#i hope i have clarified my perspective a little more

[swallowerofdharma]

Following the discussion from here. Hoping you don’t mind if I make a new post so that the other one doesn’t become too heavy. I’m answering some lingering questions, but I am also saying that I won’t be dissuaded from treating this manga differently. As said recently*, Yoneda takes such care to give details and context to the story, that it is intriguing to look into things with analytical eyes and I can’t see the problem with it. For those who maybe feel like “the story isn’t that deep”, that is more offensive to the author tbh than to me or others in fandom who write commentaries. * @dragomfry said: “It makes our analyses of her work hold extra weight because there are things that she wants us to look for and derive meaning from (rather than us trying to derive meaning from nothing to begin with)”.

So to clear this first.

I can’t quite see why this story would be distorted into something it’s not intended to be if we approach it under a romantic lens.

I am not debating people for approaching the story romantically, but - because some troubling arguments were made about the recent poll - I will say this. Rape culture takes some arguments from romantic and patriarcal views to defend the aggressors and blame the victims instead: this isn’t romanticism’s fault, but the very fact should be at least taken into consideration. [More on this below**]. So several of the reflections I was writing about framing the manga as romance rather than literary realism were prompted by this issue. And reading your thoughts about the story, I can understand where we differ so much: and that is in how we view Doumeki especially, rather than the rest. Maybe you are not romanticizing Yashiro and his trauma, but you are especially romanticizing Doumeki. For example:

I allow myself to indulge in the romanticism of it all; both of them falling in love at first sight, depressed Yashiro finally finding someone who truly cares about him, Doumeki who doesn’t back down when Yashiro rejects him, Doumeki still having feelings for Yashiro even after he shot him in the leg and pretended not to remember him, etc. There’s so much in this story that’s blatantly romantic, almost corny.

There are many aspects of the manga that I do find realistic in it’s portrayal, such as the CSA, what I don’t find realistic, however, is the portrayal of love, the romance. I find it very idealised and romanticised for the most part (i.e the falling in love at first sight (I’ll get to that), Doumeki being Yashiro’s exact type, Doumeki happens to be impotent which allows Yashiro to develop feelings for him, the fact that Doumeki is completely accepting of everything Yashiro does regardless of how Yashiro treats him, the fact that Doumeki is still in love with Yashiro after he shot him the leg, maybe he even stayed in the Yakuza world just to be near him (although who knows why exactly he did that?) Idk maybe it’s just me but I find it very unrealistic. It’s this romantic idea of „there is this perfect person out there who accepts you just the way you are and you don’t have to do anything to keep them happy, you can even shoot them in the leg and they’ll still love you, they’ll stick around no matter what it takes to be with you“.

I can’t pick and choose what I want to romanticize or not, I have chosen to look at things differently, and I am keeping the same approach when looking at characterizarion. When I look at Doumeki, I see as many problems as those Yashiro has. He is the one depressed imo, at the beginning of the story, he is in much worse shape than Yashiro. Yashiro has a support network, Doumeki was isolated in prison and kept family away when he was released. Doumeki isn’t this strong and stoic person who is in love with Yashiro and is therefore shouldering a burden or enduring abuse in the name of love. I have been misunderstood before on this, but I want to say that I look at these characters without romanticizing either of them. I am not so much interested in looking at who is right or wrong, or to paint one character in a better light and bashing another: I want to understand their differences and how they came to be, how the relationship is affected by those differences. This is why I don’t take a shipper’s approach either, I am not solely focused in their relationship, but in the story as a whole.

There are several posts where I talked at lenght about these characters, because Yoneda gave a lot of backstory, and I encourage who may be interested in checking further. Doumeki has trouble facing or recognizing reality, until reality kicks him in the face, and that is happening to him since the nurse and Aoi. So he is only observing when it suits him. Yashiro established his emotional boundaries plenty of times, and Nanahara is there to corroborate and reinforce Yashiro’s prefereces. Here are some examples, and these are from volume one alone. It is a pretty clear situation, and Doumeki understood it.

I know that people are objecting to the very idea of framing Doumeki as the aggressor in this case, but the power dynamics had already shifted at that point when things went down in ch 24-25. It is the result of an escalation that sees Doumeki hiding his feelings and his arousal, and becoming more aggressive and unhinged towards others during the investigation into who ordered the hit on Yashiro. Yoneda was painstakingly building towards that scene, while also painting a bigger picture and external plot, and there are so many details that I haven’t even touched upon yet, but nothing is filler. And the parallels between Doumeki’s arousal and his violent behavior can’t be easily ignored.

Again, I feel quite powerless and unequipped to persuade those who already formed their opinion. But when given arguments in favor of dismissing Yashiro’s right to object or arguments that shift the focus away from the simple topic of consent, then I have to ask myself why this is happening. **Rape culture does play a role, and as I said, rape culture can and does weaponize some romantic ideas about love. Or against the autonomy of the person, against choice and so on.

I find it very important that Yoneda chose to put those words in the mouth of an ex-policeman, while dressed up as a policeman, and of another abusive detective with the police. Or the fact that Inami commented on Doumeki’s father building a career to cover up his crimes. See these statements from the Wikipedia page on rape culture:

With how difficult has become to search on the web for unbiased results, I am just giving the Wikipedia page not as a source of authority, but as a peer reviewed summary that provides a starting point for research and some bibliography on the subject. For example:

I want to add that I don’t agree with the way the article frames “men” as perpetrators and “women” as victims. That should be corrected and can be misleading. Men have been historically and consistently discouraged to speak up about being victims of rape themselves and often the law didn’t even consider them. And the gendered approach contributed to make so many victims invisibile. There is so much we have to learn.

Again, this post is solely for the purpose of answering arguments or points made directly to me about how we interpret the story in Saezuru. These are my observations and reflections, the links I see, and it is possible because these things are in the manga. And last, I love love-stories. But romance - especially romantic tropes, often reinforced by fandom shipping culture - don’t always equal love to me.

[the-cosmic-cauldron]

Astrology Observation: Mercury in The Houses

Disclaimer: 🍂🍁🍄‍🟫🐿️🫶🏾 Happy October! I hope everyone is thrilled and ready for this spooky month filled with exciting adventures. Autumn is one of my favorite seasons, showcasing its beauty and charm, along with a wealth of holidays and opportunities for sharing love. Even if you're away from family or have few friends, I encourage you to infuse your October with fun and festivity. I wish abundance for all, and may your desires for this month come true. If you're in a budding relationship, I hope it blossoms into something deep and meaningful. For those in college, may you excel in your studies this semester. If you're job hunting, I wish you find your dream position, and if you're simply enjoying the moment, cherish every second. This is part of my series on planets and houses, with Venus being the next focus. I hope you appreciate my content as much as I enjoy creating this top-tier astrological material to help you connect with yourself and enhance your personal growth. As always if it don’t apply, let it fly🫶🏾🐿️🍂🍁

Mercury in 1st House: These individuals possess a highly alert mindset, often acutely aware of their thoughts and feelings, and they frequently reflect on their desires and goals. They exhibit a strong competitive nature, which can lead to jealousy and a desire to outdo others. This mindset tends to be self-centered, focusing primarily on personal gain, which can result in selfishness and a tendency to be standoffish. They are resolute in their beliefs, making it challenging to alter their perspectives. Unlike those who overthink, they prefer a more straightforward approach, although this can sometimes lead to imbalanced thinking. Air signs may struggle in this context due to their tendency to overanalyze, which hampers decisiveness. In contrast, Earth signs thrive here, as their grounded nature allows for clear, genuine decision-making. Water signs also excel, as this position helps them clarify their desires rather than becoming overwhelmed. Fire signs benefit from this mindset as well, as they are action-oriented and prefer to explore their interests rather than dwell on thoughts.

Mercury in 2nd House: These individuals possess a superficial mindset, often lacking depth in their thinking. They tend to focus on their appearances and financial status, prioritizing how they present themselves to the world. This obsession with fashion and personal image can border on obsessive, resembling traits of OCD regarding their looks. Financially driven, these people are often preoccupied with money, whether it's about saving, investing, or accumulating wealth, leading to a constant hunger for financial security. They can be judgmental, frequently comparing themselves to peers and family members. Air signs, in particular, seem to emphasize their social lives and image, enhancing their superficial nature. Earth signs may exhibit jealousy and a desire to be the most attractive and wealthy, showcasing a showy demeanor. Water signs, while possessing some depth, often struggle with introspection, torn between their desire for depth and a pull towards superficiality and security. Fire signs are characterized by their competitiveness, always striving to be the best and outshine others.

Mercury in 3rd House: These individuals tend to have a narrow perspective, primarily because they are overly preoccupied with others and social dynamics, which limits their capacity for self-reflection. Their thoughts often revolve around the lives of others, engaging in gossip and current events, particularly through social media. This constant external focus leaves little room for deeper contemplation. They seem restless, preferring interaction over solitude, which may indicate a struggle with being alone. Their thought processes are rapid, showcasing a certain creativity that could manifest in various artistic pursuits or simply in their unique way of thinking. While air signs can align their thoughts effectively, this may hinder their ability to think outside conventional boundaries, leading to stubbornness and resistance to change. Earth signs might find this trait beneficial, enhancing their social adaptability, while water signs may become overly reliant on others for validation, struggling to find comfort within themselves. Fire signs, on the other hand, may become excessively talkative and preachy.

Mercury in 4th House: These individuals tend to be quite fearful in their thinking, often remaining firmly within their comfort zones. They exhibit rigidity in their thought processes, struggling to think creatively or outside conventional boundaries. Typically, they prefer to adhere to traditional expectations and norms, often following in the footsteps of family elders. Their sentimental nature keeps them focused on close relationships with family and friends, and they often prioritize a structured life, emphasizing career and family in a traditional manner. This reliance on family can lead to a desire for validation and a need for comfort and security. Air signs may feel torn between a desire for exploration and their commitments to family and obligations, while earth signs can become overly routine and resistant to change. Water signs may develop a dependency on loved ones, leading to stagnation as they prioritize comfort over growth. Fire signs might struggle with familial issues, feeling constrained in their pursuit of personal desires.

Mercury in 5th House: These individuals are highly imaginative and seem to prioritize enjoyment and living life to the fullest. Their focus appears to be on experiences that bring them pleasure, particularly in the realms of romance and love, cherishing the presence of those who genuinely care for them. They embody a lighthearted, childlike spirit, emphasizing fun, travel, and social connections while actively seeking new opportunities. Their creativity shines through in their thinking, and they often reflect on their talents and aspirations, especially regarding family and children. There seems to be a reluctance to embrace responsibility, as they prefer to concentrate on their desires rather than obligations. Air signs, in particular, embody the life of the party, always eager to host gatherings and enjoy themselves. Earth signs exemplify the "work hard, play hard" mentality, dedicating themselves to their careers while also seeking out fun and relaxation. Water signs are deeply romantic, pursuing love passionately and striving for emotional fulfillment. Fire signs are vibrant and adventurous, bringing a sense of excitement and spontaneity to their interactions.

Mercury in 6th House: These individuals are deeply committed to achieving perfection, often overanalyzing their lives and constantly seeking ways to enhance their existence. They embody the essence of self-improvement, striving for better health, spiritual depth, and a more aesthetically pleasing lifestyle. Their focus on personal image is significant, even if they may not fully recognize it; they are preoccupied with how they are perceived by others. While they possess genuine intentions to present their best selves and contribute positively to the lives of others, they often grapple with anxiety and a tendency to be overly particular. Air signs may experience heightened nervousness and mental health challenges due to their intense focus on thoughts, while Earth signs can become rigid, sticking closely to their comfort zones and being overly concerned with appearances. Water signs face struggles with self-criticism, leading to ongoing internal battles, whereas Fire signs, despite their creativity, may find it difficult to express their enthusiasm and passion, feeling mentally constrained in showcasing their true essence.

Mercury in 7th House: These individuals are fascinating as they often consider the well-being of both themselves and those around them. They possess a balanced perspective, frequently seeking fairness and advocating for it in various situations. Their deep motivation for love drives them to seek a partner, reflecting a genuine desire to find their soulmate. Additionally, they are analytical thinkers, skilled at dissecting information to uncover the truth, and they challenge others' viewpoints, serving as catalysts for merging different perspectives. This ability allows them to blend their analytical nature with a holistic approach, minimizing bias. Air signs can thrive in this context, but they might need to find balance, as they can become overly focused on intellectual pursuits. Earth signs excel in research, making them knowledgeable and intelligent, while water signs may struggle with overanalyzing emotions, which can hinder their ability to feel deeply but can enhance their romantic side. Fire signs may face challenges, becoming indecisive and less action-oriented, yet this can also lead to a more balanced outlook, helping to curb their selfish tendencies, though it may impede their decision-making.

Mercury in 8th House: These individuals are complex and profound thinkers, often teetering on the edge of black-and-white thinking, where they may view situations from a singular perspective and frequently shift between opposing sides. They tend to grapple with negative thought patterns, which can overshadow their deep analytical abilities. While they possess a keen interest in unraveling life's mysteries, their intense nature can lead to paranoid thoughts and a strong curiosity about sexuality. This desire for transformation often drives them to reassess their beliefs and perspectives. For air signs, this depth enhances their intellectual pursuits, adding emotional richness. In contrast, earth signs may become pessimistic, hindering their mental lightness and fostering a darker outlook. Water signs exhibit profound emotional depth but are prone to depression, which can leave them feeling hopeless. Fire signs, while naturally enthusiastic, may find their positivity diminished, leading to struggles in maintaining an optimistic outlook despite their quest for truth.

Mercury in 9th House: These individuals possess a broad-minded perspective, preferring to focus on the bigger picture rather than getting lost in minute details. They seek to understand life's deeper themes, purpose, and meaning, embodying a philosophical and spiritual mindset. Often steering clear of superficial conversations, they delve into the underlying reasons and mechanisms of existence. Their natural optimism shines through, as they maintain hope even in challenging times, viewing life positively. Adventurous and curious, they embrace challenges and seek new experiences. Air signs exemplify this philosophical approach, potentially becoming spiritual leaders, while Earth signs gain from this perspective, balancing attention to detail with a broader understanding. Water signs are motivated by this outlook, blending lessons from the past with aspirations for the future. Fire signs, on the other hand, embody a proactive spirit, eager to tackle life's challenges and seize opportunities.

Mercury in 10th House: These individuals tend to be quite superficial, heavily preoccupied with their status and public perception. Their primary motivation seems to revolve around wealth and success, which drives their mentality towards achieving a perceived high status. This focus can lead to a cutthroat attitude, as they prioritize their goals over emotional well-being. They often appear image-conscious, which may hinder genuine self-reflection, and they seek physical comfort and stability in life. Their relationships can be transactional, centered on what others can offer them in terms of status. Air signs are particularly ambitious and desire to be leaders within their social circles, while Earth signs are driven by the pursuit of wealth and excellence. In contrast, Water signs may struggle with balancing their need for depth and authenticity against the pressure to maintain an image. Fire signs can come across as self-centered, overly focused on their own aspirations and how they are perceived by others.

Mercury in 11th House: These individuals are unique and unconventional thinkers who frequently generate creative and innovative ideas. They often possess a knack for predicting future trends and staying informed about current events, allowing them to find insightful solutions to global issues. Their attention is often directed towards the world around them, including politics, news, friendships, and social media, which can sometimes lead to neglecting their own needs. Their commitment to community and problem-solving drives them to seek change and make a positive impact on society. They are typically generous and altruistic, focusing on their relationships and how they can enhance the lives of others. However, their lack of emotions can make it challenging for them to maintain a balanced perspective. Air signs excel in this regard, as they tend to be future-oriented and socially adept, fostering strong networks. Earth signs bring a pronounced focus on goals that extend beyond themselves, showcasing greater complexity than typical earth signs. Water signs blend past and future perspectives, creating a unique outlook that combines intellectual and emotional thinking. Fire signs also thrive in this context, as their inherent future orientation is amplified, enhancing their ideas and aspirations.

Mercury in 12th House: These individuals tend to possess a profound introspective nature, often isolating themselves to reflect on their lives and actions. They frequently engage in deep contemplation about their personal feelings and relationships. Many of them are spiritual seekers, searching for a connection to something greater, whether through religion or spirituality. Their tendency to idealize life can lead to confusion, as they may prioritize fantasies and imagination over reality. Additionally, they often find themselves hindered by their past experiences, which can dominate their thoughts. Air signs may experience significant confusion, resulting in delusional thinking and difficulty maintaining rationality. Earth signs, while generally more stable, can feel like loners and struggle to comprehend their thought processes. Water signs are prone to addictions and often seek escape from their own minds. Fire signs grapple with a sense of instability, feeling lost and unable to make definitive decisions.

[macabr3-barbi3]

DoubleTrouble No 1 🖤❤️

Myself and the delightful and talented @fraugwinska have been working on something tasty and present to you: a DoubleTrouble fic!

A single prompt from my Ao3, shared between two writers, one POV each ❤️

I tackled the reader's perspective, and you can find one from Alastor's POV right here! So many thanks for FrauGwinska for being an absolute superstar and working with me through this new and exciting experience <3

We hope you enjoy!

Tags: period sex, cunnilingus, mentions of blood (obviously), rough sex <3

Minors DNI🔞

The Blood is Rare 🩸

The fact that you still had a period in Hell was bullshit, but you suppose they needed to give people something to be miserable about. That was probably why people ended up in the situation you were in now, seated across from Alastor with a deal on the tip of your tongue; sheer desperation, because somehow the cramps were even worse than they had been on Earth and the only thing that helped was a good old fashioned orgasm. If it were anyone else you wouldn’t even consider asking- a lot of demons, except the really-weird-even-for-Hell ones, were still squeamish about blood being involved with any kind of orgasm.

If you were right though. Alastor would relish the opportunity you were about to present to him.

Fresh to the hotel just a few days after your last Hellish period, Alastor had startled you in the kitchen with a knife in your hand. The resulting jump had caused the blade to slip, gash in your thumb bleeding steadily over the apples that you had planned to fry up. Rather than allowing you to fetch a bandage, Alastor had chuckled, said “no need, dear,” and popped your thumb into his mouth. It was probably some ploy of his- strike fear into the hearts of new residents, give them a reminder that he was a cannibal and that he wouldn’t hesitate to eat them if they stepped out of line or caused any issues.

It backfired on him. At the taste of your blood his eyes grew black, staggering away from you with the shock of it, antlers extending so quickly they smashed the glass front of a nearby cabinet and he ended up trapped between the wooden dividers.

“More,” he had snarled, but his antlers stuck in the cabinet had been enough of a delay for you to make an escape. 

He apologized, of course, a couple days later, explained his nature as a cannibal, a predator, had reacted before his mind, and that such a thing would not happen again. He had ended the awkward conversation with a statement of, “should you feel the desire to spare some of that tasty treat in your veins, do be a dear and let me know!”

And, well. Here you were. Letting him know. Ready to make a deal with one of the most powerful Overlords in Hell to get a little relief from the torture chamber that was your body in ovulation, even when there was nothing to fucking ovulate.

Alastor was tense when he phased into the hotel conference room to meet you as you had asked. His spine is stiff when he settles into the chair across from you, not having been alone in a space since that time in the kitchen. “What is it that I can help you with, my dear?”

“I want to clarify something- do you want to like, eat me?”

“Oh!” Alastor’s eyes widen with his smile. “I wouldn’t have been so blunt about it, darling, but if you’re asking- yes. That little taste that I had a few weeks ago was… inadequate, to say the least. But naturally staying here at the Hotel, Charlie would have been terribly upset had I consumed you.” He flicks his gaze over your form. “Why do you ask? Surely you don’t mean to let me indulge.”

A deep breath as you brace yourself. “Hah, not exactly. But uh, I do have a proposition of sorts for you. In regards to that. Kind of.”

He fades out of sight, rematerializing a couple seats closer to you. “Color me intrigued! What do you have in mind?”

You almost call the whole thing off- then a monster bolt of pain rips through your abdomen, nearly forcing you to double over the table with the ache of it. Any thought of embarrassment or hesitation flies from your head. Alastor is the only one that would be willing to help you in this way, you’re sure of it.

The groan of pain escapes you before you can stop it, and his eyebrows raise. “I have a deal to offer you that would allow you to- um. Sample my blood, if you’re amenable. Once a month.”

His head cocks to the side before his expression clears and he understands what you’re implying. “You’re referring to menstruation?” You nod, face red. “I see. Please provide me with more details of what this proposal would entail on my end then.” His claws are digging into the table, wood splintering beneath them and betraying his interest before even hearing what he would have to do.

“Right. I don’t know if you’re aware or not but periods can be crazy painful. Just on Earth too, but down here they’re basically unbearable when the cramps get bad. One thing that can help is having an orgasm.” You’re trying to resist the urge to hide in some way. You know this is what needs to be done. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, of course- just, you know. Uh, collecting on your benefit would probably do the trick.”

His eyes narrow. “I see. That is the… service I’m to provide, then?” A nod, flushed face dropped into your hands. “Well, I suppose I will simply have to endeavor to do my best! I’m never one to turn down a challenge- certainly not when the payoff is so enticing.” His eyes go dark, not quite black yet but the air between you changes, antlers going long and jagged. “I’m open to your proposal.”

“I need terms,” you breathe out, pleased that he’s still willing to help with the sexual nature of your request. “I need- just, something confirming that you won’t actually eat me for real. The blood is all that I’m willing to part with- no flesh.”

He sighs, eyes rolling. “Less exciting,” he says with a wave of his hand, “but not a dealbreaker. Anything else?”

“Only once a month- during this time. You can’t just be making me bleed whenever you want.”

“Done.” He’s in the chair next to you then, eyes black, grin so wide it threatens to split his face open, clawed hand held in your direction. “Do we have a deal?”

You take his hand in yours, green light filling the space between you and a screeching feedback sound assaulting your ears. When it fades Alastor is watching with hooded eyes. “Would you like to begin now?”

“Oh God. Uh, if now is a good time for you I guess. If you want to do it now.”

He laughs low and dangerous, his tall frame rising from the chair to tower over you. “Darling, I’ve wanted some semblance of what you’ve proposed for weeks. I’m not a man that makes a habit of denying himself a treat when it’s offered to him so sweetly.”

Your hand is still in his, and there’s a strange pull behind your navel as Alastor yanks you into the shadows with him, rematerializing in his bedroom. “Feel free to sit on the bed,” he offers, gesturing to the mattress and manifesting a large dark towel. “Or lie back- however will be more comfortable for you.” 

He releases your hand once you’ve sat, and you stay upright as Alastor sinks to his knees in front of you, fingers coming to the top of your skirt and pulling everything down in one fell swoop, his expression darkening at the scent of you exposed before him before ducking his head. You can’t see what he sees with how close he has already come to your skin, his enlarged antlers blocking your vision, the muscles of his back flexing with the force of his inhale as he breathes you in. A jolt of pain hits you again, deep in your core, and your whimper at the feeling has him bringing his eyes back to your face.

His eyes are hooded and dangerous, feral smile on his face while your fingers dig into the bedsheets. “Feel free to hold on, dear,” he says with a gesture to his antlers, before dipping his head to your bare cunt and slicking his tongue between your folds, angling his head just so to slip into your heat.

You can almost forget that Alastor is only doing this to satisfy some carnal desire of his with the fervent way that he pushes his mouth against you, slick muscle delving deep into you and brushing his nose against the firm nub of your clit. There’s a reverberating rumble as he moans at the taste, clawed fingers coming up to grip at your thighs, spreading them wider so he can get even closer to the source of his obsession. You can feel where he flicks his tongue inside you, brushing against that sweet bundle of nerves with every strong push and pull. The pleasure curls in your gut, keeping the worst of the cramps at bay while your body tenses and releases in rhythm with the demon’s ministrations. Every so often he pulls out, brings what he’s collected back into the haven of his mouth and savors it, eyes closed and his throat rumbling with a satisfied groan.

“You’ve no idea,” he growls, “how I’ve thought of tasting you. Consuming you.” The sharp points of his teeth brush against your clit and your body jolts, hands finally flying up from the bed to clutch at his antlers, grip tight on the tines of them as he looks up at you. 

The look on his face is nearly your undoing- more animal than man, and his claws dig into your flesh, tiny pinpricks of pain dragging you forcibly back to the moment. Your orgasm is just out of reach, not enough focus where you need him but you don’t want him to feel uncomfortable if you ask him for more.

“Fucking divine,” he whispers against you, and when his tongue brushes your sensitive clit with the words you shudder, the motion drawing his gaze to your face, flushed and hot. He smiles wide, expression smug as he leans in and does it purposely this time, licking up your folds and finally focusing where you need him to be. He circles it with purpose, pressure so sweet and sadistic, a light suck making you cry out his name and fist your hands on his antlers.

“Fuck! Alastor, yes, there- oh god, please, more…” He tenses under your hands and you worry for a moment that you’ve done something wrong. Then he’d sliding his hands under your thighs and dragging you closer to the edge of the bed, draping your legs over his shoulders.

“Say it again,” he murmurs, the vibrations of his voice sending heat flooding through you, overriding the painful ache of a cramp that tries to make itself known.

“Alastor,” you moan, and his tongue resumes its residence in the tight grip of your cunt, a hand coming up to brush a clawed finger over your clit. He works you quickly, his efforts paying off as your body tenses, invisible string inside you drawing tight and snapping with a force you’ve never felt before. “Alastor- A-” You try to say his name again, hear it come out as as a choked off whimper and a near scream as you reach orgasm, legs tightening on his shoulders and pulling him as closer, your walls clenching down on the length of his tongue before be pulls back and licks you through the remainder of it.

You release your grip on his antlers and fall back against the mattress, eyes closed while Alastor removes his face from between your legs, licking along the tiny pinpricks of blood from his claws before you shoot him a halfhearted glare. 

Your abdomen is blissfully absent of any clenching of your internal organs seeking revenge. Sated, you sit up from the mattress to see Alastor still knelt before you, faint lines of dried blood- your dried blood, your brain supplies- around his mouth. He looks like a predator fresh from his kill of the night, antlers jagged and long, eyes still dark and frantic as he looks at you.

“Was that sufficient, darling?”

“God, yes, it was perfect. I- I really appreciate your help.”

“Hmm. Of course. Though I must admit, only part of my… appetite for you has been appeased.” He rises from the floor, knees perched on either side of your thighs now and leaning in. You can smell something metallic on him as he approaches, know that it's your own blood as he stares down into your eyes hovered over you.

“Oh?” You become aware of a hard length pressing into your thigh. “Oh! I didn’t think that was something you would be interested in.”

He shrugs, rolling his hips and hissing at the friction. “Nor did I, dear. That does seem to be a theme with you, though- having a taste and finding that I crave more against my better judgment, against all reason.” He places a hand on your hip and runs his claws along the bare skin. “Would you allow me to help ease your pain once more?”

“God, yes,” you breathe out, “please, Alastor.” He takes a moment to undress, trousers removed along with his boxers before he climbs back over you and presses against the still slick folds of your cunt. He pushes in, hot and hard length opening you up and settling deep inside of you with a harsh exhale of breath against your neck. “Fuck, it’s so good.”

Alastor growls, the sound reverberating through his chest as he thrusts into you. A pulse of arousal shoots through you, the thought of bringing such a well spoken man to his baser instincts, so thoroughly invested in you that he can do little more than snarl like an animal into your skin, pushing you ever closer to the edge again. You’re already soft and sensitive from your first release, the cresting wave of a second hustling towards you. 

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, sharp teeth nipping at the tendon he finds there and moaning. “I could devour you,” he whispers, and you feel yourself clench down on him at the broken crack in his voice.  He drags his tongue up the length of your neck, hesitates like he’s trying to savor it. “I could feast on you for centuries and never tire of the taste of your flesh, whether coated in blood or sweat.”

A whimper escapes you as he sucks on the skin of your shoulder, leaving a trail of harsh bruises along the path he takes. A hand comes up to twist into his hair, something to ground yourself, to draw this out as long as possible. Your other hand digs into the flesh of his arm pinning you to the mattress. “Fuck, more, please,” you beg him, and he pulls back from your neck to watch your face twist and contort in pleasure while he slams against the sweet spot inside of you.

“Say my name,” he demands, fingers on your hip digging bruises into the soft skin, his other hand tangled in the bedsheets, tearing them to shreds to avoid sinking his claws into you. “Say it. Tell me what you need.”

“Oh God, Alastor-” You angle your hips, the movement bringing him even deeper into your body, the length of him so sweet and sinfully delicious that a whine escapes your throat before you can think to stop it. “I need- I don’t know, Al, I can’t-”

“You must,” he commands, and he lets go of your hip to slip his hand between your bodies, fingers pressing against the taut skin of your opening where your bodies are joined. The stimulation is foreign and new and has your walls tensing and releasing rhythmically around him, release so close now that you were seeing stars behind your clenched eyes.

“Look at me.” Your lids fly open to meet the sight of Alastor above you, his face contorted in something like pain. “You must,” he says again, fucking into you with vigor now, sweat beading on his forehead. “I need it around me, I have to feel it. Please, darling, give it to me-”

Fuck. How could you deny him when he asked so sweetly? Not that you had any control over it- your body breaks beneath him, cunt wrapped around him like the softest of silk and tightening its grip. Your limbs seem to go numb for a moment, pleasure warping your reality for a few blissful moments, your vision focusing in a tunnel on Alastor’s face before it vanishes, burying once again in the space between your shoulder and neck.

With a final cry of his name he sinks his teeth into you, not tearing back as one might expect but content to simply let them rest there as he spills into you with a broken moan, hips bucking hard and fierce and then easing into something softer as your walls pull and push, wringing every drop from him.

A breath of silence as you both catch your breath, interrupted by a hiss of faint pain as Alastor pulls his teeth from you and licks at the wound he’s created like a satisfied cat. “You promised you wouldn’t try to eat me for real,” you mutter, voice soft from the strength of your cries.

Alastor hums against you, tongue still moving against you. “Hardly my fault.” He’s mouthing greedily at your skin, claws traipsing on the flesh of your hips and roaming wherever he can reach. “You’re delicious,” he groans, taking one final taste of your blood before pulling back and collapsing next to you, “a delicacy. How am I meant to live without this at every moment of the day? I think I shall starve.”

You huff out a laugh, stretching your muscles as well as you can without really moving. “Don’t be dramatic. You get it once a month, at least.” You roll onto your side, ignore the feeling of something slick and wet between your thighs and focus on the fact that your body is limp and pliant and not seeking revenge on you. 

“You raise a valid point, my dear.” He throws you a sideways look, his antlers now having returned to their normal size and his ears relaxed against his skull. “Though I’m not at all opposed to repeating this aspect of the experience outside of your… monthly allowance to me. Deals always have room for negotiation, do they not?”

“Let’s get through this one first and then we’ll talk.” You yawn and try to rise from the bed, but an arm from the demon beside you is thrown haphazardly over your waist, pinning you in place.

“Stay,” he says, his eyes lidded and peeking at you. “There’s more to come yet, right? May as well stay where we can easily access one another for the duration.” His crimson eyes close the rest of the way and you settle back into the mattress, allowing your body to relax and slip into a peaceful sleep beside him.

[chrissv4mp]

— I COULD CHANGE YOUR LIFE -

chap 1 , get that girl. — | — ...back — | — next...

summary: the interaction at the diner hasn't left his thoughts, and chris just can't help himself when it comes to your beautiful presence, so he follows you home.

pairing: stalker!chris sturniolo × singer!reader

warnings + topics: cursing, stalking, murder, weapons, blood, obsessive behavior, suggestive moments, breaking & entering, crying, arguments, chris is crazy, choking, drowning, first person, second person, etc. more than half of these topics are mentioned in later chapters.

author's note: if the person reading this is sensitive to any of the topics listed above, please do not read this. i am not responsible for your own media consumption, and will not change any aspect of the story for your own pleasure. (this will be the last time i will state this, please scroll if you're not comfortable.)

author's note 2: he's giving joe goldberg!! this chapter is written mainly in 1st person, & the first half is chris' perspective! i'll clarify that throughout the story.

author's note 3: you guys are getting this a little earlier because i couldn't wait to post it🗣🗣

word count: 2.8k

why are you walking home alone, y/n? it's not safe out here, especially late at night. what if some creep tries to attack you? i know you're smarter than that.

and you're on your phone, clearly unaware of what's going on around you. you're lucky i'm here to keep you safe. i'll always be.

i reach behind my back, grabbing my hood to throw it over my head. if she saw that i was the one following her, she probably wouldn't watch me anymore. she would think i'm a weirdo.

i hear her laugh, and god, i wish that sound could just repeat in my head for a lifetime. it's such a sweet, soft sound, just like her personality. sweet.

"jamie, don't be such a dick. you know the deadline is coming soon and we have to finish the album." i hear her say, and i can't help but flinch at the sudden noise.

who is she talking to? who is jamie, and why is he being a dick to her? nobody should ever even speak a filthy word to her let alone treat her badly, she's such an angel.

her head turns, and i finally get a glimpse of her earbuds. she can't hear me. no wonder why she hasn't turned back every time i step on the gravelly sidewalk. it's such an annoying sound, always calling me out.

y/n sighs, rubbing her temple with one hand as her free one holds the phone up to her ear, "it's like you don't even care if we descend the charts! maybe ask yourself why you're doing this before you go and screw everything up."

she's tense, i can tell from the way she groans under her breath. i can hear jamie's voice, it's quiet but i can make out what he's saying.

something about rerecording background vocals and going over lyrics again. then, he says something inaudible, and now y/n is on video call with him.

she taps a button, and now i can hear him loud and clear, "just listen to this, it really needs some touch-ups."

i can see his face from the way y/n is holding her phone, and suddenly his eyebrows furrow and he looks directly at me.

the music pauses, and y/n stops in her tracks. she's in the middle of the crosswalk, and i'm just a few feet behind her.

"y/n... who is that?" my eyes widen as i realize he's talking about me. she only laughs nervously, shrugging the uncomfortable feeling off.

don't look back, "stop fucking around and just show me the chorus." she huffs out, another laugh leaving her plump lips.

his eyes are still on me through that screen, and i just continue to walk, hoping that my cover won't be blown.

"no, y/n, look behind you. there's a man following you!" he finally yells, and i curse under my breath as i hear y/n's breathing pick up.

her head whips around, and that's when i panic. fuck, why did her house have to be so far away? damn you, jamie.

my first thought is to just rush her, tackle her to the floor and throw her phone on the ground, but i don't because that would result in hurting her. so, i take the second best option, running to my right and into some bushes.

i hear y/n scream from behind me, and then i hear her footsteps finally run off the crosswalk and across the street. my foot gets caught on a stick, and i fall face first into the dirt.

my knees hit the ground, and i groan at the sharp pain of rocks on my flesh. my hands sunk into the mud beneath me, getting the hem of my sweatshirt sleeves dirty, "dude, what the fuck?"

i stand up again, shaking my hands out in front of me in hopes of getting the mud off. some of it does, and a small amount of damage is repaired, but there's still cuts and bruises forming on my lower half.

my eyes wander, looking down at my bloodied knees. why did i even wear jorts today? it's boston, it's not supposed to be hot after 6 pm.

my hands clench into fists, and anger begins to boil under my skin. it feels like it's 90° now, snd i just want to punch something. why do my plans always fucking fail? no matter what i do, the outcome is horrible.

not this time. no, i'm not gonna let this silly little thing mess up my plan. this is just a setback, and there's always downs in life, don't let it get the best of you, chris.

"breathe." i mutter, closing my eyes and taking a few deep breaths. i wish matt was here, he would know what to do. he would console me and tell me everything's gonna be alright.

he would tell me to keep going, get the girl. and that's exactly what i'm gonna do, whether jamie likes it or not. because this is just a minor setback, nothing will stop me from getting y/n. no one will stop me.

"you're starrin' in my dreams,

in magazines,"

it's the next day, and now matt is dabbing the large cut on me with a cotton ball. the hydrogen peroxide stings, and i flinch as he puts a bit more pressure.

"matt!" i groan, reaching for his hand. he swats mine away, looking up into my eyes with a stern expression.

i shut my mouth and just look away, trying not to focus on the pain too much as my brother pushes it against my knee. i hear him let out a long sigh, and then my attention is back on him.

he gives me a knowing look, and then he speaks, "what'd you do this time?" my eyebrows furrow in offense. i never do anything, it's not always my fault.

i scoff, looking around at anything but matt. how could i explain that i was following the love of my life, that doesn't know she's the love of my life yet, home, and then got caught and threw myself into some bushes? he would think i'm a maniac, and that's the last thing i want my older brother to think of me as.

"i tripped on a crack in the sidewalk. it was hugeee, matt, you really should've seen it." way to go, chris, that's so believable.

he shrugs, a smile coming to his face as he laughs, "i'm not even surprised." that was very believable, chris. way to go!

"not surprised is crazy." nick chimes in, and both mine and matt's heads whip up in the direction of his voice.

he's leaning against the door frame of my bedroom, a smug smirk on his face as he squints his eyes to see my knees better, "wow, chris, who pushed you off the slide?"

i just flip him off, they're treating me like a child. i'm smarter than that, i'm tougher than the both of them. well, maybe not nick, but i'm close!

"actually go choke." i groan, throwing myself back against the mattress as disappointment washes over me. if i had just thought before i followed y/n then maybe i would know where she lived, and whoever the fuck jamie is. such a snitch.

matt peels the plastic seal from the bandaid, and then he sticks it onto the cut on my knee. he inhales sharply before getting to his feet again, "alright, you're fine now. take the bandaid off when it stop bleeding, 'kay?"

i only hum in response, my emotions all over the place and getting the best of me. this entire situation is so idiotic and childish, i don't need a bandaid.

nick walks out after matt, making sure to shut the door. wow, he's finally learned after all the times i've scolded him about not closing it.

there's still mud in the crevices between my fingers and under my nails. it's uncomfortable in more than one way. i just want the memory of that night to be gone, erased from my memory for my entire life.

but i'm not ever gonna forget it, and it's gonna be hard to forget when the girl i want is a constant reminder of that incident. it's whatever, though. in the end it will pay off, all the things i'll do for her attention will pay off. i know it will.

my feet begin to swing as they dangle off the edge of my bed, and then they hit something. i finally sit up straight, looking down at where my feet are planted. the box, that box full of magazines and letters, prints and various drawings of y/n.

i look toward my door before grabbing the box and placing it on my bed softly. my fingers hook under the top, and it falls to the side, revealing your face on the covers of multiple magazines.

i never missed a day when rolling stone, variety, and even vogue came out with new magazines that featured y/n on the covers and in all of the pages inside. i even bought some that had her on only a single page, then i cut them out and threw it in here.

nobody could call themselves y/n's biggest fan with me still alive. they don't know her like i do, even if we just met for the first time on—no, even if we just reconnected for the first time in forever yesterday.

"pretty girl." i whisper. even if she can't hear, i know she knows that. she's the prettiest girl in the world, who wouldn't compliment her?

i grab the first magazine, my eyes darting all around her beautiful body and facial features before putting it to the side and admiring the next one. it should be a crime to be this gorgeous, she shouldn't even be allowed outside.

what if something happens to the girl? her security wouldn't care, but i would. the things i'd do for that girl i can't even explain. i don't need her love for that, though, because i can just protect her even when she's not watching. i need her love because that is the only thing that keeps me going.

her interviews where she says how much she loves and appreciates her fans, that keeps me going. that night at the diner when she said she watched my videos, oh, that's gonna keep me up for a long time.

who would've known that night would take a turn because i sure didn't. i thought it would go smoothly and that i would make it all the way to her home, surprise her. but no, it went horribly all because of that fucking dipshit jamie.

he's the one who ruined our romantic walk, he's the one who ruined my chances of getting her to fall for me. jamie ruined everything, and fuck, i just want to strangle him until his head pops. i just want to watch him as he gets ruined, as his life gets ruined in front of the entire world.

i don't even realize that i'm crushing a page of her magazine until i hear a crunch, and now suddenly, i'm back in my room as i stare at her beautiful, crushed face. panic spikes in my heart, and my free hand comes up in an effort to smoothen down the paper like it was before. no, this was a special magazine, it couldn't be ruined.

my breathing hitches, and i huff out as i just throw it back into the box. my hand reaches for the other one, and i place it gently atop of the crumpled paper before closing the box and setting it under my bed again.

i kick it further under the bed frame until i hear it hit the wall with a quiet thud, and then i let out a breath that i didn't know i'd been holding in. i'm letting my anger get a hold of me again, just like it almost did last night.

"deep breaths, chris. just breath." i tell myself, grabbing the sheets and running my thumbs along the fabric as i breath in through my nose and out through my mouth.

if i let anger get the best of me i'll ruin my plan for y/n, and then she'll never want to speak to me or even see me again.

"you're looking right at me."

pov = second person...

you smile at the boy across from you, giggling at the stupid knock knock joke he had just told you, "that wasn't even funny, it's just your laugh, jamie!"

he scoffs in faux offense, putting a hand to his chest as he takes a sip of his coffee. before speaking again, he swallows, "don't try to convince yourself that i'm not the funniest guy you've ever met."

you only roll your eyes at the blond, looking away from him to admire your surroundings. you and your producer came to this small coffee shop to talk about work and how you both needed to finish the last few songs on your upcoming album before the deadline, and now here you were, laughing at his jokes.

jamie felt like a brother to you, being there for all your highs and lows all throughout these past few years as you grew on the charts. he was always by your side, protecting you from crazy fans and even crazier haters. jamie also treated you like a member of his family, and he said that he'd protect you with his life.

the laughing dies down, and then you hear him sigh. your head turns to look at the boy again, and his eyes meet yours in an instant, "i hope you're being safe out there, y/n. seriously."

your face contorted into a look of happiness and maybe even guilt as you tilted your head, "i promise you i am."

"what about last night, then? you could've gotten kidnapped if it wasn't for me pointing out that creep. he was most definitely following you home, y/n!" he exclaimed, quiet enough that nobody else could hear but loud enough that only you could.

a look of worry was on his face, an expression that you hadn't seen that much of lately. he really was scared for you, especially in the last few months. you were growing in popularity fast, climbing up the charts every week or so.

at your silence, jamie exhaled, "sorry for snapping, you just... you keep me on my toes at all times, and sometimes i don't know what to say." he gives a smile full of sympathy before he takes another sip of his coffee.

you nod, eyes wandering again as you mutter, "it's okay." you knew all he wanted was the best for you, "i should've just gone to liv's apartment. the walk to my place was further than i thought."

your eyes darted all over the small plaza, looking around at all of the different people that walked by. one person in particular caught your eye, and you stared for just a little longer.

chris stared right back at you, hair covering his face along with his black fresh love hoodie. he found you again, and this time he wasn't gonna fuck up.

he saw the way your eyebrows furrowed even from the fountain across from the cafe, and he laughed at your concentrated look. you were trying to figure out who that was.

the brunette couldn't lie, he was a bit jealous of your producer. i mean, he was sitting right across from you and making you laugh. chris should be the guy who makes you laugh!

he'd been watching no less than 15 minutes as you both chatted, cheeks flushing at your perfect smile and beautiful, silky hair that fell over your shoulder just right.

maybe his obsession had grown after that night, but he wasn't some deranged stalker who tracked your every move. that would be insane, and chris would never put himself under that category. maybe.

chris cursed as jamie's head turned in the direction of chris, and the brunette just turned and quickly walked away. his brothers were probably wondering where he was, and the vlog would have to be scrapped if only 2 of them were in it.

jamie's eyebrows furrowed again, and he stood up and quickly grabbed your hand, "we're going, y/n. now."

as he dragged you out of the cafe, you couldn't help but think. who was that mystery guy? was he the guy from last night? why was he following you?

you had so many questions, and yet there were no answers to any of them. not quite yet, anyway. you were gonna have to wait for the right time, and chris had the whole thing planned out already. you'd just have to be patient.

comment to be on the series taglist!

@livialifesblog @fratbrochrisgf @spideylovin @1800-love-me @ginswife

@strnlxlqve @joemamaaa42069 @mirioosos @ladyy-whistle-d0wn @snowysosturn

@dej4vhs @zayyluvz @slut4chriss @h3arts4harry @str4wberryk1ss3s

@riasturns @yurpppppy @nwlluvsturnsstars17 @asimp4chris @byneptunee

@ilove2021chris

[myfictionaldreams]

Hear me out! How about Mafia Steve rogers having hate sex with reader because they were having an argument and reader had attitude. He fucks her like i need to dicipline you, you little brat and she is calling him daddy.

I'm Bored! // Mafia!Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

A/N: Thank you for the request! ♥ I hope you like this!

Side Note: This isn't a part of the mafia!stucky universe, just wanted to clarify that lol

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, dom/sub, rough sex, spanking, ripping clothes, degradation, praise kink, size kink (!), desk sex, creampie, edging, overstimulation, daddy kink, pretty behaviour, slight misogyny/stereotypes, hairpulling, fingering, exhibitionism, slight subspace

Words: 2.6k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

“I know what you’re doing”. Steve slammed his phone onto the desk as his nostrils flared, eyes glaring with an intensity that any sane person would have backed away with their head lowered in submission.

It seemed you had a death wish today as you smirked and continued to piss him off, wanting the exact reaction you were receiving from your Mafia boyfriend. Stomping your foot and clenching your fists, you continued in a shrill, high-pitched tone for an added effect that you knew would drive him into the depths of mental hell. ”I’m not doing anything! I just feel so trapped in this stupid box of an office!”

As you so politely described, this stupid box of an office was an executive suite in one of the skyscrapers that towered over Brooklyn that he could view from the ceiling-to-floor windows. The office had to be the biggest in the building, with enough space for his desk, sitting area, kitchen and a vastly sized table to fit at least 15 people for meetings specified for the mafia boss.

And yet, here you were, moaning about the size, knowing that there was nothing more extravagant or luxurious than his office. In your defence, it had been a long day of being out of the office, as Steve had to travel for hours across his city to check the quality of stolen goods and meet with many influential people with the hopes of selling said stolen items. It hadn’t been a particularly trying day for the most part, but you quickly became bored, especially as you had to remain quiet during these meetings.

From an outsider's perspective, you were meant to be the pretty timid girlfriend of the mafia boss. His eye candy. There to hang on his arm and warm his lap and nothing more. In reality, he had wanted you there so that you could be more involved in the gang, understand how the meetings work, and contribute to decisions once back to the office if you deemed the people trustworthy enough to work with.

The staying quiet aspect of your role was also just for your safety. If you talked, that was an open invitation for the powerful individuals to talk back, and you weren’t ready to be involved in those sorts of conversations just yet. Therefore, you were more than happy to remain Steve's silent, pretty girlfriend.

Today, however, you were feeling antsy from the lack of talking, stiff from sitting for so long and needy for something a little more exciting than hand-holding or sitting on his lap. Especially now you were in the comfort of the office and could really rile Steve up. Maybe you were being a brat, but you were so bored and frustrated you wanted to get your heart pounding and some sort of relief, so pissing Steve off was the best option for this.

“Stop trying to take your clothes off-! Fucks sake. Everyone out!” Steve ordered the guards stationed by the door, and they promptly followed his directions as they left with a slam of the door.

You pause, with one of the straps of your dress halfway down your arm, turning to face him directly with a wicked smile on your face. Oh, he was pissed, verging on genuinely being angry with the way the vein on his neck was bulging and throbbing.

“I hate when you get like this. We were having a nice fucking day, too”, he demands whilst beginning to remove his tie and jacket. You knew he didn’t mean it; he always loved being able to dominate you just as much as you loved being an irritating brat and getting on his last nerve.

Your cunt pulses in desire watching him closely, eyes blazing with excitement as you bite your lower lip to try and hide the unmistakable grin. “Was it a nice day for me or for you, Steve? Because it’s been a boring day for me. All I’ve been doing for hours is standing there and looking pretty. Do you know how boring that is? I want to live a little! My clothes feel too tight, too claustrophobic. I want to be free!”

Steve doesn’t say anything, but he does glare as he begins to undo the cuffs of his white shirt, rolling up the sleeves to reveal the muscular forearms beneath. It was only as he rounded his desk that you began to back up, taking a quick step backwards, but they were no match to the giant strides of his long legs as he was in front of you in a matter of seconds. His chest bumped into yours, forcing you to continue backwards until your back was flush against the cool glass windows.

Steve towered above you, even with your black heels adding a few inches to your height; he always seemed to be a gargantuan man, adding warmth to your core. Looking up at his glaring face through your lashes and biting your lip, trying to look as innocent as possible.

“Think you’re being cute by acting like this? Like a brat with all that attitude?” he snaps, reaching up to wrap his massive hand around your throat, not squeezing as such but just so that you stayed still and he could feel the thump of your racing heartbeat beneath his fingertips.

“I think I’ve got the response that I wanted, so yes, I think I am being cute”, you say confidently whilst reaching for the bulge in his slacks to show just how turned on he was, squeezing it tightly and making it throb.

Steve’s eyes drop to your hand as he subtly thrusts into your palm, but as he looks back towards your face, you know he has something planned as it is his turn to smirk. “You said your clothes felt tight. Well, let’s change that Princess”.

The hand around your neck lowers to your hip, turning you around so your front is pressed against the window, forced to look out over the city of Brooklyn. Before you could even look over your shoulder to see what was next, your body was shaken as Steve gripped the left and right side of your dress and pulled, effortlessly ripping the red dress down the zip so it fell from your body. You were left in only your thong and heels, wholly exposed to the city below.

Steve’s hand is then suddenly in your hair, pulling your head back against his shoulder and forcing your chest to push up, your nipples perking from being pressed against the startingly cold glass.

“Does this make you feel any more free? You know I love it when people watch me touch you. Well, now we’ve got the whole city watching Princess”, Steve whispers as he runs his nose down your neck.

You shiver as he nudges the sensitive spot just below your ear, “Yes, Steve-”.

The hand in your hair tightens, “Excuse me?”

“Daddy”, you correct yourself quickly, “Yes, Daddy, thank you for making me feel more free and showing me off to everyone”.

He hums to himself, “I think it’s about time I should how to be more grateful and show a little less of this attitude you seem to have”.

“Yes, Daddy”, you say submissively, mind reeling with the anticipation and thrill of what's to come.

“Count for me and safe words to be used if needed”, he mentioned before continuing.

With one hair remaining in your hair, he presses your face against the window, not hard enough for it to hurt but also to make sure that you keep it in place. His other hand pulled back on your hips, perking your arse out for him. You were only vaguely aware of his plan as you heard the swatting of his hand through the air before the stinging impact as he spanked your arse cheek.

You jumped at the contact, but he always started light, not wishing to actually cause you harm and so that you could make it through the usual ten counts before checking in.

“One, thank you, Daddy”, you say sweetly, watching the glass in front of you fog up at your heated breath. With each spank, you made sure to count and thank him. Even though you’d been a brat, when he finally did snap like he was now, you were always on your best behaviour, taking whatever punishment he deemed necessary.

His palm connected with both of your cheeks, ensuring they both had equal attention and that the areas were hot to the touch and somewhat sore but not enough to bruise. You enjoyed the rough treatment so much that you were rolling your hips into his palm, feeling the wetness coating your thong and spreading over your labia.

“Ten, thank you, Daddy”, you softly say, your eyes closed and feeling the world becoming fuzzy around the edges as the mixture of pleasure and pain caused the hormones in your head to feel like you were experiencing your own personal high.

This was the reason why you always enjoyed pissing him off with a little bit of attitude and bratty behaviour; being drawn into a subspace mentally from the punishments was like a drug to you, one that Steve was more than happy to pull you into.

Overwhelming pleasure suddenly burst through your burning core as Steve pulled your thong string to the side and shoved two thick digits into your pussy, stretching you thoroughly.

“You’re so wet, such a desperate little slut aren’t you” he taunts whilst rocking his fingers in and out, stretching them every so often to prepare you for what you really want.

You stick out your bottom lip in a pout whilst rolling your hips in time with his fingers as you whine, “Only your slut though, Daddy”.

Steve kisses your naked shoulder, showing some sort of soft intimacy, “That’s right, you’re just my little slut. Now how about you show me just how good you are for me and go and bend over my desk and spread your legs”.

The hand in your hair loosens enough that you can wiggle free and stumble over to the desk, kicking off the heels as if they were not helping the wobbly sensations in your legs. Steve was one step behind and reached around you to shove the papers cluttering his desk off and onto the floor. With the extra space, you could happily bend forward, resting your chest on the desk and widening your stance as Steve begins to unbuckle his belt.

Watching over your shoulder, you admired the lustful gaze of his bright ocean-blue eyes, the drag of his tongue along his bottom lip as he looked as if he wanted to eat you right then and there.

“Do you like what you see?” you asked whilst wiggling your hips invitingly to him.

Steve tries and fails to hide the smirk on his face. Reaching forward, he rubs with each of your arse cheeks, squeezing the sore areas until your mewling and begging for something more. As he stepped closer and continued to hold the string of your thong to the side, he looked you directly in the eyes as he spoke lowly, “I just want you to remember that you wanted me to get this riled up with that smart mouth of yours. Acting bratty has its consequences”.

Opening your mouth to try and sass him another way, all that came out was an exaggeratedly obscene moan, your eyes rolling back as Steve’s cock thrust deep within your cunt in one mighty thrust. The movement caused you to rock onto your tiptoes, having to push further onto the desk as the tip of his cock pressed against your cervix, filling you completely. The warm, wet walls of your pussy fluttered and squeezed around the penetration, trying to milk him already, clinging to him within an inch of your life.

Your fingers wrap around the edge of the desk above your head, holding on to it as Steve withdraws. Half of the length inside of you retreated, only to slam back into you, causing your hips to bump into the table with the strength put behind the movement.

“Faster”, you demand as your forehead rests on the rest, eyes closing to focus on the overwhelming pressure in your core.

However, the sassy tone you used was not appreciated by the man nearly splitting you in half with his cock as his hand once again delved into your hair to pull your head back, causing a startled scream to replace the moans.

“You don’t get to decide how fast I fuck you, Princess”.

With your head pulled back in this position, you were now having to stare at the wall behind his desk, which had a narcissistic painting of him, given to him as a joke by one of his employees. Now, however, to your delight, you were able to stare up at his handsome face as he fucked you with deep, tauntingly slow thrusts.

With this pace, you could feel every single inch dragging along your sensitive walls, causing them to spasm and tighten on instincts rather than just taking a quick hard fuck that left you forgetting to breathe and seeing stares. The way Steve currently had you was more overstimulating and had your breaths coming out in short huffs.

Steve, it seemed, knew every little moan and hitch of breath that your body took, understood at which degree of tightness your cunt squeezed him in with just how close you were to orgasm. His hips stopped thrusting as you could have sobbed as that beautiful sensation faded into a light buzz rather than an overwhelming euphoria.

“Please- Please Daddy, I…I… I’m sorry for my attitude, Daddy” You managed to find the right words, internally praising yourself for coherently saying what Steve wanted to say as currently, the only words running through your mind were, ‘fuck me harder, Daddy’.

“That’s all I wanted you to say, Princess”, he praises lightly as one hand remains holding onto your hair and the other slips between the desk and your mound so that two of his fingers can massage your clit.

The burst of fire that pulsed through you was powerful, knees wobbling and whines turning into incoherent begs of the word ‘yes!” as Steve finally began to fuck you at the fast pace you’d been hoping for.

You came so quickly that the breath rushed from your body, and you became light-headed from the overstimulation. He doesn’t stop, though; he just continues to hold you in place, fucking you and playing with your clit until you came a second time.

Thankfully, Steve did too, grunting desperately as his hips snapped up one more time, and wetness came flooding out of your cunt as his seed seeped out and down your thighs. Carefully, he removed his fingers from your sensitive bundle of nerves and gently rested your face on the desk whilst massaging your scalp and kissing along the back of your shoulder blade.

As he moved up towards your neck, you sighed in contentment, turning your face to the side so that he could gently kiss your cheek and you could reach around to run your fingers through his short, blond hair.

“Get your frustrations out?” he asks quietly and softly into your ear.

Nodding your head, you blink tiredly back at him, “Yes, thank you. But now, I have no clothes, and I can’t walk”.

Steve chuckles against your skin, a beautiful sound that has your toes curling again, “Well, I did warn you”.

[allthornsnopetals]

Prologue: Stain the Parchment E. Bridgerton

Description: Flora Deluca -Lady da silva- is the pen pow and beloved author of Eloise Bridgerton. With her travels around the world, Flora finally travels to Mayfair London, in the hopes to inquire inspiration for yet another successful story, one in London, away from France and Italy with the aid of her pen pow. Unknowingly enbarking her romance mini-series.

:Master list:

"Miss Flora, you have received a few more letters from your readers, a lot more." Said Claudia, lowering a stack of folded and sealed papers, all written from the same sender.

Eloise Bridgerton: A new and quite fond reader of Miss Flora Deluca's novels, poems and volumes. She always wrote but Flora only ever read her letters, too busy to answer all her fan mail, especially Miss Eloise, who writes so often, she simply could not read them all.

But tonight is different, it's stale, cold and without excitement. Once left in peace, she began to sift through each written text, enjoying the character of the writer. She found amusement in every letter, all with a different perspective on love, marriage and romance. To simply put it, Miss Eloise is anti-love, which is ironic given, the reminder that Flora's genre is predominantly romantic.

But Eloise doesn't seem to mind, enjoying star-cross lovers, unrequited love, right person wrong time and general adventure. Adventures throughout France and Italy, Flora's mother lands. The more she read the more interested she became, intrigued in the young lady, who seems to have a gift for literature. Ideas racked her mind, ones of adventure, travels and new stories.

Without a second thought, Flora began to write to Miss Eloise of London.

Dear Miss Eloise Bridgerton,

I find your mind fascinating, intriguing and fresh. I like your take on the topic of romance and the rights for women. I do hope you put it to good use, for a woman like yourself has skill and potential. I am to travel to Mayfair London in four months, before the debutante season of marriage, for my father is to inherit his family estate there, and I am to start a new life in the Ton. By your letters, you seem to be a local, someone to show me around and help me to settle in.

I do hope to see you, perhaps get some ideas for a new story.

Yours truly,

Lady da Silva

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

"Eloise, you have a letter from... Italy?" Violet turns the letter in her hand, holding it out to her daughter with great confusion.

Eloise cracks her gaze from her book, eyeing the parchment, snatching and ripping it open. "From Italy? From whom?" Hyacinth inquires, trying to see the letter.

Eloise scowls. "From no one, mind your own. It is not your business." Said Eloise, shooing her little sister away with Benedict slumping himself beside her, also very excited.

"Is it from Lady da Silva?" He questions in a hushed voice, wetting his lips.

The two share a love for the author and artist, who illustrates her own books and covers. Both, sending letters frequently, but only one receiving a reply.

With a gasp, Eloise clarifies their suspicions, her grin far too wide for a typical letter. "She likes my mind, she thinks it's rather fascinating," She gloats with a smirk. "And she's moving to London!" She screams, jumping for joy with Benedict, like fools, sharing an embrace.

"I am to write to her right away!" She runs up the main stairway, leaving her family in silent confusion.

Dear Lady da Silva,

I am greatly honored to receive word from you and to be given the opportunity to aid you in your next book. I have plenty of ideas, adventures, character personality and genres. How about a heroine? A woman hero, who embarks on a quest, an adventure.

I cannot wait to finally meet you, to brainstorm with you, to work with you! Your novels are legendary here, in the Ton, enjoyed by all— yes, even by men. Genevieve Delacroix, the modiste introduced me to your books— surprisingly we mingle a lot, discussing your books over tea and fittings. She too, is quite the literature, she adores your poems, always quoting those of affection, frequently, must I add.

She would love to meet you. Oh, and my brother, Benedict, who found himself looped into our little book club— if you can call it that— and writes to you as well, but it seems you have only replied to my letters, which I thank you greatly, truly. You bruised his heart for only replying to me, forcing him to quote your latest publish: Irony is of the Heart. Your best work, if it means, he too, is quoting your work.

I can't wait to see you,

Eloise Bridgerton

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Time flew by rather quickly, sending letters, the two made a connection, forging a friendship by letter, staining their parchments, their minds occupied with the other. The two became pen pows, rather quickly, their letters becoming more intimate and personal, Flora was beginning to think she were already with her.

Sooner than she thought, she were in Mayfair London, unpacking her chambers, decorating and finding new furniture for her study. Once sat for the night, she wrote to Eloise, informing her of her arrival and her need for new garments. Marking a time to meet and unknowingly a new beginning.

[milliesfishes]

౨ৎ꣑ৎThe Ocean౨ৎ꣑ৎ

[fem reader] contains: academic rivals to lovers, mentions of drowning, misogyny pairing: young!coriolanus snow x fem!reader summary: coriolanus snow and you have been competing for the academy's top spot for a long time, and when you're paired up for a group project, he's certain it'll be disastrous. but when he finds he misjudged his pretty rival, he wonders if he ever hated you at all. author’s note: this one's been bouncing around in my head for a long time, hope you like it! Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

There is nothing Coriolanus Snow despised more than group projects.

He much preferred to work solo, unburdened by another person's input. Being by himself, working on an assignment in a way he knew would get him a good grade was pure bliss.

But Professor Cicero just had to assign partners.

And she just had to pair him up with you.

He despised you, with your rich, high up family and your charm and your effortless good grades. You and him had been vying for the top spot in your class for years. It was infuriating how perfect you were, how everyone seemed to love you.

Now, sitting at your desk in the grand house you occupied with your aunt, he decided to grit his teeth and get through it. You were lying on your back on your bed, head hanging over the edge, hair touching the floor the guidelines for the project: an oral presentation and individual essays on the importance of the Hunger Games.

You were in a pretty little white sundress and he was still in his Academy uniform, not having had the time to go home and change. Another reason to be infuriated at you- the luxuries you had that he did not.

"Are you going to take this seriously?" Coriolanus huffed, crossing his arms as he watched you read. Your relaxed demeanor annoyed him- this project was important.

"Just give me a minute," you said, not taking your eyes off the paper. "I want to make sure I understand this correctly."

"What is there to understand?" He looked down at his shoes, impatiently waiting for you do be done. "It seemed straightforward to me."

"Okay, okay," you laughed a little, rolling over onto your stomach and setting the paper to the side, your eyes fixed on him now. "Since you've clearly been thinking about it for awhile, what do you think we should be writing about?"

He sat up straight in his chair. Finally, he'd be able to take charge. "The Games' purpose is to punish the districts for the actions of the rebels. We should spend the bulk of the assignment talking about that."

You bit your lip, eyes cast to the side as you thought about it, nodding. "...Yeah. Yeah that's good."

Coriolanus recognized your slight skepticism, and he scowled lightly. "What, that isn't good enough for you?"

"No, no it's good!" you clarified, smiling a little and nodding quickly to punctuate. "It's just...it's a little textbook, don't you think?"

He stared at you for a moment, astonished that you'd dared to contradict him. He'd never had a partner call him out on any of his ideas before, but then again he'd never been paired up with you.

The worst part of it all was that you looked so innocent, looking up at him with those big doe eyes. The earnestness of your expression caught him off guard.

Coriolanus gave you a sharp look. "And did you have a better idea?"

You tilted your head to the side, looking away for a moment as you thought. "Well, if we want to get a good grade, we need to play to Professor Cicero's interests. And one thing I know for sure about her is how much she enjoys perspectives that are a little bit twisted."

"I've just done that with my idea," Coriolanus argued, annoyance building up. "The idea of punishment is one she touches on a lot in her lectures."

"But it's overused," you said calmly. "I'd bet every other group is going to do the same thing."

"Because it's literally the point of the Games," Coriolanus sighed, rubbing his temple. He could feel a headache coming on.

"We don't have to word it like that though," you said, sitting up fully, your knees tucked underneath you.

"So what do you suggest we do?" he asked sarcastically. He was prepared to scoff at whatever your better, more complex idea was.

You were quiet for a minute, and he could practically hear you thinking. Then you fixed your bright blue stare back on him. "I say we talk about how the Games benefit the Capitol, particularly the government. It's like you said, they're to punish the districts, but how exactly?"

Coriolanus raised an eyebrow, not admitting he was a little intrigued.

"The Games strip away the tributes' humanity," you continued, leaning back on your hands. "They show the most raw, primal form of human being. The Capitol does that on purpose. It's meant to show everyone watching what they would be without the government. Hungry, helpless murderers. And it scares the districts into submission, whether they realize it or not. It's basic socio-political ethics, really."

...

He was floored. All this had come from you? And you'd said it so casually, so thoughtfully that it'd come off as modest. He was still staring at you, but now it was for a different reason. Coriolanus was in awe.

Of course he'd always known you were smart, but he didn't know you were this smart. This wasn't regurgitated notes or passages, this was a true, thought out idea.

"Coriolanus?" you tilted your head, moving so your legs were hanging over the side of the bed. "Are you okay?"

He'd been in a daze, but he snapped out of it. "I'm fine."

"What do you think?" You almost looked nervous. It was almost laughable to him that you were worried your brilliant idea would fall flat with him. It was cute, really.

He cursed himself for thinking that last part.

"It's good," he said, keeping his tone even. "Let's use it."

"Really?" A smile broke across your face like the sun breaking through the clouds, and he couldn't help the corners of his mouth quirking up slightly at how happy you seemed that he'd liked it.

"Really," he nodded, squashing the smile away. "It's...it's good."

You bounced a little in your seat, and there was another thing he couldn't help- how adorable he found you.

Suddenly he was noticing all sorts of things about you. The way your hair fell like a curtain on your cheeks when you leaned forward. Your white dress hem riding up centimeters on your smooth thighs, making your legs look long and slender.

Now he was imagining how they would feel wrapped around him. And now he was angry at himself.

"Right. Should we start writing the essay portion?" Coriolanus cleared his throat and asked.

"Sure," you said, reaching for your notebook and pen. His eyes lingered on you a little longer before he turned to face the desk and started to write.

The entire time he was distracted. His opinions were unraveling and reforming into different things. He'd thought you pretentious, but you were clever. And now he was wondering if the rivalry between the two of you was ever even a rivalry at all. Now that he thought about it, you'd certainly never treated him like it was. Your naturally sweet personality had held true during every interaction you'd had with him.

So it hadn't been a rivalry, he realized. Only petty jealousy on his part. And now that he thought about it, attraction.

Coriolanus' paper was becoming increasingly un-well written as he couldn't take his mind off you. His word usage was sloppy, and his thoughts were hardly articulate. Oh well, he thought. It was still better than what some of his borderline illiterate classmates would turn in.

He heard you sit up, and your soft footsteps came up behind him. He could smell your perfume, a familiar scent he'd never found arousing before.

"Are you almost done?" you asked sweetly.

"Ah, yes. Yes I'm finished," Coriolanus said, hurriedly sitting up and shuffling his papers.

You leaned against the desk and he looked at you, finding you angelic as you bit your lip. "Will you read mine? I want to make sure it's good enough."

He nodded, the scent of you putting his head in a spin. He couldn't have said no to you even if he'd wanted to.

You handed the paper over to him, and he read it, his mind able to think clearly when he was reading your words.

It was incredible. No other word for it. The way you wrote was poetic, but it also held the hand of logic, keeping the topic (your brilliant idea) the main focus. It was an essay for artists. Normally he'd find it ridiculous but there was something about knowing you'd written it that made it perfect.

Coriolanus didn't want to articulate this to you, so he simply handed the paper back to you. "It's...it's good."

His words were simple, but she smiled even wider. "You think so?"

"Of course," he said, lips twitching again. "You're a talented writer."

He was itching to be the cause of that smile, and it worked. You lit up immediately. "Thank you Coriolanus."

You stood up straight, but he didn't want you to leave his side. "Will you read mine?"

Nodding eagerly, you took the papers from in front of him. He semi-regretted the decision to ask you to read it because this paper was not his best work, but he figured it would be fine.

Your face was serene as you read, the little smile you'd acquired not leaving. Shifting where you were standing, you absentmindedly shifted toward him, and before he knew it you were in his lap, sitting across his thighs.

His breath hitched, but you didn't notice, continuing your reading. You shifted comfortably in his lap, and looked up at him as you finished the paper, smiling. It seemed to him all you ever did was smile, and he didn't mind it one bit.

"I like it," you said honestly, searching his eyes. "Professor Cicero will definitely love it."

"I don't know about that," Coriolanus laughed lightly.

"She likes everything you do," you smiled again, nudging his shoulder. "It's me she has a problem with."

"That's not true," he said automatically, but as he thought about it, he knew it was. Professor Cicero's favoritism of him was one of the ways he'd been able to feel triumph over her over the years. Here was the one teacher who hadn't fallen for her charm. But now he mourned it.

"She doesn't like anything I do," you shrugged. "But maybe with you as my partner she will." That last hint of optimism seemed to cheer you up a bit. You got off his lap and he wished you'd stayed.

"Perhaps," Coriolanus mused, thinking about it.

His thoughts were interrupted by your bedroom door opening. Your aunt stuck her head in, smiling at him before addressing you. "Dearest, Felix is here to see you."

Coriolanus went into defense. Felix? Felix Ravinstill? The most pretentious, stuck-up snob in their grade was here to see you?

You thanked your aunt and she left, shutting the door behind her. Now you were smoothing your dress, tucking your hair behind your ears. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. You were primping yourself to go visit with Felix Ravinstill?

"Felix Ravinstill?" he inquired politely, trying to quell the raging jealousy within him.

You gave him a sheepish half smile. "Yeah. He comes to see me a couple times a week."

Under normal circumstances he wouldn't have cared. He might've even secretly triumphed that his two least favorite people were taking each other off the market. But now he was disturbed by the idea.

"Are you...together?" he asked, hating that he sounded interested.

"No," you laughed a bit. "Not in the slightest. He'll probably move on to some other girl soon. I just entertain to be polite."

Coriolanus doubted it. Even when he'd hated you he'd known you were the most sought-after girl in your class. Festus was one who liked to have the best, and he likely wouldn't stop until you were his.

"Ah," he pretended to be okay with it.

"I'd better get down there," you said apologetically. "You're welcome to stay as long as you'd like."

"No, I'd better head home," Coriolanus said, standing up and putting his things in his bag. He didn't want to stay up here while you were downstairs chatting with Felix Ravinstill.

"I'll walk you out," you offered, and he followed you out the door.

You walked gracefully, holding the banister with one hand and the other holding your skirt. "I think it'll go well. Our presentation."

He agreed. "It will."

"Tomorrow if we just go through the basic points I think we'll get a good grade," you said as the two of you stopped at the front doors. "That and our essays will impress Professor Cicero, I just know it."

Your enthusiasm only made you more endearing to him. He gave you a quick smile and nodded, trying to maintain the cool demeanor that was slipping more every second he spent with you. "I believe it."

The two of you shared a look. You were smiling sweetly. His lips were parted slightly, hand on the strap of his satchel. In that moment he felt so...strongly towards you. It was like a magnet, an unstoppable natural force that called him to you...

But he couldn't act on it. Not now.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he said quietly, giving you a quick smile.

"You got it," you said, nudging his shoulder. And then you were gone. Off into the sitting room where Felix was waiting for the privilege of your company.

He breathed easy once he was out the door. You had a strange effect on him, one in which he felt confused, but he also liked it. You were effervescent, nearly magical to him.

Coriolanus took in a breath, then started on his way home. He was going to shut the door to his room and read whatever love poetry he could get his hands on, in the hopes one of them could make him smile like you did.

The next day, you were shaky with nerves.

Coriolanus had never seen you like this. You were always such a ray of sunshine, so excited to even exist, it seemed. But today your knee was bouncing up and down, your lip was pinched between your teeth, and your fists squeezed tight.

The presentations dragged through the class period. The two of you were set to go last, and Coriolanus both praised and cursed Professor Cicero for that. Yours was set to be the best presentation, but it also meant your nerves were going to stew the longer you waited.

As another pair started their oral report, Coriolanus reached out and took your hand, squeezing it softly. Almost immediately, your body went still. You looked up at him, with that irresistible doe eyed gaze, and he melted.

"It's okay," he murmured, squeezing your hand. It was like someone else had taken residency in his brain. This gesture felt so out of character, but so right. To be here, comforting you... he found there was nowhere he'd rather be.

A little smile came to your face. You looked surprised, but you didn't push him away. He held your hand through this presentation, and the next. And then it was your turn.

You let go of his hand, and he reluctantly stood up, following you to the front of the room, setting yourselves under the judgmental gaze of Professor Cicero.

She nodded, the signal to begin. Coriolanus watched you take a deep breath and start to speak.

He marveled at your skill. You had been so nervous before, but nobody would have known it. Your voice was clear, your words eloquent. You spoke in the same way you wrote, he noticed. Poetic and pleasing to the ear, but not without point.

Coriolanus contributed his part as well, but his mind was far from the project. Him from yesterday would have kicked him, but he didn't care. He was completely and utterly captivated by you.

The presentation concluded, and you both turned to Professor Cicero for evaluation. He watched you hold your breath nervously.

"An excellent presentation," Professor Cicero assessed, giving you both a nod.

Your smile lit up your face, and you fidgeted with your hands excitedly. Coriolanus wanted to pull you into him and kiss you senseless.

Professor Cicero rifled through the papers of your essays, then looked up again. "The ideas presented are unique. A fresh take on the purpose of the Games."

Your excitement was growing, as was Coriolanus' need to hold you. He tried to gather himself. "Thank you, Professor Cicero."

"This was clearly well thought out," Professor Cicero continued, setting the papers down. She looked at him. "Mr. Snow? Were these your ideas?"

He froze. You turned to him expectantly, that little smile on your face. And before he knew it, the automatic academic instinct in him took over and the words were flying out of his mouth. "Yes. They were mine."

Instantly, a wave of regret washed over him. Your face fell, the smile completely disappearing from your face.

Professor Cicero took no notice, dismissing them to sit down. He kept his eyes on you, mind racing. Oh he'd really done it now. He'd gone and ruined everything.

As the both of you sat down, he barely heard Professor Cicero's closing remarks, unable to tear his gaze away from you. You sat up straight, eyes determinedly focused on the front of the class.

Professor Cicero dismissed the class, and you stood up instantly, leaving before he could say a word. Coriolanus picked up his bag and moved to follow you, but a voice called from the front of the class.

"Mr. Snow?" Professor Cicero beckoned. "A word?"

Oh no. She'd found him out. She knew he'd taken credit from you. He walked slowly to her desk, like he was marching to his death.

"I just wanted to tell you again what a wonderful presentation you gave today," Professor Cicero smiled, folding her arms on the desk. "You always do a wonderful job in my class, but the thoughts you presented were exceptional."

"Thank you," he said, a little stiffly. The guilt was festering inside him.

"And being paired with Miss Kennedy?" Professor Cicero referred to you. "How did that go?"

"It was...it was good," he confirmed, thinking about the time you'd spent together yesterday and feeling the smallest of smiles come to him. "She's a good partner."

"I'm glad you were able to keep her in check," Professor Cicero nodded. "Miss Kennedy is an accomplished student, to be sure, but her ideas can be a bit...radical. I thought it best for the two of you to be paired up so you could ground her a little."

He was floored, his eyes widening a little. "I wouldn't say radical. She's brilliant."

"For someone of her status, I suppose," Professor Cicero leaned back in her seat. "But girls like her aren't meant to be scholars."

Girls like her...radical...oh no.

He felt dazed and upset. Professor Cicero's prejudice against you hadn't been exaggerated.

"Anyway, an excellent job once again," Professor Cicero said casually, waving her hand as if she hadn't just brazenly insulted the smartest girl in school. "You're dismissed."

Coriolanus left the room feeling worse than he had before. There was a heroic amount of guilt blocking out his other senses. He couldn't believe what he'd just heard, what he'd done.

He spotted you at the end of the hall, speaking with another boy in your class. You looked so beautiful, the afternoon sun spilling through the windows and lighting up your silhouette. The boy you were talking to patted your shoulder and left. You turned around to start walking, but then spotted Coriolanus.

Standing there for a second, he wondered how he should apologize. Groveling maybe? But before he could approach you, you turned on your heel and left, heading out the double doors of the school.

He didn't think about it, he just followed you, briskly walking in the same direction and nearly sprinting down the stairs to catch up.

You must have heard him, but you ignored him, keeping your pace. Coriolanus managed to catch up, nearly out of breath. "Can I explain-?"

"What is there to explain?" you kept your eyes straight ahead.

"I want to apologize," he tried, wanting you to stop, but you didn't.

"For what? For stealing my credit?" you clutched the strap of your bag, trying to walk ahead. "I'd rather not hear it."

"I shouldn't have done that," he murmured.

"No, you shouldn't have," you turned a corner.

Coriolanus followed you. "I acted impulsively-"

"You did, didn't you?" Suddenly you stopped, turning to face him. "You stole my ideas, after I told you that Professor Cicero doesn't take me seriously. You knew that and you did it anyways."

He was silent, letting your words sink in.

You took a step toward him. "What did she say to you? Professor Cicero. I heard her call you back."

His lips parted, surprised. He didn't want to tell you.

"What did she say Coriolanus?" you insisted, your tone firmer than he'd ever heard it.

"She said we did a great job," he said honestly, withholding the rest.

"What else?" you questioned. He cursed your intellect.

"She...said she was glad I was able to keep you in check," he said reluctantly.

You nodded, looking down, your expression hurt, but not surprised. "Let me guess. She said something about how my work is usually far-fetched, and it's probably the best a girl with my background can do."

He was silent, but you must have gathered that you were correct from his expression, because you nodded once, looking like you were about to cry, and turned away, folding your arms over yourself.

Coriolanus felt horrible. He ached to take you into his arms and comfort you for the cruel words Professor Cicero had wrongfully directed at you.

"My ideas are too radical until you have them, is that it?" you said softly.

"Please-" he started.

"The worst part is, you didn't even need to do it," you turned to look at him, and his heart broke. There were tears in your eyes, a stark contrast to how he'd ever seen you before. "What you contributed was good. It would have gotten you the same grade. But you just had to steal what I did."

Every word of what you'd said was correct. You'd always had a gift for hitting things right on the nose. Even though he knew he'd messed up, let his idea of a rivalry ruin things, he wanted to make it right.

"I'm sorry," he said, his words earnest.

You pursed your lips, looking at your shoes, still on the verge of tears. He knew it wasn't enough, but it was a start.

"Let me walk you home," he offered, taking a step toward you.

You inhaled softly. "I'm not going home." Looking back up at him, your other hand found the strap of your bag. "I'll see you later."

He frowned a bit as you started walking, hurrying to catch up. "Where are you going?"

"It doesn't matter," you said briskly, turning another corner, down an alleyway. Coriolanus hadn't realized you'd were walking at the edge of the city until he saw the line of trees. You were headed for the woods.

"Wait, where are you going?" Coriolanus called, hurrying along beside you. You both crossed the border, stepping from concrete to grass.

"You don't need to follow me," you said, following the forest path.

He trailed behind you, concern growing by the second. "It's not safe out here. There are rebels in the woods."

"I've never come across any," you said simply, ducking under a tree branch.

"You've been out here before?" he questioned in disbelief.

"Yes," you moved gracefully through a patch of grass.

He paused for a second, trying to let that information make sense to him. When it didn't, he continued on, eyeing the gray sky. "It's about to rain."

You stopped, turning to him. "You don't need to follow me. I'm fine."

"It's not safe," he insisted as a raindrop fell on his cheek.

"Go home, Coriolanus," you sighed, turning away and continuing your walk. You ventured off the path, into a patch of trees.

"You can't just go off into the woods by yourself," he huffed, not listening to you. The rain was falling steadily now, and the two of you were quickly getting soaked. He didn't know how far into the woods you were, but it was certainly nowhere near the city.

"You don't say?" you said sarcastically.

"Will you just-" he grabbed your arm, pulling you to turn around. It was pouring rain. Your clothes and hair were soaked, as were his. You looked angelic. The sight of you made him forget what he had originally intended to say.

You stared at him, not pulling your arm away. He looked sincere, worried about you.

"The place I go isn't too far from here," you said quietly. "We can dry off and warm up there."

He pursed his lips and nodded. It wasn't like he knew how to get back from here anyway.

You led him through the grove, parting the leaves of a willow to reveal a little cottage tucked between the trees. He grew more confused by the minute.

"Where are we?" he asked, studying the cottage. It was small, but charming, obviously well kept.

Not answering, you ran your hands along the cracks of the cobblestones, seemingly searching for something. At last, you pulled a key out, unlocking the door. You went inside, leaving it open. Coriolanus hesitantly peered inside, seeing you kneel at a little fireplace, striking a match.

Holding up the little burning stick, you turned your head to face him briefly. "Are you coming?"

He remembered himself, coming inside and shutting the door behind him, setting his school bag beside yours. The cottage only had one room, lined with cabinets on one end and bookshelves on the other. The fireplace you were kneeling at was situated in the center of the room.

Cautiously, Coriolanus knelt beside you. You took off your jacket, folding it neatly to the side. Then you started to unbutton your shirt, and he tilted his head. "What are you doing?"

"We'll catch cold if we stay in our wet clothes," you said, sliding your shirt over your shoulders. He felt his breath quicken at the sight of your bra, a modest, white thing edged with lace, a tiny bow in the middle. You didn't seem to notice this, nodding at him. "Go on, take them off. We can let them dry for awhile."

He'd forgotten how kind you were. Even in your anger with him you were concerned for his well-being. With that thought in mind, Coriolanus stripped himself of his clothes, folding them beside yours. Your underwear matched your bra.

You warmed your hands by the fire, shivering. He noticed your damp skin, your wet hair sticking to your shoulders and back. Coriolanus himself was cold, but he was warming up quickly. You on the other hand were shaking, your body not retaining much heat.

He pursed his lips, then opened his arms. "Come here."

You looked over at him, brow furrowing. "What?"

"You'll get warmer faster," he insisted, knowing this to be true, but also secretly giddy at the idea of holding you.

Shaking your head, you looked back at the fire. "I couldn't, I-"

"Please," he said softly, eyes earnest as he looked at you. "I know you're still upset, but I don't want you to freeze."

Sighing, you looked down, considering. Another cold shudder shaking your body made the decision for you. Reluctantly, you crawled closer to him, and he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close to him. His skin was warm, and you couldn't help leaning into him. It was simply too cold, and he was being too kind.

"Better?" he murmured, resting his chin on your head.

"Yes," you admitted. Your hand found a place on his chest as you settled against him. Coriolanus hesitantly moved his hand up to the back of your head, pressing your cheek to his shoulder. You welcomed the change, sighing softly as his body warmed you right up.

He debated saying something, then decided for it. "I...I am sorry. Truly. For what I did. It is inexcusable, as you said. You confided in me and I wasn't sensitive to it."

You were quiet during his apology, and you looked up at him, chin on his shoulder. Your eyes were soft, and you just looked at him for a moment before the corners of your mouth lifted just slightly. "Thank you for apologizing."

"Don't thank me for anything," he murmured, holding your gaze. "I've been cold to you for so long, and you didn't even do anything wrong."

"I understand feeling threatened," you said, lifting your chin from his shoulder. "But it still hurt. Especially when..." you trailed off, looking down. "I thought we were friends. Since yesterday, anyways."

"Right," he murmured, looking down. He tried to ignore his feelings, but having you pressed right against him in this state of undress made things hard. "I suppose I always felt...threatened, in a way by you. Things always seemed to come so naturally to you, especially academically. I fooled myself into thinking we had a rivalry."

"I don't know if I ever thought of it that way," you leaned your head on his shoulder once again. "I just knew you did as well as I did."

"In school perhaps," he mused, resting his head against yours. "But it's not just that. You're successful in the Capitol's social graces as well."

"Well, that has not always come so easily," you laughed a little.

"What do you mean?" Coriolanus secured his arm around your shoulders, keeping you close as you warmed up. "You've been doing this for most of your life, haven't you?"

You shook your head, and he looked down at you. "You haven't?"

"I didn't live in the Capitol my whole life," you said, meeting his eyes. "Moved here when I was...oh I must have been eleven or so."

"Ah." He hadn't known that. "And where did you live before then?"

"Not terribly far from here. It was by the ocean." You turned your head to look into the fire. "My favorite place."

"You lived there with your...aunt?" Coriolanus guessed, remembering the older lady from the day before.

"With my parents," you smiled. "And my sister."

"Sister?" He hadn't known you had a sister. Usually the siblings of the Capitol were presented into society together, especially the women.

"Yes. Margaret," you looked up at him, blue meeting blue. "She was the best."

"Margaret," he tested the name out, hoping he could find it as sweet as you did. He did. "Does she live close?"

"I don't know," you said plainly.

He raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to elaborate.

"She left a long time ago," your smile was a little sad now. "I was nine. I haven't seen her since."

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, his hand on your shoulder absentmindedly stroking up and down. Though not in the same circumstances, he knew the pain of losing someone close.

"It's alright," you said, your head falling back on his shoulder. "I just hope she's happy."

"Did your parents go with her?" Coriolanus asked, before realizing he might be prying. "I'm sorry, I-"

"No, no," you assured him, reaching over and squeezing his other hand. "It's alright."

Your touch had a profound effect on him. He half smiled, eyes on your beautiful face as you continued.

"Like I said, we lived by the ocean." Your eyes were hazy with nostalgia, the light of the fire reflecting in them. The rain was pounding against the roof, the sound seeming to calm you. "In a little cottage on the beach. Me and my parents and Margaret."

He nodded, fingers still tracing your shoulder.

"I can't remember why Margaret left," you continued. "But she did, and then it was just me and my parents. One day I was walking on the beach. They were in the water." You paused, looking down at his hand in yours. "There was a current and they drowned."

Coriolanus was silent. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. You, the sweetest girl in the whole Capitol, had a trauma buried in your past that he'd have never guessed. And yet here you were in front of him, forgiving and gracious.

"I'm so sorry," he breathed, brushing a strand of damp hair out of your face.

"It's okay, it was a long time ago," you said, smiling in a bittersweet way. "It all worked out. My aunt took me in, and she takes care of me."

"No, I'm sorry for the way I've treated you," Coriolanus shifted you slightly to face him. "All these years. I've been awful to you and you didn't deserve it. Not one bit. And with everything that happened today..."

"Hey," you sat on your knees, kneeling between his legs. "It's okay. we're okay now. Everything that happened today-" You shook your head. "-it doesn't matter. You've apologized, and I know how sorry you are."

"You're brilliant," he said, taking your face in his hands. The gesture caught you a little by surprise, but you smiled slightly. "Yesterday when we were working on the project...I could see it clearly. You're amazing. Smarter than me..."

You laughed a little at that, leaning your cheek into one of his hands. "Really?"

"Don't rub it in," he murmured, and you laughed again. "But yes. And you're also sweet and caring and...I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since yesterday."

"You haven't?" One of your hands came up to grasp his wrist.

"No." Coriolanus shook his head to emphasize. "All these years I thought I hated you. I even admitted I was jealous. But really..."

He paused. He'd started talking without really knowing what he was going to say. So instead, he acted on an impulse and lowered his lips to yours.

Coriolanus' lips molded against yours, touching them softly, hesitantly. Until you started to kiss him back.

At that moment, when you reciprocated, he really started to kiss you. His lips dragged over yours, his thumbs tracing your jawline and bringing you closer. You shivered, not from the cold, but form the way he was touching you, holding you like something precious, something delicate.

The kiss broke off, and your eyes went back and forth between his, smiling slowly. As you did, his lips ghosted softly over yours once, then twice before he opened his eyes.

"You like me now?" you breathed, eyes bright.

"More than like you." His thumb roved over your cheekbone. He was smiling too. "Definitely more than like you."

You let out a little laugh of disbelief, your head falling against his chest. He hugged you close to him, kissing the top of your head. Contently, the two of you laid there for awhile, the fire warming you right up.

When you'd decided you were warm enough, you lifted your head, pressing a brief kiss to his lips before looking over at the door. You frowned. "Did you shut the door all the way?"

"I don't think we need to worry about anyone walking in on us," he muttered, trailing kisses down your neck.

"No." You nudged him off you, standing up. He followed you to the door, watching as you twisted the handle. It wouldn't budge. "The door gets stuck when it rains."

"Let me try," he offered. You stepped aside, and he pulled at the handle to no avail. "Ah, I see."

You groaned, hiding your face in his shoulder. "I should have told you before you came in...now we're gonna be stuck here all night."

"That doesn't sound so bad," he mused, arms wrapping around your waist. "It's not like we'll freeze."

"But we- ugh." You gave up, leaning back against him. "I don't know how I could have possibly forgotten."

"It'll be alright," he soothed, rubbing your back. "And besides, now we like each other." Coriolanus smirked slightly. "Whatever will we do all night?"

You laughed, letting him tug you back to the fire, where you remained cuddled in his arms until you both fell asleep.

The next morning the rain had stopped, and the two of you redressed in your clothes, opening the door with ease and walking out into the forest.

Coriolanus couldn't help his smile as he looked down at you, bringing your fingers to his lips as you walked back to the city.

Hand in hand.

come talk about coryo here!

[livums]

Liv’s {Totally Optional Non-Mandatory Completely Voluntary} Pointers for Fleshing Out Character Relationships

Hi I’m liv e. and by middling demand I am going to blab a liiittle* bit about relationships.

So I will start by saying that I’m trained & licensed as a marriage and family therapist. So this is kind of what I do all fucking week. And I like this whole writeblr thing so why not make it fun and about fiction instead. LOL.

The purpose of this liiiiittle** post is to offer some ways in which you, a writer (great job btw!), might deepen your own understanding of the relationships between two or more characters in your writing. More specifically, by thinking a little deeper about how relationships function in real life.

These are ways in which I might conceptualize a relationship between people who seek my services as a clinician.

A small disclaimer: the VAST majority of my work is with couples (because I. prefer to see couples over families, lol), so this advice is coming from that perspective. Please keep in mind also that there are certainly infinite other ways to think about relationships. This is just the way I was trained. Or at least, the parts of my training that resonated with me the most, especially as I began writing more seriously.

My hope is that reading and practicing/toying around with these tips will help add another dimension to how relationships play out in your writing. So um. Cheers! Let’s chat.

*it’s not a little. it’s a lot.

**it’s a long post.

i. What I Say vs. What I Mean

When was the last time your partner or good friend pissed you off?

Maybe they were flippant about your feelings. Maybe they blew you off to hang out with someone else. Maybe they keep loading the dishwasher like a neanderthal.

And did you say to them, “Baby/honey/sweetums/bestie, it really upsets me when you load the dishwasher like that. I’ve asked you to do it X way several times, and it feels like you’re not listening to me, or that you don’t care about how I feel” ?

Probably not? Because, hello? (If you did, first try, then, wow! you’re a better person than i’ll ever be.)

You might’ve said “Dude, stop cramming shit in the dishwasher like it’s a fucking suitcase,” or “Haha, wow, again with the dishwasher. Awesome. No, it’s like, whatever.“ Or you might not’ve said anything at all, on purpose.

There is a tension that exists, there, in the CONTRAST between what we are thinking/feeling/meaning (e.g., I love you/I miss you/You hurt me) and what we are communicating via our words and actions (e.g., You never make time for me/You’re so lazy/You’re such a(n) [expletive of choice]).

That tension is ... really fucking interesting to read, huh!

Personally, I have a lot of fun watching the needs/wants/feelings of a character (that we might be privy to, as readers) get filtered through their unique... voice.

So say you write a character who is quite rough around the edges, and not very skilled in affection. They have a deep yearning to be close to [love interest], but they just aren’t accustomed to languaging their true feelings. Maybe we see how scared they are of putting their feelings out there. It’s vulnerable. It’s terrifying.

So instead of “I really care about you, [love interest]”, maybe it comes out something more like “Don’t you have anything better to do with your time than follow me around all fucking day?”

And we, the readers, are like, wow! That’s not what you were thinking at all man! You’re so bad at this, that’s awesome.

So the point of all this is that it’s very helpful to clarify for yourself, in any meaningful interaction between characters in or soon-to-be-in a relationship:

What are the characters individually thinking during this interaction? What are the emotions that are present? How does it show in their body or their movements? Are they careful not to let these things show, or do they not notice at all?

How are they expecting this interaction to go? (Are they afraid something might go wrong? Are they looking for a certain reaction from each other?)

What DON’T they know about what the other person is thinking? What are their assumptions about how the other person perceives them--in general, and in this moment?

What is the GAP or the CONTRAST between all of the above and what actually ends up coming out of their mouth? Or what actions they end up physically taking (or not taking)?

Are the characters aware of their own contrast, here? How do they feel about it? Or, do they think they are being perfectly congruent?

In this way, you have the ability, as a writer, to create some devastatingly (or delightfully) poignant moments between characters. These are the moments that can really sell the reader on the relationship--its importance (why are you showing us this?) and its appeal (thank you for showing us this, this blew our tits off, etc).

ii. Tender Spots and How to Attack Them for Fun and Profit

So we’ve got issues.

What are the things that really fuckin get at you? Those topics that, when brought up, make you really upset and really defensive at like, mach speed. Maybe you’re insecure about your skills. Maybe it really bothers you when people see you as weak/unintelligent/a burden/unattractive. Maybe you have a rough and complicated relationship with a family member.

So these can be thought of as, like, tender spots (lol). You can also think of them as “raw” spots, sensitive spots, or triggers.

Figure out what your characters’ are!

This is another key way in which you can create deep and believable interpersonal drama--Character A (accidentally or intentionally) stomps all over Character B’s sensitive spots. So to speak.

A very cursory and relatively uncomplicated example of this in action:

Tasha and Mimi are two adults in a committed partnership.

Mimi’s got a real fucking chip on her shoulder about being seen as a burden--her father always went to great lengths to make sure she knew just how much he did for her, just how many opportunities he passed up in order to raise her, just how great his life would have been if she’d never been born.

Tasha is the oldest of five siblings. She was frequently tasked with their care, growing up. She did her best not to complain, as her parents were always very busy working to keep a roof over their head. So, Tasha did her part. She would’ve loved to rest and play and goof off like other kids and teens, sure, but it never felt possible with all of her responsibilities.

Mimi is suddenly injured and is unable to do certain things on her own that she had been doing before. Tasha goes about taking care of these things as well as taking on certain other tasks on her own that the pair of them may have tackled as a team before. Tasha feels stretched very thin by the workload, but is deeply concerned about how Mimi feels. There’s nothing to be done about the situation, she reasons, so there’s no point in complaining about how stressed out she is.

Mimi offers to help to the best of her ability, but Tasha is very concerned about her, and insists that Mimi rest and not exert herself. Mimi insists back. Tasha insists back back.

Mimi points out how stressed Tasha must be. Tasha agrees that she is stressed, but does not elaborate on her feelings. Mimi assumes that Tasha must think that she is a burden.

Mimi then becomes very emotionally activated--she is reminded, consciously or unconsciously, of how shitty it felt to have her father tell her over and over again what a burden she is, and how better off he would be without her. So this must be how Tasha really feels about her, Mimi accuses.

Tasha, who is very stressed but who cares very deeply for Mimi and her well-being, and who does not see Mimi as just a burden, becomes very activated in turn--she feels maligned and misunderstood. And now she certainly can’t talk about how stressed out she is, because it will only convince Mimi that she is right.

So Tasha is now convinced that she must continue to hold her feelings in in order to keep the peace--she’s reminded of her childhood spent taking care of others, and how she never felt allowed to express herself.

This example is obviously from a very zoomed-out view, chronologically, and is not exactly the way we would see it written in fiction (fiction is much more moment-by-moment and, well, exciting, usually). BUT we can see where Tasha and Mimi’s sensitivities lie, and how they specifically hurt each other with their behavior (unintentionally, in this case) by stomping RIGHT ON those sensitivities.

Readers love drama. And drama makes the plot go ‘round! So don’t be afraid to lay it on them!

In your (very good and compelling) writing, ESPECIALLY if you want to write engaging relational conflict, you would do well to clarify what your characters’ deepest sensitivities are. Consider the following:

What needs went unmet for them, growing up? A very cliche therapist-y question, but for good reason--our upbringing is where many of our deepest insecurities originate.

Additionally/alternatively, what do your characters understand to be their role in relation to other people? E.g., are they always the caretaker, the burden, the comic relief, the heartbreaker, the lonely hero, the boss? How did they first get this idea of who they’re ‘supposed’ to be towards others, and how was this reinforced throughout their life? Are they satisfied or dissatisfied with their ‘lot in life’? What do they hate about their ‘role’, if anything?

What sorts of situations might remind them of what they hate most about this role? E.g. ‘I enjoy taking care of others, and I’m good at it, but my partner gets upset if I discuss how stressed I get sometimes--I’m never allowed to express myself.’ How can you incorporate these situations into your story to create conflict?

How does your character respond when these sensitivities are triggered? Do they lash out? Do they retreat and get quiet? Do they ghost people altogether?

What do they think will happen if they are unwilling or unable to fulfill this role in their relationships with others? E.g., ‘My partner will leave me if I am not a good caretaker’, ‘Nothing will get done right if I’m not the one taking charge’, ‘If I don’t keep others at arms’ length, even if they say they love me, I’ll end up hurt.’

This is another way in which you can help your relationships really come to life! Anyways. Read on for more cheer and relational joy!

iii. We’re Attracted to What Hurts Us Sometimes, AKA Oops! I Ran into the Knife, Ten Times,

(less of a part 3 and more a part 2.5, but it was simply too long. so,)

So maybe you have a good idea of what your ideal partner/bestie looks like. It’s probably any number of positive traits: kind, considerate, good sense of humor, shapely posterior, ambitious, active, fun-loving, studious, etc.

What probably don’t make the list are things like: emotionally distant like my mother with whom I long to have a reparative experience.

Maybe you’ve witnessed (or been in) a relationship wherein all parties can be described as ‘just so bad for each other’. And maybe this relationship should not have lasted as long as it did (or shouldn’t be lasting as long as it is). And maybe you’re like--’Why are these assholes still together?’ Or, importantly: ‘Why did these assholes get together at all?’ The answer may surprise you! But more likely, it won’t.

Sometimes, we pick people on purpose specifically because they stab us right in the sensitive spot (again. so to speak).

(i should clarify before moving on: I am specifically NOT talking about relational abuse, here. That’s kind of an entirely different subject that is like. the cousin of this subject. In this discussion, I specifically mean relationships in which there is no major power differential--you’re just bad for each other. These relationships can be what we might call ‘toxic’, sure, and painful, but not abusive. The distinction is important, moving forward. ok ty)

[Author’s Note: I need everyone to know that I wrote and subsequently deleted 700 words here because I realized they didn’t make any fucking sense ok. let’s try this one more time.]

Essentially, it’s a known phenomenon among humans that, when we have experience with relational distress in the past (e.g. a partner who neglected you emotionally, or parents who disregarded boundaries you tried to set), we like to seek out similar people with whom to form relationships. Weird! But not really.

The human brain seeks closure and resolution--where we couldn’t get things to work out with our parents, or our exes, we try to get the same situations to work out next time, with someone new.

Let’s look at another example, together. Take my hand,

Suppose you write a character (Character A) whose mother was in and out of their life from a young age, and never seemed to prioritize them. Now suppose you are looking to craft a fraught or tragic or dramatic romance (or other relationship) with this character. Using what you’ve written of your first character’s backstory, you can do just that!

It’s perfectly believable, you know now, for your Character A to pursue a love interest (Character B) who has a tendency to... not want to stick around. Maybe this love interest seems to fear commitment and intimacy.

Now, maybe Character B in actuality has a very dangerous profession that requires that they maintain the utmost discretion, and be ready to flee anywhere at a moment’s notice. Maybe the fate of the city/kingdom/nation/world relies on B’s profession.

It probably doesn’t make them leaving all the time hurt A any less, though.

Character A, unconsciously or not, is determined to make things work this time around. As the relationship deepens, B is faced again and again with the choice--stay, for your love, or go, as duty commands. Maybe they’ve taken a vow for their profession that is no light thing. They leave, time and time again.

Character A, unconsciously or not, remembers this feeling--it’s an old one. Mother, time and time again, chose something else over them. It would be understandable for A to feel a deep anger towards Mom and B both. Maybe A takes drastic action to get back at B (action that is also, symbolically, retaliatory towards Mom)--maybe they cheat on B, or do something that endangers their own safety.

When all they really want is just to get B to stay.

It’s probably very clear now why it’s not so simple a thing for A to choose to date someone more consistent--this is something that goes beyond B alone.

In this way, you can very easily weave themes into the relationship(s) of your main characters. Maybe the story of A explores the pain of abandonment, or loneliness. If B is the protagonist, maybe the story explores the way we excuse our shitty behavior in relationships (maybe the job is a pretext--maybe they really are scared of commitment), or maybe it’s about the dilemma of duty over love.

Relationships don’t always make sense. Or rather, they do make sense, just in a different way than we might expect. You can use this understanding now to intentionally explore a number of complex relationship dynamics, and to create nuanced (but sympathetic) characters. As you do, consider:

In your existing characters’ relationships--what keeps these assholes together? Why do they have to be with each other, as opposed to anyone else? This is important, again, for selling the reader on the relationship, especially if it’s your work’s main relationship.

What initially attracted your characters to each other? Consider again from the previous section (what is this, a fucking textbook?) the historically unmet needs of your character(s).

How do your characters go about expressing their needs? Think again about CONTRAST here--what is the discrepancy between what the actual need is, and how the character seeks to fulfill it? E.g. ‘I need to keep B from leaving me, because it really hurts me when they go, so I’ll go risk my life just to keep their attention (rather than express this pain to them).’

What similarities, if any, exist between your MC’s relationships with the people in their present lives, and your MC’s childhood relationship(s) with their caregiver(s)? Could you expand on/deepen any similarities in your writing? What themes might emerge if you did?

iv. Change / The Arc

So you’ve got your work’s central relationship. It’s believable, it’s just the right amount of dramatic, it’s suitably tragic, and just all-around devastating. People will cry. Great job!

Now what?

Well, that depends--what ending do you envision for your relationship?

If they remain together, do they get the happily ever after? The happy-for-now? Is the reader left to wonder about whether or not their relationship will survive?

Do they not make it at all? Are they separated by tragedy? Do they crash and burn? Or maybe they try their best, but despite how badly they love each other, it’s just not enough?

Whatever the Point B of the relationship is, if it’s central to the work, you’re gonna want to have a clear arc in there. Or not, idk, I’m not your mom.

You might already know, if you inhale every piece of writing advice you come across (like me), what makes a compelling character arc. The good news is that it’s much the same with relationships! Kind of.

Systems (relationships) tend towards homeostasis. Without deliberate intervention, relationships want to remain the way they’ve always been. Just like people!

And just like characters, relationships need a reason to change. Like a catalyst, or a motivation. Whatever the hell you wanna call it.

It’s not always, like, complicated to figure out the driving force behind change in your central relationships. Sometimes the pieces fall together!

Pay attention to the characters within the relationship--as your characters progress through their arcs, their relationship will naturally shift. It will probably not look exactly the same as it did when it began--there might be similarities, of course (they’re not entirely different people.. usually. And there’s a beauty to bookending a story with the familiar, certainly). But in this case, the relationship can be thought of as an extra character, almost. It’s unsatisfying to read a whole story wherein a central character stays exactly the same. It’s further strange and incongruent for a relationship to stay exactly the same while the characters have like, achieved actualization or whatever.

Outside events can force change on a relationship, just as they do individual characters. A couple that’s close to Characters A and B get married--and A & B start to wonder what their future together even looks like. B’s company hires a fiiiine honey, who’s exactly B’s type, and A starts steaming about it. A pandemic ravages the nation, and to prevent the spread of the virus, A and B have to stay inside togeth

YOU GET IT ok anyways I’m fucking tired of writing. If you’re wanting to develop the arc of your MCs’ relationship(s), think on some of this:

Do your characters see any problem(s) present in their relationship? Are they all equally aware of the problem(s)? Do they agree on what the problem(s) are?

How secure are your characters in their relationship? If anything could possibly cause doubt and conflict to arise, what is it?

Where do your characters see their relationship going in the near future? In the far future? Do their visions align? If not, how do they differ? Do they even want the same thing?

Is the arc of the central relationship congruent with the arcs of the characters who comprise it? I.e. does the relationship remain exactly the same as it was when it started, despite the characters undergoing wild metamorphoses? Is the reverse true?

When you think about their relationship, INDEPENDENT of any ending you may already have decided, where do you see it going? Like, where do these people feel like they’re headed, realistically? Does this align with the ending you’ve decided on for them? If not, this doesn’t mean you’ve written a bad relationship or anything, it’s just a possible sign that some really intense shit might have to happen in order to shift their course, y’know? Or not--the world is your oyster and you are the God of your own creation!

What are you trying to say with your story, and do the arcs of the central relationships reflect that message?

final thots

If you read all that shit, thank you. I wrote it all in one sitting and posted it without proofreading 💜

In all seriousness, I want to emphasize that, although some of these aspects of relationships are most visible in rels with a lot of anguish and maybe even some toxicity, you by no means have to write this kind of relationship in order to make use of these tips. You could write a very Normal couple!

The idea is to offer you some avenues through which to consider aspects of your characters’ psychology and personalities, and how they mesh or clash with their partners’ or besties’.

Anyways I hope this was helpful. I love talking about relationships I could literally go on and on all day. Which I kind of just did so. lol.

I’ve been liv and I’ve got two main WIPs I’m working on right now: The Romance of the Demigods and The Marking Blood and they’re full of really really super normal relationships and examples of me definitely taking my own fucking advice.

Cheers and happy writing! 💖💖💖

[silvyysthings]

So many little things to pick up from Armie's interview.

It's pretty clear that he won't outright callout anyone, and I am glad that he is doing this with a lot of dignity. He still managed to talk about how each of those women lied. He also mentioned that Liz knew everything beforehand.

He mentions that giving the person he is with an orgasm was something he wanted to do because he did not have that. That shows how bad his sex life with Liz was. And other things he mentions clearly indicate how bad things with Liz were.

He also clarified that effie was his first affair, and it happened after 2016. In the first few minutes of the interview he mentions that everything fell apart and that's when the infidelity happened. He went through a lottt in 2016-2017 huh? What exactly happened in 2016 for everything to have fallen apart. Something to think about.

He also uses the word 'person/people' he was with, instead of using 'women'. Piers keeps saying 'women' but he says 'people'. Something to think about.

He also says 'sexuality' rather than bdsm/kink etc. He keeps using the words 'my sexuality'. Again something to think about.

I do wish he would have mentioned how young he was when he met Liz and got married. He had two kids before 30. It's all very early, wish he would have mentioned that so people get a better perspective.

I am so glad he is bringing so many important topics to the public. He is so brave. I hope he gets his career back. I feel sooo heartbroken for him. He really wants to act and he is damn good at it. I just hope he gets his career back. I hope he keeps doing more interviews and he can spill more tea about Liz and Effie gradually.

Thank you anon

[stevelieber]

Thoughts on giving critiques to comics artists.

Seeing lots of discussion from students about sour experiences with an unhelpful art teacher, so here's a long, long post about giving critiques.

NB: I have no formal training as a teacher, but I was a student, and I've spent decades giving artists feedback on their work.

When someone brings me a portfolio, I like to establish my limitations & clarify my perspective. My work is firmly rooted in traditional US comics storytelling (i.e., not manga or art-comics.) I can give feedback on other approaches but they should know where I’m coming from.

“We've only got a little time for this, so I'm going to spend that time focusing on things to correct. That doesn't mean you're doing everything wrong, or that there’s nothing good here, but it’ll be more helpful if I identify some problems and show you how to fix them.”

Why? Because for many young artists their entire sense of self worth is wrapped up in being good at what they do. (It was for me!) In school they were probably the best artist in their peer group. But now if they're hoping to turn pro, they’re at the bottom.

Sometimes you know what’s up when you see page 1, but try to keep an open mind. Some build their portfolios by sticking new pages at the back & don’t weed out the old stuff up front, so the work gets better as you go. When it’s like that I ask: “Show me your best 8 pages.”

I ask questions: "What's the goal? Do you want to be hired to work on someone else's project, or to get the story you're showing me here published?"

If 1, I steer towards a portfolio that'll showcase hirable skills. If 2, I look for what tweaks will make that particular story more effective.

"Do you have teachers giving you regular feedback? What are they telling you?" Sometimes a student is getting bad advice. In cases like that, I'll do my best to be extra clear WHY I'm giving them advice that's 180 degrees from what they've been hearing.

“What artists are you looking at? Is there someone you admire or try to emulate?” This often helps me understand choices they're making, and I can sometimes incorporate things those artists do into my suggestions.

I ask myself questions about what I’m seeing. First: Is there a narrative? If not, I make it 100% clear I'm not speaking as any sort of expert. I'm good at critiquing storytelling, but don't have anywhere near as much to offer illustrators or designers.

Can I follow the story? Or am I confused about what's going on? Are the characters and settings drawn consistently? If not, is the artist at least making use of tags (distinctive clothing, hair etc.) to keep the characters recognizable?

Does the artist demonstrate a good command of basic academic drawing? If not, Do I think they need it? Do I focus on "how to draw" or on "what to do when you can't draw?" Is the artist putting the viewer’s eye where it needs to be to tell the story effectively?

(At this point I’m usually doing little doodles to go with my instructions. I scribble out ugly little 5 second diagrams that I hope will clarify what I’m talking about. Or they might make me seem demented. Hard to say!)

Is the artist making choices that are creating more work than necessary? Is there a particular weakness? I once spoke to an artist with a portfolio full of great work when he was drawing animals and monsters, but his humans were amateurish in comparison. I spent that critique talking about drawing people.

A crit can be a grab bag. In addition to big-picture advice, I'll point out tangencies, violations of the 180-degree rule, wonky anatomy, weird perspective, places where the artist neglected to do important research, odd choices in how they spotted black, whatever catches my eye.

I also try to make a point of defining the terms, so that jargon like “tangency,” “180-degree rule,” and “spotting black” don't go over their heads. Find simple, concrete ways to talk about these things, & clarify why it's a problem when they aren't done correctly. Draw diagrams!

Recognize that even a perfectly phrased explanation might not sink in. Some lessons can only be learned when a student is ready, and it might take a year or two of work before they can understand what you were saying. It's good to plant seeds.

Are there other artists who are particularly good at solving the problems the student is trying to solve? I steer them towards that artist's work. And I always recommend life drawing & the use of reference to give work specificity, variety, and authority.

Despite what I said earlier about focusing on what's wrong, I try at the end to find something encouraging to say. And if I’ve really piled on the criticism, I emphasize that I only spent the time and energy to do so because I take their efforts seriously.

If I've done my job right, they'll leave my table with tools to make their work better. And maybe in a few years they'll be looking at some younger artist's work, surprised to discover just how much you can learn when you're asked to teach.

[fragolar]

Secrets of the Forgotten Realm || Geralt Of Rivia - The Witcher

Greetings, It's been a while, specifically more than a year. My fixation for Geralt of Rivia has been re-awakened. And no. Before you ask, I will not watch the fourth season. I didn't even watch the second, since I come from the videogames and books. I'll try to make this a series, but also each chapter would be conclusive on it's own for those who like stand alones.

Summary: As Geralt continues his search for Ciri, he finds himself drawn to the secluded Amell Mountains, rumored to house a kingdom unknown to most. Guided by tales from Jaskier, Geralt ventures to the remote ruins of the mountains, where he encounters the enigmatic Princess Lexa Mor'wena, secret daughter to the absent King Ardan Mor'wena, who's on an expedition. As Geralt's curiosity is piqued by the mysterious princess, he embarks on an unexpected journey, his path becoming intertwined with Lexa's in ways he never imagined.

/mɔːrˈwɛnə/

Every step felt like a stab in the ribcage. Amidst the thick, intense mist, the Witcher finally understood why no one ever attempted to search for the lost kingdom. It was intense, the path uneven, long. The humidity making it hard to properly breathe.

Which, after all, wasn’t so lost. Simply hidden, enclosed by rough bark and dense leaves that deprived it of light.

Fatigue weighed heavily on his shoulders, his feet ached, and his mare was restless.

“What's wrong, Roach? Are you tired?” he asked. She snorted, clearly not amused by this journey. “Alright, alright. We’ll stop for a bit... Look, there’s a spring nearby. You’re thirsty, aren’t you?” His hand went to stroke her muzzle.

Once they settled down to rest, sleep began to take over; Geralt was exhausted. And so they spent the night, lighting a small fire, eating the little food they had left from hunting, and finally falling asleep in the middle of the forest.

Grave mistake. Upon awakening, Geralt's eyes weren't greeted by the now familiar leaves but to cement. Alertness jolted through his body, making him spring from the floor to dissipate the confusion. He was in a cell - a quite claustrophobic one, too. "Oh, the White Head is awake." A disinterested mumble reached Geralt's ears, making his eyes dart to the source. A guard stared at him, amused, before speaking again. "Hey, White Bunny, what's your business up in the woods? Don't you know scary wolves roam around? You're lucky that we found you before they did." Geralt scoffed, shaking his head slowly. "I wouldn't worry about a couple of wolves who bark." The guard frowned but quickly recomposed himself. "I asked you why you are here. Don't make me repeat myself a third time." "What would happen if I did?" Geralt was amused, no denying that. "Important personal matters, I'm searching for a girl." "Girl? The Princess?" Geralt raised an eyebrow, his thoughts briefly drifting to Ciri. Did they know her? "I'm looking for someone," he clarified, hoping to avoid more suspicion. "What's your matter with the Princess? How do you know about her?" The guard pressed. "No harm. Let me see her, and I'll go. King Ardan wouldn't treat an old acquaintance this way." The guard's expression grew increasingly perplexed. From his perspective, not only did this stranger know about Princess Lexa Mor'wena, but he also claimed familarity with King Ardan. Panic began to set in as the guard realized he might have severely mishandled the situation. If the King learned how badly he had treated a known guest, he would be in deep trouble.

"You must be the White Wolf my men found sleeping in the forest with his horse." The woman spoke calmly, seated on her throne. Geralt was kneeling in front of her, feeling a mix of disappointment and surprise. King Ardan had a secret daughter, a Princess unknown to the outside world. This explained why the King could leave his Kingdom for extended periods without fear of attack. There was always someone to rule in his absence. And Ciri was nowhere to be seen. "Are you perhaps the Butcher of Blaviken?" Geralt's head lifted up, not expecting to hear such an old name. Upon his expression, the Princess continued. "I’ll take your silence as an affirmation. I have never seen a Witcher before, let alone the Butcher-"

"Princess Mor’wena, I’d rather be called Geralt of Rivia."

She smiled amused, resting her cheek on her palm as she leaned on the throne armrest. "My guard said you were searching for me. How did you even know?"

"It’s a different kind of a princess, I’m searching for. I didn’t know about the King having such a pleasant surprise, however. I’m not complaining."

"Pretty words won’t get you anywhere Geralt. Are you talking about the promised child?" How much did she know? And why didn’t Geralt know anything? "I’m getting tired of your loud silence. Let us discuss after having lunch. You probably are starving."

Geralt rose from his kneeling position, his expression remaining neutral, then he gave a slight nod in acknowledgment. "I appreciate your hospitality, Princess," he said, his voice husky. "I have many questions, and I'm sure you do too. Lunch sounds like a good place to start."

As they walked to the dining area, Geralt remained observant, his sharp eyes taking in the surroundings and the demeanor of those around him. He kept a polite distance, his movements measured, showing respect but also an underlying readiness for any potential threat.

After a moment of silence and finally seated while attending their food, he asked, "What do you know of the promised child?" His tone was curious but cautious, seeking to gather information without revealing too much of his own vulnerabilities.

"Not much. My Father had told me about your unfortunate accident." Lexa looked at him. "I guess you learnt how to stay silent during the years."

Geralt was weirdly amused by how pungent she was, just like her father, but she was much more unfiltered. She seemed to not care how strong he truly is, or how impacted she could be from the way she spoke to him.

A spoiled child with a gold crown on her head. Geralt smirked to himself. "What's her name?" "Cirilla." "A nice name." Lexa began to drift off topic. "Did you choose it?" "She's not my child-" "Not biologically and yet..." "Princess, careful." His voice growly, warning her. A shiver of excitment running down her spine. "I may appear friendly, but I'm not here for fun."

"So the White Wolf would try to bite?" Lexa provoked. "He'd devour." His yellow eyes looked at her, knowing well what she was doing. And she looked quite pleased with his threats, something promising behind those words. Next part.

[thepapergirlandthespiegelman]

Sunday is not a Christian

Note: This post is being written prior to the release of Patch 2.7 and does not address any changes to Sunday's characterization from 2.7 onward.

Spoilers for Honkai: Star Rail "Penacony" arc below the cut

Especially since his drip marketing came out, I've seen a lot of people saying that Sunday is a Christian, "Sunday made me Christian," Christians complaining that Christianity is being vilified because Sunday is the antagonist of the Penacony arc, etc etc. I honestly don't understand how people can so radically misunderstand a character but let me provide some key quotes here to clarify the situation:

"It seems you have misunderstood my intentions. Allow me to clarify — My desire is not to resurrect a fallen Aeon or become one myself… My sole objective is to create a paradise free from Aeons, where the Order ensures the dignity and happiness of all humanity. A paradise exclusive to us human beings."

"The time has come. Creation will be reborn from the remains of the gods…"

"It was not you who created all things. It was humanity that created you! …Your divine being will become the foundation of our paradise!"

Sunday literally wants to usurp God's power to create heaven on earth for humanity. This is the literal opposite of Christianity. There is no version of Christianity in which this is not wildly heretical and blasphemous.

I understand that he has a halo and angel wings. I understand that he is (or at least was) a priest. I understand he has crosses on his gloves. I understand that he is absolutely drenched in Christian aesthetic and even sometimes phrases things in Christian, or at least religious, terms.

But if you listen to the actual words that he's saying, there is just absolutely no way to interpret him as a Christian.

Sunday is a complex character, and I think a lot of that complexity is being lost on people who want to flatten him into something more simple. Sunday is someone who had, and in a way still has, religious devotion. To the extent that Christianity exists in Star Rail in the form of the Harmony and the Order, it is true that Sunday's experiences and thinking have been shaped by Christianity. His profound empathy and compassion clearly originate in part from his religious experiences, including receiving confessions from his congregation. But he ultimately comes to realize that Aeons, the game's version of gods, cannot be depended upon to save humanity. While he maintains faith in his own values and dreams, which were influenced by his religion, he is no longer devoted to the religion itself or its gods.

Sunday is not a Christian but could perhaps be viewed as an ex-Christian who has become sort of a dystheist/misotheist/antitheist/atheist. Because the way that gods work is a little different in Star Rail compared to the real world, and because his perspective is complex, it's difficult to affix a particular label to him, but that's sort of the general ballpark. To really explain Sunday's philosophy and spirituality would require delving into some obscure concepts that I don't want to get into here (I would consider him sort of a spiritual anarchist, though I don't expect anyone other than me to know what that means), but I hope that this at least clarifies things a little.

[onepieceisreeeeaaalll]

𝒞𝑜𝒻𝒻𝑒𝑒

Sanji x Afab!Reader, SFW | Short, ~500 words

Wrote literally in one sitting this morning while drinking my own coffee. Just a cute little contribution nothing crazy!

Edited to clarify reader's gender. I mostly write from a woman's perspective, apologies!

‐-----------------

He knows exactly how you like your coffee. In hindsight, maybe that should have been your first sign that things between the two of you had changed. You'd gone from mindless small talk in the kitchen while he worked on breakfast to a cup of coffee and a snack laid out for you before you even arrived. This wasn't necessarily out of character for Sanji, though. He's a man who'd go out of his way to bring a smile to any woman's face, so small gestures and gifts like this were to be expected. You couldn't even keep count of how many desserts he'd made specifically just for you, Nami, and Robin to eat after a long day. It was just the truth about Sanji - he loved to dote on women.

So maybe it wasn't just the coffee itself, but specifically how it was made - again, he knew it down to even the minute details of how you took your coffee. The amount of cream, sugar content, the kind of roast, and even the perfect temperature so by the time you'd get there, it'd still be warm, but it wouldn't burn your lips.

The topics of conversation had changed, too, though it was something so gradual that neither of you had outright noticed at first. It started as mundane things like the weather, tips for cooking an egg, the world news, the dangers of smoking one too many cigarettes and adventures you had both gone on. Simple, easygoing content that made you both laugh. Nothing too heavy for an early morning. Soon, conversations started to take a more serious turn. You'd talk about your hopes for the future, share secrets, and even talk very briefly about your childhoods and the difficulties you'd endured. These weren't conversations that you'd have with just anyone, and you realized that they were things you'd only wanted to talk about exclusively with Sanji. Maybe that should have been your first clue.

No matter what precipitated these feelings, it was clear that something was developing. Sanji still doted, fawned over, and shamelessly flirted with you. Of course he did. This was Sanji. With hearts in his puppy dog eyes and blood leaking out of his nose if he got too carried away with his fantasies. When you were alone, though, he almost had a sense of composure that you had come to appreciate. It wasn't just that he was talking to you - he was focused on you. It was hard to pull your attention away from him in moments like this. Your visits to the kitchen became an everyday habit, a sort of routine that the two of you shared. Sometimes, you'd help him, but it was never an expectation or a requirement. He was more than happy to do the work and just enjoy your company. It was something you'd both begun to look forward to.

During these quiet mornings in the kitchen, bathed in the early beams of sunlight that glittered through the windows, it had become apparent to almost everyone else. The kitchen was now always filled with the smell of coffee, the sound of hushed voices and laughter, and the sight of you sitting on the counter next to Sanji.

[pixiecaps]

hi. im sorry if this is a weird question but. what makes you keep watching smps?? just, what motivates you if everytime things and characters and plotlines captivate you and they almost never end in a satisfactory way. it might be because im a newbie in myct but every server i learned about seems to just last very little or burn in a horible death. what makes you want to go again and again to new servers.

okay to start off here there’s two layers and one is more of a personal thing and another basically advice.

first i dont talk about this much but my brain just latches onto things and one of my longest lasting interests is on minecraft. probably since the game was released. i think ive probably watched more minecraft content than tv shows & movies in my entire life. because my brain just works that way

now second. i need to this to be clarified everyone has a different reason for sticking along and i think this is a wonderful question that so many mcyt bloggers would have different answers to that would provide a lot of cool insight and perspective. dont think the question is weird at all.

BUT for me i think it was around smplive which was 2019 that was rough that was really the first and only time that i wanted to stop watching minecraft completely. for a lot for a reasons rlly. and yet i didnt!!! and thats because i realized that i didnt want to let something i cherished and enjoyed be tarnished by the bad. its so important to allow yourself grace whenever something bad happens with mcyt content or creators themselves because you arent the one to blame for something turning sour. too much good and incredible content and communities come from these unfortunately ended smps and whatnot to just to be seen as that one thing. i think sometimes, out of spite even, i feel like I NEED TO NOT LET THESE THINGS BE OVERSHADOWED BY THE BAD. because so many smps are fucking wonderful experiences with amazing creators who dedicate so much time to them and who are so funny and talented and for them to not be recognized for that at all is a shame. i loved every smp ive watched and i dont regret watching any of them. theyve all given me so much joy and laughter and its important to remember that. so ig another part of it all is allowing yourself to appreciate the good and not let the bad stop you from experiencing all the future content thats made from mcyt that will be incredible. because there will be more smps and there will so many mcyt creators and the ball isnt gonna stop rolling. sometimes it just boils down to something as simple as not letting the bad experiences stop you from seeing the good the community has to offer. as well as for me outside of the content itself with smps the fanbases have singlehandedly taken a part of my heart. theres just so many wonderful people in these communities who have put out so much positivity that i cant possibly find myself regretting it or not going back in whenever the next smp drops.

much love anon hope that makes a little bit of sense

[sopuu]

I was wondering if you have any tips for your perspectives? i dont really know how to do them that well but it seems you have a great handle on them! Btw I love your art! its soft and happy, I really love your stuff :D

thank you sm!! i love hearing that my art looks happy it's such a nice description 🥺

and for the tips! you've probably heard of vanishing points and horizon lines a bunch of times so i'll try to just give a quick run down of how i understand them + their uses

[2024 edit: just wanted to clarify that this third pic isn’t like a definite rule (none of these are tbf)- the horizon line can be placed at the top and still be close to the ground if you draw the grid right, same goes vice versa!]

tbh once you get the idea of how they work it gets easier to figure out where the points should be. it might help to think that the subject is what determines where the points are instead of the other way round if that makes sense? i learned a lot just by looking at storyboards for fun bc they're everywhere in them jhfkdg

also these grids aren't restricted to being only for the walls or the floor of a room- you can rotate it, put them anywhere you think you might need clarification on where the space around them is etc. just use as many as you need for whatever you need

having multiple grids (like ^ where its above and below the character) especially close together narrows the focus to what's in the middle of them as well!

another way to do this is to think of the subjects being in a box and looking at them from an angle-

and if you want you can break them down to simpler 3D or 2D shapes to see which parts have to get smaller

if you were looking for more perspectives on poses i talk about it a little at the end here

i hope this was clear enough! it's a bit hard to explain but once i learned not to be too hung up on accuracy (ofc to an appropriate degree) and freehanded the grids it makes it a lot more fun to play around with :)

also take everything i say with a grain of salt bc i too am still learning 👍

[wily-art]

I haven't finished it yet, but I watched some of it, and skimmed through the rest (I will finish though at some point; when/if I have the time), and what I did see of it the "Undertale Insomnia: Something Isn't Right" Trailer looks amazing! Ur art and the looks of the characters and the Blasters is on point and great as always! And ur animation is looking awesome too! I think ur comic already had some cool gifs/small animations, but if not; it is cool to see animations from u now too!

The Paps's (both older and younger) and his Casters and/or the Blasters are looking great in the trailer u released!

And Asgore (I think) and the fallen human kid(s) look great in some of the animation WIPs and/or whatever too!

I hope someday to see some of the other Undertale cast in animation form, or at least some of the other Insomnia important and/or etc. cast members like Sans (could be both older or younger), Gaster - before or after getting goopifed, lol (though, I think he might be in this animation and/or at least the full? one), Frisk, Chara, more of Blasters and/or Casters, and/or Alphys (I have gained a soft spot for ur Alphys). Maybe Asriel and/or Flowey too?

Not mentioning Asgore or the kids here, because I think u might have some stuff/ideas/etc. with them already. And not mentioning Undyne either, even though it would be awesome to see her too, bc I don't think she has been in the comic too much yet?

Ofc, u don't have to do any of this. I know animations, and animatics even, can take a long time! Just seeing the Undertale Insomnia (one of my favorite UT, and maybe just in general, comics/series's!) cast brought to life even more through animation like this, has got me excited! ^^

Last of all; I just wanted to clarify, the animation release is just the trailer, and not full thing, or...?? I just wanted to confirm.

Heya! First off thanks! That little tidbit is just a teaser more than a full trailer. IT's definitely not the completed thing. I didn't want to give a solid release time due to genuinely not knowing how long this all would take (at this point a little over a year- Good god). But I wanted to share at least a little something since this whole project has been so all consuming- that from the outside world's perspective I've been more or less absent. It's kind of hard to be active with other things when a singular thing both eats a bunch of time but can't be shared since it's not done X'D. It's a lot of behind the scenes work and not much to show for it yet.

Other characters will definitely be getting way more time to shine in the comic moving forward since I finally hit a particular turning point. Also regarding animations I have a lot of ideas for the other characters and the fallen kids that all more or less tie into the same world in a "how did we arrive to this point" kind of scenario. But due to how long all of this takes and I can't promise how many of them I will get to. Or at least how quickly because right now I'm moving at a blistering speed of _not very fast_ ✨ That said this one with Papyrus is absolutely being released (hopefully later this year) because if I have only one of these in the system it's gonna be for this guy XD The other one that I absolutely want to do as another animated update for Insomnia involves Chara and Frisk to answer what exactly happened at the end of the last run before this one. I'm hoping that since I've learned a lot (this is my first animated project) that that one will go a lot smoother. An account of figuring out a lot of things I Was doing that made my life INFINITELY HARDER. Hope that answers things.