault OC designers for following a pattern that has been their for a long long time, whether or not that character has a romantic bond with another character, or has friends who are all the age that the character appears to be.

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Anon:

what the hell does that mean, anyone 5'7 or under is minor-coded and shouldn't be shipped?! lots of adults, females especially (and including myself) aren't anywhere close to that height in real life. and it's okay to ship minors with other minors; there are millions of high-school love stories out there. besides, are we supposed to know a character's height right off the top of our fucking head or something? even if it's an oc. like, most of my ocs if i ever were to create more would probably be closer to my height because that's what i find "normal," or i just want somebody to dump all of my struggles on. it's literally not pedophilia to ship fix-it felix and calhoun together (first ship to come to mind, sorry), despite him being very very short. not much of this shit even happens with ocs, i've seen most of what you're bringing up in the media that's actually put in front of us.

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Anon:

re 6472, specifically this line: "Anyone under 5'7" is minor coded and shouldn't be shipped." What the metric fuck are you smoking? I swear I'm gonna short-circuit.

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Anon:

Okay, so many things. And I am sure others have probably brought this up too, but hey.

The "1000 year old dragon/immortal being with the body of a child trope" isn't just used by fans and makers of OCs. It is often a "trope" used by creators themselves; if it makes you look like a creep/has inherently pedophilic tones/only creeps are okay with this kind of thing, then call me a fucking creep. So many wonderful medias have characters who are older than they look, even going to J.M. Barrie with Peter Pan. Not many people seem to mind that they don't know how chronologically old Peter is, they just find whimsy in the fact that he will never grow up. The same goes for Avatar: the Last Airbender's titular character, Aang, who is chronologically 112 but has the appearance and mannerisms of a 12-year-old. It is meant to portray his redemption and his friends' hope, not to be creepy or pedophilic.

I can't quite help you there. There are some executions of that trope that work, and some that don't. But please know that most of this was perpetuated by actual creators and authors than us fans and our OCs. If you want to raise a fuss, try and go to Stephanie Meyers first before pointing your finger in our faces.

"if your ocs looks young, they are a child [...] it is simpler that way. You do not need to overcomplicate your ocs." First off... Completely false. I cannot be the only person who still looks 14 but is actually far older than that... If it happens in real life, it can happen in fiction and with OCs. We are not children, those characters are not children. It is not "overcomplicating" an OC. Besides, some people don't want simple with their OCs, they are putting their hearts and souls into them and just having fun.

Nobody should have to ask "approval" to write a character that is a different race than them. Yes, it can end disastrously... But it also couldn't. If people had to ask approval to write a character who is Latino or black or East Asian when the writer is white, or any other variation of one race creating a character of another, there would never be any diversity in anything ever.

There was need for you to elaborate on that. Some of the best ADHD/autism representation I have seen in characters has come from neurotypicals. I have a loved one who has never had anxiety or depression before but can spot-on name most of the signs and symptoms just from watching me live through it. As long as you're not adding harmful traits to one mental disability or another, I have no reason to be offended. Maybe just try and do your research, but even then, nobody is allowed to police you. Again, nobody should have to ask approval or be worried that they're not writing a character good. Also, it's easy for signs of one mental disability or other to slip through in a character without it being openly stated. Sometimes things happen unintentionally, it was never meant as a slight towards someone who has the mental disability strongly hinted at.

"Short characters are basically minors"... Ex-fucking-scuse me? What the fuck? "Anyone under 5'7" is minor coded and shouldn't be shipped"... Just stop. Stop it right here. 5'7" is a major ask, especially in a fictional world where heights often aren't known to viewers/readers, and your OC can be whatever height you wish on them. It's a major ask even in the real world. Because why the fuck are only tall people allowed to be shipped? When hobbits exist, dwarves exist, elves (like, Christmas elves) exist... Some fictional species aren't designed to grow taller than, like, 4'10", let alone 8 inches taller than that. Half of the females I went to school with didn't make it past that height; it is unreasonable to tell people that they cannot create characters to be shorter than a certain height if they want to be able to ship them.

Sorry for the long rambles, but most of that was BS and needed to be called. Yes, there is room for a lot of moral ambiguity when it comes to characters who are coded one way or another... Especially when it comes to age/immortality/disguising oneself as another age/etc. But if someone is doing any of these things and it drives you nuts, either block/mute/ignore them or, in the cases of 4 and 5, maybe gently message them with "hey... I wanted to let you know that I have/am [insert mental disability or race here] and that [character] doesn't quite match up to what they're supposed to be. Can I offer you some guidance in writing them?" and if they say no... Just leave it be. This is fandom, not politics.

[icantwithstormandsilence]

I completely agree with you. While I haven't read To Kill a Mockingbird(I haven't read a lot of classics), I really love seeing how other people perceive the world so I do think authors should be given a chance to show their perspective and understanding of how they see the people around them being brutalized solely based on their race and the people who do the brutalizing.

Yes, the N-word is undeniably offensive, but its inclusion in the book isn’t gratuitous; it serves a purpose.

The reason why many people were displeased by the author of Storm & Silence using a slur was because his stories rarely address racism. Seeing how Karim, a man from India, was one of the main reoccurring character, I had hoped there might've been some heavy topic surrounding how people treat(I know it's a Wattpad book but still👀). Yes people called him a brute, savage, made him sleep in the stable, etc. but as an Indian myself, I have heard how many English people treated Indians. I guess because Karim was Rikkard's bodyguard no one dared to say anything too much.

The use of the n word felt out of place and unnecessary in this series. I'm sure people would've still been outraged about it even if the author constantly addressed it. I also feel people would not have liked it if he constantly addressed it because "it's too political for a Wattpad book". Either way the author would've been seen as the bad guy because people always feel the need to put some sort of blame onto to someone😅.

When he addressed why he used the slur, he said it was for historical accuracy. That made me angry because even if he says he wants historical accuracy, there are many times where his writing contradicts that.

I wonder, does your stance apply only to works on Wattpad, or does it extend to all forms of literature?

I'm honestly not sure how I feel about this. Like I said in the beginning, authors should be allowed to express their view(they should also be aware that there will be criticism no matter what), but there definitely is a difference with stories published on Wattpad.

While it's a platform that allows anyone to publish, it is very much a social media. Many people are able to interact with each other, which includes the author. If you publish on Wattpad, you are most definitely more exposed to other peoples opinions. Other readers also get easy and instant access to these opinions.

Something you might find offensive is not something that will offend others. But once you express that it offended you and others see that, they get offended for you. Eventually it becomes a hate-train where they berate the author saying "you have offended this one person so you are bad". It was probably never purposeful on the authors side, but once people form an opinion of the author, it stays.

I understand that Wattpad allows authors creative liberties and is positioned more as entertainment than as a critical engagement with historical issues. And that's what you disagree with? That Wattpad authors may not always intend to educate or provoke critical thought, whereas canonical literature often seeks to do that?

I'm not much of a writer, but I grew up reading on Wattpad and learned to write as I pleased. It definitely taught me to improve my imagination and creativity. To many young people who read original stories on these platforms are sure to think of these stories as more than just entertainment, but because others see it as a silly and unprofessional platform, it discourages the readers from engaging with it as anything but entertainment. I find it annoying because I've read many original stories that I really loved and wanted my friends to read it too.

I come from a somewhat conservative religious community and there was a lot a things I didn't know about the world. I've only interacted with my classmates and family for most of my childhood and having access to Wattpad other than just published physical books, which I could only discuss with few people, I got to see more and learn more. If I didn't have Wattpad, I don't think I would be as open-minded as I am today.

Many authors publish on Wattpad with the intention of sharing their stories and in many ways they teach a lot of people something new.

I understand the desire to protect young readers from harm, but I worry that in shielding them from uncomfortable realities, we’re doing more harm than good.

I agree with this too. Currently, the US is in the process of getting many books banned for the most dumbest reasons. They always find some reason to remove books from the shelves saying "It's to protect the children". I've read a lot of uncomfortable topics when I was young but it also taught me somewhat of how the world works. If we're not exposed to these stories, no one will learn how to interact with other people or why some people feel the way they do about certain topics.

Thank you for sharing your thoughts. It was nice to understand how differently you saw that situation. I hadn't given it much thought because I wasn't aware of it until I read about it on tumblr. I saw how many people were outraged and I understood them too. I guess I agreed with them because I didn't fully understand why it hurt them and wanted to support their feelings😅.

One thing I'll never get over is how Storm & Silence could've easily been so much better if Rob Their(the author) wasn't afraid to actually write a compelling story.

Don't get me wrong, I adore the whole concept of '19 year old Victorian girl dresses up as a man to get a job'. But it's just so poorly written that I think about all the ways the story could be better when I'm in the bus going home from college.

I mean, that's how it is with books, they will be criticized no matter how good or how bad it may be. But then again, this is a Wattpad book. You can never expect too much from a Wattpad book. Every character feels very two dimensional after the first book that every other book after that is just plain fan-service.

The first book is genuinely good, except for the hyper feminist way Lilly is written to be. The author doesn't even bother to add conflict between any of the characters. The ONLY conflict that we ever get is Lilly arguing with Rikkard how she's capable of anything even if she's a women in every single book. It keeps going on and on like this that it just gets boring.

And the way Lilly's intelligence is suppressed makes me mad too. Like in book 3, she literally deciphers a map to find the treasure, but god forbid she recognizes her fiancé's(whether she likes him or not) initials on the waste disposal file and connect the dots on how he and her previous guy(I forgot his name) might've just disappeared. That right there could've been a good conflict. She recognizes the initials, realizes what Rikkard might've done, get angry and argue about not wanting him to interfere with it, then having to find an escape from her next fiancé and choosing to go out of town with Rikkard against her will instead of telling him why bcs she doesn't want a new waste disposal file.

Not to be mean, but the author is a man. At the end of the day, the way female characters are written by men will never be realistic. I know there might be real people out there like Lilly, but the way her "inner feminist"(I hate when she kept saying 'mY iNneR FemIniSt iS prOtEstiNg' stfu) is written truly makes me want to pull my hair out. It will never be same as writing a story from a women's perspective when you already know what it's like. I'm not saying that men are incapable of understanding the female experience, I'm saying that it's stupid and annoying when a man pretends he does.

Also the lack of historical accuracy boils my blood. Rob claims to have done thorough research on every historical details yet somehow Lilly and Rikkard goes on top of the Statue of Liberty despite the story taking place around 1840 and the statue starting its construction in 1876.

SNS was the last and final original story I've read on Wattpad. I really wish I could go back and keep myself away from that app and read an actual book. But it's the only place I could go to when I lost my sanity. Let me know how you feel about the book. I know there's barely anyone in the fandom, but please tell me your perspective.

P.S. can someone tell me where Rob used the slur. I read about many people talking about it but I cannot remember or recognize where it is.

[deepseawave]

obsessed w the tags on ur last reblog

Omgg, thank you haha, it was a quality post so I just had to appreciate it in full force 😂❤️

Can‘t believe someone would actually enjoy my yapping :,D

[thats-my-passion-right-there]

I finally saw the mean girls musical (the movie one) I have so many fucking thoughts oh my god

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[chrisodonline]

Just doing a welfare check. How’s everyone doing?

Still coping?

I am trying to make myself clean the stuff I gotta clean even though I want to 1. write a long business-y post about the decision which may or may not come off as positive, depending on how you look at it and 2.write that “From the Desk” fic I have notes for, even if it’s not the best. Both just for old time’s sake and not because I think people are super interested.

So we’ll see if I finish enough in time to get to do that this weekend.

[13eyond13]

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[playingonedchess]

reminder for the millionth time: never read tumblr recomended posts about politics