#i have a few more scenes to write in the other chapters but overall i think it's the shape i want it to be

[curiosity-killed]

"Meryl is not entirely clear on how they got here. Her leading theory is that there was some hallucinogenic cactus in the sandwich she had for lunch. It’s the most likely option for why she can see Chronica sitting in the passenger seat as the red sands roll past." --- Two years after Octovern, the girls chase the Stampede one more time.

Chapter One

[juletheghoul]

father figure

a/n: Clint got me big time, and originally I wanted to write one hot scene but I am who I am and now I have 21 pages written lol. Thanks to @foli-vora & @just-here-for-the-moment for screaming at me about this and for letting me scream at them about it too, hopefully you enjoy the first chapter. I'm still on a little break from Tumblr but with the movie out I really wanted to share. xoxo

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, shitty dad (neglect), absent mother, allusions to illegal activity, daddy kink, secret relationship, period piece - takes place in 1987, Clint being a big guard dog for you, let me know if I missed any!

Pairing: Clint Flood x F!Reader

Ko-fi link 🥲💕

word count: 5.3k

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist series Masterlist

-

It’s so cold, the breath from your lungs steams a little. With an angry sigh, and the comforter from your bed wrapped tightly around your shoulders you descend the dark steps into the living room. It’s late, past midnight but the neighbourhood is still buzzing with life. 

The dial on the thermostat still shows what the temperature should be set to and then what the actual temperature is and they don’t align, that can only mean the heating bill hasn't been paid again. Your teeth clench, anger swirls like a sudden squall, a heavy sigh pushed roughly through your lips.

The kitchen door opens and the object of your ire walks in, speaking loudly to someone and the annoyance only climbs. On any regular day you’d be asleep by this time, not that he’d care, based on his fucking volume.

Your mouth is open, the scathing words already in the chamber when the bulk of him blocks the kitchen light and the words die in your throat; Clint, neighbourhood thug and overall goon. He follows your dad in, his leather jacket covered frame too big for the dingy little kitchen, his big boots squeaking against the linoleum. 

“Fuck, it’s cold in here—“ you dad frowns, pulling two glasses from the cupboard, “Clint, can I get you a drink?” 

“Uh, yeah, sure.” He shifts on his feet, the bulk of him moves slowly towards the too-small kitchen table, “Thanks.”

“You didn’t pay the heating bill.” The shock of Clint in your house doesn’t stop you from giving your dad a hard stare, his wide-eyed, mooncalf expression doesn’t inspire shame or regret at letting him know. He frowns after a few seconds, an angry huff leaving his lips before laughing, it annoys you that he meets Clint’s eyes before answering you. 

“Yeah yeah, I sent it in, must be another mail fuck-up, you know how it is.” He shakes his head but the pulse in your ear only quickens with anger. 

“When?” With more force than is necessary, you pull the blanket tighter, “When did you mail it in?” The clench in his jaw only compounds your suspicion.

“You didn’t send in shit, and now you’re here in the middle of the night with—“ your eyes find Clint, and what meets you isn’t what you expect. The perpetual scowl you’ve come to expect to see on his face, whether he was walking down the street, idling in his car at a stoplight, or even sitting in the diner having coffee is gone. What’s there is a piercing gaze, a knowing expression, pride? 

“You’re here, getting mixed up in God knows what instead of getting a fucking job—“

“I am getting a job. A good one, one that’s going to change our—“ Clint clears his throat, and the words die, his expression shifts from angry determination to a pleasant, paternal—yeah fucking right—blankness. 

“Go to bed, I’ll make a few calls tomorrow and get the heating turned back on.” 

The disgust is hard to hide, so you don’t even try. They both call out a soft goodnight when you turn and walk back up the stairs. You don’t respond.

-

The bell jingles, but your eyes stay on the pile of returned tapes in the bin under the window. The weekend crowd would be in soon, just like every other Friday, all of them flooding towards the new releases section to pick their movies for the weekend. The box is heavy, but you lug it over anyway.

“Let me help you with that—“ his voice cuts through the mental list flickering through your mind, startling you enough that you practically jump. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He's taller than you remember, greyer, hotter. 

“You didn’t,” you lie, “just caught me off guard.” The step back is involuntary. 

“Where did you need it?” He holds the heavy box without trouble, it barely seems to register, a testament to at least one of the rumours you’ve heard about him, that everyone has heard about him—his strength. Seemingly just to compound the thought, he shifts it to get a better grip, and for a moment holds it with one hand. 

“Yeah uh, just there is fine. Thanks.”

He gives you a tight smile after putting down the box, highlighting the deep scar that begins from the top of one eyebrow and runs down his nose, ending just under the other eye. It’s jarring enough to see it healed. Unwanted images of what it must have looked like fresh, of having a bloody slash across his face fills your mind's eye. It sends a chill up your spine. 

Clint's smile evaporates under your gaze, the usual scowl takes over while a curious guilt burns within you.

“Thank you.” You repeat yourself, giving him a smile of your own. A tiny, silent apology. He nods.

“Is there something I can help you with?”

“Your dad asked me to meet him, I forgot you work here.”

“Forgot? I didn’t know you knew it in the first place.” You mumble it mostly to yourself as you begin the process of filling the shelves with the returned tapes. 

“I’ve seen you here before.” He leans against a bare space on the wall, the leather in his jacket creaking as he crosses his arms. You’re not sure what to do with that information, and the easy assumption is that he’d been in the store before, or that he’d walked by enough times, seen you during a shift enough times to recognize you as the video store girl. You accept this assumption.

“Been here a few years.”

“I know—“

“Look, whatever bullshit my dad is trying to get involved in, can you please just tell him to stop?” The words bubble up, spilling out as you slide tape after tape behind the corresponding case. He frowns, you continue.

“He doesn’t need to be getting himself mixed up in things he shouldn’t be getting mixed up in.” His expression is cold when your eyes lock, the reminder of who he is, of his reputation makes your stomach drop.

“It’s not my business, it’s not anything I want to know, but it shouldn’t be his business either.”

“Your dads a big boy sweetheart, not up to me to tell him what to do.” 

The bell chimes over the door, ripping your attention away from the endearment. Your father walks in. Something curdles in your gut that he smiles at the sight of Clint, smiles in a way that spells trouble.

“You’re late.” Clint’s tone is icy, the warmth that curled around the syllables he’d directed at you has frozen over into something unwelcoming. It served to highlight a warmth you hadn’t noticed. That curdled thing shifts to a warmth of your own to see the smile die on your fathers face, to see him chastised. Shame eclipses it however, you focus on your task and leave them to their business.

Your father leaves without a word once their meeting is done, Clint doesn’t say anything either, but his eyes find yours, they linger longer than necessary before he walks out of the store. Thoughts of him linger, of his strength, of his voice, of the shape of the word sweetheart in his mouth until the rush comes and you forget all about him.

-

It’s not until a week later that you see him again, another unofficial meeting at the video store. They stand in the x-rated section, the two of them speaking in hushed tones while half-heartedly pretending to look at the cheap pornos lined up on the shelf. The curtains for the section aren't completely closed off, giving you a clear view of them from where you stand at the aisle just outside of it, and you’ve stacked those shelves enough times to know exactly what Clint is looking at. Something inside jumps at the thought of knowing which tape caught his attention, however superficially. Barely legal babysitters, a girl that Bobby, your shithead coworker has taunted you with by saying she looked an awful lot like you.

Your brow creases when you see him idly pick up the case, watch him study the image of the bubbly girl smiling cheekily. He puts it down, and then looks back at you. Your stomach drops, but you don’t look away. Heat floods the whole of you, a cold drop of sweat following the line of your spine. They leave without a word, but the look in his eye stays with you.

-

The heat turns on a week after that, blessed warmth blows steadily through the vent in your room, chasing away the chill that’s haunted the whole of your house. Clint walks in with your father that night, a tight smile greeting you in the kitchen. 

“Shit, I didn’t know you were home tonight.” Your dad frowns, take-out bags in his hands and something burns clean through. Anger, annoyance, embarrassment when Clint frowns in understanding. 

“I never work on Thursdays.” 

“Fuck. Okay well—“

“You serve yourself a full plate, and we’ll make do with the rest.” Clint speaks over your dad, that same tone you’ve heard a few times, the one that leaves no room for argument fills the tiny kitchen but you protest anyway.

“It’s fine. I can just go out and get myself something.” It should make you happy that he wants you to have some, but all you can focus on is the fact that it’s him that offers it and not your dad.

“Get yourself a plate, and fill it. Come on.” Your feet bring you to him, your hands reach for the cupboard and obey while your dad says nothing. 

“That’s it sweetheart, go on, grab as much as you like.” He opens the containers and urges you, his tone softening up into something warm, something almost nurturing. You smile up at him, taking a little bit of the sticky sweet orange chicken, you huff out a laugh when he tuts at how little you take. 

“That’s not enough. Don’t be shy, there you go.” He slides a few more pieces onto your plate before opening up another container.

“You want fried rice? Or just the steamed one?” His hands are scarred, his knuckles littered with the tiny silver lines of stitched over skin. His fingers are deft when they open the containers, for a second you imagine how they’d look opening up the button of your jeans, or the tiny ones on your favourite cardigan. 

“Veggies too, here have some broccoli.” He tips another container, piling the shiny, bright green vegetables onto your plate while you reign your thoughts back in.

“That’s more than enough, I won’t eat all of this.” He waves you away.

“Eat.” He urges, and with a shy, tight lipped smile and less than wholesome thoughts, you sit at the table and eat. 

Your dad serves himself after Clint, silently. His plate has perhaps half the food that yours does. 

“I won’t eat this all, you—“

“No, that’s yours. He should’ve considered his daughter before coming home without enough food. Next time he will.” Clint eats, impervious to the sulk on your dads face. 

The strangeness of it all isn’t lost on you, to have someone who is for all intents and purposes a criminal, going to bat for you against your own father. If this had happened a few years ago, if you’d been younger, more naive, you might have felt bad for your dad, you might have stuck up for him and defended his actions, but you aren’t that person. The shut off heat comes to mind, the unpaid bills over the years, the endless schemes to make a quick buck, the general neglect moves your fork across your plate. 

Clint catches your eye and winks, a cheeky thing that fills your body with heat, shoos away the very idea of neglect. 

Undeterred, your dad continues a previous conversation you tune out. Your eyes are fixed on the man across from you, on the breadth of his shoulders and the flex in the muscles of his jaw and neck as he chews through his bites of food. 

When they leave, the thought of him lingers. The sound of his voice fills your ears when you tuck yourself in, the heat of his form beside you fills your bed like a ghost, until you fall asleep and dream of that wink. 

-

It doesn’t register at first, but after the take-out fiasco, the meetings at your house tend to take place on Thursdays. They fill out the kitchen, talking about things you have no reference for, coded language regarding God knows what while you make yourself dinner, or tidy up, while you fold laundry on the couch. Little things pop up too, the fridge is full of food, a rare occurrence and part of you suspects that Clint is responsible. How novel, that the neighbourhood goon would push your father into providing. 

It shifts eventually, from an influence on your father, to him providing directly. It starts with a coffee, a warm, sweet one from the diner down the street given to you without a word before another video store meeting. Fresh donuts on another night, breakfast before a shift on another morning and although completely confusing, it feels a bit like a feral cat bringing dead mice to your door. An offering, a courtship? You shake your head, eat the food, drink the coffee, and enjoy the donuts. 

-

Rain pours, heavy and relentless as you finish up vacuuming the musty old carpet of the store. A loud sigh leaves your mouth, already shivering in anticipation of the short walk home in what is quickly turning into a fucking monsoon. A car pulls up in front of the store, idling just outside the door and you recognize it as Clints. 

“Get in!” He shouts from the open window when you open the door, pressing yourself as close as you can to lock it without getting drenched.

With a frown you stare at him, noting the lack of your father. 

“Come on, get in sweetheart, I’ll drive you home!” He reaches over, unlocking the door and you jump in as fast as you can. You don’t escape the water, despite it only being a few seconds your jacket is soaked, water droplets run down the back of your neck. He turns the heat up full blast and you’re more grateful that you know what to do with. 

“Thanks, what are you doing here?” You rub your hands together in front of the vent, soaking up the warmth. 

“I didn’t want you walking home in this.” His tone is simple, matter of fact. He drives slowly, the windshield wipers are working as hard as they can but the visibility is still trash. 

“Why?” 

“It’s pouring, you shouldn’t have to walk home in this, you shouldn’t have to walk home at all.”

“And why shouldn’t I–”

“Because.” The word comes out in a huff, almost annoyed–no, not annoyed, passionate, “If it were up to me you wouldn’t even need to work.”

Your mouth clamps shut, your mind races. Thoughts swirl as he turns slowly down your street. Heat that has nothing to do with the air blowing through the vents claws at your chest, curls in your gut and trickles to the place between your legs. 

He parks outside your house, dark and lifeless, coming up out of the concrete like a rotten tooth. 

“Why are you saying that?” The car rumbles, the rain pelts against everything. His eyes are hungry when they meet yours and the air in the car, in your lungs is gone. 

“Because you deserve to be spoiled. You deserve to be taken care of and loved–” the words are a tide, a great big wave on the horizon of a barren desert. 

“You definitely shouldn’t have to worry about bills or whether there will be heat in your house, you shouldn’t be taking care of your dad, he should be taking care of you.” A crack spreads through the veneer of the fantasy and clarity comes through. Where you thought he was confessing his feelings for you, it was actually a paternal worry. 

Embarrassment burns so much hotter than desire.

“I’m fine–”

“I know, I know you’re fine but I don’t want you to just be fine. I want you to be happy, I want you to smile.” He frowns, his big hand engulfing yours and it only makes you feel worse, until he pulls you in and presses his mouth to yours. He swallows the gasp, along with an unintentional whimper. His kiss is softer than you'd ever expected, a delicate, plush press of his lips to yours until your arms drift up to slip along his neck. He feeds you a sound of his own, a low, rumbling thing as he deepens the kiss. He tilts his head and slips his tongue past your slightly open mouth, slides along yours, licks deep until you moan.

When he pulls away the world is on its ass, your heart races and your pulse pounds both in your ears and in your cunt. 

-

His jacket thwacks onto the ground of your tiny bedroom. It’s accompanied by your soaked jacket, the discarded items surrounded by tiny pools of rainwater but you couldn’t care any less. His hands squeeze at the meat of your hips, they slide around to the small of your back, press you close to feel the heavy weight of his cock against your hip as he presses you down onto your tiny bed. 

The lust, the want is so intense it drips onto your inner thighs. It clouds any and all thoughts that aren’t about his tongue licking a hot stripe up your neck, or the look on his face when he kneels between your legs, when he sees the glossy lips of your sex, the wet spread of you begging for any part of him. 

His cock barely bobs, it lands like a brand against your cunt when he settles in the cradle of your hips, bracketed by your thighs. His lips engulf a nipple, his tongue swirls mercilessly around the sensitive peak and liquid fire burns clean through you. With a steady suck and a life-altering flick of that tongue he rocks his hips. His cock spreads your seam wide, coating himself in your arousal, the fat tip of it bumping your clit with every push and pull. 

There isn’t enough air, there isn’t enough room in your lungs. 

“So fucking wet for me huh baby?” He nudges at your nipple with his nose, his tongue licking at it again and again before he moves to the other breast. He sounds almost pained as he worships your chest, breathing hard through his nose as you stare in horny silence.

It’s so hard to focus on anything but the all-consuming heat of his mouth on your nipple, or the heavy weight of his cock against your mound but you try to take in the details of him. The scars on his golden skin, the freckles on his shoulders, the size of him on top of you, so broad he blocks the light when he moves up towards your mouth. He’s an eclipse, a dark, welcome shadow across your sky, across your life. Until him, you hadn’t realized how fucking bright everything had been, how blinding, how exposed.

“Gonna take care of you.” He kisses a path up to your neck, leaving both nipples wet and puffy. “Gonna fuck you how you deserved to be fucked, you want that?” He reaches down, pressing himself harder against your clit. 

An inhuman sound comes from somewhere in your throat, the part of your brain that forms words has left the building. 

He laughs, a cocky, self-assured thing. 

“Come on, pretty baby, tell me. You want my dick don’t you? Because I really wanna give it to you, but I gotta hear it. You gonna be my good girl and tell me?” The tip of his dick slides deliciously over your clit and it’s so good you might come just from the stimulation, it’s already building at the base of your spine, spreading through your hips like a warm bath. 

“Oh yeah, she wants me so fucking bad huh? Look at her, all wet, trying to pull me in, greedy little thing.” He moans almost to himself, looking down to watch himself tease you halfway to madness, 

“Please Daddy–” It slips out, unbidden, unmistakable and panic hits like a bucket of cold water. 

His eyes shoot up, silently pinning you to your bed and for a split second, you can almost pinpoint every single drop that hits your window. 

“I–I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I–” You scramble for a second, trying and failing to get out from underneath him. You don’t make it far, his grip tightens, his eyes dilate, a grin spreads across his handsome face. 

“Oh baby, that’s what you need huh? Just a daddy to take care of you. A real one.” His lips drift across your skin as the rain pelts harder, the soft glow of your lamp casts his face in shadows at this angle, the scar on his face looks more pronounced, his normally slicked back hair falls in soft tendrils. Something swells, an emotion you can’t really parse, it lodges itself in the back of your throat. 

“Let me take care of you, baby.” His kiss is gentle, his hands too, hitching your legs high on his hips. You’re wet enough that he slides right in, but the size of him bottoming out inside you makes you gasp out a surprised moan. 

“Holy fuck–” You swallow thickly, breathing deep despite feeling like his dick is in your lungs.

He lets out a deep sigh, licking his lips before he looks down to see himself stretching you open on his length. 

“That’s so fucking pretty, Daddy’s in there nice and deep.” His words send a shock of pleasure through your body, like a lightning strike pulling more and more liquid arousal to seep out around him. He sees it, and smiles big. 

“Oh you like that, you just wanna be my baby don’t you?” 

You want to answer, you want to use your words and pull him apart, make his heart race the way yours does but he pulls his hips back and thrusts in deep and every word falls out of your head, leaks out around his cock, comes out as a breathy pant. 

Your inner thighs burn, sweat beads on your skin and his, the slick rhythmic noise between your legs fills the space between you along with your heavy breaths. Rain pelts outside, lightning flashes, shining a spotlight on the vulgar tableau like a spotlight, like a camera flash for an image you never want to forget. 

He’s so fucking beautiful, so warm against you, so fucking hard inside you. His eyes take in the no doubt cock-dumb expression on your face and there is only desire in his gaze. The rest of the world falls away under the weight of it. One big palm skates up, squeezing at the weight of your breast, his thumb brushes against the sensitive peak before sliding up and pressing gently against the base of your throat. There is no threat, only the comforting feel of him holding you down, the reassuring feel of just how much of your skin his hand can touch at once. It sends a hot lick of desire up your spine. 

“Harder–” You pull him closer, canting your hips up to meet his thrusts, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist, the blunt ends of your nails digging into the hard muscle of his shoulders and he pulls his lip into his mouth at the sound of your voice. 

There is no preamble, no teasing, in a moment he’s up and kneeling between your legs. Those big hands are holding onto your hips tight enough to bruise, thrusting, and pulling you towards him at the same time. Your bed rocks, your breasts bounce, and your brain runs celebratory laps around itself on just how lucky you are to have found this man. 

His face is a frown of concentration, mouth open, dark eyes fixed on the way you leak around him, on the way your hands scramble for purchase on anything they can reach. He grunts, moving one thigh up so your calf rests against his shoulder and the other reaches down to swirl mind-blanking circles at your clit. 

“Oh god–” Your stomach tenses at the threat of pleasure looming, heat spreads and he doesn’t alter his movements, he doesn’t speed up. 

“That’s it baby, come on, you can do it.” He nods at you, his eyes guiding you into the abyss, his thumb in place and it’s almost there, you can taste it. 

“Come on, pretty baby–” He leans forward a little while keeping his rhythm, lining himself up and then he lets a glob of spit fall slowly over the target of his thumb and the thought, the act, the feel of that extra hot slip sends you over the edge. 

Your voice breaks with it. Your body clenches tight as a bowstring, and he only grips tighter, fucks you harder, swirls his wet thumb faster. Your pulse pounds in your ears as you ride out the high, the vulgar sounds between your legs only get louder, more obscene until he pulls out, and tugs at himself in tight, fast movements. The sight of him over you, bathed in shadows and silhouetted by the streetlamp outside, his arm flexing, muscles shining with exertion while he strokes himself above you is enough to reignite that desire in your belly. 

It’s only compounded when he lets out his own unadulterated moans, when he leans forward again and palms your breast, squeezing as he paints you in himself. 

He’s the most relaxed you’ve ever seen him after he comes. That constant tension you’ve come to recognize in his shoulders is gone, the scowl he wears in the video store is replaced with a serene, soft expression as he wipes his cooling come away from your skin after making his way naked and unbothered to your bathroom next door. A shyness creeps in along with the clarity of what you’ve done. Any stress you’ve leached away from him, seeps into your body the longer you lay there, naked and hyper aware of the shift in who he is to you. 

“You okay? I didn’t hurt you did I?” He tosses the damp washcloth into your laundry basket, but lingers beside you, sitting at the edge while you lay there, naked, damp and fidgeting. 

“No, no, not at all.” You take a deep breath, try to smile but he frowns, his warm hand settles softly, lightly on your belly. You can see the way he draws up, shoulders rising with the growing tension. 

“Are you upset that this happened?” There’s something slithering through the tone, through the undercurrent of his question and you can see it clear as day, doubt that you wanted this, doubt that you wanted him. 

“No! No, this was, it was great, really.” Your smile is real, and his eyes are intense, trying to decipher your words and your body language. You rise, shoving down that self-conscious chatter about your body, about the fact that he can see everything. 

“I–Clint, it was really good…I’m just, I’m nervous about what happens now.” Your hand holds his arm, breathing through and ignoring the mean little voice that focuses on his hand on your belly. 

“What do you mean?” His thumb rubs at your skin, frown in place.

“Well, what is this?” You gesture to the two of you, “not to be that girl, but what are we? You’re working with my dad, are we dating? Was this just a one night thing? Are we going to pretend nothing happened–?” Questions spill out, word vomit in his lap like a sick cat. 

“Okay, okay–” His hands land on your arms, sliding up to cup your cheeks and the tension leaves him again, a smile replaces the frown and you mirror the expression back, embarrassed. 

“I am happy with whatever you want. I would prefer this wasn’t a one-time-thing, at this point I don’t even think my dick would get hard for anyone but you, sweetheart.” He pulls you forward softly, but firmly to straddle him. 

“As for your dad,” He lets out an annoyed sigh against your shoulder, pressing a soft kiss there before shaking his head.

“I’ll be honest, I’m not sure he has a future in what I do.” He doesn’t elaborate, doesn’t give you any details and you don’t ask. Your arms wrap around his neck, your fingers thread through the damp hair at the base of his skull. 

“So what happens now?” he pulls you closer, his strong arms make you swoon but you focus. 

“I’d like to keep seeing you. I’d like to take you out on a real date, show you off.” 

“Really?” Your teeth dig into the plump of your lower lip, heat spreads through every inch of you, pooling in the parts of you that are pressed up against the parts of him. 

“Yeah baby, of course, if you’d let me.” His smile is so soft, so sincere it bolsters you enough to pull you forward, his mouth begs for yours and you have no choice but to obey. It’s soft and sweet, and when you pull away your face is warm with the feelings swirling within. 

“I want that too, but–”

“What is it?” His hands stroke your back, soothing, strong, reassuring.

“Can we just keep it to ourselves for a little bit? I don’t want to deal with the drama of my dad. Not just yet.”

“Whatever you want, baby.” 

-

Your dad shoves himself into the kitchen an hour later, shaking himself off like a wet dog. Clint sits at your table, a steaming cup of coffee in his hands and the smile, the pleasant conversation between you is gone and it’s like he’s another person. 

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Your dad speaks to Clint, ignoring you completely, it doesn't phase you. The clench in Clint's jaw though, that makes you smile to yourself. 

“Why? I told you I would come find you.” He frowns, rising and putting his cup into the sink. 

“This isn’t going to work if you aren’t going to listen to me.” He leans against the counter, pointedly staring your father down. Your father crumbles. 

You rise, knowing whatever they have to speak about is none of your business. 

“Thank you for the coffee, sweetheart.” He says it as you walk away, tone cold but you smile anyway. His smell lingers in your room, in your sheets, wraps itself around you as you fall asleep. 

-

Your heart leaps, a staccato, tachycardic thing that would worry you if weren't for the recognizable shape of him entering the video store. He smiles a private smile, hands you another sweet coffee he knows you like from the diner. His fingers linger on yours when you take it from him. He pulls a warm pastry from one of the big pockets in his jacket, and gives it to you with a wink. Your face warms and suddenly, keeping this whole thing a secret seems so stupid. Every molecule of you wants nothing more than to jump over the counter and climb him like a tree, wanting to feel those strong arms wrapped around you. 

Your dad walks in, and the urge dies. The thought of his expression if he saw that is enough to curdle milk. 

“You busy on Thursday?” Clint asks low, uncaring and you shake your head no. “Don’t make plans.” He winks again, and then turns, and leaves you with the sweet taste of coffee in your mouth, wishing it was his tongue instead.

-

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[topazadine]

Things that immediately turn me off a fiction book

I'm pretty picky with what I read, because the time I spend reading is time that I could spend writing. I generally know if I will like a book within the first chapter, and I feel no shame in giving up if I'm not vibing with it.

And no, I don't believe in the "oooh read further it warms up" because does it? Does it really? Do I want to waste time finding out?

Frankly, at this point in life, I read more nonfiction than fiction because there's just so. many. bad. books. that are getting published. Worse than fanfictions.

Anyway, here are the things that make me give up. Maybe hearing this will help you as you write your own masterpiece.

Too Many Proper Nouns

Three characters maximum in the first chapter or two. Do not throw dozens of people at me. I will get confused and give up. Let me get to know the main character, by themself or with a few of their closest companions, before you make me remember everyone else. And go deep with those characters! I want someone to stick with!

You can reference other characters, to create a sense of a deeper world, but do not go all-in on them. Make it clear that they are just there to provide a bit of context, and we don't have to remember them yet. We should only be meeting three characters maximum.

Throwing Us Immediately Into a Dramatic Action Point

This is controversial I know, but I hate when something immediately starts with a battle. I don't care if any of these people live or die. I don't know them. I haven't grown attached to any of them.

Even just a page or two to get to know them first will help. You can have them gearing up for a battle, thinking about what's going to happen, maybe talking to their friends, maybe checking their armor, whatever feels natural for them. But do not just start with stabbing people! I don't care about them yet!

Too Many Details

Many this is just me, but I simply do not care about every piece of armor your character is wearing. I don't need to hear a play-by-play of every single color of every single thing because I don't care. Pick out a few specific things for me to focus on and that's it. Stop overloading me with colors and patterns and armor styles.

Yes, yes, you've done your research on historically accurate gear. That's great. It would be good for a movie. But if I have to look up different armor pieces every five seconds, I am glossing over it and moving on. I don't care. I'm here for the story. If I wanted an infodump about medieval armor, I would simply pick up a nonfiction book (and maybe I will).

White Space Syndrome

Tell me what the overall scene looks like instead of all these hyperspecific details of certain objects, like carts or emblems or whatever. I want to know where I am!!

Don't just say "a forest." Tell me what kind of forest. Tell me if it's a young forest or an old snarly forest or a swampy forest or a cold alpine forest.

Don't just say "a castle." Tell me if it's a bustling castle or a gloomy castle or a rundown castle.

Don't just say "on the sea." Cold sea? Tropical sea? Far far away from land or is land in sight? These are the things I want!

Too Much Backstory

For the love of god do not explain the entire history of this culture in the first chapter. The first chapter is for getting to know the characters we're going to be following. You can introduce those things slowly and carefully as the story unfolds.

I get that fiction writers are delighted by all the worldbuilding (or research, in historical fiction) they have done. But the reader does not care right away. They need to get invested before all those little specifics matter at all. My eyes glaze over and I give up because I don't want to have to remember all of that all at once. It's like you just threw a college textbook at my face.

Plus, if you're doing third-person limited, you have to remember that the character is not going to be thinking all of that! They won't say all of that either! Because they know all of that!

Even a general on the brink of a major battle is not going to go "yes, this all dates back to when we took Iuanfutila back in 181, when the brave Iuanfutilans protested the rule of our Yawwbaawnwhryr leaders ...." They are focused on the present moment, and they may discuss the backstory later. Tell us what we need to know now because that is what the character would be thinking too.

"Oh, but Topazadine, how will the readers understand the context if I don't tell them??"

There's a battle. Two groups are at war. Or something was stolen. Or two people are fighting. Whatever. We understand those things. We can get the basic gist of how things are going to play out by just showing us these things happening. Then, as we have gotten a feel for the characters, you can tell us more about the context.

If you walk into a store that's being held up by an armed robber, do you give a shit about his backstory, or do you only care once that person has been arrested and you have to testify? I think we know the answer. You're not going "ohhh why is he doing this??" at first. You're going "HOLY SHIT THERE'S A GUN WHAT'S GOING TO HAPPEN NOW???" and then you'll care about the other stuff later.

Too Much Play-by-Play

I also do not need a play by play of a fight scene. I need to know the general movements, and then the overall atmosphere. I want to feel what the character feels rather than feel like I'm watching a football game.

Your reader will fill in the gaps if you give them enough information, but when you overload them with every single action, they're now trying to keep track of what went where instead of how this moment is supposed to feel. And now the action and drama has gone out of the writing because it's become a manual of fighting techniques.

Pointless Dumb Conversations

"Oh, could you turn around for me? I want privacy."

"Sure, of course, I'm a respectable man." Manfred knew that a lady-in-waiting would be unsettled by the presence of a strange man, so he wanted to be respectful.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Oh my god no one cares!!! No one!! We don't need this exchange. Cut it. This is stupid. Unless something is actually happening or something is meaningful about them saying this, shut up.

How to Not Write a Horrible First Chapter That Makes People Ragequit

Can you tell I'm mad today? I started and stopped three different books because they were all so bad.

Three characters max in the first chapter, with deep discussion of each. (One or two is better.) General appearance, demeanor, profession, whatever.

Restrain the urge to infodump! Dribble it out over the chapter!

Give the setting more attention than random little details that ultimately do not matter. I don't need to know the pattern of the curtains on the horsecart that's about to be burnt. Don't care.

Do not give a play by play of every single action that a character takes because it's boring and no one cares.

In media res is great but do NOT start with a big climactic intense battle or fight or whatever because we don't know these characters and don't know who to root for (or why we should care).

Your character is not going to give us a history lesson in why this conflict is happening. Do not do it yourself either. Give us just enough to get intrigued and no more. Think how your characters would think and what they would prioritize in discussions.

If a conversation is just pleasantries and has no purpose, drop it, we don't care.

[bad-and-drawn-that-way]

HEAR ME OUT- DUMBIFICATION, DEGRADATION AND PRAISE WITH VOX

THOUGHTS??

I also have a headcanon request that I'll do separately in list form! This is actually a scene from a scrapped multi-chapter fic idea I had for a secretary reader. As to why it was scrapped, I didn't know how to finish it so I ✨gave up! ✨

Ngl this is actually only half of the scene, there's scraps of this whole extra kinky round-two thing with some casual exhibitionism, but we'll see how this does first. That being said, enjoy!

At Your Service [Vox x Secretary Reader] NSFW AS FUCK

(NSFW writing under the cut. Minors stay away <3)

It was an early morning like any other. Vox is sitting at his desk, looking over the paperwork he had from yesterday. It’s far too early and his bougie oversized office offered little comfort as you sleepily walked in. Hearing the door open, Vox looked up and smirked as he noticed the coffee in your hand.

"Good morning." he greeted you, motioning to a chair for you to take a seat.

"Morning," you smile a bit tiredly as you enter the room. You were never much of a morning person. Once the initial adrenaline of stepping out of your house had burned out, you needed the extra caffeine boost to keep your energy going.

A yawn slipped past your lips as you sat in the chair across from his desk.

"Wimp," Vox chuckled, poking fun at your inability to start a morning as early as him. It had become a regular topic of banter that started most of your work mornings together.

"Capitalist cocksucker," you wave him off. "Not everyone can be up at the ass crack of dawn in a freshly pressed suit, Sir. A few more sips of this stuff and I'll be good to go." You say as you lift your coffee to your lips.

You hum and lick some foam off your lip as you pull out your laptop. "Any changes to today's agenda I need to know about?" you ask him.

Vox smirked, rolling his eyes as he pulled up one of the hundreds of tabs he had open on his computer. "I can tell you're still a bit tired, but if you're sure... " he paused for a moment, glancing over his schedule."Yes, actually. There has been a small change to the overall plan. We're going to be running a new campaign today, so I'll need you to be ready to assist with that."

"What would you like me to oversee?

"I want you to be over on the promotion side for this new campaign," he said as he looked up from his paperwork. "Make sure that we get maximum visibility on this. The security system may have been a spur-of-the-moment idea, but it could bring in huge fucking numbers if we pull it off. I want as many people as possible to know about it and twice as many sales as views minimum.”

You nod, take notes, and start writing an email draft to get meetings scheduled. "Do you want the visual hypnosis team to work on the campaign or the auditory team?" It was common knowledge that Vox had hypnotic abilities, but it was less common to know how it had been incorporated throughout his entire company. Inductions were slipped into nearly every advertisement, program, and product that the company made.

"Have both of the hypnosis teams work on it," he answered. "We'll have the visual team focus primarily on the advertising for the campaign, and the audial team will work on creating the sounds and audio to slip in. We want this to be a very effective campaign, so the more hypnotic technology we can put into work, the better."

You stop typing, looking up at him incredulously. “Are you sure? The last time we doubled down on inductions we had to do that whole cover story to explain why half of hell turned into braindead zombies for a week.”

“It’ll be fine,” Vox waved off your concerns. “That was years ago and we’re better at this shit now. We can always blame it on Alastor somehow if shit goes wrong.”

You nod along, "If you’re sure. I've personally been incredibly susceptible to the combination, so forgive me if I don’t watch any of your programs for the next month," you say idly without thinking.

You didn’t notice as Vox paused. You didn’t notice the toothy grin that could have prepared you for what was to come either. "How susceptible were you previously to hypnosis?"

You nod along, not listening to his question as you finish sending the email to the hypnosis teams. Your brain catches up with you as you hit send and you freeze like a deer in the headlights. The look on your flushed face was priceless and Vox would have burst out laughing if he wasn’t so invested in hearing your answer. "I, uh.." you look away from him, "I was focused and said too much out loud. You weren't supposed to hear that."

His eyes were still on you, a clear look of curiosity flashing across his expression.

"You're right, I wasn't supposed to hear that,” He grinned. “But you said it and you’re not getting out of this that easily. You said that you are quite susceptible?"

You cringe, knowing you couldn't dodge a direct question from your boss. Even if he was an ass and an absolute man-child. "I..." you bite your lip curling in on yourself and crossing your legs as you take a sudden great interest in your laptop. "Yeah, I may have... experimented a bit."

His eyebrows raised, and he leaned slightly over to get a better look at you.

"Experiments?" he spoke softly. "What type of experiments?"

You sputter, your entire body flushing as you stammer out a panicked reply, "I, ah, um.. don't know if that would be a-appropriate to um.."

He chuckled slightly, now seeming rather amused by your reaction. "I assure you, I've heard much worse than whatever you may be worried about telling me."

"E-even so," you try to reason. "It's embarrassing. It's one thing to do it, it's another to tell your boss about it."

His eyebrows raised further. "You've done hypnotic experiments on yourself, and you're embarrassed to tell me about it?” He chuckles and rests his screen on his hand. “Yeah, no. You’re not getting out of this. What exactly did you do?"

You stare at him, before sighing and opening up a blank document. It was too mortifying to say out loud. He may have the power to squeeze the information out of you for his entertainment, but you’d be damned if you gave him the satisfaction of saying it out loud. You silently type up that you've tried being hypnotized both sober and when high and how you had done free-use edging with a group while high and hypnotized. Without a word you turn the laptop around so he can read it, your face on fire as you look anywhere but at him.

He had been expecting something a bit more tame, but now he was intrigued. It seemed that you had quite the mind on you to explore such risky topics. When he finished reading it, he raised his eyebrows even further, seemingly somewhat impressed.

"Well, I'll be damned," he commented. "That's not what I expected... What made you wanna try such things?"

"I like the feeling of it," you muttered as you turned the laptop around and promptly deleted the damning text.

His eyebrows raised a bit, intrigued. "You like the feeling of being hypnotized? You like letting someone else be in control of you?"

You pressed your lips together, blushing hard as he asked his question.

"Is that a yes then?" he inquired, his grin growing as the pixels under his mouth went dead. "You don't want to give me a straight answer, but the way you're stuttering and blushing makes it pretty clear that you do."

"S-Shut up," you bite back at his call-out as you finally look back at him.

Vox laughs as he just keeps winning the game he’d caught you in. "I think I hit the nail on the head, didn't I?"

"Y-Yes, sir." You say, cringing as you realize that sounded completely different given the topic compared to when you usually called him that during work hours.

He chuckled again, finding your response more than a bit amusing. "Well then, I take it that you have no issues with me being in complete control over you, then?"

You would combust into flames if you could. Your legs clenched together as you took in his question. You looked down at your laptop, stammering as you felt yourself quickly slipping into his grasp. "T-The campaign-"

"Yes, yes, yes," he interrupts you, seeming rather amused by this. "We'll talk about the campaign after that. I'm more interested in how much control you're willing to give up to me right here and now."

"I..." you pause, staring down at your hands clenched on top of your laptop. Were you really about to do this? Fuck it.

You look up at him and nod.

A grin appeared on his face as you nodded, even more amused now that this little bit was going exactly the way he had hoped. The two of you had flirted here and there, but never anything more than the occasional passing comment. If anything, it had just been a part of the playful and teasing game you’d be playing together for the past few months with you as his assistant.

He had no idea if you had ever truly noticed his advances or the way he’d stare at your ass in that pencil skirt you always wore during meeting days. But now he had the chance to unravel every last secret that’d been out of reach. Vox was nothing if not an opportunist.

"Good girl," he said softly. "Are you ready for me to control you now?"

You stand, going to place your phone and laptop on a nearby table. You stop and take a shaky breath, smoothing out your pencil skirt. You turn and walk back to him, this time hesitating instead of simply sitting in the chair across from his desk.

"Yes."

He smiles at your obedience and hesitation, noting the way that you smoothed down your skirt. You had already given up quite a lot of control to him, and it seemed that it was just going to be even easier from this point on.

"Then come here," he said softly, motioning for you to do so.

Your heart was pounding hard in your chest and you felt how hot your cheeks were as you stepped forward and moved to stand before him. His attention had been on every part of you, taking in every inch of you. He didn’t have to sneak in glances like before, he could just take it all in on his own time. He was enjoying the way that he seemed to be able to control you with a seemingly simple command. And to think he’d barely lifted a finger.

His eyes moved downwards as you stood in front of him, and his expression became a bit more serious than mere amusement.

"Let your skirt fall to your ankles," he instructed.

You practically shivered at the command, screaming internally at how embarrassed you felt and yet squirming at how just a short command from him was enough to send sparks through your body.

Your face flushed as you slowly undid the zipper on the side of your hip, taking a sharp breath before letting the fabric fall to the floor. You hugged yourself as you looked to the side, stepping out of your skirt and standing half-exposed in front of him.

He couldn't help but smirk as you did exactly as he commanded. Your legs were now exposed, and he noted how they were quivering slightly.

"Good girl," he smirked. "Now, let's step this up."

"But you’re still wearing too much. Let’s move on to your top next, shall we?" he suggested with a spark of playful amusement.

Oh god, was he really going to make you do this? It would have been one thing if he had been the one undressing you, but the fact he was making you do it for him like this was going to be the double death of you. You shakily undo the buttons of your blouse, trying to keep your heart rate under control as you pull it over your head and let it fall to the floor by your skirt.

You look at Vox, hoping he’d finally have some mercy and touch you himself, but he only lazily drags his gaze over your body with a hum of approval. "And finally?"

You were only left in your bra, underwear, sheer black thigh-high tights, and your heels. You felt incredibly vulnerable in his large office. Anyone could come in through the door and the windows that overlooked the city suddenly felt far more exposing than they ever had before.

You could see the spark of excitement begin to rise in him as you bit your lip and paused. Your hesitation was only making this a bit more exciting for him. He could hardly keep up the playful mask when his claws were threatening to tear into the armrest of his chair.

"Go on... " he said softly and slowly, his voice now beginning to become a bit huskier.

You took another shaky breath as you slowly reached back to unclasp your bra. You shook just knowing he was looking at you. That he was pursuing this. It made you hyper-aware in every way as you tossed the garment to the side and then finally stepped out of your underwear.

His gaze on your body was intense once more, seeming to take in every inch of you. He could not stop himself from being intrigued by your body and by just how vulnerable you were right now.

Your shaking was making it even more enticing to him. "Good girl," he said softly. You move to undo the garter and roll down your tights, when he stops you. Leave those. They’re perfect.” The dead pixels under his mouth might as well have been drool with the way his eyes hungrily took in the sight of the tights pressing into your skin so perfectly. 

“Are you ready to move on to the last step?"

You take a deep breath before lowering to your knees in front of him and nodding. You'd never done anything like this with a single person, finding it so much easier in a group. His lone, laser focus on you made you feel every twitch and spark and overwhelmed you in the best of ways.

"Yes, Sir."

He looked down at you once more, this time taking in all of your body as you were now kneeling, your hands resting on his chair.

"Now..." he said quietly as he reached down in a rare moment of tenderness as he lifted your chin. "I want to ask you a very simple question, but you must answer honestly. Do you enjoy this? Do you enjoy giving up your control to me?"

The smallest moan slips past your lips without your permission. Despite your embarrassment, you answer truthfully. “Yes. I love it a lot, actually.."

He smirked at the moan and the truth in your words. You were enjoying this... he could tell. You truly loved giving up your control to him. And he loved taking it.

"Good girl," he said with a soft chuckle at your veracity. "Very, very good girl. You enjoy letting me take c̶o̸m̶p̴l̶e̵t̵e̵ control of you, don't you?"

You take a deep breath, feeling your body relax a bit as you feel a bit of yourself give into him as you finally gather the nerve to look him in the eye. "Yes, Sir."

His expression seemed to shift a bit as you gave in even more. His amusement was more apparent now, as he now had you exactly where he wanted you.

"I love that you enjoy this so much," he said softly. "Does it make it more fun for you to know that you are pleasing me?"

You nod, shifting on your knees. "It does," you say earnestly. "Your approval isn't something easy to earn."

The slight shift you made was enough to cause him to smirk once more. Every time you moved, he would find something new about you that appealed to him.

"I approve of this tremendously," he grinned. "It is obvious that you enjoy giving up your control over me and letting me take control of you. It is clear that you enjoy giving me pleasure."

You let out a hot breath, your eyes darting down to between his legs as he mentioned giving him pleasure. You weren’t subtle about it either. Vox chuckled, amused more now than any other time during the interactions you two have had so far. You whine, your fists clenching where they rested on top of your thighs. Your chest shifted with every movement as you waited for his instruction.

"So eager," he breathed. He reached down and tucked your hair behind your ear as he committed the view to memory. "Go on, then,” he purred. “Show me what you’re willing to do for this.”

"I'm happy to give you a demonstration," you say to him with a smirk. Vox chuckled, happy to see some of your usual sass seep into the moment. He just knew you had a bratty side to you. The duality of how eager you seemed to submit and that bit of knowledge filled him with anticipation for all the different sides of you he wanted to see.

You scoot forward and reach for the zipper of his slacks. You chuckle as his breath hitches when you slowly pull down. He moans softly as your hand only continues following a path down as you palm him slowly over his slacks. There was already a bulge formed there that made you twitch with delight.

Looking up, you see Vox watching you with wide eyes. The smirk on his face only grew larger as you slowly pulled down his slacks and boxers You could feel the heat of his gaze on you, his breath becoming more and more audible with every slow movement.

You hum with pleasure as you focus your attention on his half-hard cock in your hand. It was easier to let go and forget your insecurities when you had him in front of you like this. For as much as you’d fantasized about him, you had never dared to dream you’d find yourself in this situation with him. You lean down and use your hand to slowly pump him before you lock eyes with him and lick a trail across the underside of his cock.

“F̷̮͛u̷̞͗c̵̹̈́k̸̝̎i̷̝͝n̶̗̎g̷̭͒ hell,” Vox swore, his grip on his chair tightening. His breath got increasingly more audible, his throat hoarse from his attempts at restraining any noise he might make. He’d been dreaming of this for far too long. He had you pegged all wrong. He always thought you were innocent. Flirty, but he couldn’t truly imagine you’d have a side like this. You always seemed too pure despite your sass. How happy was he, to be proven wrong.

"Good girl," Vox huskily breathed as his fingers tangled in your hair.

You lower down to press a kiss to the head of his cock. He hissed as you sucked lightly and collected his pre-cum on your tongue. You let your tongue loll out for a moment to show him before you lower yourself and take him in your mouth. Your tongue swirls around the tip of him and your fingers dig into his thighs as you bob your head shallowly. You tease him with subtle motions before you start to take his length down your throat in earnest.

Every movement you made only increased the heat of the situation exponentially and Vox found his cool demeanor quickly fading as he panted above you. “F̷̰͠u̵͕̅c̵̠̓k̸̞͊i̵̢͊n̵͓̅g̷̤̃ ̶̠̋ḫ̵̑e̵̩̾l̶̦͋l̶̩͆,” he gasped as your tongue lapped at the base of his cock. How the fuck were you doing that when he was jammed past your non-existent gag reflex? 

You hummed around him, your eyes watering as you choked on him. He could see the mirth in your eyes and he knew you’d be teasing him with a snarky remark if you weren’t too busy drooling on his dick like a goddamn champ.

Vox lets out a stuttering breath. As hot as it was, he wasn’t going to let you just get away with keeping your attitude intact. Out of selfish pleasure, he let you continue your ministrations for a moment longer before his fingers tugged at your hair, bringing your attention back to him.

You let him pull you off of his member, your tongue hanging out as you catch your breath and smile dumbly at him. His expression remained very much one of satisfaction and admiration as he observed you. That dumbly, innocent smile of yours was rather endearing to him, as it went hand in hand with the way you were acting.

"You really are quite the little showstopper, aren’t you?" he said quietly as he took in your porn-quality face. He idly wondered how the hell you ended up working for him and not Valentino. He was not about to complain about the unexpected victory.

You hummed happily, letting yourself go more for him. It was such a stark contrast to how tense you were when you were working. He'd never seen this side of you before and he hadn't even hypnotized you yet.

He had now realized just why you got so tense when he approached you with that offer. You enjoyed this in such a way that it was almost intoxicating, that it was almost addictive. It was a stark contrast to the version of you he knew that strived for greatness and top results at all times. You must have been so wound up from it all that you just whiplashed into the complete opposite frame of mind to release.

If you were already like this in front of him, then what would you be like after he had you completely under his control?

You nod, smirking as some drool fell to your chest from when you had your mouth on him moments ago.” What can I say?” you say teasingly. “Oral fixations keep a girl eager.”

Vox grinned with the look of a hungry predator as his eyes roamed all over you. Every god damned inch.

“You actually want this, don’t you?” He chuckled. “You want me to turn you into a brain-dead d̶͈͊ȍ̴̪l̵̺͊ḽ̸̏.”

"Please," you whisper as you look up at him with pleading eyes.

You could see the hunger within his eyes as you said that single fucking word. It didn’t take lifting a single finger for you to desperately plead for his control. You’d been wanting this just as bad as he had. The whole goddamned time. Vox buried his face in his hands and you looked at him with concern. You couldn’t see the way he grinned or feel how his body trembled slightly. You could only gasp as your vision was filled with black and red spirals when he lowered his hands and looked at you with a wicked grin.

You sit back on your knees, your eyelids growing heavy as your mouth falls open. Your body felt like it was floating and it was enough to make you feel like you were high. The hypnotic effect of his demonic abilities was how he'd reached the powerful position of an overlord. Even if you hadn't been so susceptible, you would have been powerless under his gaze as a normal person. 

Any hypnosis you’d experienced before took many sessions of induction. It took a bond, trust, and a lot of mental bandwidth to be so vulnerable. But Vox could just drop you at a whim. And the pull of his tide dragging you under was stronger than anything you’d ever succumbed to before.

You were blissfully unaware as Vox’s expression shifted into feral joy. Your submission. This control. It was all his for the taking. You were giving him everything he’d ever craved and he could already tell that once he properly tasted this power, he’d never want to let go. He’d become an addict, for sure.

Your mind and body felt like they were floating. All you could see was Vox as your empty and needy self waited for his command. Your body felt almost weightless now, every sense and thought centered solely on him. His commands were all that you cared about now, his desires were now like law to you, and your body, empty as it was, only had one desire.

"I want you to do as I ask without question, do you understand?" he asked, his voice shaking with delight and raw hunger.

"Yes," you sigh, your every breath feeling heavy as you’re pulled deeper under his spell.

He had already gotten you to admit you were a submissive slut and he already got you to strip for him. All before he had even used his power on you. Now? Now, he could make you do or tell him anything he wanted. You were his.

"Good girl," he grinned. "I want you to stand up and walk over to that door over there," he said, pointing to one of the nearby doors to the room. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir," you say calmly. Whereas before your embarrassment left you feeling exposed, you now felt relaxed and light. Your embarrassment and insecurities didn’t exist under Vox’s control. There was only the need to satisfy him and be blessed with ecstasy in return.

You walked over to the door in nothing but your sheer thigh-high tights and heels. You place both of your hands on the door and stand with your hips out, waiting for Vox.

Vox glitched hard and admired the way that you followed these commands so easily. This was his. He found himself growing more addicted and possessive by the second. His mind was already buzzing with all the ways he could mold you to his every need and desire. He’d never felt so in control of another person like this and it satiated a dark craving in him.

"Now, I want you to take off those tights and throw them over to me."

You bend over in front of him, fully exposed, yet carefree as you peel off your tights and hand them to him with a relaxed look on your face. Vox sparked again as he got a full view of your need for him. Once your tights were off, you handed them over to him calmly.  All you could think about was pleasing him and satisfying him. Your anxiety and self-conscious tendencies were washed away.

Vox ordered you to put your hands behind your back. He grinned and tied your wrists together with one of the stockings. He snatched your underwear from the forgotten bundle of clothing by his desk and made you open your mouth for him. He stuffed them in and used the other stocking to tie around your mouth. 

Now that you were completely bound, your mind was completely free to focus on the feelings and sensations you were experiencing. He dropped the hypnotic spell on you and you gasped into your gag as your mind cleared and he pushed you forward so your face and tits were flush against the door. You shuddered hard and let out a broken moan as his palm rubbed against your leaking cunt.

Vox grinned and leaned down to speak by your ear as he slid his fingers in. “You have n̷͙̈o̷̹̎ idea how much I can’t wait to fucking d̷̲͆e̶̗͘s̴̳̈t̸͚̆r̷͎͒o̸͙͊ỹ̸̝ ̸̞̉y̷̰̓ǒ̵̦u̵̬͂.”

Your gasps and moans were muffled by the fabric in your mouth and you pushed against him as he roughly played with you. His hand slammed your head against the door and held you in place as his fingers curled and scissored inside of your sloppy heat. Tears pricked your eyes as your heart and mind raced. You were completely vulnerable to him, but now your embarrassment was rearing his head at the worst (b̴̼̊è̶͔s̶͜͝t̶̹̽) possible moment. 

The chance that there could be anyone on the other side of the door had you thrashing desperately against Vox’s ministrations. Vox delighted in your internal struggle and couldn’t help himself as his claws dug into the back of your hair so he could pull you back hard. “I’m going to make sure e̶͖͌v̷̞͐e̶͈̽r̶̡̂y̸̨͊o̵̤̚n̴̦̈́e̴̥͌ ̵͜��k̵̜̔n̷̝̈́ǒ̷̮w̷͎̅s̸͓̈́ who̸̩͂ ̶͔̀y̸͎̐ő̸̳u̸̗͊ ̶̞̏f̶͎̔u̷̠̅ć̵͈k̶͙̚i̴̜̿n̸̘͐g̷̨̿ ̸͔̌ belong to,” he growled as he lifted one of your legs and slipped himself inside of you.

Your eyes rolled back and you screamed into your gag as he slipped in and out of you with ease. He’d been so hard from the build-up of it all and you were literally dripping for him by this point. Vox growled and lost control as he picked up the pace of his actions, moving you around to different areas of the office and fucking you in as many positions as possible. He wanted you exposed. He wanted you defenseless. He wanted you marked in the blood and bruises of his ownership. He wanted to ḋ̴̥ó̶̰m̵̯̕i̷̗͗n̴͈̽a̵̱̒t̶̤̎ȇ̸͚ you. And he would.

Neither of you could keep track of the amount of times you’d come. Your mixed desire was dripping from your cunt as he’d buried himself deep inside of you every time one of you peaked. This was all he wanted. That was all you wanted. No more thinking, no more emotions, just the sheer fucking pleasure.

Your eyes rolled back into your head as you cried from how good he made you feel. He knew how to unravel you into nothing more than a babbling mess with every clever touch and command. It was becoming too much and yet you felt like you wanted more of it. You were overwhelmed as you felt yourself quickly approaching an orgasm.

“That’s it,” Vox growled as he fucked you against his desk. He chuckled darkly as he smacked your ass. “Fucking do it, c̴͖͆o̵͕͋m̷̟̉ẽ̵̞.”

You threw your head back and screamed as your entire body convulsed around him. You couldn't do anything but take his relentless thrusts as he pounded you into the desk. Vox growled, nearly on the verge of cumming himself when he suddenly rips himself off of you. You let out a muffled sob as you clench around nothing.

Your entire world is suddenly filled with bright blue electricity as you feel everything shift suddenly. You almost fall, but are caught by Vox’s hands. You squint as your eyes adjust to the sudden change of lighting and Vox undoes the gag around your mouth as you realize you’re now in his surveillance room. 

Your eyes go wide and you gasp and you see yourself on the monitors with Vox crouched over you. Every screen was showing a live feed of you from several different angles, showing how vulnerable you were in this situation. The footage of you was quite an entertaining sight for Vox as his wires came out of nowhere and threw you onto his chair.

"V-Vox,” you gasp as you look up at him with wide eyes. The overlord’s grin stretches wide as he grabs onto your shaking legs.

It was the first time you'd actually used his name.

At work, you were professional. In his office, you were playful. However now that he had you in his lair, he would mark a new side of you… Here, you were your true self, fully and utterly submissive. Here was his favorite.

You couldn't help but moan shamelessly as he lifted you with his cables and sat in the chair beneath you. You threw your head back with a scream as he dropped you onto his cock and turned the chair so you had an eyeful of each and every monitor with your shameful display recorded. 

You moan as you bounce yourself on him, meeting every one of his feral thrusts. Your mind was completely gone. Every grunt and growl that slipped from his lips only fueled your need. The marks on your hips and back from where his sharp nails clawed in burned just as deliciously as the stretch of him inside you.

Pain and pleasure all in one were now filling your mind. His grunts and growls were becoming louder, as were yours. You couldn't control it. This situation was pushing you further and further toward the edge.

You leaned into him, gasping as he made you lose your mind.

"P-please." You begged.

"Beg for it," he said growled, "Beg f̸̼̑ó̶̙r̴̠̀ ̵̫́m̴̡̾è̸̼."

You moan low as you desperately plead with him. "Please Vox, plus fucking break me! Please please please, Sir, please I'll be good. I'll do anything, please, Sir, fucking please!"

"You'll do anything for me," he said, with a grin on his face as he saw you getting more desperate with your plea. The red recording symbol on all of the screens wasn’t enough to make you see the incoming danger. You were too overwhelmed with the pleasure quaking through your body as Vox pumped into your sloppy cunt.

Your entire body shook hard as his movements suddenly stopped. A long whine of frustration and the roll of your hips made Vox grin. You were so desperate for him in the moment, you didn't notice the gravity of the position you were in.

"Fucking please don’t stop, I'll do anything Vox, please," you begged as you desperately rutted against him.

"I'm going to give you exactly what you want," he grinned as he whispered in your ear. "If you do everything I say from now on, then I'll give you everything you want. Sound like a deal?"

You sob, nodding rapidly against him. "Fuck, please, yes! It's a deal, so please!"

Vox suddenly thrusts up into you hard, making you scream as the room flashes with electricity. The deal was made and the pact was sealed.

"Good girl," he said quietly and calmly, as he pet your hair.

His grin was downright sinister as he pulled your head back.

"You're mine now."

Your eyes went wide as you realized the gravity of what you had just done in the heat of the moment. "Wait, I-" you gasp as you're cut off as Vox starts to mercilessly pound into your heat.

"I heard what you said," he grins as his claws dig into your hips and draw blood. "I heard it a̸̩̎l̴͚͗l̷̖̓.. And I'm going to hold you to e̵̻̐v̶͎͌é̵͉r̶͕͊y̷̳̍ word of that agreement."

If you thought Vox was rough before, it was nothing compared to how he used you now. He tossed you around like a toy and you sobbed as he broke you.

Your eyes were crossed as you screamed and took everything he had to give you. "Vox, Vox, Sir, fucking please!" You babbled, practically worshipping how he destroyed you now that he owned your soul. It was too good to care about the consequences. It was too much. All you could think of was how badly you needed him.

Your screams and moans were now all he could hear as you completely lost it. He was using everything that he could to break you and he seemed to enjoy every second of it. He was doing you dirty, but it was also exactly what you desired. All you wanted now was his approval, as he completely controlled and dominated you in body and spirit.

[marioposssa]

'My dear' - a small continuation in numbers and pictures.

As I mentioned in my first post on temeraire statistics, Laurence pet name for Temeraire is consistently 'my dear', (with one exception of 'dear heart' in ToJ). And now, that my temeraire statistics tool(TM) is at a point where I am reasonably satisfied, I wanted to take a short look back across all books to paint a more complete picture over the usage of this pet name across all books.

Since this got a bit longer again, let's start with the overall numbers.

HMD: 22

ToJ: 9 (+ 1)

BPW: 11

EoI: 12

VoE: 3

ToS: 31

CoG: 10

BoT: 5

LoD: 16

or as a picture:

A more detailed write-up (and some more pictures) is under the cut

Let's start from the bottom of the high score.

The book where Laurence least uses the sobriquet is 'Victory of Eagles' with just 3 mentions and all of them heartbreaking.

The very first declaration of 'my dear' takes place when Laurence finally reunites with Temeraire after the other has believed him dead and the second follows soon after, two chapters later.

And then Laurence despairs over his role in Napoleons invasion of Britain and he mostly ceases to use non-formal modes of address altogether. Only after having overcome most of his immediate guilt at the very end of the book, when he reads to Temeraire out of the Principia Mathematica on their transport to australia, does he use the pet name again.

The usage curve over all books makes it look like this (some very sad peaks):

The second least mentions are in 'Blood of Tyrants' with 5 mentions overall. All of them appear only after Laurence gets his memories back at the end of chapter 14.

Unfortunately the book denies us a scene with Laurence and Temeraire reuniting after this event (where I would expect at least one my dear to have been uttered), but we see Laurence using the pet name again starting when Temeraire takes his leave from Mei and they travel on to russia.

On the other end of the scale we have 'His Majestys' Dragon' with 22 my dears and 'Tongues of Serpents' with a whooping 31! scenes where Laurence calls Temeraire by his pet name.

I already wrote in more detail on pet names in HMD, so I was initially very surprised by this result, as I had expected HMD to win overall. Why? Well, His Majestys Dragon is the book which introduces and defines Laurence and Temeraires' relationship, and while their bond is being tested in the other books as well, I would argue that most challenges are already played out in smaller but similar scenarios in HMD: Dayes' attempt at the captaincy vs Yong Shins 'seduction' of Temeraire in Throne of Jade; Temeraire coming to grasps with Choiseuls' execution vs Laurence death sentence in Victory of Eagles; Laurence coming to love Temeraire across the book vs Laurence coming to love Temeraire over the course of his amnesia in Blood of Tyrants.

Given this, it would have made sense that the first book also featured the most explixit verbal assurances of their bond through dialogue.

But on second look Tongues of Serpents is the book where the pair get fully taken out of the war for the first time.

Laurence has time to reflect on what retirement and a life outside of the corps looks like and, maybe most importantly, considers that Temeraire is part of the retirement deal as well. I would argue that Laurence adjusts his outlook accordingly well and finds a peace in this situation that is much a better mirror for what we see of their life at the end of League of Dragons than the mere acceptance of giving up his ideas of marriage and life with Edith in HMD. The pavilion and Australia is also specifically mentioned in their last scene in League of Dragons as well and is reoccurring reference when Laurence thinks about life after the war. So in conclusion, maybe Tongues of Serpents is the most domestic of the books?

Here's how the two books compare across chapters:

Looks pretty equal to me over all actually. *Tongues of Serpents * gets a few higher counts overall and also shows 6 counts in Chapter 7 alone, the chapter where the hunt for the stolen egg begins and the search groups starts their descend into the australian outback.

On a side note, we also see one other characteristic statistics thing here in the chart that you get with per book comparisions: books generally do not have an equal number of chapters. If we wanted to be more accurate we might want to account for the chapter amount , or even over all word lenght, factor of each book. I am not adding it here, because this is non-serious fun only statistics - and I haven't implemented that nice feature in the tool yet and am too tired to do it manually for all 9 books.

Overall Laurence calls Temeraire 'my dear' a grand total of 119 times over all books. If the two are not separated in the course of action - such as kidnapped, stranded, fighting for their lives against mobs or assassins, dealing with amnesia, clandestinely duelling for their honour or garnering the approval and ire of their fellow dragon or human- then Laurence does not sway from calling Temeraire 'my dear' alongside 'Temeraire'.

He starts using the sobriquet in the third chapter of His Majesty's Dragon, right after Temeraire rejects Dayes as substitute captain, and keeps using it until the very last mention in the very last dialog at the end of the final book, if that isn't devotion in bookends.

Finally, I'll leave you with this overview over all datapoints across all books:

[fuzzybirdie]

Hero Of Changing Faces

Ch.3 pt 2

Looking arround, even if everyone got out of the way of the blast, the tracks would likely fall on everyone after. Danny was running on instinct when he grabbed Biker who was furthest away and threw him into Actual Bat. He then started growing an ice shield arround everyone.

The thing about his core's abilities is that they're way stronger than his basic abilities. Yes, he could make an ectoplasam shield more quickly, but that would break on impact. His ice was more tiring, and he would have to let go of the ice on the ride, but it wouldn't break unless he let it.

The shield was paper thin at first, but then he let go of the ride and it grew to arround an inch before the blast.

The girl in overalls hugged a guy(?) In a studded leather jacket as he(?) yelped at the sound. The mother hugged her kids as they stared up in amazement, and the gentleman just watched him appraisingly.

The rails feel through the flames with a loud creak and clang. They bounced off the ice and tore into the ground.

Only once the flames died and metal stilled did danny release the ice. Three other people were running up to them. One dressed in black and blue, one covered in primary colours, and the daylight one, Signal.

As the shield lowered, the gentleman thanked both him and the bats, "I'm sorry, but i need to find my family"

"That's fine," Actually Stealthy (the one in black and blue) said "Spoiler will be at the gate, she'll help you find them, Mr. Wayne" The gentleman nodded and ran off.

The rest of the bats wasted no time getting everyone evacuated and checked for injuries. Another person who looked like a bat showed up soon after to help.

"So, you're a Meta?" Colourblind Test asked.

"What's a Meta?" Danny immediately shot back, as everyone in earshot winced for some reason.

Colourblind Test squinted at him and opened his mouth to say something before Big Bat inturupted. "Of course," he grunted, "there are no Metas in Gotham," before nodding at Danny and stalking off.

Signal sighed and hopped over. "Sorry about Batman "(His name was actually Batman??)" and Robin. The whole No Metas In Gotham rule is more to warn aginst going out thinking you're invincible then getting hurt."

Robin (apparently) aborted his angry squawk halfway through and stalked off to Nightwing.

"All well and good, but that still doesn't answer what a Meta is."

Signal stopped short of his next sentence and gaped like a fish at him for a few moments. "Are you serious?" He ended up choking out.

Danny nodded and gestured for Signal to continue.

"Right! Ok then, Well, I'm... a Meta"

A blank stare

"Right, doesn't help. So, a Meta is anyone with extraordinary abilities. Usually humans who've been through some sort of life-or-death situation, or exposed to some sort of compound that releases latent abilities. A prime example of the latter there would be the Flash family, or Poison Ivy."

Danny was to busy thinking about how perfect of a cover this was to think of how he knew exactly none of those names."Alright, cool cool. I need to tell my parents. And my sister... Oh Ancients, everyone nearly just died."

Signal nodded as if he were waiting for that fact to hit. "Come on, I'll help explain it to your family, and get you checked for shock." Danny nodded, so exhausted enough to forget his hair was still all snowy.

~~~~~~

first / prev / next

masterpost

So! Who noticed the cameo beforehand! I wouldn'tv'e! (Edit, i actually didn't realise he was there at first. Wrote the first chapter and was just 'who is that?' Then i started ch.2 and was like 'Bruce Wayne?!?!?')

I should also note how I'm gonna use names before the next arc starts.

The name I use while writing will be determined by the name most characters will be using for them in the scene. Like how Duke was refered to as 'Duke' until he put the Signal suit on. Then he was 'Signal'.

This is important because for reasons to be explained, Danny has 9 of them.

[gwenllian-in-the-abbey]

Not fluent in English. 

Please tell me I’m not the the only who noticed that team green characters in the show aren’t allowed to hate team black characters. 

Like Aemond can’t even hate Lucerys for cutting his eye and disabled him for life. 

And Alicent can’t hate Viserys for marrying and gr*ping her and forcing pregnancies on her, even though he have no intention to name any of their sons his heir, and treating her mostly like a caretaker and concubine rather than his lawful wife and the mother of his legitimate children. 

Aegon and Helaena aren’t even allowed to hate Daemon the man who ordered the death of their Son.

Like why??? Why aren’t they allowed to hate them???

Hi aleksandra! You make a good point! I think there are a few things going on here.

For one, I think the writing is incredibly inconsistent across the board this season, and there are a lot of dropped plot threads. Some of it is intentional (like, I do think B&C was deliberately downplayed and undermined so that Alicent could have that Dragonstone scene, more on that in a bit), some of it I think is just bad writing and a kind of ... well, look, I can't speculate as to what goes down in the writer's room and have no idea what their workflow looks like or what processes they follow, but a problem going back to S1 is that characters and dialogue vary a lot from episode to episode. I don't think it's all that normal for a fandom to be concerned ahead of time about which writers will be writing which scenes and which episodes, but with HotD there seem to be huge differences in how each writer interprets the characters. Having worked on OFCIR collaboratively with @aifsaath, we work really hard to make sure the chapters are relatively consistent. I gave our first few chapters to my critique partner for original fiction, a guy who knows my writing inside and out, someone I've worked with for about 6 years now, @theravenpiper, and he could not actually tell which scenes were written by me, and which were written by Aife, which I took as a big complement to our collaborative process, and to our ability to edit to a uniform standard. Now I'm not saying we do it better than the HotD writers, but I do think that there is something missing from their collaborative process that makes the entire thing seem disjointed.

I do not think it is entirely that the whole of team green is not allowed to be angry at team black, although that is part of it, some of it is part of an overall bigger problem where major events are not allowed to resonate across the story, and I chalk some of it up to simple bad writing. Rhaenyra is apparently over Luke's death enough by E3 that she can seek out Alicent for some kind of vague "let's stop this madness" ploy, but still conveniently needs "a son for a son" in E8. Although Rhaenyra is negotiating from a position of power in E8, there was no reason for her to feel so desperate as of E3, when Rook's Rest hasn't even happened yet, that she would set aside her grief and anger and go seek peace. Peace was offered in E10 of season 1 and Rhaenyra turned it down after Luke died, so what has changed besides Rhaenyra's own husband beheading a toddler? Other events happen too and have little or no consequence. Rhaenyra and Mysaria kiss in E6 and it's entirely forgotten by E8, with zero follow up. Criston Cole is brought to his knees by the sight of Aegon lying injured by his dragon, but never even visits his bedside. Gwayne never interacts with anyone aside from Alicent and Criston. Rhaenyra sends her younger children to the Vale and never mentions them again (she is shown looking wistfully at a box of toys), nor does Jace. Laena in a vision berates Daemon for not looking after their girls, but does he ask after them when Broome shows up directly from Dragonstone? I could go on. Events just happening and then never really mattering again is a consistent problem throughout the season, which makes it hard to tell when it is happening deliberately and when it is happening because the writers can't get on the same page.

There are two things I do think are deliberate, however, one of them being the scrubbing of Viserys' image. While audiences loved Paddy's performance, a lot of viewers did pick up on how Viserys played favorites and neglected his sons, and I think when the show decided to switch up Alicent's motivation from "she wants to protect her children and knows they will face the sword if Rhaenyra comes to power" to "she misheard Viserys' last words," they knew that the natural question is, "why should she care about Viserys' last words?" A lot of the immediate feedback about that episode involved how Alicent was stupid for not knowing Otto planned to have Aegon take the throne, and a lot of people didn't think that Alicent (or Aegon for that matter) really believed that Viserys changed his mind, but apparently that was the writers' intention, that Alicent truly believed it and managed to convince Aegon (there's a lot I could say about how they could have included this deathbed misunderstanding into the plot without having it replace all of Alicent's other motivations, but they did not do that). So in order to drive home the point that the whole entire war is being fought due to this misunderstanding, they have to make sure the audience is clear that all of these characters considered Viserys a good king. Even if he was Alicent's rapist. Even if he was a deadbeat dad. Even if he was a terrible husband. We are meant to believe he chose Rhaenyra not because he was playing mindgames or out of guilt over Aemma's death, no we must believe he chose Rhaenyra because he was good and wise and to convince us he was good and wise we have to have the green characters reminding us constantly that things were so much better when Viserys was around, that Aegon is inferior to Viserys, that Viserys' wishes are all that matter. Nevermind that it goes directly against the book, never mind that it's not even a particularly powerful or interesting change, it's what enables Rhaenyra and Alicent's relationship to continue. Because here's the thing-- if Alicent put Aegon on the throne because she felt it was the only way to keep her family safe, and because she feels that law and tradition ARE on her side, and because absolutism isn't good (!!!) then there's no chance for her and Rhaenyra to ever reconcile. These are irreconcilable differences, not misunderstandings. And so the show has to glaze Viserys otherwise the basic reasoning falls apart.

And the second is the events like Luke's death, Blood and Cheese and Rook's Rest come in, events in which the greens or the blacks harm and traumatize each other directly. It is not that the greens are not allowed to hate the blacks, it is that Alicent is not allowed to hate Rhaenyra, and by extension, the people who Alicent cares about are not allowed to hate her (I would argue that Aemond is allowed to hate Luke on screen, he literally murders him, and I don't think the scene with the brothel madame is an expression of true remorse, it's more "I'm kinda sorta sorry there were consequences for my actions."). Alicent cares about Helaena the innocent, and therefore Helaena cannot be allowed to hate Rhaenyra (note Phia Saban's many interviews about how apolotical and neutral Helaena is). Aegon, on the other hand, can be affected by B&C because he is allowed to hate Rhaenyra. In fact, his hate for Rhaenyra puts him at odds with his mother, which is what the show wants. Aegon is gravely injured at Rook's Rest, but good thing Rhaenyra's forces did not cause the injuries, Alicent herself drove him to battle with cruel words, and Aemond burned him, which puts him at odds with Alicent too (and Helaena is allowed to express ire at Aemond by extension). If you look at S2 as an exercise in driving a wedge between Alicent and her family and downplaying what happens to them in order to justify their decision to have Alicent seek out Rhaenyra and surrender Aegon's life, it makes a lot more sense.

The thing is, it still doesn't work. Their efforts are much too transparent and require characters to act in ways that are simply not within the realms of how normal human beings would react to these situations, much less the characters established in S1. There is a twitter user, and I'm so sorry that I can't remember their name at the moment, but I've seen them express the sentiment several times that Alicent's character this season made them aware, in a way that a viewer should never be aware, that these are scripted lines coming out of her mouth. That is, a lot of the characters in S2 do not feel like actual people. Aegon is such a fan favorite this season because he feels real. Alicent garnered legions of fans last season because her struggle felt real, even if we didn't agree with it. She felt like a character who inhabited a quasi-medieval world, bound by restraints we are not bound by, but nevertheless a human with human reactions who had to make difficult choices and persevere through them. And any human would be angry beyond comprehension at Blood and Cheese, would lose all faith in Rhaenyra, would know that there can be no peace if she is ruling with a man that ruthless at her side. If she thinks her sons are devils (and mind, so far as king Aegon's most egregious action is executing a handful of ratcatchers after one of their number murdered his son, whereas Rhaenyra burned about 65 peasants alive in a quasi religious ecstasy-- will Alicent ever find out about that, I wonder?), they are at least the devils she knows. Better they all die than end up in Daemon's hands, surely? And so OP, you're right, they are not allowed to hate each other when naturally you, and many others, feel like they should. That is because they are writer creations who would never do such things as what happen in the books in the first place, acting out plot points of entirely different characters (their book counterparts).

[erinwantstowrite]

Let me just quickly say, cross-overs can sometimes get REALLY difficult to map out and write in a cohesive way but you have absolutely NAILED IT!! I absolutely ADORE LoF!!! I usually don’t even bother reading fics with the ‘Richard Grayson is Richard Parker’ premise cause I felt like they were super confusing and overcomplicated but this fic?? SUPERB. ABSOLUTELY INCREDIBLE. OH MY GOD I ADORE IT. Everyone’s characterizations are so nice and wonderful aaaaaaah!!!! <33333

Ok ok I did actually have a question as well: would you be willing to share what your writing process looks like in terms of a chapter you’ve already posted? I was just wondering since I’m also currently working on my own fic (it’s been a few years but I managed to get fixated on an idea and it grew legs lol) and I’m currently fighting the organization of it haha.

How do you keep track of the plot points and/or foreshadowing you want to get a ‘lightbulb!’ moment for later? Do you have any tips?

Thank you so much! I absolutely adore your writing AND your art is so gorgeous omg it adds so much to the incredible story :DDD I hope you have a good day!!

I have a secret: I actually didn't like "Richard Grayson is Richard Parker' tag for a while for the same reason. Sometimes they felt like they missed the mark or it's just. A thing that's there? I almost didn't include it for LoF, but I'm glad I did because it changed the direction in such a big way.

Another secret: this made me incredibly happy because I have read so many wikis and scoured the internet to make sure that I had enough info on both fandoms so LoF could make sense to anyone who's reading it, whether they know Spider-Man, Batfam, or neither at all. Sometimes I worry a lot before I post that I'll miss a mark and will confuse people.

As for the question: I definitely am willing to share what my writing process looks like!

Be prepared for under the cut, I love to yap. It's in my blood to yap. And that's why it took a minute to get to this ask haha

(Spoilers for Leap of Faith!! Everything mentioned has already been published ((Chapters 1-11))

I had to go and find out which chapter I wanted to use as an example and I think we're gonna go with Chapter 5 for the most part :)

My writing process is, as described by alighterwood:

I think the description fits because while I'm all over the place, I have to be very detail oriented and I store everything in one spot.

Starting with the overall process, what I find is most helpful for me, when organizing, is having a notebook rather than doing it all digitally. I've been using a 70 sheet notebook that I had lying around waiting to be used, and as of yesterday, I officially filled the entire thing front to back. It's been an incredible help, for a lot of reasons, but mostly because it's a lot easier to remember something I physically wrote down than it is to remember something I typed. I'm now on to my second notebook for LoF, and I might even have to get a third.

In another ask, startupkat asked me this:

And I shared a little about my outline process there, but I'll try to go into a little more depth here. Emphasis on little because this is so long.

I write a truly insane amount of outlines in this notebook.

This is just what I can show you, but a good chunk of the notebook is just outlines. Over and over and over again. That's because they're always changing/adapting based on so many different factors. Sometimes I get to a chapter I thought I had fully planned out and then realize it just doesn't work anymore. Other times, I get to the chapter and realize I don't want to write that anymore/isn't as interesting as I thought it would be. A few times I got halfway through a POV of a scene I was struggling on and decided to switch POV's, which will change up the outline for a chapter every now and then.

Which is why I don't write incredibly detailed outlines and try to keep it vague until I actually get to that chapter. It's a lot less daunting to rewrite a chapter outline than it is to rewrite the entire outline.

Fic outlines and Chapter outlines look a lot alike.

This is what I said in the other ask, but I didn't elaborate on it all the way.

I make a list just like that, and then I try to put it in chronological order/in an order that makes sense. I keep the Fic outline vague by writing down "Goals" for a chapter rather than scenes. But I also keep notes to myself if I really think something is important. The more important I think a scene needs to be, the more details I write down to make sure my future self recalls what I had in mind when I thought it up.

Really simple example:

Chap 1 Goal: Peter gets to Gotham and meets Babs while running around. Meet Nightwing too? Get shelter.

Chapter 2 Goal: Bats are like "???" about Peter. Batfam dynamic important... Peter stalking Batfam back? Peter meet Batman >:)

When I get to a chapter, that's when I make a far more detailed list of wants/needs/goals. It's the Step 2 from the Step 1. Here are some examples from Chapter 5:

Needed to have:

More POV's from universe 1299 (Peter's home universe)

Tony's POV more specifically, how he's doing/feeling, what he's figured out

What they've figured out on 1299 side vs what's going on in 1300 (Gotham)

Explaining more about Peter's trauma/his past

Dick learning more about Peter, and vise versa

Wanted to have:

Ned being a more central character

Natasha :)

Loki being a little shit

Tony and Cap bickering

Peter talking to Nightwing again

The last name Grayson

Gymnastics!!

(This is the shortened list, because the chapters are so long)

When I looked at this list before writing my outline, I had to figure out how I could incorporate everything. If I needed more 1299 POV's, and I wanted Ned, Natasha, and Loki, there's one scene accounted for. I had to get their side of things and wanted that trio together. I needed a Tony POV, and I wanted Tony and Cap bickering, so those went together, plus I got 1299's POV of Ohnn and his plans explained.

I needed to have Peter explaining more about his trauma, and Dick and Peter to talk/get closer. I wanted a Nightwing POV, to have Peter say his last name, and them doing gymnastics. I knew Peter wouldn't willingly talk about that, so I had him have a nightmare. Not only did it give readers perspective but it made Peter more susceptible to talking to Nightwing because he was more emotionally vulnerable/lonely, and that's how that scene came together.

That's when I would write down the chronological order of these events by writing out "Scene Blocks." (This is what I wrote down but my handwriting was so bad I can't subject y'all to it):

scene 1- Ned talking to Loki. Natasha should be nearby and observing Loki's behavior. They are not on friendly terms. Ned is more worried about Peter than he is as to what Loki could be up to, so Natasha takes on that role.

scene 2- Tony is freaking out about Peter being in an alt dimension. He should attack Ohnn when he's not prepared for it. Beat his ass? Beat his ass. Cap there too.

scene 3- Peter's nightmare. "Ben, where do you go when you die?" "Where do you think?" "With you. Where you went."

scene 4- Nightwing and Peter.

Of course, things come to attention when writing. Like originally, Tony and Cap were arguing in the Tower. But it was a little too much like his and Natasha's argument, and I kept in mind that Tony is smart. Sometimes I forget that the characters are smarter than I am, so I have to account for what they would figure out. So Tony would have picked up the puzzle pieces and come to more conclusions than I originally thought about, and I figured he'd be way more proactive about it than just. Being in the Tower and waiting.

Which means that that scene ended up being as listed above: having a squabble with Cap, learning more about Peter's dynamic with the Avengers in this universe, and seeing how Tony is reacting to it by throwing himself head first into trying to capture Ohnn.

I'll realize I need something else to be mentioned or put in and I'll have to shimmy things around, but that's basically how it goes.

As for other forms of organization:

Keeping a timeline is so important because it tells you a lot about the environment your characters are in. It's also important to remember what a character has on them, what money they've spent, who they've met/who you have mentioned, every alias that is being used, to read your work and write down edits you want to make before you make them, to write down ideas beforehand of situations you can use, and, most importantly: MAKE A MAP!! This has saved me so many times. Sometimes your brain WILL trick you or make it harder on you to envision a scene. Make a map of where your characters are physically!! It will save you too!!

As for foreshadowing and plot points, I'll let you in on yet another secret:

Your subconscious is doing a lot more than you think it is.

Sometimes when I foreshadow something, I didn't even know I was until I got to it. I very often go back to read chapters that came before this to see what I've mentioned and what I haven't, and when I do, I'll see something and go "I have to bring this back" or "I almost forgot about that!"

Other times, I am very aware of what I'm foreshadowing, and that's because I follow a mystery plot formula. You have to keep in mind everyone's intentions, all the time. How are they feeling? What are their motivations? And: what are they doing right now, while this character is doing this?

Like Beck and Ohnn. From the very beginning, I knew I had to make sure that it was obvious Ohnn wasn't working alone. From there, I had to weave through the story and slowly build him up as someone who's working behind the scenes. Even from Ned's first POV, I made sure to mention that this person knows Tony and is tech savvy.

My biggest tip is to make sure you reread your work or at least skip through it, because sometimes you don't even know that you placed something there.

And sometimes, it's very purposeful. :)

I hope this helped! I really tried to keep it short but I am insane and the process is sooooo long. It sounds complicated but it really is simple when you're actually doing it I swear

[lets-try-some-writing]

Do you have any tip on writing character that smarter than you? Like I need to write about prowl solving case, but I barely passed my math exam.

I do have a few tips!

One, research. The more you know about a subject matter yourself, the more you can BS your way through it. You don't have to go write a thesis or anything like that, but knowing key phrases, terms, and ideas can help you make crap up on the fly. For example, if you want to write a battle scene, do a quick look into a historical figure who you want to model your character after. Look at an interesting battle and analyze key elements. Then take the vague overview of it and go buck wild. Throw it into a blender in order to create a believable plan/tactic for your character to follow.

Two, foreshadow and develop a reputation. This will cover for a lot of things for your character and save you the slog of explaining everything. If your character is established to have a reputation for being intelligent and/or capable, you can have your character glance over things and leave readers confident that something was actually accomplished. Of course, you need to be careful with this. If you establish your character to be a brutal strategist and then have said character go out of their way to care about civilians the next moment, you will run into problems with consistency.

Three, include other characters in the scene. You can draw attention away from your own lack of knowledge by having several things moving at once to add to the overall scene. A character can look far more complex and wise if they are seen interacting with others and using different tools to help accomplish their goals. Not everyone can be Sherlock Holmes. Some characters can express their cunning and intelligence via interacting with others and through dialogue. Be careful not to be too hamfisted with it though, otherwise it feels forced. I personally tend to spend chapters upon chapters foreshadowing and establishing the capabilities and reputation of a character that is meant to be smarter than me.

Four, lean on a character's traits. If you are writing a character with highly noticeable traits, you can lean on those to help rationalize their actions even if they end up being inconsistent later. I am personally a huge fan of this since emotion can make an otherwise very intelligent character brutally ineffective in the right situation.

Regarding your example of Prowl, I would first study whatever it is he is meant to be looking into. If it's a murder, I'd look into a few interesting real life murder cases for example. I personally studied true crime to write Prowl chapters in my fic. Then, apply that basic knowledge and have Prowl be capable of assessing the situation quickly and logically. Next, or perhaps also first, I would establish his reputation and background to give him a base of knowledge that is believable. This can be done through background dialogue, his thoughts, or through setting details.

Then, to really sell it, I would have Prowl contact associates, dig up old data, and otherwise showcase his knowledge base and intelligence through organic means. Pulling up other characters can make him seem far more calculating than you, the author, may be. And lastly, I would pull on his lack of empathy to help guide how he makes his decisions. This way, you can still slip up a bit as an Author in his conclusions so long as they relate back to Prowl's weaknesses somehow.

These are rather vague, but I hope this helps!

[communist-ojou-sama]

Otherside Picnic Manga vol. 14 Bonus Chapter

Interlude: Yozakura Onee-san's Chichibu Trip Report Stream

"Hey there, everyone! How's it going? It's your big sis, Yozakura!"

As Kozakura greeted the microphone, a flood of comments poured in from her listeners.

"Good evening!"

"Big sis!"

"I'm doing great! How about you?"

"You're always so beautiful. Love you!"

…

The usual banter from the comment section. Some listeners responded with simple greetings, others dropped jokes, and there were those who, like bots, repeated the same thing every time.

What a bunch of cute weirdos, Kozakura thought.

It's often said that streamers like their listeners more than the listeners might think.

That might vary from person to person, but it definitely applied to her.

Sure, there were some oddballs in the mix, but overall, she found her listeners endearing.

The more they interacted with her as "big sis," the more she grew fond of them.

In that sense, she couldn't help but feel a certain warmth toward the people who looked up to her.

It was probably a result of her personality being amplified through her avatar.

After wrapping up the opening banter and responding to comments, she got down to business:

"Today, like I said earlier, I'm going to report on my recent trip to Chichibu!"

She displayed the title image she had prepared: "I Went on a Trip to Chichibu!" (1) She had chosen to write it in hiragana to avoid repeating the kanji for "trip" and "go" back-to-back.

She was the type to pay attention to small details like readability. Whenever she watched other people's videos and came across captions riddled with typos or voiceovers that clearly hadn't been checked, she'd find herself getting annoyed all by herself. She had spent about five minutes agonizing over this text. Writing it in hiragana made it more approachable, but it also gave off a slightly unserious vibe. On the other hand, writing "I Went on a Trip, and it was to Chichibu!"(2) felt a bit too wordy… In the end, she came to the conclusion that not a single one of her listeners would care one way or another. After all, they didn't need to know what the streamer was stressing over behind the scenes. What mattered was the content of the trip.

"Right, so like I hinted at last time, I went to an onsen in Chichibu a little while ago."

Wait, isn't this the first time you're talking about a trip?

Big sis, you're such a homebody. This is rare.

Isn't this the first time you're talking about a trip?

"Oh, right. I don't usually go out much."

As she skimmed through the comments, she responded.

Big sis not being a hikikomori feels wrong to me.

"Then keep feelin' wrong! I'm just a homebody, but I do go out, like anybody!"

The only time I remember you going out was to Yodobashi Camera.

You mentioned going to a department store basement before, right?

"Well, yeah, my destinations are limited. Mostly just the local supermarket. As for trips… how many years has it been? Uh…"

She tried to recall how long it had been since that trip to Hakodate with Satsuki, but gave up.

"It's been so long I can't even remember. This time, I only went because they kept bugging me to join them. Actually, listen to this!It's a terrible story, actually."

Albeit well after the fact, Kozakura started venting, her frustration bubbling up.

"So, here's the thing. I got this pair ticket for a hot spring trip, right? By chance, I ended up with it. But I'm such a homebody, and I don't have anyone to go with on a pair ticket. I could've tried to sell it, but it would've only been worth a few thousand yen at best. Too much hassle."

Why not auction it off?

Or sell it at a ticket shop?

"Nah, too much trouble. Anyway, I didn't want to let it go to waste, so I thought of these two people I know who are always hangin' out together. I figured, 'Hey, why not give it to them?' So I gave 'em the ticket, and then they were like, 'Come with us!'"

Her voice grew heated as she recalled the confusion and irritation of that moment.

"Was it just a polite gesture? No, no, it wasn't like that. They practically begged me. 'Please, come with us!' Isn't that weird? It's a pair ticket, right? They were supposed to go together! But instead, they dragged me along, saying they'd take care of everything. I was honestly scared at first. I couldn't figure out what they were thinking. Do you get it, everyone?"

No idea…

Is this a mystery now?

Is this one of those 'scary when you understand it' stories?

Maybe they didn't want to be alone together?

"That's it! Exactly! It's baffling. They're always glued together, but when it comes to a hot spring trip, they suddenly get cold feet. I couldn't fuckin' believe it when I realized that!"

Was it a mixed bath?

"Huh? No, it was a regular… Oh, you mean that? No, no. It was two women."

Wait, are these the friends who terrorized you with food pics from Okinawa?

"You remember that, huh? Can I even call them friends? They're both way younger than me."

So, even though they're always going out together and even traveling, they suddenly got shy about bathing together? Isn't that even more embarrassing?

Why not just take turns?

"You're smart, aren't you?"

Those two were so flustered they didn't even think of that. Honestly, they're such idiots.

"Anyway, they basically begged me on their knees, so I ended up being the babysitter for these two kids. That's the backstory. So, early in the morning, we took the train to Seibu-Chichibu Station."

She switched the image on her streaming software.

"Here, this is the hot spring inn we stayed at."

It looks so atmospheric!

"But, well, this photo was taken on the second day. On the first day, I was in a really bad mood. Oh, right, it wasn't just one night. It was two nights, three days. Pretty fancy, huh?"

Wait, two nights?!

Oh your mood improve on the second day, huh?

"Improved? Well… hehe, it was actually really great."

When Sakura said that, the comment section exploded with laughter.

So you ended up enjoying it after all!

LMFAO

You had a blast, didn't you?

"I did! I wouldn't be streaming about it otherwise. I mean, I went to a place I'd never normally go, so I figured I might as well make the most of it. That's why I decided to turn it into stream material."

What was the best part? The onsen?

"Yeah, the onsen was great, and the food was delicious. Want to see? This is dinner on the first night."

Did you upload the wrong image?

It's so blurry I can't see anything!

"Hahaha. Well, by the time I thought to take a photo, I was already pretty drunk. I think this pink line here is from some grilled fish or something. But what was this line…? I can't remember at all. Hahaha."

You drank so much you lost your memory, huh lmao

"Well, yeah, it's a bit embarrassing. But when I get drunk, I just pass out. By morning, I was neatly tucked into my futon. Even without remembering, I managed to behave myself. Pretty impressive, right?"

lol you were out cold.

What about your two friends?

"We were all together. All three of us were in the same room, and we all fell asleep. We were so well-behaved. Better than a school trip."

Big sis, you were supposed to be the supervisor, but you slept with them!

"Oh, but there was one thing… When I got up to go to the morning bath, I found a bunch of slippers scattered in the hallway. I don't remember anything, but on the second day, they looked really awkward. I think they must've been collecting slippers from all over the place in the middle of the night."

Why would they do something so weird?

"I don't know… Did you ever mess around with hospital slippers as a kid and get scolded? Maybe it's something like that."

That's so childish.

"Yeah, they're basically kids at heart."

Sakura switched to another image.

"Now, the second day. Since it was a two-night, three-day trip, this day was free. I didn't really plan anything, and I wasn't feeling motivated when we left. This is the breakfast at the inn. It was a buffet. We talked about where to go while eating."

Chichibu was pretty touristy the last time I went.

"Yeah, it was. When I looked it up, there were a lot of places we could go, so it was hard to decide. But researching tourist spots after arriving at the hot spring is such a last-minute thing to do."

Didn't the other two research anything?

"Nope, nothing at all! They were too hung up on the hot spring."

They're so pure, that's adorable.

"Pure? Well, I guess you could say that."

lmao at you softening your punches

"Well, you know. If I say too much, I'll just start badmouthing them."

While the comment section laughed at her evasive response, she displayed the next image: a photo of a shrine's grounds.

"So, in the end, we decided to go back to Seibu-Chichibu Station and walk around the nearby area. This is Chichibu Shrine. It's within walking distance from the station, and it has a surprisingly long history. I didn't know this, but it was apparently built over 2,100 years ago. Is that for real? I feel like these things are often exaggerated, but it does seem pretty old."

Visiting shrines and temples surely is a...refined choice.

"Is it? Haha. Now that you mention it, I guess it is. One of the two suggested it, saying they wanted to visit a shrine. There's an old shrine in Chichibu that worships wolves. What was it called again? I forgot."

You might want to avoid mentioning the name since it's trademarked.

"Really? No way. Do shrines really do that? Anyway, they were interested in that, but it would've taken an hour and fifteen minutes by bus from the station, so we gave up. Instead, we went to a famous spot nearby."

Lately, a lot of people visit shrines and temples for their supposed spiritual power.

"Spiritual power spots, huh? That feels a bit insincere. But I guess it's not much different from visiting a shrine out of curiosity when you normally wouldn't. After leaving the shrine, we wandered around Chichibu."

She displayed a photo of a retro streetscape.

"This area is probably the approach to Chichibu Shrine. Apparently, it's been bustling for a long time, and there are a lot of old buildings. Look, this shop looks like a movie set."

The atmosphere is amazing.

Is this what they call Showa retro?

"I think there were quite a few buildings older than the Showa era. We walked around, eating and visiting shops… It really felt like proper sightseeing when I think about it."

She cycled through photos of the places they visited: a traditional house cafe, souvenir shops, a classic coffee shop, a diner… As she did, Kozakura continued to share her memories of the trip.

"Then, after trying some sake samples, we ended up at a traditional house pub while it was still light out and had a drink."

lmao real drinker hours huh

You really like your alcohol, don't you, big sis?

I'm glad you had fun, big sis.

"Well, yeah, it was frustrating, but it was fun. I might even forgive those two for dragging me along, considering how much I enjoyed it."

Listening to you talk, it sounds like they really admire you.

When Kozakura read that comment, she tilted her head.

"Admire me? I feel like they're just using me for their convenience."

I don't know, but it really feels like they trust you a lot.

"Really? Hmm, I don't know… It's all a bit suspicious."

Laughing, she was slightly surprised to find that she wasn't entirely displeased with the idea.

(1) 『秩父旅行いってきたよ！』

(2) 『秩父旅行』に行ってきたよぉ

[swallowerofdharma]

So let’s talk about… (h)ornithology…

Saezuru tori wa habatakanai (English title: Twittering Birds Never Fly) by Kou Yoneda is an ongoing manga, published in ihr HertZ magazine and currently available in nine volumes. Publication began in 2011.

Shangri-La no Tori (English title: Birds of Shangri-La) by Ranmaru Zariya is an ongoing manga, published in Canna magazine and currently available in three volumes. Publication began in 2017.

I recently had a interesting conversation about possible similarities and differences between these two titles and I thought that it could be interesting to write down some thoughts. I also caught up with Shangri-La, since I had read it in the past when the third volume wasn’t available - well I reread it entirely because, like many other bl manga I got recommended, this one didn’t hold my attention or capture my interest in the way Saezuru did and I didn’t remember most of it. I want to underline that this is my personal experience and a matter of preferences, that I am sharing my personal opinion and I am not trying to make a comparison in terms of good manga vs bad manga. I want to talk about my reasoning and observations, and I’ll attempt to illustrate my points so that it is hopefully clear the terms of the comparison I am making.

I won’t deny that in writing this post I will reiterate previous comments I made about Saezuru as a bl manga that seems to me quite exceptional and therefore much more interesting because of its realistic approach to the world and characters being portrayed. And because from a very superficial perspective, Shangri-La and Saezuru seem to treat very similar themes and dynamics, it is useful to pick up where and how they differ. This post doesn’t want to say anything about reading for entertainment or escapism, rather it’s more about understanding how you write a story in a manga format and how that relates to how the story works overall. So if you’re bored with this topic, you can skip this one.

I don’t have direct knowledge of the composition of the magazines these two manga are published in, but I can say that they are more on the explicit side of bl manga (erotica). Which means that they cater to a readership that expects to see explicit sexual scenes as soon as possible, mostly don’t want or expect female nudity, and will stay with the story if they are enamored with the characters and engaged in the anticipation of a sentimental outcome and emotional growth between a couple that is usually at the center of the narrative. To come up with a premise that is immediately satisfying is a hard task. In Saezuru, we have the exploitation of an already established couple from another short story: Kageyama and Kuga for sex to be teased in the very first pages, and maintaining a level of “spice” by exploiting the main character Yashiro’s hyper sexuality as a prominent part of his characterization. Shangri-La makes the whole setting works in favor of that immediate explicit action: a brothel in a non-specified island, one of the two main characters being a sex worker. Yashiro and Phi are the first to be introduced as the most pro-active and easy-going in terms of sexual freedom; Doumeki and Apollo are introduced next, in the first chapter as well, and they both don’t express sexual desire representing instead a restraining, reassuring force: one is a “straight” employee, the other has been impotent for some time.

But let’s talk about how these two scenarios differ, because they have less things in common than they are alike, once you pay attention to few details. We meet Yashiro in a pretty nondescript office, we don’t get a first name, and the family name Yashiro is not rare; as we get introduced to other characters, Doumeki is the only name that stands out a little, but they are all Japanese family names. Whereas a Phi or an Apollo are already exotic names that fit the distinctive characteristics of the rather fantastical environment they inhabit. Reading the entirety of Saezuru we find ourselves not having to travel much outside of the Tokyo metropolitan area, we get a sense of where certain events take place and of real districts and buildings in the city, so much so that people have drawn maps to visit some of them.

You can’t do quite the same thing with Shangri-La, not only because it’s undisclosed what either the island nor the mainland and country are called, but because the whole scenario is barely plausible in terms of real world economics or circumstances. Apollo’s job doesn’t even make sense, unless you buy into the proprietor of the brothel’s business model. I had to suspend my disbelief very hard very quickly. It’s fantastical, and exotic and barely credible, except that sex work and sex tourism are a very sensitive and interconnected issue in many areas in Southeast Asia, making Shangri-La’s exoticism, orientalism and hyper-sexualization feel a-critically exploited. There are talks in the manga about underage prostitution and groups pushing for changes in the legislation around sex work, but the topic is yet to be explored and because this is an imaginary place, it doesn’t really seem that the matter is considered in more realistic or detailed terms. The discussion is just a device to create an ambience and a sense of precariousness, Phi’s whole existence can’t stay as it is much longer.

Saezuru portrays yakuza and police in terms that are relatable to the real world, including references to laws and how criminal activities or social interactions are handled. Using the real world as a setting, Yoneda can add details and layers to story and characters that feel very grounded. It adds credibility, and the possibility of exploration into the social background of different characters less as a plot device (tragic backstory) and instead in more rich terms, in relatable yet different mentalities and habits associated with certain experiences. Shangri-La’s setting is much more similar to romance novels, Phi is the ingénue prostitute that doesn’t know or understand many common things. He adapted to extraordinary environmental conditions as best as he could but never grew out of them, sheltered in this artificial paradise based upon fleeting pleasures. Apollo’s role is quite clear: the straight man, so serious he was married, he desired one exclusive person to love and was instead betrayed. There is not much about him in three whole volumes compared to how much we get to know about Doumeki in the first three chapters, and that will only get explored more. About Apollo, we received most of the information from his best friend, who is also conveniently his lawyer, another character who seems to be around only for help with the exposition.

The insistence upon Apollo’s sexual orientation is interesting as well because it serves more as a fantasy than anything else: he will resist the charms of everyone except The One. And True Love surpasses any limitations, including sexual orientation or preferences in that one instance. Is Doumeki the same? I would argue that this is exactly what Yashiro seems to say when he’s talking to Kamiya. Doumeki is straight, is attracted to women, it so just happened that he was attracted to Yashiro as a one time exception. But is Yashiro’s reasoning or what he says out loud the most reliable source of information about what things actually are meant to be understood in Saezuru? And this is the same for every character, every one is telling the story according to their partial knowledge and understanding. No one seems to ask Doumeki. Would Kuga say that Doumeki is straight? There is a level of complexity and multiplication of the points of view in Saezuru, brief conversations and moments that are hints, like we are witnessing the story more than we are told about it. And everyone is left wondering. Common tropes are brought down to earth, in my opinion. Doumeki said that he had no knowledge of the possibility of being attracted to men until he met Yashiro and he felt so strongly that he regained sexual desire. Yashiro now isn’t able to respond to other men in the same way as before, but Doumeki is the exception, he is The One, right? But these circumstances if analyzed deeply have deep emotional implications and can be also explained using common sense. Here is Misumi using the aforementioned common sense:

There are other stylistic choices too in how the narrative is constructed that I noticed. Zariya is a talented and expert artist and designed stunning, sexy and appealing panels since the very first pages. The inner dialogue of Phi helps getting the reader into the story and creating expectations for the storytelling as a whole: “Lips are made for lying. People learn how to lie just by living. And the eyes… They know when others are watching. The hands though… They’re terrible liars. If you pay close attention, you’ll find shadows of the person’s character, even hints of their past. All in all… They’re rather eloquent speakers”.

Now I was engaged: I was ready to look at how characters move and use their hands like Sherlock Holmes. I expected that the manga would follow through with that, but it’s for things like the imprint of the ring or the habit of biting your nails. It’s disappointing to me, because did you have to make it so explicit? So mundane even.

Many instances of Yashiro bringing his hands to his face to hide parts of it or the entirety of it, including this heartbreaking moment at the end of ch 25, when the act of bringing them back down almost suggests that he has put a mask back on before looking up directly at you, nowhere in the text there is an explicit declarations about hands or that gesture, but nevertheless the execution of these moments makes them very poignant. It’s two different ways of doing things that cement for me, according to my own preferences, the high level of subtle expression that Yoneda manages to achieve.

When the story of Shangri-La progresses and Apollo becomes more interested in Phi, he asks to borrow a psychology book that tells him how the habit of biting around one’s fingernails is a sign of stress or anxiety. In the same way, most conversations with other people are about getting to discuss and explicitly communicate the meaning behind a certain behavior, or pieces of information about someone else’s character. This kind of 1:1 exposition, plain observational analysis rendered explicit is a sign of either a mistrust toward the ability of the readers to understand things implicitly or just plain lack of anything else to fill the pages with between a sex scene and the next.

The amount of information that we have about secondary characters in Saezuru, about their motivations and personalities, in comparison is astounding. It’s clear that Yoneda knows even more about each character who speaks in any given scene than what has been portrayed. There is so much going on, so much past and lingering feelings, from resentment to personal grudges and grievances, to power dynamics and their consequences and external pressures and events happening at any time.

It would be interesting for example making a comparison of the relationships between the proprietor of the brothel and Phi on one hand and between Misumi and Yashiro on the other. What we came to learn about Misumi is so much more in terms of quantity and in terms of believability - it makes more believable Yashiro’s position as yakuza - that it is quite difficult to decide where the proprietor of Shangri-La stands in terms of overall intentions or values in having rescued and sheltered and kept Phi quite in the same position of dependency. It appears to me that the character is there just to set the stage: he is the owner of the theater.

It’s unreality and it’s just a stage after all to play a sexual fantasy. All the drama that surely will come will follow the same fictional rules of everything else. It’s not bad, it’s just another way to tell a story. The art is visually pleasing, but the paneling didn’t capture my attention or worked for me as well, in comparison to Yoneda’s more cinematic style and composition. It’s theatrical production vs shooting on location yet using multiple different camera angles for every dialogue. To try to explain the difference in another way: I imagine that the usual disclaimer "All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental" that needs to be used for movies or tv shows set in real environments and with fictional portrayals of real world events and scenarios could apply to a live action adaptation of Saezuru and be considered unnecessary to Shangri-La. Still, realism in fiction isn’t about making stories be like documentaries or having the same purpose exactly, but about exploring how we perceive the real world and about possibilities.

What do you think? There is more to say in terms of power dynamics and positions between each individual in the two main pairs and the role of others, and in terms of expectations and desirable outcomes readers might dream about in simple ways or taking instead a different approach. But I really don’t want this to be a too long of a reading and if you made it here, thank you so much. I hope this doesn’t come across as too harsh or anything about Shangri-La. If you want to add some other observations or give another perspective, please do. This was just an attempt to draw a comparison and reveal big differences in approach between manga that still can seem very similar at first glance.

[deathsweetblossoms]

The Prisoners Throne thoughts

Spoilers beneath cut! Heads up for a critical review but a positive Jurdan review 😂

Also did anyone catch the Roiben and Kaye mention? It was subtle but it was there..

I’m a little all over the place with my initial thoughts on the whole thing, but here are my main takeaways:

The pacing was weak, especially in the build up (or lack of build up) to Oak’s discovery of The Ghost being the main poisoner of his mother. In the span of two chapters, Oak goes from incandescent rage towards Ghost and his sisters/family, to then processing all of that because of the Ghost’s death?

My issue here is we never really saw Oak talking to his family despite his POV lamenting that they avoid uncomfortable topics. He’s right. They do. And so I would’ve liked for a genuine heart to heart.

On the topic of the Ghost’s death — what the fuck? Also incredibly weak. We didn’t spend enough time getting to know Garrett for that death to be impactful in any way (unless you are me and you’ve been crushing on the Ghost for years). The attitude around the entire thing was so blasé that I genuinely thought he was going to be brought back to life in a few pages.. I just don’t understand what Holly was trying to do here.

Overall this probably needed to be a trilogy so she could develop more of these ideas, because even the romance with Oak and Suren felt a little off kilter to me.

Otherwise, every Jurdan scene was incredible. Cardan, despite his few appearances, carried this whole book on his back for me. Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE OAK. The tragedy of his upbringing, the way he was supposed to have a happy childhood but was turned into a monster by Madoc is so bittersweet.

I think the abdication of being heir was solved a little too easily? But it did leave the door open for some speculation about a Jurdan baby 👀

I was right about the political problem being about the Undersea and I’m really wondering if she’s going to write that from Jurdan POV or from Nicasia.. so that’s exciting!

I wish we had more *Elfhame* in this book. Where was the magic of TCP? I just felt something was lacking and I can’t put my finger on what.

Suren having a rebirth moment like Cardan only adds to my criticism that Oak/Suren has too many similarities to Jurdan that I wish had been avoided — BUT. I love the imagery of it and I’m happy our monster girl got the happy ending she deserves.

A lot of these Cardan moments had me going absolutely insane — him protecting Jude? Him playing with Leander? Oak pointing out that Cardan is brave and picked up a sword to fight in the end as well? Omg!!

How do I feel? Weird. I’m NGL, I feel kind of strange about this book. Perhaps I need to reread the duology or the entire series.

Some other odd things I noticed:

Lady Asha is still alive and kicking it at court? Lol.

Oak thought Taryn was the kind hearted sister who wanted a gentler world

The amount of dead deer imagery (the deer heart in the Citadel, the dead deer on Madoc’s clothes) that made Oak feel ill at ease was equal parts cute and sad LOL. My sweet hoof boy 🥹

The removal of Valerian’s curse and the confirmation that there was, in fact, a curse. What does this mean for Jude going forward?

[nebrasska-alasska]

Hello Nebraska!! I just want to say that your Sonadow fanfic, The Secret In Your Quills, is one of the best Sonadow fanfics I've ever read in my entire life! The writing is so epic, and I'm so excited for the final chapters!!

I don't know if you are active on Twitter/X, AI has recently become one of the most talked-about and controversial topics there, and I’d like to know your opinion, especially since you are a wonderful writer.

To you, is using AI to improve and/or correct writing and grammar mistakes considered cheating?

Here’s the thing: I have a friend who is currently writing a book. He built the entire foundation, he came up with a good story, characters, the plot, and everything. But there’s a problem: he’s not very skilled in writing and doesn’t know how to write certain parts. He struggles to describe certain scenes, forgets words that could be used, and makes many, like really, many spelling and grammar mistakes. Not only that, but he also tends to drift off from certain contexts, making parts of the story confusing or nonsensical.

Because of that, he asks ChatGPT to help him with his writing. For example, he writes a section of his book and asks the chat to improve that part, like making it longer, more detailed, and most importantly, correcting grammar mistakes and polishing the writing. When ChatGPT finishes generating the revised version, he reads it to see if it matches what he had in mind. If it doesn’t, he tweaks a few things. And when it finally fits what he wants, he adds it to his book.

But this made me think, and the question kept spinning in my head, so I’d really like to know: is AI actually helping him, or not? I don’t have many friends, and the ones I asked didn’t give me any solid opinions about him using ChatGPT to assist with his writing (assist and improve, not come up with ideas or write it for him).

So I decided to bring the question here to you: Is using AI to help or improve your writing considered cheating or unoriginal?

He doesn't have Tumblr, and since I'm sending this to you anonymously, he will never know that it's me LOL, but I'm serious. What is your opinion about this?

Oof, AI is kind of a tricky subject, and I certainly have a lot of thoughts/opinions on it.

Overall, I don't think AI has a place in writing fiction when it comes to the actual process of writing. Creative writing is an art form, a way of sharing something you've created with others, and having something else nonhuman create that art kind of takes away from the whole purpose. What this means is, when I write, I embrace all of it. The good, the bad, the ugly. The highs of exciting, juicy, and emotional scenes, and the lows of the less fun stuff that comes in between. If you cut corners by having AI write parts of it for you, you're not really growing or evolving as a writer because you don't ever challenge yourself (and listen, you don't have to want to improve your craft while writing fanfiction, but at the same time, if you're incapable of writing the whole thing without having AI fill in the gaps, then it's probably time to reevaluate what you're trying to get out of your writing, if it's not completely yours). It might be a harsh opinion, but at the same time, writing is a form of expression, so why wouldn't you want everything you share with the world to be completely yours in your own unique voice? Isn't that kind of the whole point?

But there's nuance. Having AI help with grammar is a feature that has been in writing softwares since the dawn of the dinosaurs. I tend to ignore grammar suggestions more than half the time because they're either incorrect or because I'm intentionally breaking the rules, but it's still nice to have when reviewing/editing chapters. And idk. AI probably has other nice and innocent features I don't know about because I've never used it before out of principle.

I hope I didn't ruffle any feathers. I'm pretty anti-ai, but that's because in a lot of ways, I see it as an insult to art and the creation process that is innate in us as a species. It has its places in society, but the creative world isn't one of them. Truthfully, I count my lucky stars that I completed my English Literature degree before AI was a thing... I would have hated to navigate that through my courses.

[queenlua]

your post about adding excitement to a story by increasing the pressure on a character was not something i’d heard before and i found it super useful. are there any other pieces of writing advice you find foundational and would be willing to share?

glad you found that tidbit helpful!

first, i’ll give my default caveat of “i’m just some guy on the internet, so take this with however many grains of salt you need”

plus my general caveat on… all writing tips/tidbits/advice? which is:

i find that, past the basics of “knowing about exposition/rising action/climax/denouement” and such, most writing advice ends up operating as a dusty old toolbox i open up now and again.  something in my story's not working; i’m not sure how to fix it; i pull out my little toolbox of tidbits i’ve accumulated over the years and see if any of the screwdrivers and wrenches in there actually fit.  the kinds of tidbits that are useful for me may be ACTIVELY DETRIMENTAL to someone else; someone who chronically overtightens their screws probably shouldn’t be told “have you tried tightening the screws more :D;;;;” or whatever.  and in particular what works for me is probably oriented towards genre-y stuff.

BUT, Y’KNOW, GIVEN ALL THAT

here’s the tidbits i find myself returning to over & over!

* three is a very powerful number.  i have a tendency to write myself into situations where you have Two Interesting Characters Doing Verbal Head-Games With Each Other, and that stuff can be tremendously fun, but it tends to run out of steam very quickly.  adding a third character to the scene combinatorially increases the dynamics available for you to play with.  so if you’re stuck, throw someone else in there.  (relatedly this is why awful dinner parties are Peak Literature™)

* if you’re writing a romance: put a sticky note on your monitor that says “WHY CAN’T THEY BE TOGETHER NOW?”  if at any point you don’t have a good answer to that, you’ve fucked up; rework the plot.

* this is a shlocky tidbit from the South Park creators that totally works: list all the scenes in your story, and then, between each scene, see if they are connected by THEREFORE or BUT versus AND THEN.

so., e.g., “the ocean levels in Tellius are rising, THEREFORE kilvas wants to migrate from their sinking islands and onto Serenes, BUT Reyson is opposed to that move, THEREFORE…”

that gives you a stronger structure than, like, idk, “the war ends AND THEN kilvas moves to Serenes AND THEN Reyson and Naesala get in a fight…”

you want it to be mostly “THEREFORE/BUT” and very few “AND THEN”s.  just a tighter overall plot structure

* each scene should accomplish at least two things.  the most common two things for a scene to do are “advance the plot” and “develop a character”; i have a hazy memory that when i first read this advice, there was a list of, like, 1-3 other things a scene’s allowed to accomplish?  but i cannot REMEMBER that list, lol.  but use your imagination; i’m sure you can think of another valid thing.

i think this is more useful as debugging/editing advice than upfront advice—often, when you’re writing something, every scene will *feel* necessary, but upon reread, you’ll notice your attention is drifting, this doesn’t quite feel tight enough… and you’ll realize, oh, ugh, i just had three scenes in a row that existed Solely To Hit A Plot Beat; why don’t i combine those three scenes into one, condense the action, and also make sure a character’s doing something actually interesting/new while i’m at it.

(i think i see this plaguing a lot of novels that come out of nanowrimo in particular.  i mean, not me, because i don’t have the fast-twitch muscle required to do nanowrimo, but when i read other people’s nanowrimo stuff, it often feels like it was galloping through a bunch of plot beats without bothering to do anything else interesting.)

* if you're stuck on a particular scene/chapter, stuff to try:

delete the current sentence and start over

delete the current paragraph and start over

change the font and reread what you've got so far

open the document on a different screen and reread what you've got so far

print the thing out and reread what you've got so far

open a brand new document and rewrite the whole scene/chapter/etc from the start (NO PEEKING AT THE ORIGINAL VERSION)

go outside and look at a bird for a bit

take a nap

shoot a whiny discord message to a friend about it (even if it's solely rubber ducking, this can be helpful) (though if you have any friends who are good at writing AND ALSO willing to put up with your shit and offer helpful feedback AND ALSO you're not too mortified by your writing dilemma to share it with them, that's even better) (btw, any friends reading this: if you want to opt-in to messages like this from me, LET ME KNOW lmao, i'm really shy on this front!)

if you're DESPERATE: open a new document and just write out, like, "Character X wants Y. Character Z wants Q. These are the sources of pressure on character X. These are the sources of pressure on character Y. I want R to happen but I feel stuck because of M" and so on, just... really trying to dissect what the scene's trying to accomplish? most often, the outcome of this is, i'll notice in that "thinking aloud" document that i'm circling around some central question that I Don't Know The Answer To, and i need to answer that question to usefully proceed. sometimes this will be painfully obvious in hindsight. (e.g., sometimes you'll go back to your outline and you'll realize you've literally just hit the bullet point that says UGH OKAY THEY GET TOGETHER SOMEHOW I'LL FIGURE THIS OUT LATER, and you're like, ugh, fuck, it's now later, why is past-me such a bitch!) but them's the breaks. (in particular, i remember getting catastrophically stuck on a "meet the parents" story until i realized i was... avoiding actually writing out the "meet the parents" scene... which feels "well duh" in hindsight! but, like, hey, in order to write that scene, i needed to commit to some specific decisions on What The Story Was About, the same way artists gotta eventually erase a bunch of sketchy lines to commit to the Lines They Will Actually Be Inking, and that decision point feels hard and scary and no wonder i waffled lol)

okay so that's all the super-specific-concrete advice. here's some stuff that's more big-picture but i've still found personally useful:

* i once went to a talk where a novelist said she doesn't start writing a novel until she knows exactly what she wants it to look like on the bookshelf. as in: is it a schlocky trade paperback or is it a beautiful hardcover thing with fancy paper? does it have IMPACT FONT for the title or something handwriting-y? how many pages is it? and so on.

in service of this aim, she never writes any of the novel (no notes, no outlines, no snippets of dialogue, nothing) until she has that image vividly in her mind + she can't physically STAND not writing it any longer. for her, this process allows her to be sure that she knows what her novel is about—not necessarily in every single detail or plot beat (though, often she has a lot of that in mind before starting), but in terms of "what am i trying to say," "how do i want the world to look at it," etc, and she's found through hard experience that, while it's easy for her to start novels, it's often hard for her to finish them unless she has that crystal-clear image in her mind.

i can’t quite do her purity-of-method (my brain is scrambled eggs; i HAVE to write down snatches of dialogue and such before i get started on something or it all leaks out of my ears), but i see a lot of wisdom in it.  i do a lot of prewriting & thinking & scribbling out little snatches of dialogue and such before i really begin writing. i think everyone develops their own little heuristic for when they can be reasonably confident they know what their story is about, so you should try and figure out what that heuristic is for you & learn to trust it if you can? (a common one you hear a lot is "i have to know how the story ends / what the ending feels like," which makes sense; endings usually have a lot to do with what a story is About. i know NK Jemisin mentioned once she can't really start until she's nailed down the voice, and that also makes sense to me—you read The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms and it's very clear that her choice of voice is a large part of what drives the story, it has a propulsive force of its own; it's The Thing that blasts the whole thing open for her. for me, i'm not sure i have a tidy heuristic, but there's a point where i've written enough snatches of dialogue plus bits of scenes that i've unlocked some core thing that i'm really excited about—i keep spinning out bits of dialogue and setting and such that are related to that thing, i'm so excited to see how that thing plays out across the story, i look at my outline and see only possibilities and wonder instead of connective tissue that needs to be filled in... and then, yeah, i'll know i'm cooking, but not one second before!)

note that the story is allowed to surprise me & change on me once i get properly started—my longfic changed substantially when i realized Reyson’s perspective needed a LOT more room to breathe than i had accounted for in the outline, and then changed substantially again when i realized the butterfly-effect-style implications that keeping Leanne around had for my entire storyline—the ending wound up being TOTALLY different than what i'd originally planned!—but like, in that case, i don't think my sense of what the story was about ever fundamentally changed; i just added two more huge elements that orbited that about-ness. if that makes sense.

* i think about this passage from Bayles & Orland's Art and Fear a lot. i'm actually not sure that advice is helpful for literally everyone—i do see people who somehow manage to write the same fucking thing over and over, for years and years, and never seem to develop their craft or make any movement toward saying something interesting.

but i do think most people are developing something even when it feels like "the same thing over and over," and as someone who probably tends toward too little output, i found it a useful reminder that returning to familiar forms, themes, and characters across pieces is intensely useful if it gets you in front of the keyboard again, so don't stress over novelty too much. (i find, if i'm still returning to a particular form/theme/character, it's because i feel like i still have some interesting new perspective on it that's genuinely worth exploring. if i have actually exhausted a topic, i'll know it because i myself will get bored, but anyone else's opinion is irrelevant!)

* ursula k le guin's steering the craft is more focused on craft & nuts n bolts than plot-debugging-type-things but i thought i'd give it a shout-out here because i've just found it so perpetually useful over the years. in particular we could all stand to read our stuff aloud more often; that fixes a lot of problems and she goes on about that in detail in chapter 1 haha

* oh, also, re: my "put more pressure on the characters" advice—you've probably already intuited this, but i think i found that framing more useful than the kinds of "raise the stakes / make sure every character has Stakes / Wants Something" advice you're likely to find in screenwriting workshops, because this framing feels like a more... abstract... way of talking about the same thing?

like, often those two types of advice are addressing the same problem, but when i start off thinking about "where is the pressure on these characters," i don't just have to think "time to heap more pressure on them," i can also, like. observe. where the pressure points in my work are. i'm not presupposing a solution. maybe there's a ton of pressure but it's the wrong kind of pressure. maybe there's a ton of pressure but there's nowhere satisfying for that pressure to go. it's very woo/fuzzy but yeah i use the general principle of "pressure" to frame a LOT of how i think about story construction; maybe that'll be useful to you!

* FINALLY, i don't have a nice packaged heuristic/tidbit/tool-shaped thing for this one yet, but i've been thinking a lot about how much perspective really Changes Everything about a work. your choice of PoV should be exceedingly deliberate; you should be taking maximum advantage of your choice of PoV at all times (what do they know? what don't they know? how do they think about the world? etc); also if you're editing something and you're noticing a lot of unconscious perspective breaks, that's a warning sign something's going badly wrong in how you're approaching the story overall—perspective should just be unconsciously correct if you're hitting stuff right imo

OK WOW SORRY THAT GOT SO LONG but hope at least one of these lil bullets are useful for ya! happy writing~

[mortish-writes]

Something that I've been meaning to do (and just haven't gotten around to yet for some reason) is to compliment you on putting varying lore drops in each route. I know a lot of IF writers complain that they write several novels worth of words, but many players play the game once before dropping it so they experience only a fraction of the game's overall content. I'm usually a player who has one personal canon route and I don't often feel the need to deviate much outside of it. The lore differing between routes is a clever way to get players like me to experience more of your work!

And since I have played at least most of the routes, it's had me wanting to ask why Serax's behavior with Unaligned Zealot the morning after the incident in Meyrrvik seems different from his treatment of Aligned Zealot and Non-NSFW Heretic despite similar events at about the same approval level. (At least, I think so -- if there's alternate dialogue in that scene for Unaligned, I haven't managed to unlock it.) I refrained because I figured it would be too spoilery and Night VI is not super far away so I should see if it's answered there. Serax's PoV made the implications around that question even juicier than before, though… 👀

Firstly, thank you! Second, two reasons.

One is a little more obvious in that the more the story advances, the more I try to add nuance in how the guys react to her. A big difference between the first few nights is that S&V are mostly certain the Zealot MC is a Vestal of Dawn and the Heretic MC is a lady of the evening. It's why they're a bit more closed-off with her in the Heretic run, at least initially. Not necessarily because they think her profession is shameful but because it's a profession predicated on lies/deception/seduction. Val is more 50/50 that she might be telling the truth, but Serax is like 95% sure she's acting, at least up until the Night V reveals, but even then...well, you'll have to wait and see.

Two is that I view each scene as an accumulation of the scenes that came before it, so even if the last couple of scenes are identical across the two routes, I might be considering a conversation they had on Night II that might make Serax/Val say something different.

Okay, actually there are three, and this one is huge. Every scene I write is based off a draft of all three POVs, not just the MC's. Serax and Valdricht are constantly having conversations that the MC is oblivious to via their mental connection. It's something you'll see a lot during the alternate POV scenes and I think there will be a lot of aha! moments. That said, I know it's kind of unfair because there's no way as a player to know that early on. That's a big reason I plan on tailoring the alternate POV scenes into the game because they add so much to the overall narrative.

Right now I have a conflict in that certain things that were major plot twists in my novel drafts are laid out early on for the sake of pacing, while other things that weren't intended to be twists such as Serax's whole vibe were supposed to be revealed in the first chapter of the first novel. Like I mentioned (i think) in a comment on Patreon, the OG Serax/MC storyline is a straight up enemies to lovers romance where Serax is more or less the antagonist for the first book and then (naturally) falls hard for her, while Valdricht/MC is a fated mates type story that is just everything, and all wrapped in this caustic but emotionally rich poly relationship. It's been a bit of a challenge to adapt that in a way where the IF players don't hate Serax at the start or crush too hard on Valdricht, so that's also jumbled the narrative a bit. I'm really looking forward to going back through with a fine-tooth comb after Night VII and finding ways to smooth out progression/lore drops and add more clarity, so this feedback is so helpful. Let's be real, your feedback is always golden.

[barbwritesstuff]

Thicker Than December Update

The update link:

Thicker Than Free Demo

Update info:

As of the 26th of December 2023

Finished Chapter Six

Started work on Chapter Seven (currently incomplete)

Added explicit scene with Freya in Chapter Four

Several bug and spelling fixes

Additional Words: 27,104 (excluding commands)

Total Word Count: 175,440 (excluding commands )

Other links:

Supporting me on KoFi helps ensures my ongoing survival, which I really do appreciate.

You can email me at barbara truelove writes at g mail dot com.

I have a website that I spent actual money on. I'm not sure why, but it's pretty.

If you like the way I write vampires maybe consider checking on the first story in this series, Blood Moon, which is about werewolves and is polished and pretty in a way this very much isn't.

Other free games can be found on my itch.io page.

My ramblings:

Merry Christmas and happy full moon. I really hope, wherever you are in the world, you’re having a great day. I won’t be able to see the moon tonight thanks to a circling storm cloud, but I’m hoping it’ll clear up tomorrow and I can do some stargazing.

I’ve managed to get quite a few words down this month, so I’m really happy about that. Chapter Six is finished, and I’ve started work on Chapter Seven. Chapter Seven is still in the early stages. Depending on your previous choices, it may not even exist yet on certain playthroughs. I’m sorry about that. It’s going to take some time to fill in all the different routes and bring them all together again.

I’ve also gone back to Chapter Four and added some more content in for Freya because several people told me they weren’t really vibing with her romance arc. I’m really glad I did that because I think speeding up her romance route makes a lot of sense and it flows better overall.

I’ve also done a lot of little edits scattered throughout. Nothing super major, but I hope it improves the flow of certain scenes.

On a more technical note: I’ve been having a weird issue with the automatic Choicescript tests in CSIDE. The random_test has been slowing to a crawl and/or freezing. It doesn’t spit out any errors, and the quick_test has been working fine, so I’m really not sure why this has started to happen. It may mean there is an infinite loop error somewhere in Chapter 6 or 7. If so, I haven’t been able to find it. If anyone encounters a page that loads forever but doesn’t show any text, please let me know. The game won’t be able to be submitted to Hosted Games if it can’t pass a random_test, so I really want to sort this out sooner rather than later.

If you spot any other errors, large or small, I’d be really grateful if you could let me know. Thicker Than is big enough now that it’s a little unwieldy to navigate, and hard to edit. I’m really grateful to the people who’ve taken the time to send me things which don’t look quite right. It’s so insanely helpful and really encouraging knowing you’re rooting for Thicker Than to succeed.

💙