#We create perfection from imperfections.

[dylanconstruction1]

[santiagosconstructioninc]

[xyywrites]

Tips for writing flawed but lovable characters.

Flawed characters are the ones we root for, cry over, and remember long after the story ends. But creating a character who’s both imperfect and likable can feel like a tightrope walk. 

1. Flaws That Stem From Their Strengths

When a character’s greatest strength is also their Achilles' heel, it creates depth.

Strength: Fiercely loyal.

Flaw: Blind to betrayal or willing to go to dangerous extremes for loved ones.

“She’d burn the whole world down to save her sister—even if it killed her.”

2. Let Their Flaws Cause Problems

Flaws should have consequences—messy, believable ones.

Flaw: Impatience.

Result: They rush into action, ruining carefully laid plans.

“I thought I could handle it myself,” he muttered, staring at the smoking wreckage. “Guess not.”

3. Show Self-Awareness—or Lack Thereof

Characters who know they’re flawed (but struggle to change) are relatable. Characters who don’t realize their flaws can create dramatic tension.

A self-aware flaw: “I know I talk too much. It’s just… silence makes me feel like I’m disappearing.” A blind spot: “What do you mean I always have to be right? I’m just better at solving problems than most people!”

4. Give Them Redeeming Traits

A mix of good and bad keeps characters balanced.

Flaw: They’re manipulative.

Redeeming Trait: They use it to protect vulnerable people.

“Yes, I lied to get him to trust me. But he would’ve died otherwise.”

Readers are more forgiving of flaws when they see the bigger picture.

5. Let Them Grow—But Slowly

Instant redemption feels cheap. Characters should stumble, fail, and backslide before they change.

Early in the story: “I don’t need anyone. I’ve got this.”

Midpoint: “Okay, fine. Maybe I could use some help. But don’t get used to it.”

End: “Thank you. For everything.”

The gradual arc makes their growth feel earned.

6. Make Them Relatable, Not Perfect

Readers connect with characters who feel human—messy emotions, bad decisions, and all.

A bad decision: Skipping their best friend’s wedding because they’re jealous of their happiness.

A messy emotion: Feeling guilty afterward but doubling down to justify their actions.

A vulnerable moment: Finally apologizing, unsure if they’ll be forgiven.

7. Use Humor as a Balancing Act

Humor softens even the most prickly characters.

Flaw: Cynicism.

Humorous side: Making snarky, self-deprecating remarks that reveal their softer side.

“Love? No thanks. I’m allergic to heartbreak—and flowers.”

8. Avoid Overdoing the Flaws

Too many flaws can make a character feel unlikable or overburdened.

Instead of: A character who’s selfish, cruel, cowardly, and rude.

Try: A character who���s selfish but occasionally shows surprising generosity.

“Don’t tell anyone I helped you. I have a reputation to maintain.”

9. Let Them Be Vulnerable

Vulnerability adds layers and makes flaws understandable.

Flaw: They’re cold and distant.

Vulnerability: They’ve been hurt before and are terrified of getting close to anyone again.

“It’s easier this way. If I don’t care about you, then you can’t leave me.”

10. Make Their Flaws Integral to the Plot

When flaws directly impact the story, they feel purposeful rather than tacked on.

Flaw: Their arrogance alienates the people they need.

Plot Impact: When their plan fails, they’re left scrambling because no one will help them.

Flawed but lovable characters are the backbone of compelling stories. They remind us that imperfection is human—and that growth is possible.

[kquil]

JAMES POTTER | BOUDOIR PHOTOSHOOT

sum. : you have your bridesmaids show James, your, now, husband, polaroid samples from your boudoir photoshoot on your wedding night while you enjoy his reactions from afar

quick note : boudoir is a photography style showcasing sensual, romantic and even erotic images of the subject person. It showcases and celebrates the person's beauty and sexuality.

tags. : marrying james potter ; fluff ; kinda spicy ; you have the best bridesmaids ; inspired by a tiktok ; james is the perfect man for you ; wedding day! ; james loves your body ; no mentions of specific body type; james can't wait for his wedding 'night' ; shy reader shows her wild side~

length : 2k

navi. | more james potter

In preparation for your wedding day, you participated in a boudoir photoshoot. You were marrying the man of your dreams, the most perfect man for you, James Potter. It was your way of expressing your love, to show him how confident and beautiful he made you feel. Not a day goes by without him whispering an affectionate ‘I love you’ into your ear or expressing how beautiful he finds you despite the imperfections you nitpick along the lines of your body. He doesn’t let your toxic, self-deprecating thoughts linger for long; he loves every beautiful inch of you and he’s not afraid to show it, especially when you make love together. He loves you unconditionally and makes you want for nothing more in life. With him, you’re always content. 

This was a thank you to him for loving you so wholeheartedly and to showcase the beauty you were able to find in yourself because of him. You worked with your bridesmaids to pick out the perfect set of lingerie to wear for the photo shoot and had the most amazing photographer guiding you throughout. She was the perfect balance of encouragement, support and positive energy. And she was so respectful too. You were always the shy type so the beginning was quite wobbly but you eventually found your flow and it ended on such a high note. As promised, she created a beautiful photo album of the pictures you approved and made small Polaroid samples of the ones you wanted your bridesmaids to ambush James with on your wedding night. 

The shoot was weeks ago and now you were on the evening of your Wedding day. Everyone was dancing around, having a fun time, James’ close friends were a good level of tipsy with several of the guests congregating around the wedding live-painter to admire her work. It wasn’t ready yet but you made sure to check on her and keep her well-fed throughout the night; she was a guest too and was doing something incredible for your wedding, it was the least you could do. 

You fondly eye James as he dances with your family, a bright smile on his face. You still remember walking down the aisle, smiling at him as he wipes at his eyes, sniffling wetly at the sight of you but he was grinning the entire time. Neither of you has stopped smiling the whole day, you believe. It really was the perfect wedding.     

“Are you ready, Mrs Potter?” Lily whispers teasingly, trying to suppress a giggle as she flattens a Polaroid sample of your boudoir shoot to her chest. Your other bridesmaids, Marlene, Mary, Dorcas and Alice have also come to surround you, mischievous grins on their faces as they each tightly hold onto a Polaroid sample, making sure that it wouldn’t be seen by anyone but the intended target by holding it close to their chests. 

Biting your lip, you temper a wide grin and nod. They squeal and turn to one another with a buzz in their veins, “Just like we planned ladies,” Alice giggles before they all nod and split up with Marlene heading straight for James. You don’t know what photo any of the girls have but Lily informed you that they formed an order from least to most scandalous. It was devious but a good plan. You move to stand in view of James so you can see his reaction to each photo from afar, the girls also hold up their phones to record his reaction from up close so they can send you the video later on. 

James was dancing along happily, not having drunk a single drop of alcohol as he wanted to savour every moment of his wedding ceremony. He wanted to remember everything! He was also pretty sure he didn’t need alcohol to feel drunk, the electric feeling in the air was all he needed to fly high above the clouds. He’s never been so happy his entire life; he married the woman of his dreams and she let him give her his last name. He feels complete. And he was still riding that high when Marlene came up to him with a Cheshire grin on her face. 

“Yohooo~ Jamsiekins!” James rolls his eyes but smiles at her nonetheless.

“Yes, McKinnon?” a small bolt of worry flashes through him, “Is my wife okay?”

“She’s perfect! She actually wanted me to give you a present~” James raises a brow and tries to look for you in the crowd but is unsuccessful when Marlene steps closer, her phone raised and flips the Polaroid that was pressed to her chest at him. He gives it a brief glance, barely registering the image before going slackjawed and doing a double take. The second time, he looks at it longer and with wide eyes, wanting to imprint the entire image into his brain. 

“So beautiful…” James trails off, staring longingly at the image of you in a see-through nightgown leaning against the windowsill with your hair beautifully done and your beauty on show under the gentle sun. He stutters in place when Marlene flips the Polaroid again. He looks at her like a hurt puppy, “Is th-that for me? C-can I keep it?” He reaches for the Polaroid and thankfully, Marlene surrenders it without a fuss. He grins and kisses the photo before tucking it into his blazer's breast pocket, “Thank you~” 

“Pleasure doing business with you, Mr Potter,” Marlene salutes him with two fingers before marching off to pull Sirius away from the buffet table and onto the dance floor. James chuckles at her antics before looking through the crowds until he meets your shy eyes. His gaze softens with affection at your bashful demeanour and he sets out a clear path towards you. 

But he’s stopped by Alice who has another Polaroid and also has her phone raised. She, too, shows him the Polaroid of you, this time laid across a bed and sweetly looking into the camera at your side with a hidden smile, a lacy, see-through slip dress draping over your figure. His eyes linger on the curve of your spine and the perfect roundness of your butt. He can make out the small, lacy set you wear underneath and he swears he’s found heaven on earth. His hands immediately go up to cover the Polaroid from both sides as he bites his bottom lip to suppress a feral scream. 

“God, I’m so lucky…” he looks up at Alice from behind the camera, which perfectly captures the lovestruck look in his eyes and the soft blush on his cheeks, “That’s my wife…she’s my wife” he sounds breathless and giddy, making Alice laugh before surrendering the Polaroid. She sends you the video of James before looking for Frank and silently wishing the rest of the girls luck. 

James quickly puts Alice’s polaroid into his breast pocket too and returns on his path to you. But he barely makes it two steps forward before Lily ambushes him with another Polaroid and a phone to his face. He wants to smile like a madman but his dropped jaw makes it too difficult. He immediately snatches the photo and cradles it preciously, admiring your beauty once more. You’re scandalously raising your nightgown to showcase your cute, lace panties, a matching garter belt and thigh highs as you innocently look at the camera with glossy, smiling lips. 

“Ho-ly. Shit…” he swallows hard and begins to pant like an animal in heat, “Oh my– fuck!” he holds the Polaroid to his chest with reddening cheeks and wild eyes. He sags comically, dramatically showing how he’s close to collapsing on the spot. He’s seeing an entirely new side of you, not that he’s complaining, he just wasn’t prepared. A feral, primitive instinct builds up from within him. He desperately fights it and the urge to savagely take you in front of everyone, “She’s trying to kill me! This isn’t fair! She’s so sexy!” Lily giggles maniacally at him and pats his shoulder as if to wish him luck and James both dreads and is excited about what may come next. 

He’s soon stopped by Dorcas. This time his brows fly up to his hair line and he forgets to breathe. His hands instinctively shield the photo as he bends down to observe the small image so closely his nose touches the film. He pulls back and releases a heavy breath before leaning in again with the same shocked but appreciative look on his flushed face.

“Woah!” he looks around frantically as if he’s doing something he isn’t supposed to do and looks at the picture of you for a third time, trying hard not to groan at the tightening in his trousers. The image is of you from behind, draped over a decorative vintage sofa with your ass in the air, there’s no see-through nightgown, only a red lacy number with a garter belt and thigh highs. He berates himself for the dirty scene that flashes in his mind; he’s perfectly positioned behind you, his hands gripping your hips as he grinds his— 

“Keep it in your pants,” Dorcas laughs at him as she walks away, her phone still raised at him. 

“You’re not making it very easy for me!” James huffs in mock anger, hastily pocketing his fourth Polaroid that night.

When Mary comes up to him with the same routine, James doesn’t know whether he groans from suppressed excitement or dread at making a fool of himself in front of you for a fifth time. He knows you're watching him and seeing his reactions closely from the videos the girls were taking. And, although he wants to be a gentleman, you’ve always gotten such a big reaction from him over the littlest things, it’s only natural he gets worked up over scandalous images of you too. 

This photo of you was the most scandalous and immediately stole James’ breath away. It’s a top-down view of you on a bed with half-lidded eyes, your bra unclasped and in the process of slipping off if it weren’t for your arm coming across your chest to stop it. The position, however, only further accentuates your cleavage and his eyes linger on the delicious sight for an embarrassingly long time. Your other hand reaches down and fingers just beneath your panty line, a suggestive action he desperately wants you to recreate for him in private later. You looked ripe and ready to be eaten alive and James would gladly jump at the opportunity. It’s the perfect snapshot of you just before he devours you whole. The photo has him reaching to unbuckle his belt but he resists and snatches it up instead, panting like a dog with a wild glint in his hazel eyes. “This better be the last one of my wife or else I’m punching a wall,” Mary shakes her head at him with a laugh, “it’s not funny! I’m going crazy!”

With a wink, Mary confirms that it’s the last one and tilts her head in your direction. Without wasting another second, James rushes to you, his beautiful bride, dressed in white. It was the best day of his life but he wants it to hurry up and be over already so he can finally have you to himself. All polaroids are tucked safely into his inner blazer pocket as he wraps you up in his arms and buries his face into the junction of your neck and shoulder. “I’m going mad over you, love,” he voices with a hidden growl to his voice, kissing and sucking at your exposed skin, whilst desperately breathing in the fragrance of you. You’ve never seen him so… animalistic before but it lights a fire inside you that you happily fall into.

“Wait until you see the whole album~” Your comment has him shooting up, away from your neck and leaning into your face. The feral look in his eyes is unmistakable as he whispers against your lips. 

“There’s an entire album of you looking like that?” 

“Yes~ And it’s all for you~” James almost faints on the spot. 

navi. | more james potter

a/n : for those curious, this is the tiktok it was inspired by hehe~ this was a little nsfw but i hope you darlings enjoyed!

[theambitiouswoman]

How to Stop Procrastinating by Managing Your Emotions

Procrastination happens when we delay doing things, and it's often connected to our emotions. Feelings like being afraid to fail, feeling worried or stressed, getting bored, or lacking motivation can all contribute to procrastination. To stop procrastinating and get more things done, it's important to learn how to handle our emotions better.

Boredom:

Break the task into smaller, more engaging sub-tasks.

Find ways to make the task more interesting or challenging.

Set a timer and work on the task for a specific amount of time, followed by a short break doing something enjoyable.

Feeling Overwhelmed:

Prioritize tasks and focus on one thing at a time.

Break the task into smaller, more manageable steps.

Delegate some parts of the task if possible or seek help from others.

Use tools like to-do lists or task management apps to stay organized.

Anxiety:

Practice deep breathing or mindfulness techniques to calm yourself.

Challenge negative thoughts and replace them with more positive and realistic ones.

Start with the easier or less intimidating aspects of the task to build momentum.

Set realistic expectations and remind yourself that it's okay to make mistakes.

Self-Doubt:

Focus on past accomplishments and successes to boost your confidence.

Seek support or feedback from others to gain reassurance.

Remind yourself of your skills and capabilities to tackle the task.

Use positive affirmations to counteract negative self-talk.

Perfectionism:

Embrace the concept of "good enough" rather than seeking perfection.

Set realistic and achievable goals for each task.

Recognize that mistakes and imperfections are part of the learning process and growth.

Indecisiveness:

Break decisions into smaller steps and make one small decision at a time.

Set a time limit for making decisions to avoid overthinking.

Trust your instincts and make the best decision you can with the information available.

Apathy or Lack of Interest:

Find aspects of the task that align with your values or long-term goals.

Break the task into smaller, more manageable parts and focus on completing one at a time.

Reward yourself for completing the task to make it more appealing.

Stress or Burnout:

Practice stress-reduction techniques such as meditation, exercise, or spending time in nature.

Break tasks into smaller steps to reduce the feeling of overwhelm.

Prioritize self-care and take breaks to avoid burnout.

Feeling Uninspired or Creatively Blocked:

Engage in activities that stimulate creativity, such as brainstorming, mind mapping, or seeking inspiration from others' work.

Start with a simple and basic version of the task to get the creative juices flowing.

Collaborate with others or seek feedback to gain new perspectives.

Fear of Success:

Identify and challenge the negative beliefs or fears that may be holding you back.

Visualize the positive outcomes of completing the task successfully.

Focus on the benefits and personal growth that come with success.

Impatience:

Break long-term goals into smaller milestones to track progress.

Practice mindfulness to stay present and patient throughout the process.

Remind yourself that progress takes time and effort.

Lack of Confidence:

Celebrate your past accomplishments to boost your confidence.

Seek support and encouragement from friends, family, or mentors.

Focus on building specific skills related to the task to increase confidence.

Avoiding Discomfort:

Acknowledge that discomfort is a natural part of growth and improvement.

Break tasks into smaller steps and tackle the more challenging aspects gradually.

Remind yourself of the long-term benefits of facing discomfort.

Overestimating Future Motivation:

Practice discipline and commit to starting tasks even when motivation is low.

Set specific deadlines for tasks to create a sense of urgency.

Establish a routine that includes regular work on the task to build consistency.

[lilyprettyremy]

10 Bad Habits to Let Go of for a Beautiful Life (Trust Me, You’ll Thank Yourself)

We all have those habits that hold us back — some sneakier than others. And while no one’s perfect, a little spring cleaning of your daily habits can unlock a happier, healthier life. Ready to drop the bad vibes and level up? Here are 10 bad habits to leave behind for good!

1. The Comparison Game — It’s Gotta Go

We’ve all done it. Scrolling, looking at someone’s perfect life, and feeling like we’re not enough. But honestly? Comparing yourself to others is a losing game. Focus on your own growth, and unfollow anything or anyone that makes you feel less-than. Your journey is yours alone, and it’s beautiful in its own way. Keep your eyes on your own lane!

2. Procrastinating Like It’s a Sport

We get it — that “I’ll do it tomorrow” energy feels good in the moment, but it’s also a trap. The more you put off tasks, the more they pile up and haunt you. Trust, the best feeling is getting stuff done now and freeing up your mind for the fun stuff later. Break it down, set a timer, and just start. You’ll feel like a boss when you’re done.

3. Saying Yes to Everything (Even When You Don’t Want To)

No is a full sentence, babe! If you’re constantly saying yes to things that don’t align with your goals or drain your energy, it’s time to stop. Overcommitting leads to burnout, and life’s too short for that. Start setting boundaries and prioritize what makes you feel good. Your time is precious, so treat it like gold.

4. Relying on Everyone Else’s Approval

We all love a little validation, but depending on it? That’s a recipe for insecurity. Your worth isn’t measured by someone else’s likes or approval. The only validation you really need is your own. So hype yourself up, celebrate your wins, and be proud of the progress you’re making, regardless of who’s watching.

5. Avoiding Your Finances Like It’s Scary

Finances don’t have to be terrifying! Ignoring them might feel easier in the moment, but getting a handle on your money situation is so empowering. Start small — track your spending, create a budget, and set a savings goal. The sooner you take control, the more stress-free your future will feel.

6. Holding Grudges Like They’re Trophies

Honestly, holding onto grudges only weighs you down. Letting go of past negativity isn’t about excusing people’s behavior — it’s about freeing yourself. Don’t let old situations control your peace. Forgiveness is for you, babe. The less baggage you carry, the lighter you’ll feel.

7. Talking Down to Yourself

Would you say those mean things to your best friend? Didn’t think so! So why do we let ourselves get away with it? Cut out the negative self-talk and replace it with something a little more kind and uplifting. You deserve better from yourself. You wouldn’t believe how much your mindset can change once you start being nice to yourself.

8. Expecting Everything to Be Perfect

Perfection is a myth, and chasing it will only leave you stressed and frustrated. Life happens in the in-between moments — the imperfect, messy, beautifully real ones. Give yourself some grace and celebrate progress, not perfection. A “good enough” life is often a perfect one in disguise.

9. Staying in Your Safe Bubble

Your comfort zone might feel cozy, but nothing grows there! Stepping outside of it might be scary, but it’s where all the magic happens. Whether it’s trying something new, starting a project, or meeting new people, discomfort leads to growth. Don’t let fear hold you back — take the leap!

10. Blaming Everything Else for What’s Not Going Right

It’s easy to point fingers and blame outside circumstances, but taking responsibility is where real change starts. You’ve got more control than you think! Instead of dwelling on what’s going wrong, focus on what you can change. You’ve got the power to turn things around — it’s all in your hands.

These bad habits? They’re not serving you, and it’s time to leave them in the past. Letting go of what’s holding you back will clear the way for bigger, better things. You’re already halfway there just by recognizing what needs to change. So let go, level up, and watch your life get a little more beautiful, one habit at a time.

[23victoria]

gingerbread cookies!

pairings: 𝓯1 𝓰𝓻𝓲𝓭 𝔁 𝓯𝓮𝓶!𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

word count: 3.8𝓴

synopsis: 𝓶𝓪𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓰𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓻𝓫𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓸𝓴𝓲𝓮𝓼 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓱𝓾𝓼𝓫𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓴𝓲𝓭𝓼

authors note: 𝓭𝓪𝔂 1 𝓸𝓯 𝓬𝓱𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓶𝓪𝓼 𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓽𝓼! 𝓱𝓸𝓹𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓮𝓷𝓳𝓸𝔂! 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮𝓼, 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓼, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓪𝓼𝓴𝓼 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓲𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭!!

𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓫𝓮 𝓪𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓶𝔂 𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽?! CLICK HERE!

F1 MASTERLIST F1 CHRISTMAS MASTERLIST

Lewis

The kitchen is already buzzing with excitement. Lia’s tiny voice fills the room as she sits on the counter, clapping her flour-covered hands while her big brother Leo drags a chair to the counter so he can reach the mixing bowl. Lewis stands next to you, grinning from ear to ear, his apron slightly already dusted with flour. You’re armed with a rolling pin and a smile, ready to face the inevitable chaos of baking gingerbread cookies for the first time as a family.

“Alright, team,” Lewis says, clapping his hands together. “Let’s make some gingerbread magic happen.”

“Cookies, Daddy!” Lia cheers, throwing her arms in the air. The sudden movement sends a puff of flour into the air, and both you and Lewis cough, laughing as the powder settles.

“Cookies, yes, princess,” he says, scooping her up and planting a kiss on her flour-speckled cheek. She giggles and squirms, and he sets her back down on the counter. “But first, we have to mix the dough. Leo, you ready to be my sous-chef?”

Leo’s chest puffs up with pride. “Yes, Dad! I’m ready.”

You hand him the wooden spoon, and he gets to work mixing the dry ingredients. You and Lewis guide him, taking turns measuring out the cinnamon, ginger, and cloves while Lia alternates between sneaking handfuls of flour and trying to “help” by stirring.

“Lia, no eating the flour,” you say gently, pulling her flour-covered fingers out of her mouth. “It doesn’t taste good yet.”

She pouts dramatically, her big brown eyes shining with mischief. “But I’m hungry, Mommy!”

“You’ll get cookies soon,” Lewis assures her, ruffling her curly hair. “But first, we have to make the dough.”

The dough comes together quickly, though not without a few mishaps. Lia accidentally dumps too much sugar into the bowl, prompting a quick rescue mission from you and Leo. Lewis adds a bit too much molasses, which makes the dough stickier than it should be. But the laughter and teamwork make up for any imperfections.

When it’s time to roll out the dough, you dust the counter with flour and hand Lia a miniature rolling pin. She takes her job very seriously, rolling the dough with all her might, even if it’s uneven and full of tiny fingerprints.

“Look, Mommy! I’m a chef!” she announces proudly.

“You’re the best chef,” you reply, leaning down to kiss her forehead.

Meanwhile, Leo focuses intently on cutting out shapes with the cookie cutters. He’s careful and precise, his tongue poking out in concentration as he presses a star-shaped cutter into the dough.

“Good job, buddy,” Lewis says, giving him a fist bump. “That’s a perfect star.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Leo says, beaming.

Of course, it’s not long before things start to spiral into delightful chaos. Lia, bored with rolling dough, begins decorating her face with flour, creating what she calls a “gingerbread mask.” Leo accidentally knocks over the bowl of sprinkles, sending colorful candies skittering across the floor. And Lewis, in his attempt to “help,” manages to get icing on his nose and eyebrows.

“You’re supposed to decorate the cookies, not yourself,” you tease, laughing as you wipe a smear of icing off his cheek.

“I’m just setting the vibe,” he quips, leaning in to kiss you. Before his lips can meet yours, Lia interrupts with a loud, “Ewwww, Mommy and Daddy are kissing!”

You and Lewis laugh, pulling apart but not before he winks at you. “We’ll finish that later,” he murmurs, low enough that only you can hear.

Finally, the cookies are ready to go into the oven. You let Leo and Lia take turns placing the tray in with Lewis supervising closely.

As the cookies bake, the smell of ginger and cinnamon fills the kitchen, making everyone’s mouth water. You’re wiping down the counter when Lia tugs on your sleeve.

“Mommy, can we make hot chocolate?” she asks sweetly, her flour-covered face tilted up at you.

“Of course we can,” you say, lifting her off the counter and setting her on the floor. “Let’s get the mugs.”

By the time the cookies are ready, the four of you are sitting at the table, sipping hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows. The cookies, though slightly misshapen, are delicious, and Leo takes great pride in pointing out which ones he decorated.

“This one’s mine,” he says, holding up a star-shaped cookie covered in lopsided icing. “And that one’s Lia’s.”

“It’s so pretty,” Lia says, clapping her hands. “Just like me!”

Lewis bursts out laughing. “You’re not wrong, princess.”

As the evening winds down, you survey the mess in the kitchen: flour on the counters, sprinkles on the floor, and sticky fingerprints everywhere. But the sound of your children’s laughter and the sight of their frosting-smeared faces make it all worth it.

“We’re definitely doing this again next year,” Lewis says, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“Absolutely,” you agree, leaning into him.

The kids, now on a sugar high, start a game of tag around the table, their giggles echoing through the house.

Charles

The twins are perched on either side of the kitchen island, their little hands eager to dive into the pile of cookie cutters and bowls of colorful icing. Jules, ever the perfectionist, carefully lines up the cutters, his brow furrowed in concentration. Alessandro, on the other hand, is already elbow-deep in the flour, a mischievous grin on his face.

"Papa, is it like this?" Jules asks, holding up a perfectly shaped gingerbread man. Charles leans over, his green eyes sparkling with pride. "C'est parfait, Jules! You’re a natural."

You’re busy rolling out another sheet of dough when Alessandro lets out a frustrated huff. "Mine broke!" he exclaims, holding up a decapitated gingerbread man. Tears threaten to spill as he glares at the dough.

Before you or Charles can intervene, Jules slides his own gingerbread man over to his twin. "Here, Ale. You can have mine. I’ll make another one," he says softly, his tone filled with understanding.

The gesture melts your heart. Charles places a hand on your back, his expression a mix of pride and tenderness as he watches his sons. "They’re good boys," he whispers, pressing a kiss to your temple.

Alessandro sniffs, accepting the cookie with a shy smile. "Thanks, Jules. You’re the best brother."

The rest of the baking session goes smoothly, with Alessandro taking his time to mimic Jules’ careful technique. The boys work together to decorate their cookies, laughing as they sneak tastes of icing and sprinkles. Charles manages to snap a few candid photos, capturing the flour-streaked faces and genuine smiles that light up the room.

When the cookies are finally done, the twins proudly present their creations to you and Charles. "Look, Mama! Papa!" they say in unison, holding up their plates of colorful gingerbread men.

"Magnificent!" Charles declares, pulling the boys into a bear hug. "You two are master bakers."

You smile, wrapping your arms around your little family, your heart has never felt fuller.

Carlos

The kitchen is a whirlwind of chaos and laughter as your three little ones dive into the gingerbread-making process. Ruby, your five-year-old, takes charge immediately, carefully measuring out ingredients with her tongue poking out in concentration. Marco, who is four, is more interested in sneaking tastes of the dough, while Roman, your three-year-old, is determined to use every single cookie cutter at once.

"Mama, can I do the sprinkles now?" Ruby asks, holding up a shaker of red and green sprinkles. Before you can answer, Marco bumps into her, causing the shaker to topple over and coat the counter in a glittering mess.

"Marco!" Ruby scolds, her lower lip trembling as she surveys the ruined sprinkles.

"Sorry!" Marco says quickly, his big brown eyes wide with guilt. Roman, sensing the tension, toddles over to Ruby and wraps his little arms around her waist. "Don’t be sad, Ruby. We help," he says, pressing a kiss to her cheek. Marco nods earnestly, grabbing a dishcloth. "I’ll clean it up, Ruby!"

You exchange a look with Carlos, who is watching the scene unfold with a soft smile. "Our little team," he murmurs, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

With Ruby’s spirits lifted, the three kids work together to fix the mess. Marco carefully wipes up the spilled sprinkles while Roman hands Ruby a new shaker. "Here, Ruby. You do it better," he says, his tiny voice full of sincerity.

Carlos crouches down to help Ruby and Marco roll out the dough again, his hands guiding theirs as they press the cutters into the soft surface. Roman, meanwhile, has discovered the joy of throwing flour into the air, creating a fine white mist that settles over everyone.

"Roman!" Carlos exclaims, laughing as he tries to stop the little boy. But Roman is too quick, and soon even Carlos’ dark hair is dusted with flour.

By the time the cookies are finally baked and decorated, the kitchen looks like a tornado has passed through. But as you sit on the floor with Carlos and the kids, nibbling on warm gingerbread and sharing stories, the mess feels like a small price to pay for such a perfect family moment.

Max

The kitchen feels extra cozy as little Mia, your three-year-old daughter, toddles up to the counter on her step stool. She clutches a rolling pin almost as big as her, her tiny tongue peeking out in concentration.

"Dada, I’m making a big cookie!" Mia announces, pressing down on the dough with all her strength. Max chuckles, standing beside her. "A big cookie for a big girl, right?"

You’re sifting flour when Mia suddenly sneezes. A puff of flour rises into the air, landing on her nose and cheeks. Her eyes go wide in surprise before she bursts into a fit of giggles.

"Dada! I’m white!" she exclaims, pointing to her face. Max grins and taps her nose with his finger, adding another smudge of flour. "Now you look like a snowman!"

"Mama, I’m a snowman!" Mia declares, holding out her arms for you to see. You laugh, wiping your hands on a towel before leaning in to kiss her floury cheek. "The cutest snowman I’ve ever seen."

As Mia works on her giant cookie, Max decides to get creative. He scoops a bit of icing and dabs it on your nose, earning a playful glare from you. "Max!"

"What? It’s Christmas spirit!" he says innocently, though his mischievous grin gives him away.

Before long, the kitchen turns into a playful battlefield. Mia joins in, flinging tiny handfuls of flour at both you and Max. Her giggles echo through the room as Max lifts her up, spinning her around to evade your “retaliation” with a handful of sprinkles.

When the cookies are finally in the oven, the three of you are covered head to toe in flour, sprinkles, and icing. Mia sits on Max’s lap at the kitchen table, munching on a leftover piece of dough. "Dada, can we eat the cookies now?" she asks, her blue eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Soon, angel," Max says, brushing a strand of flour-dusted hair out of her face. "First, they have to bake."

As you all wait, you take a moment to snap a photo of your messy but happy little family. The kitchen might need serious cleaning, but the memories made within its walls are priceless. Once the cookies are out of the oven, cooled, and decorated with Mia’s enthusiastic smears of icing and an overload of sprinkles, she proudly holds up her "big cookie."

"Look, Mama! Dada! My cookie is so pretty!" she beams, her little chest puffed out with pride.

"It’s the best cookie I’ve ever seen," Max says earnestly, leaning down to kiss her cheek. You nod in agreement, wrapping an arm around both of them.

"Absolutely. This one’s going in the family hall of fame," you tease, already planning to snap another picture. The three of you sit down to enjoy the sweet treats together, your hearts full despite the flour-coated chaos surrounding you.

Lando

The kitchen is a whirlwind of flour, sugar, and laughter as you and Lando attempt to make gingerbread cookies with your four-year-old daughter, Celeste. Standing on her little stool by the counter, she’s already covered in flour from head to toe, her tiny hands eagerly grabbing at the cookie cutters. Lando leans close to her, his face alight with a mixture of amusement and pure adoration.

“Alright, baby,” Lando says, handing her a star-shaped cutter. “Press it down nice and hard, just like this.” He demonstrates with a gingerbread man cutter, and Celeste mimics him with all the determination of a toddler on a mission.

“I did it!” she announces proudly, holding up her slightly lopsided star. Her big green eyes shine as she turns to you for approval.

“That’s perfect, baby girl,” you say, brushing a bit of flour off her nose. “You’re a natural baker.”

Celeste beams, and Lando’s grin widens as he grabs another piece of dough. “She takes after me,” he teases, earning an eye roll from you. “What can I say? Talent runs in the family.”

“Oh, does it?” you reply, arching a brow as you sprinkle a little flour onto his cheek. Lando gasps dramatically, grabbing a handful of flour and tossing it into the air like confetti. Celeste squeals with laughter, clapping her hands and sending a puff of flour everywhere.

“Lando!” you scold, though you’re laughing too.

“What? She started it,” he says, pointing at Celeste, who giggles even harder.

When the cookies are finally in the oven, the three of you sit at the table with bowls of icing and sprinkles. Lando takes one look at the little tray of cookies and shakes his head. “I think these might be the most... abstract gingerbread cookies ever made.”

Celeste holds up a cookie she’s decorated with three blobs of icing and a pile of red sprinkles. “It’s a snowman!” she says proudly.

Lando’s face softens, and he nods. “The best snowman I’ve ever seen,” he says, leaning over to kiss her flour-dusted cheek.

You watch as Celeste happily eats her cookie, her tiny teeth nibbling away at the edges. Lando’s eyes never leave her, his expression so full of love it makes your heart ache. “She’s perfect,” he murmurs, reaching over to tuck a stray curl behind her ear.

As Celeste finishes her cookie, Lando scoops her up into his arms, spinning her around until she’s giggling uncontrollably. He plants kisses all over her face, making her squeal and squirm. “Daddy, stop! It tickles!”

“Never!” Lando declares, holding her close and laughing along with her.

By the end of the evening, the kitchen is a complete mess, but you wouldn’t trade the chaos for anything. With Celeste snuggled up between you and Lando on the couch, her tiny hand clutching a gingerbread star, you feel like the luckiest family in the world.

Oscar

The kitchen is calm but buzzing with a quiet excitement as your twins, four-year-old Odessa and Ocean, stand on their step stools by the counter. Odessa’s brows are furrowed in deep concentration as she carefully presses a gingerbread man cutter into the rolled-out dough. Ocean, on the other hand, is humming a Christmas tune, sprinkling flour on her side of the counter with as much flair as possible.

"Mommy, look! Mine has arms this time!" Odessa says proudly, holding up her perfectly shaped cookie. You smile and nod, brushing a bit of flour from her cheek.

"Great job, honeybun! You’re getting really good at this."

Oscar, standing nearby with a mixing bowl in hand, chuckles softly. "'s precision is unmatched," he says, ruffling Odessa’s dark brown curls before turning to Ocean. "And Ocean, are you making snow angels or cookies?"

Ocean giggles, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "Both!" she declares, throwing a puff of flour into the air. It lands on her hair, turning her into a mini snow queen.

Oscar shakes his head, amused, and places the bowl down to help. "Alright, let’s focus on the cookies before we lose the rest of the flour," he says, guiding Ocean’s tiny hands to press a star cutter into the dough.

"Daddy, do you like stars or trees better?" Ocean asks, glancing up at him.

Oscar pretends to think for a moment. "Hmm, I think I like stars better because they remind me of you and Odessa—my two brightest stars."

Odessa rolls her eyes in good-natured embarrassment. "Papa, that’s so cheesy."

You laugh, nudging Odessa gently. "Sometimes cheesy is good, honey."

As the cookies bake in the oven, the four of you sit at the table, readying bowls of icing and sprinkles for decorating. Odessa picks up a piping bag, her little hands steady as she carefully outlines her gingerbread man’s shirt. Ocean, meanwhile, goes for an avant-garde approach, covering her cookie with every color of icing she can reach.

"Ocean, your gingerbread man looks like a rainbow exploded on him," Odessa comments, tilting her head as she examines her work.

"It’s called art," Ocean replies with a dramatic flip of her flour-dusted hair.

Oscar hides a grin behind his hand, leaning over to whisper to you. "She’s got your sass."

You laugh softly, watching your little ones pour their hearts into their creations. When the cookies are finally finished, Odessa presents her gingerbread man with a proud grin. "Look, Daddy, it’s you!"

Oscar inspects the cookie’s neat icing tie and buttoned shirt, his eyes crinkling with delight. "Wow, Odessa. You’ve made me look very handsome."

"And this one’s Mommy!" Ocean chimes in, holding up a colorful cookie that’s practically drowning in sprinkles.

You gasp playfully. "Ocean, I’ve never looked better."

The evening ends with all four of you sitting on the couch, enjoying your gingerbread creations and a Christmas movie playing softly in the background. Odessa leans against Oscar’s side, and Ocean cuddles in your lap, both happily munching on their cookies. As the glow of the Christmas tree lights flickers across the room, you catch Oscar’s eye. He smiles at you, the warmth in his gaze saying everything words can’t.

The kitchen may be clean now, the flour swept away and the cookie cutters put back in their drawers, but the memory of this perfect family moment will linger long after the last crumb is gone.

Sebastian

The kitchen is lively with chatter as Sebastian stands at the counter, helping your children, Tommy, Jamie, and Ambria, shape gingerbread cookies. Jamie, determined to make the perfect reindeer, furrows his brows in concentration while Ambria giggles, sprinkling flour onto the table—and accidentally onto Sebastian’s hair.

"Ambria," Sebastian says in mock seriousness, brushing flour off his curls, "are you trying to turn me into a snowman?"

Ambria bursts into laughter. "You’d make the best snowman, Papa!" she declares, tossing another puff of flour into the air. Jamie snickers, but his focus remains on his dough.

"Alright, alright," you interject, smiling as you place a tray of freshly shaped cookies onto the counter. "Let’s save some flour for the actual baking, shall we?"

Sebastian grins at you, his green eyes sparkling. "They’re creative, what can I say?"

The oven hums as the first batch of cookies bakes, filling the air with the warm, spiced scent of gingerbread. Jamie and Ambria lean against the counter, eagerly watching the timer count down.

"Papa," Jamie says, glancing up at Sebastian, "why do we always make gingerbread cookies at Christmas?"

Sebastian kneels to Jamie’s level, his hands resting on his son’s flour-dusted shoulders. "Because it’s a tradition," he explains gently. "It’s something we do together as a family, so that every Christmas, we can remember these moments."

Ambria tilts her head thoughtfully. "Like a memory we can eat?"

Sebastian chuckles, pulling her into a hug. "Exactly, my little philosopher."

When the cookies are done, the decorating begins. Ambria meticulously decorates each cookie with colorful icing and sprinkles, while Jamie opts for a simpler approach, carefully outlining each one. Sebastian joins in, creating a gingerbread version of each family member.

"This one’s Mama," he says, holding up a cookie with icing hair that matches yours. "Beautiful, just like the real thing."

You laugh, shaking your head. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Seb."

Later, as the cookies cool, the four of you sit around the Christmas tree with mugs of hot chocolate, the lights casting a soft glow around the room. Ambria snuggles into Sebastian’s side, her head resting on his shoulder, while Jamie leans against your arm, holding a gingerbread cookie shaped like a snowman.

"These are the best cookies we’ve ever made," Ambria declares, her voice sleepy but content.

Sebastian smiles, pressing a kiss to her hair. "That’s because we made them together," he says softly, his gaze meeting yours.

In that moment, surrounded by warmth, laughter, and the scent of gingerbread, you realize that these simple traditions, messy, flour-filled, and full of love, are what make the holidays truly magical.

Jenson

Your home is filled with the chaos and warmth only a family of seven can create. The kitchen is a whirlwind of activity as your five children—eleven-year-old Orion, nine-year-old Brandon, eight-year-old Killian, four-year-old Isabella, and one-year-old Luna—all take their positions around the counter. Jenson stands at the center, his sleeves rolled up and a mischievous grin on his face, ready to lead the troops.

“Alright, everyone,” Jenson announces, clapping his hands. “We’re making gingerbread cookies. Team Button, are you ready?”

“Yes!” Orion and Brandon shout, already reaching for the flour and rolling pins. Killian grabs a handful of cookie cutters, examining them with the precision of a race engineer. Isabella bounces on her stool, her excitement contagious as she claps her flour-dusted hands. Luna, perched safely in her highchair, babbles happily, smacking her little fists against the tray.

You laugh, standing back for a moment to watch the organized chaos unfold. “This is either going to be amazing or a complete disaster,” you say, crossing your arms as you lean against the counter.

Jenson winks at you. “It’ll be both,” he replies confidently.

Orion, the eldest and self-appointed leader of the kids, takes charge of measuring the ingredients. “Dad, do we really need this much cinnamon?” he asks, holding up the spice jar.

Jenson pretends to think deeply. “Hmm, cinnamon makes everything better, so maybe add just a little more.”

Brandon nudges Orion with a smirk. “He just wants an excuse to eat more cookies.”

Killian, meanwhile, has commandeered the cookie cutters and is lining them up in a perfect row. “We need a reindeer, a star, and a Christmas tree,” he declares. “And maybe a race car, if we can make one.”

“A race car?” Jenson grins, his eyes lighting up. “That’s my boy.”

Isabella, not to be outdone, grabs a rolling pin and starts flattening the dough with all her might. “I’m making the biggest cookie ever!” she announces, her tiny hands working with determination. You step in to help guide her efforts, laughing as she sticks her tongue out in concentration.

As the dough begins to take shape, Luna decides she’s had enough of just watching. She smacks her tray again, this time sending a puff of flour into the air.

“Luna wants to help too,” you say, lifting her out of the highchair and handing her a soft piece of dough to squish in her tiny fists. She giggles, smearing it across her cheeks like war paint.

“She’s starting her own cookie war,” Jenson jokes, snapping a picture on his phone.

Once the cookies are cut and placed on baking sheets, the decorating begins. Orion and Brandon focus on intricate designs, their competitive streaks coming out as they try to outdo each other. Killian, ever the perfectionist, takes his time with each cookie, ensuring every sprinkle is in its rightful place. Isabella opts for a more abstract approach, piling on as much icing and candy as possible. Luna, of course, eats more sprinkles than she applies, her little face sticky with sugar.

“Look at this one,” Jenson says, holding up a gingerbread man with a green icing bow tie. “This is Uncle Lewis. What do you think?”

The kids burst into laughter. “He needs sunglasses!” Orion suggests, grabbing black icing to add the finishing touch.

When the cookies are finally done and cooling on the racks, the kitchen looks like a snowstorm of flour and sugar has hit it. Jenson surveys the mess with a chuckle. “Well, we might need a pit crew to clean this up.”

“I’ll help, Dad,” Brandon volunteers, grabbing a dishcloth.

“Me too!” Killian chimes in, his perfectionist tendencies extending to tidying up.

As the cleaning begins, you notice Isabella carefully placing her cookies on a plate. “These are for Santa,” she explains, her voice serious. “He needs the best ones.”

“And these are for us,” Orion says, holding up a tray. “Because we’re the best cookie makers in the world.”

Jenson wraps an arm around you, pulling you close as you watch your children’s teamwork and laughter. “We did good, didn’t we?” he murmurs.

You nod, leaning into him. “Yeah, we really did.”

That night, after the kids are tucked into bed, you and Jenson sit by the Christmas tree, sharing a plate of gingerbread cookies and a quiet moment together. The chaos of the day lingers in the best way, filling your heart with warmth and love.

“Same time next year?” Jenson asks, a playful glint in his eye.

You laugh, resting your head on his shoulder. “Definitely.”

𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽! ❥☽ @ham1lton @ietss @animeandf1lover @nelly187 @heartsfromtaeyong @bloodyymaryyy @nor-4 @zacian117 @mel164 @uhhvictoria @hadidsworld @zabwlky1999 @sya-skies @lillysbigwilly @avengers-assemble123456 @santanasaintmendes @km-23mr @hookhausenschips @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @ronpho @minekarina @aeongism @Formula1-motogpfa @slagclarens @aleexvqa @f1updates4you @booksandflowrs @chaostudee @winkev1 @strawblueberrys @blakesbearblog @cel-b @perfumejamal @aykxz98 @pandora-08 @teti-menchon0604 @bxtosa @fadingcloudballoon-blog @whatevenisthisxxxxx @anamiad00msday @luula @jimcarreyfann42 @oliviah-25 @bbwzrld @goldenroutledge @unkownmystery_22 @sophienorris18-blog @flowerpetalk @paucubarsisimp @its-elias-world @magixpracticality @poppyflower-22 @pear-1206

© 23victoria 2023-24 I all rights reserved. do not republish, steal repost, modify, translate or claim my work as your own

[my-castles-crumbling]

flake - @wolfstarmicrofic - word count: 295

"Oi, Pads," Sirius heard James call to him through the open bathroom door, "stop oogling yourself in the mirror! We'll miss breakfast!"

"But I'm just so damn gorgeous! I need to take time to appreciate my beauty, Potter!" he drawled back, sticking his head out of the doorway and flashing his best friend a cheeky grin.

But as soon as he retreated back into the smaller room, closing the door behind him, his smile slid from his face in an instant. He moved as close to his reflection as he could, his stomach in knots, inspecting every horrible imperfection he could see.

Acne, worry lines, a stray flake of dry skin. What part of him was good enough? He couldn't find anything. He tilted his head this way and that, pulling at his hair and picking at his face, trying to rid himself of every little mark.

"Blacks must be perfect," Walburga had always said. "We are nothing if not flawless."

So he stood, hands shaking, fixing every little strand of hair so it was in place, trying to fight against his mother's voice in the back of his head.

He didn't hear Remus come in until the other boy's reflection showed up in the glass.

"Sirius," Remus murmured, patient knowledge clear in his voice.

"Just five more minutes," Sirius mumbled, fingers running over a small bump on his chin. One little charm should fix it-

But two strong hands turned him around, so he was facing away from the mirror and looking into chocolate-brown eyes. "Sirius," Remus said firmly, hands on his shoulders, "stop. Please. You're...you're beautiful. You always are. No matter what. I promise."

And, anxiety rising in his chest to create a little hiccupping sob, Sirius nodded, moving into Remus's warm embrace.

[nothorses]

I think the thing about it for me is that transmascs have the fundamental right to tell you what our experiences with misogyny and male privilege are, not the other way around.

You don't know what we go through unless we tell you. I don't know what other transmascs go through unless they tell me. Cis women, other trans people, even people with the exact same identities, the exact same life trajectories- none of us know what another person is experiencing or has experienced, let alone how they have interpreted and internalized those experiences, unless they tell us. Even then, we will only ever have access to an imperfect version of that true experience filtered through several layers of language and our own perception & biases.

Does this clash with what feminism says about men's experiences? Yes, absolutely! A lot of (generally mainstream) feminism believes that women Know what men experience better than they themselves do, colored as those experiences are by bias and privilege. And this is a fundamentally isolating, egotistical belief. It cuts us off from each other, it prevents us from connecting, and it shuts down meaningful conversation before it can happen. It says women are pure and perfect, and men are sullied by privilege; that anyone touched by privilege cannot be trusted, and should not trust themselves.

When cis men say they've never experienced privilege, the answer should not be, "you don't know that," it should be vulnerability & curiosity. Why do you think that? I find that hard to believe for these reasons, but I want to know more. I want to co-create understanding with you. Are you curious about me, too? Will you offer me this same kindness? (And if not, they're probably not worth your energy!)

And y'know what, maybe they haven't actually experienced the things you think they have! Maybe the framework you are using is imperfect- maybe it works on a systems analysis level, but it doesn't apply universally. Particularly when we're talking about marginalized men!

This idea that experiencing privilege means you cannot be trusted, ever, to understand that privilege or to know when you have or haven't experienced it? It's so fucking dangerous. Case in point: transfems should be able to talk about the ways in which they might have experienced male privilege without it immediately discrediting everything else they have to say, up to and including about their own identities.

We cannot operate like this. A framework that denies people's self-knowledge will never be capable of liberating anyone.

So yes, actually, some transmascs may experience conditional male privilege at times. But will you, do you believe transmascs when we tell you that we don't?

[heliza24]

Consent and Abuse in The Vampire Chronicles (and how it explains things like Daniel and Louis's disappearances)

TW: discussions of abuse, sexual abuse and rape, and CSA throughout this meta.

I’ve now read the first six Vampire Chronicles books, and I want to talk about the role that consent, or more importantly, the lack thereof, plays in the morality the books espouse. When I was a few books in, I discovered this post by @diasdelasombra, which uses excerpts from several scholarly texts to create a schema that helps us understand who Anne Rice considered a “worthy” victim of abuse. To summarize, the characters that Anne favors and who are featured in the narrative were violated against their will, but don’t whine about their misfortune. Instead they extend grace and forgiveness to their abuser. (Think of David or Lestat) The characters who are portrayed as conniving, wicked, or who are punished by the narrative are those who don’t adequately protest their assault, or who harbor anger or plans of revenge towards their abuser (think of Claudia).

When I say abuse here, I am specifically talking about sexual abuse and rape, but also being turned into a vampire against your will. Being bitten by a vampire is obviously sexually coded, and being transformed into a fledgling vampire nonconsensually is a metaphor for a rape. So I’m going to spend this meta talking about nonconsensual turnings interchangeably with rape.

When I read about the dichotomy of victimhood detailed in the original post, the books suddenly shifted in my mind, and I felt like I understood Anne as a writer for the first time. I love these books and their resulting adaptations, but I do believe that Anne had many flawed beliefs, and this insistence that the only proper response to assault is complete and total forgiveness of the perpetrator is certainly one of them. I want to take the theory put forward by the original post one step further, and propose that in addition to imperfect victims, Anne also struggled to write about characters that engaged in sex/vampirism consensually. This feels very Catholic to me; you’re allowed to enjoy sex, but only if you didn’t ask for it. It’s the lust and the longing that’s sinful. It’s this discomfort with consensual desire, along with the insistence that victims must forgive their abusers, that is at the heart of many of the most frustrating aspects of the Vampire Chronicles. It also drives some of the conflict I see in the fandom, and has the potential to impact the TV adaptation in interesting ways. I talk about all of that in detail below the cut:

We can see this central belief about abuse and worthy victims easily in the characters Anne chooses to feature. Lestat, David, and Marius were all turned against their will, but crucially do not linger, protest, or whine once the act is done. Lestat is incapable of holding any kind of grudge, Marius approaches vampirism and eternity with calm stoicism, and David immediately forgives Lestat for turning him against his will.

I think this is key when we try to understand why Anne wanted to replace Louis with David as a companion for Lestat. Louis’s turning is complicated; you get the sense that he did consent to it, even as he tells Daniel that he “can’t say that [he] decided” to become a vampire. And even though he does forgive Lestat at the end of IwtV, the telling of the story in that book is filled with resentment and anger. Louis is not a perfect bastion of forgiveness by any means. Anne talked about how she wanted to move on from the grief that Louis represented and also the passivity he embodies as a character (which she classifies as uniquely feminine, which adds another dimension of meaning to who is allowed to consent to sexual acts and remain angry at abuse) but I also have to assume that she wanted to move on from his anger. Which is actually a huge disservice to Louis, Lestat, and the complexity of the narrative.

The other characters who are turned consensually are all abandoned by the narrative. Madeleine is killed, Gabrielle largely disappears after TVL, Nicki kills himself, and Daniel goes mad and is then simply forgotten.

My love of Daniel is the reason why I started stringing this theory together. Daniel is the most clear-cut case in the entire chronicles of a consenting adult who deeply desires to become a vampire. He has no reservations, no resistance. The Devil’s Minion chapter is unique in that it lingers on Daniel's love and desire. Daniel is briefly allowed to want something unabashedly that is also coded as sinful and evil. And once the consummation of his desire happens, Anne simply doesn��t know how to continue to writing him. Armand’s insistence that fledglings will come to hate their makers seems in some ways to be a result of Anne’s worldview, that desire cannot cannot endure unpunished, rather than something Armand would believe in-universe (he never hated Marius, after all). When fans rail at the way Daniel’s story seems to disappear from the page, this is what we are protesting: Daniel’s desire deserved to be shown, Daniel deserved to evolve, and Daniel’s willingness does not require rebuke.

There is of course another interpretation of the Devil’s Minion chapter, which is that it is Armand playing out his and Marius’s relationship, but this time with Armand in control. In some ways I think the Devil’s Minion chapter is the one successful attempt Anne makes to subvert the cycle of abuse. Yes, Armand is re-enacting many of the things done to him, but Daniel is happy to do this role play with him, at least for a while. While far from perfect, their relationship manages to turn abusive history into present day kink, and exist in a context of mutual care.

Armand himself is probably the most interesting edge case in terms of Anne’s dichotomy of worthy and unworthy victims. He asks to be turned into a vampire, but he’s also a child, which makes his ability to consent unclear. (Whether Anne even believed that child sexual abuse was possible at all is up for debate; she wrote a message on her “fan voice mail” that is still transcribed on her website that defends a convicted pedophile and seems to argue that 14 and 15 year olds are effectively adults and therefore cannot be abused. Yikes yikes yikes.) This kind of uncertainty seems to be reflected in the changing way Anne writes Armand throughout the series. He’s evil at first in the same way that Claudia is evil; a conniving forever child who is smart and vicious enough that what was done to him can be justified. But Anne softened on Armand after Queen of the Damned. As the series goes on, Armand comes to resemble Anne’s perfect victim more and more. He forgives Marius relatively quickly, for instance, for turning Benji and Sybelle without his consent.

For Marius (and Lestat) overcoming victim status also means becoming the abuser, the rapist, the perpetrator of the dark trick. The only way to not be trapped under the cycle of abuse is to perpetrate it. Even though it is hidden in a lot of language about love and forgiveness, this theme is ever present in the Chronicles and to me it’s where the true horror of the books lies.

We see these values begin to be applied to world building and the book’s overarching philosophy more and more as the series progresses. Akasha is the big bad in Queen of the Damned because she represents the ultimate lack of forgiveness. She is angry at all the men in the world for their collective abuses (a world view that seems to originate at least partially from the overly protective and restrictive way Enkil treats her, in my opinion) and seeks to kill them. She is an unquestioned evil, in a way that most characters aren’t in The Chronicles. And Maharet and Mekare, who are much more forgiving towards Khayman, one of the perpetrators of their own rape, are the ones able to defeat Akasha. Forgiveness and grace trumps righteous anger every time.

Memnoch the Devil is an interesting book (even if it is not a *good* one, imo) because it spends its pages interrogating this idea of abuse and forgiveness, but blows it up to a theological scale. Memnoch’s main argument with God is that he lets humans suffer needlessly. Memnoch feels that all that is good and holy amongst humans can be found in the way we love each other and find joy in sex, art, food, and celebration. But God requires humans to suffer through disease and death, and sometimes even violence brought about by religion. When Memnoch is put in charge of hell, he makes souls worthy of heaven by working on them until they are ready to forgive God for the suffering they had to endure during life. That’s what makes you worthy of heaven: forgiveness. I find this so interesting because it almost feels like Anne is arguing with herself over philosophy and religion. Memnoch is very convincing and his belief that joy without guilt is good is given due weight by the narrative. In some ways it’s what these books are about- sensual pleasure without guilt. But on the other hand, Memnoch is the devil (if that- Lestat is never quite sure if he’s really the devil or just a malignant spirit) which means we shouldn’t trust what he says. The idea of God as the ultimate abuser— the person who puts humanity through unspeakable horrors on a wide scale, and then requires our forgiveness in order to find peace— really chimes with the way that Anne writes about abuse in the rest of the series. According to this view, the cycle of abuse is absolutely inescapable. It is decreed by the almighty, and the only way to not be completely crushed by it is to accept its omnipresence and embrace its perpetrators without anger.

This focus on forgiveness is clearly a huge part of Anne’s (and therefore the vampires’) worldview, and I of course find that pretty problematic. But I also think it hurts the reader’s ability to connect to the characters and can have the unfortunate side effect of draining the books of the conflict needed to create a propulsive plot. The vampires’ inclination to completely forgive those who have wronged them, and to not linger at all in any feelings of anger, grief, or resentment, sometimes leads to baffling situations where conflicts that loom large in one book are completely forgotten in the next. The most jarring example of this to me is Armand casually playing chess with Santino in Queen of the Damned. Santino! The vampire who kidnapped him, forced him to eat his best friend, and generally tortured him. And they simply never address this. They just start playing a casual game of chess on Night Island after Akasha has been defeated. Situations like this can make character seem like they are acting completely out of character, and it makes it hard to understand their motives. Yes, there’s the in-universe explanation that time heals all wounds and eventually vampires just live long enough that they can’t hold any grudges. But I still think it’s reasonable to assume that Armand would hesitate before casually engaging with Santino again, no matter how long has passed. This kind of automatic forgiveness also means that we skip over so many conflicts that that would be fascinating to read about. If Armand and Santino really do need to reconcile, I want to see what that looks like. I want to see Armand remember Ricardo when he looks at Santino. I want to see what David and Lestat mending their relationship after Lestat’s violation looks like. But we don’t get any of that and instead the vampires move seamlessly on to something else, which is often much less interesting than these interpersonal conflicts that Anne ignores. And because of that, I think this focus on forgiveness creates books that are less fulfilling than they could be.

I think this focus on forgiveness is also at the heart of some of the conflict I see between book readers and show-only fans. I often see book readers talking about how Armand and Louis come back to each other later in the books, that Louis forgives Armand enough to live with him again for a time. And this makes sense in a book universe that prioritizes forgiveness above all else. In fact it actually signifies positive character growth for Louis, as it means he is becoming closer to Anne’s definition of a worthy victim who can forgive those who wronged him.

Fans of the show insist that the TV version of Louis will never forgive Armand, and for all I know they might be right. The TV show has shown that it’s very capable of taking the events and themes that Anne presented and reframing them. The show is already presenting a more critical depiction of CSA, in my opinion, by doing things like eliminating the incest subtext between Louis and Claudia and making it clear that Marius groomed Armand. I also think the show does a better job of keeping emotional stakes consistent. Louis may forgive Armand, but something more substantial than time passing will have to happen to facilitate that in the TV show. So show Louis may indeed never forgive Armand, given those new parameters.

In its efforts to reframe some of Anne’s themes, I believe the television show is shifting the emphasis on forgiveness slightly. Louis’s arc over the first two seasons depends on him reaching a state of forgiveness, not for an abuser, but for himself. He extends grace to Lestat as part of this process, but I really believe that the catharsis comes from Louis embracing his own failings and his own power, and moving forward with confidence. He has not forgotten his anger or the things that were taken from him, but he has the ability to face the rest of eternity now without self-recrimination. I imagine moving forward that this is going to be a major theme of the show. No matter if you sought vampirism out or had it thrust upon you, you must learn to how to deal with its horrors and its perks. You must learn to embrace your own monstrosity and not shrink from it. And you must find a way to accept the love that those around you are willing to offer, whether or not you always perfectly deserve it. I think these are lessons that Lestat, Armand, and even Daniel have yet to learn in the television show. Those character arcs are going to fuel the show through its coming seasons, and I for one cannot wait to see it unfold.

I’m interested to hear from other readers to see if they picked up on these themes, and how they anticipate the show will adapt them. Please tell me your thoughts! And thank you for reading this far.

[vexwerewolf]

why is it that we only have like two licenses from any mech producer that’s a good guy? For a game where like there are clear good and bad guys (even if who you play isn’t necessarily linked to that) it seems strange to me that the only loot and XP you get is… more benefits from the bad guys

I can tell you the answer, but to do so, we're gonna have to talk about a completely different TTRPG.

If you've read @makapatag's truly excellent Filipino martial arts TTRPG Gubat Banwa (and if you haven't, here it is), you may notice that every single character class description (with one notable exception) ends with one of these babies:

I am not Makapatag, and I cannot write with quite as much grace and eloquence as he can, but I will try:

If you choose to become a Lancer, ask yourself why you mock the name of peace with these weapons of war. You call yourself a saviour, but your steed was forged from the murder of a world. You stride across the sky in a colossus built in your own image, so why are you too cowardly to give it your face? Why do you believe these machines of death can preserve life?

It is important to note that the admonitions in Gubat Banwa are not just there to make you feel bad; they are there as legitimate questions. The Sword Isles have seen so much blood, death and tragedy. Wars are not glorious and killing is not a game. So, knowing all of that, why have you taken up this discipline - no matter how noble and virtuous it might claim to be - to shed more blood, to bring more death, to write more tragedy? What could possibly drive you to this? What need is so great that you must kill?

The thing with Gubat Banwa is that there are legitimate answers to these questions! There are bad people doing bad things, and some of them will not be stopped with words or kindness. Sometimes, as sorrowful as it is, killing is the correct choice to prevent greater suffering and deeper tragedy - but adding less misery and death to the world is still adding some amount of it. Even the most necessary wars will drench the ground in the blood of the innocent.

A sword is a tool meant to kill humans; while it can be used for other things, it is not well-suited to anything other than this. A mech is, in its most basic essence, just a very complicated sword: it's usually used on things larger than a person, but it's still a tool built to kill.

So why have you taken up this path? Humanity was saved from the brink of extinction and has created wondrous technologies like printers, cold fusion and mind-machine interface, and yet you use them to play soldier in a giant metal man. Why do you choose to take up this machine of death, built by the greedy and pitiless? Why do you think these machines can ever make things right?

Because sometimes, despite everything, they can.

Warhammer 40K shows an awful world full of monsters and monstrosity, and in the darkest moments of its history, Lancer's world looked just as bleak, but Lancer's world differs in one crucial way. Warhammer's world has long given up trying to be better, but Lancer's world never did. Lancer's world kept insisting a better world is possible, and it used what tools it had to make it so.

Sometimes the correct choice, no matter how bitter it may seem, is to kill someone. When you need to do this, a sword is a perfectly good choice for the job.

If you find yourself discomforted by the fact that all the people you can buy mechs from are corrupt and immoral - good! You have correctly engaged with the text. You have understood that the sort of people who would make giant walking death machines and sell them for profit are not good people. But you still have a job to do, and you need the correct tools, and those people have them.

Lancer is not a game about a perfect world - it is a game about a deeply flawed and imperfect one that does not let its imperfection stop it from trying. You have to try to make a better world, even with imperfect tools made by unpleasant people.

[sillyhanako]

╭╯﹒pipo pipo electric sound ！！﹕

🍮﹒⪩⪨ ﹕dates scenarios with the bluck lock boys!

🍮﹒⪩⪨ ﹕STARRING : yukimiya kenyu, bachira meguru and alexis ness ♡ fluff!

🍮꒱﹒a/n﹒one of my best works! Im really proud of this one. Lmk if you want a second part >< contains smau in kenyu and bachira parts and contains soft launches in them all

ー﹕m.list﹐

୨୧ ㆍ  yukimiya kenyu

Today was one of Yukimiya's rare days off. He had just finished modeling for a big hit magazine, and his manager insisted that he take a day off to reward his hard work.

and how would he spend it? With his lover, of course! Lately, you both have been struggling to make time for each other, each busy with work or school. But today was conveniently a beautiful sunny day where everything just felt right—the breeze was gentle and the air fragrant with spring flowers. Yukimiya decided that this was the perfect moment for a sweet date.

At three thirty he knocked on your door with a bouquet of your favorite flowers and a heart-shaped box of chocolates. You were surprised, and Yukimiya could barely see your face, not because of his blindness, but because of how big the bouquet was.

"You didn't have to..! ," you said with joy, unable to contain your excitement and gratitude. "I missed you," he replied softly, placing his gifts on the table and embracing you tightly, as if trying to merge your bodies.

You helped him take off his jacket and handed him a cup of water, engaging in casual conversation to relax after the ride.

"speaking of TikTok, I saw this cute little trend. Look!" You exclaimed, showing him a video of two couples painting each other's t-shirts and a blank dinosaur clay figure.

"I think we should definitely do that. I have spare t-shirts, and instead of clay figures, we can order tote bags. Are you in?" You looked at him with anticipation.

"Yeah sure why not? Should we make matching ones?" "Oh good idea! Ill get the fabric paint hold on-"

after digging for a good 30 minutes in house you finally got what you needed on your living room's table. You laid out your plain canvas bags and soft, white t-shirts like a blank canvas ready to receive your wildest ideas. As you started painting, yukimiya leaned over, his shoulder brushing against yours. “What do you think we should make first?” he asked, his voice playful, and your heart did that little flip it always did around him. You suggested matching sanrio designs— you chose Kiki and LaLa . “Perfect-!” he replied, already splattering some paint onto his shirt in excitement, totally unbothered by the mess you were about to create. You recommended using a starting sketch, so you pulled out your phones getting a clear picture of your character.

Time flew by as you discussed everything varrying from your favorite sanrio products to your dream travel destinations, each topic punctuated by bursts of laughter and playful shoving and thus losing sense of time and making way too many 'masterpieces' . You both decided that every little imperfection you painted was just part of the charm.

As the sun began to set, painting the sky with soft hues of pink and orange, you stepped back to admire your creations. They weren’t just tote bags and t-shirts; they were memories smeared with laughter and love. You felt so grateful to have Yuki by your side—someone to share these memories with and made everyone one of them memorable.

“Okay, you know what we should do next? we should to model them!” you declared, striking a silly pose, and it was impossible not to giggle at how silly you looked. You put your new creations on, proudly showcasing your masterpieces, and snapped a few selfies, capturing the essence of the day.

kenyuki our beautiful mess <3 @.ynthediva

bachicha BRO ACTUALLY PULLS?????➜kenyuki Shut yo skin tone chicken bone google chrome no flip phone disowned ice cream cone garden gnome extra chromosome metronome dimmadome genome full nlown monochrome student loan indiana jones overgrown flintstone x and y hormone friend zoned sylvester stallone fsierra leone autozone professionally seen silver patrone headass tf up ���ynthediva CLOCKED. ➜ryu__shid GAGGED.

slursagi yall look lowk cute 😕 ➜ynthediva thanks 😙 ➜ynthediva WHAT IS THAT USERNAME ➜slursagi STOP IT WAS A DARE ➜ynthediva by who 😭 ➜slursagi that bitchless kurona.

karasuhq one slip up is all i need.. ➜kenyuki blocked. ➜hiyo_yo bro is like a dragon guarding his treasure 😭 pipe down ➜ninin._ninja talking like you pull any 💀😰 ➜hiyo_yo you failed 5th grade. ➜ninin._ninja im sorry sir

୨୧ ㆍ  bachira meguru

The sun was just beginning to dip behind the buildings as you stood outside the cinema, glancing at your watch, waiting for someone to show up. The flickering neon lights of the theater were a perfect backdrop for one of your favorite dates with your boyfriend bachira. Your heart raced with excitement as you wished for him to speed up just a little bit.

Just as you were about to check your phone, you heard his signature laugh—bright and infectious. Turning around, there he was, a ball of energy with his messy bee coloured hair and those big brown eyes that youve grown to love.

He zoomed toward you like he’d just spotted a prize in a carnival game, and before you knew it, he had looped an arm around your shoulders squeezing you in a hug.

“Hey! Ready for the movie?” he beamed, his enthusiasm almost tangible.

“Absolutely!” you replied, bouncing slightly on your toes trying to match his seemingly endless energy, seriously where does he get it from?

You approached the entrance, the lively crowd enhancing the thrill of the moment. Chatter filled the waiting room and after grabbing your tickets—he insisted on paying because the date was his idea—you headed to the concession stand.

“Okay, we need the largest popcorn they have. And candy! Which one should we get?” he declared as you stood before the colorful assortment of sweets.

“Hmm, gummy bears?” you suggested, but he shot you a look like you'd just suggested swimming in jelly.

“No way, we need chocolate! It’s a movie must-have!” He patted his chest as if making a proclamation.

You chuckled, and after a quick playful banter about whos the better movie must-have you settled on a massive bucket of honey popcorn and a couple of chocolate bars, and he practically wore a victorious grin as you made your way into the screening room.

Once inside, you found your seats—perfectly positioned in the middle of the theater. The dim lights illuminated the previews casting shadows across the room. Bachira flopped down beside you, as you couldn’t help but snicker watching his exaggerated excitement for the snacks, He lunged for the popcorn, shoving a handful into his mouth, claiming he couldnt wait to devour them, and thats probably going to make the both of you watch the rest of the movie without snacks. Fun.

“mhmff! 'his ish tha befsh parsh of tha 'ovie!"  he laughed with his mouth full and a buttery grin "wanth sum?" He offered you a handful of perfectly honeyed popcorn and you could resist the urge to say yes.

You settled in as the previews began to roll, the buzz of the theater fading into the background. He leaned close, whispering comments about the upcoming films, and you found yourself leaning into him, soaking up every moment of this somewhat messy date.

As the lights dimmed fully and the film began, you felt utterly content and couldnt ask for more. I mean your silly boyfriend AND a movie date?, surely you have the capability to muffle some giggles throughout the movie, right?

bachichan me and my skibidi rizzler yall vould NEVER 🤑🤑

leo._.reo how did bachira pull before me 😭 unbelievable ➜kingbarou the real question is how did he find someone that matched his freak bachichan yall just jealous 🤑🤑

➜redprincessa @ynthediva please reconsider and thank you 😊 ➜bachichan solve whatever shit you have between you and that ichigo wannabe 🤑🤑 ➜ku_.niga_.mi im gonna gorge your eyes out. ➜bachichan @redprincessa come get yo dog bih 😭😭

ynthediva the date was so fun 😊 exited for more! ➜bachichan glad to heart dat :DD hihuihihh ➜slurisagi why r u down bad bro ➜redprincessa that brotha gooone

➜aikou20 yoo my number xxx-xxx-xxx if u ever get tired from that schizo <33 ➜ynthediva arent you like 30 ➜aikou20 WHAT. ➜bachichan CLOCKEDDDD

୨୧ ㆍ  alexis ness

The sun streamed through the kitchen window, casting playful shadows across the flour-dusted countertop. You stood there, and besides you ness, apron tied snugly around your waists.

He carefully put the ingredients needed on the countertop and fetched the necessary kitchen tools . "Alright, we have everything ready, we can start now sweetheart ♡” Ness’s sweet voice and dimpled smile broke through the quiet atmosphere.

at ness's announcement you pressed the play button on your phone that started a relaxing melody. You rolled up your sleeves, and together you began measuring ingredients, flour flying, and playful banters. As you poured and stirred, he leaned in closer than necessary, your shoulders brushing.

"It hasnt even been long and i already made a mess.." you said defeatedly, apron full of flour and chocolate stains.

“but youre my mess.” he replied, his gaze softening as he caught your eye. You could feel your cheeks heat up, but you just shrugged it off with a smile. "I swear youre such a tease."

Before long, the oven was preheating and the dough was chilling. “Okay, next step — the bake,” you said, wiping your hands on your apron, feeling quite smug.

He looked at you with a sad puppy-dog expression. “i hope i wont be the cause that messed up the cookies... like the last time.. "

You couldn’t help but feel pity for him, remembering the charred remnants of what was supposed to be a masterful treat. “Hey, that just shows how dedicated you are to your art,” you teased, nudging him playfully. "And i still ate them, didnt i?"

As the sweet aroma began to fill the kitchen, you felt a warmth in your chest that had nothing to do with the oven. It was the way he wanted to be the perfect boyfriend for you, the way he didnt want to dissapoint you again. it was honestly admirable.

“Just wait until they come out of the oven. They’re going to be amazing just wait till you see!” you said, stealing a quick glance at him, trying to hype him up from his wet-cat mood.

“Not as amazing as you.."  he muttered quietly, but you fortunately catched it and you noticed the hint of a blush creeping up his cheeks.

“Okay, flattery will get you everywhere,” you grinned, finally pulling the oven tray that contains now fresh and delicious looking cookies. you didnt miss the chance to shove a hot one to him.

"See? They look appetizing. And i bet theyre tasty too —" You tried one, forgeting it hasnt been even 5 minutes theyre out from the oven. yeah you got burned and got a panicked ness worrying.

alexisn3ss memories with my favourite person 😊💗

anriiiii looks delicious 😮 mind if i get a taste? 🎀 ➜ynthediva yess!! Of course!!! ➜alexisn3ss no go make your own 😊

charliesthebaddie NOOOO who wants to make heart shaped cookies w me 😔😔😔 ➜shidoxox dw i gotchu bro ➜charliesthebaddie bro... 😢

redprincessa i smell wife material 👃 ➜slurisagi from who tho ➜redprincessa alex ➜alexisn3ss call me that again and your acls r gone ➜redprincessa YOU DID NTO ➜ynthediva what do i even say to this 😭 ate or be nice 💔 ➜redprincessa so now ur doubting wether to back me up or not 😒 i thought we had sum smh ➜ynthediva NO PLS I STILL NEED TO KNOW YOUR HAIR CARE ROUTINE

© 2025 sillyhanako ━ do not copy, steal, or reupload my works. Thanks!

[tonythr]

Quick Slash is even cooler from a narrative perspective, and why I think the Nailsmith's story parallels the Pale King's

Cold take: Quick Slash is the best charm in Hollow Knight.

Slightly Warmer take: Quick Slash is the only S-tier charm that is great from both gameplay and lore perspective (aside from maybe Spell Twister).

The reason for this is that its existence is actually a

metaphor

Here, look at this.

So, Quick Slash is something that was created from a relatively big number of objects that were discarded and deemed imperfect, and that possess a collective will of wanting to fulfill their purpose.

You know what that reminds me of?

A large amount of creations: check.

Discarded as imperfect: check.

Still possessing a will to find closure: check.

Being a part of a larger, more powerful thing: check.

Having a common creator who is responsible for their creation and rejection: check.

So yeah, I think that Quick Slash's lore (or at least its description) is meant to parallel that of the Vessels'.

But I wanna talk about that last point: the creator.

It is heavily implied that the person who created and then later discarded those nails was the Ancient Nailsmith we see in the room where we get Quick Slash.

(Oh by the way I just realized that this stone ring thing on the right of that room is actually the furnace, neat.)

Judging from their Dreamnail dialogue, this Ancient Nailsmith was trying to achieve the same goal as the other, more famous Nailsmith we all know and love: creating a Pure Nail.

And you know who else was trying to create a perfect, Pure thing while discarding many other similar things that later gained a collective will?

That's right - it's the guy who is also responsible for creating those other discarded things we discussed earlier!

Ok, but what I really wanted to talk about here is how all of what I just said ties back to that other, more famous guy - The Nailsmith.

We don't know for sure how the story of the Ancient Nailsmith ended, but it feels like it exists there mainly to put an emphasis on the City's Nailsmith's story; to convey that his struggle is an important theme in this narrative (because ancient means important, ok?) And, I mean, the City's Nailsmith's story also parallels that of the Pale King's in the same manner, right?

The thing is, we already know how PK's story ended.

In trying to achieve perfection, to create an eternal Kingdom by making a Pure Vessel devoid of mind, voice and will, the Pale King doomed himself to be taken over by his regrets, by the vast emptiness of the futility of his struggles. But was it because he failed, or because that was where his story was headed all along?

What if PK succeeded? What if the Radiance was sealed forever? What if his Kingdom actually stood eternal, never to change, never to end? What if he realized he achieved his only goal in life?

And that's the part where we get to a story the ending of which is up to the player's choice.

To quote White Lady, only two obvious outcomes there are from such a thing.

The first is an honorable death by the fruits of his labor.

If we choose to kill the Nailsmith with the Pure Nail, he dies happy, knowing that his life's goal is accomplished and having gained all the satisfaction he could from it.

The second I find preferable, a new passion.

If the Nailsmith doesn't feel the finishing blow of the Pure Nail, he is left unsatisfied. But, while trying to resolve that unsatisfaction, he eventually finds something (and someone) that gives him a new calling, a new thing to create, a new reason to live.

And, while those are both equally valuable, equally canonic outcomes, don't you think the second one is just... better? I mean, not only does it include the achievement of the Nailsmith's goal, but it lets him live AND gives two lonely souls a partner in life! I feel like that's the thing this narrative is trying to convey. What it's trying to say about the meaning of life, about our dreams.

Maybe that was the ultimate folly of the Pale King - the inability to change. His story would've ended in the same way, regardless of whether Hallownest lasted eternally or not. He would be dead, if not by the hands of the Void, but by his own - but ultimately, by the hands of that vast emptiness of realizing that you achieved your only goal and that now all there is for you is this eternal satisfaction that slowly fades away, leaving you with nothing.

TL;DR: Quick Slash is the best because it's a metaphor for discarded vessels; perfection is overrated, try to get laid instead.

[crustyfloor]

oiu... Initially, it was implied, but now I believe this piece confirms that Heperu had created earlier artificial "prototypes" of Luka that were failures and disposed of before the "perfect" version was created, the Luka we have today.

When Luka remembers those tubes with the embryos of what might've been other versions of himself, he knows just how inexplicably expendable he is to Heperu despite how "special" he is, Heperu is obsessed with making a perfect Luka that can rule the stage forever, Heperu will only keep him until he makes a mistake, that's why he plays his role of perfect pet to a T to ensure he keeps the aliens' favor, to maintain his perfection.

Luka was made aware from the beginning that If he failed, Heperu could just throw him away and make a new and better version, that's how insignificant his life is. Possible replacements being made in front of him, just in case he was imperfect or died, was a threat. And just made the fact that Luka was a tool more prominent. The caption of this art being "Disgust" could mean the disgust Luka feels towards those failed versions, and himself is the pure cruelty of it all, the burden of being the success, it feels like a violation, the fact that you have no bodily autonomy or choice in any of this. the eerie intimacy of it, the other versions gravitating towards the "perfect" Luka, touching and holding him while he looks disturbed.

there is the existential dread of not feeling like your own person, or rather, feeling unnatural and disgusting when you were made on the foundation of the failure of other versions of you, a disturbing and bleak amalgamation of what's considered perfect, but not truly a person, just an object for a desire. He can quickly amount to nothing but another failure just like the rest of them, just like the rest of the Lukas that grew up on the understanding that they're inconsequential existences made in the pursuit of one goal

[ripleyresonance]

Picture Imperfect

Rhea Ripley x Ex-girlfriend reader (18+)

Warnings: Smut/mentions of heartbreak/shitty fiance

Summary: Your ex-girlfriend shows up at your engagement party. Will old habits die hard or the wish of a stable life prevail.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Everything was perfect.

Or, at least, it was supposed to be.

The garden sparkled in the evening light, every flowerbed meticulously arranged, the white roses glowing like polished porcelain amidst the reds and pinks. The fountains sprayed high in delicate arcs, catching the light as they crisscrossed above the paths. Staff moved with quiet precision, setting out silverware, fluffing napkins, and positioning signs with swirling letters that promised, “To Happily Ever After.”

You took a steadying breath, hands smoothing over the silk fabric of your dress. This is what you wanted, you reminded yourself. You were doing the right thing, the practical thing, the smart thing. He was the safe choice, the perfect match on paper—the dependable, successful kind of man you could build a future with. The man who made sense.

You glanced up at the balcony, catching sight of your fiancé as he gave you a practiced smile and a wink, a sign that everything was falling into place. That this picture of perfection, this life you’d worked so hard to create, was as flawless as it appeared. A life where you could feel… secure. Settled.

This is what I wanted, you told yourself again, a touch more firmly.

Then, arms slipped around your waist, spinning you around, his face beaming with pride. “Don’t you look stunning, my love?”

You forced a light laugh. “Oh, stop, I’m not even—”

“But look at this,” he interrupted, stepping back to admire his suit, catching his reflection in the nearby glass with a grin. You pasted on a bright smile. “Oh, wow, honey, you look… great!”

You moved to slip your arms around him, wanting to feel that warmth, that connection, something real to reassure you. “You know, we do have an hour to ourselves before guests arrive…” You lowered your voice, pressing a little closer. But he darted back quickly, smoothing his jacket with a practiced, panicked motion. “Careful, babe—you’ll wrinkle the suit!”

You let out a laugh that felt strained, the moment already slipping away. Stay calm. This is the right choice.

“Oh, I just thought—” you started, but he cut you off again.

“Hey, use the time to cover that little pimple, hmm?” he chuckled, tapping his cheek. “Can’t have you looking bad in the family photos.”

The words stung, but you swallowed the hurt. This is good, you reminded yourself, holding back any sign of frustration. This is right. He’s dependable. Reliable. The kind of man who would stay.Or be too afraid to leave. 

You took another deep breath, stepping into the dress you’d chosen for the evening—a soft yellow to complement his gray suit. You turned, catching your reflection, and forced another smile.

This is everything you wanted.

Or at least, everything you’d convinced yourself you needed.

But an hour into the party, and your fiancé was long gone, laughing with old friends and family members. You drifted from conversation to conversation, half-listening to his uncle drone on about property values in Morocco, until you finally spotted your friends, Indi and Candace, laughing at a table tucked in the corner.

“There’s the woman of the hour!” Candace cheered as you reached them.

“In a very… uninspired dress,” Indi teased, sticking her tongue out.

You gave her a playful glare, reaching over to swipe her glass of champagne, taking a hearty sip as she flicked you off with a grin.

“It’s the perfect complement to my fiancé’s designer suit, thank you very much,” you replied dryly.

“Right. And your fiancé is… where?” Candace said, glancing around the crowd, while Indi jokingly ducked to look under the table.

You sighed, the forced smile faltering. “Last I saw him, he left me with Aunt Jen to discuss our ideal number of children…”

“And we’re supposed to be happy for you because…?” Candace arched a brow.

“Because… he’s stable? Because he’s… safe?” you offered, trying to sound sure of it.

Indi leaned forward, taking your hand in hers. “It’s just not like you. You used to be the life of the party—the one dragging us to dive bars at midnight, buying rounds of those awful Jell-O shots. You’d be making out with Rhea in the corner before the night was even halfway over.”

A small, wistful smile tugged at your lips. The memories came rushing back—the late nights, the messy laughs, Rhea’s intense gaze that always felt like it saw straight through to your soul. Even the little things, like dancing barefoot in her tiny apartment, felt like magic.

“We can’t live in the past forever, can we?” you said, clearing your throat, pushing the memories back where they belonged. The ache lingered anyway.

Indi hesitated. “But with Rhea—”

“No Rhea mentions tonight, please.” You shook your head, the words coming out more forcefully than you intended. “We broke up for a reason. She was flying all over, living out her dream. And I was… I was just there.”

“But you were happy,” Indi said quietly, her gaze unwavering.

You tried to muster up a convincing smile. “With Matt, it’s different. All he wants is a clean house and someone by his side. I know he’s not just going to disappear. With Rhea… I never knew if she’d stay.”

Candace sighed, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “But when’s the last time you felt real joy? When’s the last time you let loose, or did something that actually excited you?”

You shrugged, forcing a breezy tone. “Can’t you just be happy for me? For one night?”

The worried look Indi and Candace exchanged only deepened the hollow feeling in your chest. But with a tight smile, you excused yourself, making your way back into the crowd, the pressure of perfection building as you found your fiancé’s cousins. They started telling stories about his college days, and you tried to listen, but the voices of your friends kept echoing in your head.

They were right. The old you would’ve laughed at this garden party, with its perfect decor, its soft violin music, its endless parade of well-heeled guests. The old you would be in some dimly lit bar with Rhea, dancing to blaring rock music, the two of you yelling the lyrics into each other’s faces, laughing until your sides hurt. You could almost feel her hands on your waist, pulling you close, her voice murmuring in your ear, “Just you and me, yeah?”

Those were the days when you barely made rent, working long shifts in a retail job you despised. But somehow, even with all the chaos and uncertainty, you were happy, because she was there. You’d found a home in her arms, even if it was temporary.

You let out a shaky breath, memories tugging at your heart, the last conversation with her replaying in your mind. “I can’t keep asking you to wait for me,” Rhea had said that night, her voice low, eyes sad. “I don’t want to be the reason you feel stuck.”

It had felt like she’d ripped something out of you, but you’d told yourself it was the right thing. You wanted stability, something secure. And here you were, right where you’d imagined you wanted to be.

Hours later, as the garden party went on, you finally found your fiancé, engrossed in a conversation about work and upcoming IPOs. You excused yourself, feeling the need for something stronger than champagne. You headed for the bar, ordering a whiskey sour.

Eyes closed, you took a steadying breath, willing yourself to feel the satisfaction you’d hoped this night would bring.

“Tough day, huh?”

Your eyes flew open, and you turned toward the voice.

There, standing beside Indi, was a familiar figure, broad shoulders, muscular arms, dark hair slightly tousled, and that small, crooked smirk you knew so well.

“Surprise,” Indi said softly, giving you a half-smile, as Rhea’s gaze met yours, unflinching.

You stood frozen, your heart pounding in disbelief. This had to be some strange dream. You’d seen Rhea on TV since the breakup, but nothing could have prepared you to see her right here, looking back at you with that familiar warmth in her eyes, like no time had passed at all.

Finally, you managed to choke out, “Indi, can I speak with you…in private?”

Indi gave Rhea a quick, apologetic look before following you a few steps away. The moment you were out of earshot, you hissed, “What the hell, dude!” giving Indi a quick slap on the arm, louder than you intended.

“Don’t hate me!” Indi cringed, raising her hands defensively. “We were out at a bar last week, and I just casually mentioned you were engaged. She practically begged me for the details! And… I may have let it slip about the party,” she mumbled, glancing sheepishly away.

You opened your mouth, ready to let her have it, but stopped short as something sank in. She begged you for details?

Indi’s smile softened, her expression turning a bit sad. “She looked like she was going to burst into tears, if I’m being honest.”

You glanced over your shoulder. There she was, talking with Candace, that easy smile lighting up her face as if she were exactly where she belonged. She was somehow even more striking than you remembered, her frame solid and powerful, the black dress clinging in all the right places. You couldn’t help but remember countless nights when that same dress ended up on your bedroom floor.

Clearing your throat, you whipped back to face Indi, feeling a familiar ache you’d tried so hard to ignore. “And how, exactly, am I supposed to explain to my fiancé that my ex-girlfriend is here?”

Indi smirked, tilting her head toward the far side of the garden, where your fiancé stood, laughing with his friends. “Oh, please. Do you really think he’d even notice if you disappeared for a little while? He looks pretty wrapped up in… himself.”

You chewed your lip, fighting the pull of emotions rising in your chest. From across the garden, Candace caught your eye and gave a subtle, encouraging nod toward Rhea, silently coaxing you to go.

“Fine. Twenty minutes,” you muttered, the words escaping before you could fully think them through. “I’ll talk to Rhea for twenty minutes in the study. If anyone asks where I am, you come and get me.”

Indi’s eyes twinkled with a knowing smile as you took a deep breath, steadying yourself before turning back to Rhea. Candace opened her mouth to say something, but you cut her off.

“Twenty minutes. You, me, library. Start walking,” you ordered, keeping your tone steady as you brushed past Rhea toward the house.

“Yes, ma’am.” Rhea’s reply was light but carried that touch of mischief, and as she shot a concerned look at Indi and Candace, she fell in step behind you.

You moved quickly through the hallways, keeping your steps silent, glancing back now and then to be sure no one was following. When you finally reached the study, you shut the doors behind you, feeling a surge of emotions you’d kept buried for so long.

The words came out before you could stop them. “Do you think my life is some kind of game? Something you can just drop in on whenever you feel like it?”

Rhea’s eyes widened slightly, but she gave a small chuckle. “I’d never play games with your life, but it seems like maybe you are. You used to love making your Sims suffer for fun, but now you’re doing it to yourself.” She cocked her head toward the door. “Seriously, it’s bad enough you’re getting married, but to that guy? I’m not sure his ego could even fit through that doorway.”

You took a breath, caught between the biting truth in her words and the stability you’d worked so hard to build.

Yeah? And what would you even know about my life now?” you scoffed, arms crossing as you kept your gaze on her. “You left it, remember? And look at you now—you seem pretty happy with things. I even saw your face on a toy in Walmart the other day. Real superstar over here."

Rhea sighed, crossing her arms but keeping her eyes on you, a hint of guilt flickering there. “I’m not here to shit on you. It’s just… none of this feels like you,” she said, her voice softer.

“Yeah, well, maybe you don’t know me as well as you think,” you shot back, but Rhea held up a hand, cutting you off gently.

“I know I’m the one who called things off,” she started, voice catching slightly. “And I know it’s been nearly two years, but… I can’t just stand by and watch someone I love ruin their future like this.” She took a small step closer, as if afraid you’d move away.

“‘Loved,’” you corrected her sharply, deflecting. But she stepped even closer, her hand reaching out to catch yours, her grip firm and familiar.

“Love,” she whispered, voice low, her eyes locked onto yours. The intensity in her gaze made your heart stutter, the sincerity of it so raw, just like the day she’d left you. She held your gaze, and you felt the walls you’d built start to crack.

For a moment, everything felt like it had back then—the nights you’d spent together, laughing, arguing, knowing each other so deeply it hurt. But you forced yourself to pull back, snapping back to the present as you broke free of her hold.

“No… no,” you muttered, stepping around her. “I’m not doing this with you again, Rhea. I can’t. You were my everything, and you walked away.” You felt your voice rising, your frustration and heartbreak bubbling over. “You were my world, Rhea. I would have done anything for you—God, I would’ve moved heaven and earth if you’d asked, no questions asked. But it wasn’t enough, was it?”

Her face softened, her posture almost crumbling as she took in your words, letting them land. “I thought… I thought I was doing what was best for you,” she whispered. “Letting you go, leaving, it wasn’t because you weren’t enough. It was because I loved you enough to think… you deserved more.”

You felt a bitter laugh slip out, even as tears began to blur your vision. “So what’s the plan here, then? You want me to call off my engagement, break off my stable, safe future… for you? Just because you finally figured out what you lost?”

“Please, just… listen.” Rhea’s voice was soft, pleading. “I know I messed up. I know I made the choice for both of us, and I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. But I can’t stand the thought of you spending yours unhappy, pretending it’s enough.”

You shook your head, trying to focus, to keep your heart locked up tight. “Maybe I don’t deserve more. Maybe predictable, maybe… comfortable… maybe that’s enough for me.” But even as you said it, you knew she could hear the crack in your voice.

She stepped forward, hands shaking slightly as they cupped your face. “Look at me. Are you really happy?”

Her question made your heart ache. You wanted to scream, to push her away, but as her thumb brushed against your cheek, something broke inside you. Your voice was barely a whisper. “I don’t know anymore.”

In that moment, the gap between you felt unbearable. And before you could second-guess yourself, you reached out, grabbing her face and pulling her down into a kiss, fierce and hungry, every ounce of anger and heartbreak pouring out. Rhea tensed, stunned, but then her hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you in, her kiss deepening as if she’d been starved for this as long as you had.

It felt like time had rewound, like everything you’d both lost was suddenly within reach. Her lips tasted of salt and need, her arms strong and steady as they lifted you effortlessly, guiding you back to the desk. She set you down carefully, her forehead pressed to yours as her fingers trailed up your chin, finally tracing the outline of your lips.

“Let me make it up to you,” she murmured, voice rough with emotion, her eyes fixed on you with a seriousness that took your breath away.

Your heart pounded as you traced your fingers along her jaw, memorizing the feeling. “I shouldn’t… this is crazy…”

But she silenced you with another kiss, gentler this time, her fingers tangling in your hair, every touch filled with unspoken promises, like an answer to the questions you’d buried. And suddenly, you couldn’t hold back.

You parted your lips slowly, allowing her fingers to slip inside, and without thinking, your tongue moved over them, instinctively savoring the warmth of her touch. You held her gaze the entire time, knowing exactly what it did to her—that flicker of excitement and the way her lip caught between her teeth, barely containing a smile as she watched you.

A slow, unspoken tension passed between you, thickening the air, her fingers lingering just a moment longer than they needed to. The intensity in her eyes was impossible to ignore, dark with longing, as though the world beyond this moment had ceased to matter entirely.

“You’re always such a good girl for me huh.” Rhea smirked removing her fingers. 

“And I’m so sorry I left you aching for so long.” Rhea said starting to move the silk up your thigh with her other hand making you gasp. 

“Ill make sure to..thoughouly appologize.’ Rhea said slipping the wet fingers under your panties. 

You cursed under your breath leaning back and arching your back a little pushing out your breast. 

“I should have known you would be wet for me. No matter how much time has passed. No matter who your with. This will always be my…fucking…cunt.” Rhea said pressing harder into your clit making you moan. 

She continued slowly rubbing up and down your slit making small circles on your clit she knew drove you crazy. 

“You fucking asshole..please-oh my god.” you groaned as she pushed them into your entrance. Your pussy molding to her fingers like it was a habbit as you groaned and squirmed under her grasp. 

“Cmon sweetheart let out those pretty moans for me I can tell your close. Cum on my fingers just like you used to.” Rhea encouraged picking up the pace and pushing  you over the edge. 

You barely had a moment to catch your breath before Rhea’s hand found the slit in her dress, sweeping it aside with practiced ease. In one fluid movement, she dropped to her knees before you, lifting your leg over her shoulder with a confidence that made your pulse race. Her eyes flicked up to yours, a silent promise passing between you, deep and familiar.

“Rhe wait it’s to sensitive I- fuck!” you yelped as her tounge danced across your clit. 

“Cmon baby I know you can give me one more. I could hear you moan all day.” Rhea groaned pressing her lips against your clit and taking it in her mouth. 

The instant her mouth met you, a shockwave rippled through your body, forcing you to arch back as a raw, unfiltered moan escaped your lips. Your hand flew to her hair, tangling in the soft, dark strands, and you felt the cold press of your engagement ring catch, glinting there as if it were a witness to the undeniable pull between you. The weight of that ring—the promise it held to someone else—should have felt wrong, but as her grip tightened on your thigh and she took you deeper, it only made this feel more inevitable, more electric, like a secret you’d longed to surrender to.

Shame should have washed over you, but all you felt was a raw, unapologetic hunger. You’d never thought you’d find yourself on this side of betrayal, but here you were, and the way Rhea moved, the way she knew every unspoken part of you, eclipsed anything you’d felt in years. This wasn’t something you could walk away from—no, not now.

The sloppy erotic sounds between your legs filled the room, blending with your own ragged breaths. When her eyes met yours, a flicker of something deep, an understanding you hadn’t felt with anyone else, you could feel yourself spiraling toward that edge again. Words tumbled out, almost involuntarily, as your walls dropped, and all the feelings you’d tried to bury started to surface, raw and undeniable.

“Please Rhea, take me away from here. Make me feel like this every night again. I’ll be your good girl just like I used to-mhp! Just please.” You panted closer to the edge. 

“I promise you my love. Its you and me against the world.” Rhea smiled into your cunt as she started swirling her tounge in an unholy manner making you cover your own mouth before a scream escaped as you came harder than you could have ever imagined in her mouth. 

Rhea lapped up every drop as excruciatingly slow as possible saving every drop. 

You leaned back against the desk, heart still racing, trying to catch your breath. The sunset filtered through the window, casting a warm glow that caught on the diamond of your engagement ring—one you suddenly felt ready to leave behind.

“Did you… really mean it?” you panted softly, looking down at Rhea.

She stayed kneeling in front of you, her eyes softening, serious in a way that left no room for doubt. “I’m already on one knee, aren’t I?” she whispered.

You half-expected her to flash that familiar smirk, but when you looked down, her expression was unguarded, vulnerable. She was really waiting for you.

“So, you think you can just waltz into my engagement party, plead for me to take you back, have your way with me in my fiancé’s study, and—” your words faltered, breath hitching as the weight of it all sunk in. “And act like I’m supposed to forget that you broke my heart?”

A flicker of worry crossed her face as you tilted her chin up to meet your eyes, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“Took you long enough, Ripley,” you said, the smile breaking free.

Rhea’s face lit up with a joy that felt almost childlike. In one swift move, she scooped you up, spinning you around as laughter spilled out of you both, the weight of years melting away.

When she finally set you down, she looked at you with a promise in her eyes. “I’m going to keep that smile on your face every day,” she murmured, pressing her lips to yours in a kiss that felt like forever, yet left you wanting more.

A knock on the door jolted you both back to reality.

“Hey, groom’s on the hunt!” Indi called from outside. “Something about a speech he wants to make for you.”

You felt panic bubble up, but Rhea squeezed your hand, a playful glint in her eye. “I’ll see you in ten minutes,” she said, already plotting. “I think I have some sprinklers to… accidentally set off.”

 She gave your hand one last kiss before slipping toward the door, her voice dropping to a playful whisper. “Oh, and sweetheart… might want to leave that ring on the desk. Don’t want any misunderstandings about whose fiancée you are.”

You grinned, unable to help yourself as you slipped off the ring, feeling the lightness that came with it. Following her out the door, you found Indi waiting, arms crossed, eyebrows raised.

“So, what kind of trouble are we about to get into?” she asked, smirking.

You couldn’t help the grin spreading across your face, feeling lighter than you had in years. 

“Might want to ditch those heels, Indi,” you said, voice bubbling with excitement. “I’ve got a future to catch.”

Hellooooo lovelies I hope you are well! I had this idea the other day between writing vampire part 2 so I had to provide it since rhea is on hiatus anyway. I DO NOT CONDONE CHEATING THIS IS A FANTASY.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Fictional Character

In fiction writing, character development is the process of building a unique, three-dimensional character with depth, personality, and clear motivations.

Character development can also refer to the changes a character undergoes over the course of a story as a result of their actions and experiences.

Tips for Writing Great Characters

Characters, like people, are imperfect. They don’t need to be likeable, but they must be interesting. Here are some tips for effective character development.

Develop characters who reflect your interests. You’re going to be spending a lot of time with your characters, so the fiction rule “write what you want to know” applies to them as well. Don’t be afraid to invest your protagonist with familiar qualities, but prioritize your passions and make sure that your main characters emerge from the setting and topics you’ve developed so far.

Reveal their physical world through detail. Different writers focus on different details to evoke character, whether deliberately or not. Balzac focused on his characters’ physical appearance. Dashiell Hammett never fed his characters, while Charles Dickens fed his extravagantly. Some writers are interested in revealing character via clothing, as Flaubert did, while others attend to mannerisms or physical appearance. Whatever details you choose, it’s important for you to know your characters' physical world intimately, and how they relate to it.

Give them the right skills. Your characters should have skills that will allow them to function in your setting. If you’ve chosen to set your novel on the moon, then make sure your character has a space suit or learns how to use one.

Create memorable characters. When creating important characters that the reader is going to meet more than once, be sure that they’re memorable in some way. Try to give each one a quirk or quality that can be used later to help readers recall who they are. This could be a title like “chief of police” or a physical attribute like “ginger-haired.”

Give the reader access to their inner conflict. One way to create intimacy with your reader—and to get them to care about your main character—is to use internal monologue. This means letting the reader see a character’s thoughts as they happen, which exposes that person’s inner conflict, motivations, opinions, and personality. Internal monologue not only reveals character: it’s a neat way to convey information about your setting, events, and other characters.

Subvert your reader’s expectations. The most interesting characters will surprise your readers. Think about it: We don’t have to pay attention to things that are stable. But when something unexpected happens—a wolf comes out of the woods, for instance—we pay attention.

How to Develop Different Types of Characters

Stories have different kinds of characters. Every story has a main character, called the hero or protagonist. Many stories have a bad guy: the villain or antagonist. Secondary characters round out the story. These characters may help the main characters, oppose them, or be completely neutral, so long as they help the reader understand the protagonist or antagonist in deeper ways.

How to Develop a Protagonist

Give the protagonist flaws. Protagonists or heroes don’t have to be perfect specimens of humanity. In fact, those protagonists tend to be boring. Great characters emerge from the trials they encounter, and believable characters have human flaws, just like people in real life.

Give the protagonist an arc. A good character undergoes some sort of change over the course of the story. That change is called the character arc. You can also choose to create a main character who doesn’t change, but that decision should be intentional.

How to Develop an Antagonist

Give the antagonist morality. A villain’s motivations should create a crisis for your protagonist. Every villain needs to have their own morality, however warped. If a villain spends part of the novel killing people, you need to give him or her believable reasons for doing so. Make the reader understand exactly what desperate need or twisted belief has driven the villain to commit their crimes, and make those motivations personal to their history and upbringing.

Make the antagonist powerful. Readers want to see your main character succeed—but they don’t want it to be easy. Your villain should not only be a match for your hero: they should be even more powerful. This forces your protagonist to collect the skills, items, and allies they’ll need to defeat your antagonist, which creates further opportunity for character development.

How to Develop Secondary Characters

Make them complementary. Secondary characters serve the vital functions of assisting the protagonist with alternate skill sets, giving them a sounding board or emotional support, getting themselves into trouble so that the protagonist can help them, and even providing comic relief.

Make them oppositional. Some of the best sidekicks in literature are oppositional, and will even undermine the protagonist. Think of Dr. Watson chastising Sherlock Holmes for his drug use. Giving secondary characters opposing points of view allows you to explore your subjects, settings, and moral gray areas from a wider variety of perspectives, which sustains complexity and keeps the reader interested.

Writing Exercises for Character Development

CHARACTER QUESTIONNAIRE

Use these questions to develop your characters, and learn how they behave. If you’re working on a novel, you can use this questionnaire with your protagonist or any secondary character to learn more about their present state, enrich their backstory, and add to their repertoire of unique gestures and habits.

What is your character’s name?

What is their gender (at the moment)?

When is their birthday? What is their age at the beginning of the novel?

What do they look like?

What is their general disposition? Are they frowny? Or are they smiley?

Where do they live?

What do they eat?

How do they dress?

Do they dress to impress?

Do they dress in a way that is appropriate for their age, or do they dress to look younger or older than they are?

What major experiences have they had in their lives?

Have they had any traumatic experiences?

Did they have a bad childhood?

Or did they have a good childhood suddenly destroyed by a traumatic event?

What are their ruminations?

Do they have any obsessions?

Are they in love?

Do they have any pets?

Do they have any medical conditions?

What do they like to do in their spare time? (Do they have any spare time?)

What are their friends like?

What are their hobbies?

What they are most embarrassed by?

Where they went on their first date? (And with whom?)

ONE-PAGE CHARACTER DESCRIPTION

Choose one of your characters and write a one-page description of them. Use the following tips to flesh out your description:

Instead of writing a plain, physical description, try viewing the character through a creative lens. For example, does she have a nickname? What did she do to earn it? Does it refer to her appearance? Her attitude? How does she feel about it?

Choose one event from your character’s past and elaborate on that. For example, your hero has a back injury from an accident while he was in the navy. Does he move differently now? Do people treat him differently? What are the psychological repercussions of the accident?

Choose one of your main character’s personality traits and list the ways that it’s expressed. If your sidekick is nervous, he might bounce his knee when he’s sitting, pluck at his sleeves, or startle easily.

What space has your character created for themselves? This can be offstage: a bedroom, an expensive car with all the right gadgets, the perfectly-stocked kitchen, a private office. Describe your character in that space.

INTERIOR MONOLOGUE

Go to a public place where you can observe other people.

Choose one person and imagine a few character details for them.

What’s their name? What mood are they in? Why are they there?

Write a one-page, interior monologue for them that reveals what they’re thinking.

Use first person, even if you typically write in third person.

Show their thoughts, but also show the world around them and how they interact with that world.

Try to develop an inner monologue that is at odds with the world around them or with the way they appear to be.

The Importance of Character Development

A novel consists of a character interacting with events over time.

Character and plot are inseparable, because a person is what happens to them.

Without a clear sense of who a character is, what they value, and what they’re afraid of, the reader will be unable to appreciate the significance of your events, and your story will have no impact.

Like real people, fictional characters have hobbies, pets, histories, ruminations, and obsessions.

These characteristics inform how a character reacts to and feels about the things that happen to them.

It’s essential to your novel that you understand all aspects of your characters so that you are equipped to understand how they may react under the pressures of events they encounter.

How Character Development Affects your Story

Your main character’s goal sets the stakes in your story.

It doesn’t matter whether your story stakes are big or small, as long as they matter deeply to your protagonist.

Your character doesn’t have to save the world: perhaps they are trying to save their family from an eviction, or fighting to keep their business from going bankrupt.

Your job is to establish what’s important to your character (ideally, it’s something that your audience can relate to), and help the reader imagine what might happen if they lose that important thing.

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