#that and/or a kind stranger i can't remember

[rosenclaws]

Hi!!! I love your writing so much <3<3

I was wondering if you had any thoughts about taking Leopold's virginity? Because I saw you mention that you think he might be a virgin :))

HI YES I HAVE MANY THOUGHTS!!

This is with an afab!reader who is not a virgin in mind but no pronouns are used.

warnings: MINORS DNI!! oral (m and f receiving), soft sex, leo being a bit of a switch/sub

Leopold’s first time headcanons

Okay so Leo is a virgin but because he’s a prude or because there isn’t anyone who wants to sleep with him. I mean damn the first scene of the movie is girls basically fawning over him lol. I think he views sexual intimacy as something that needs to be cherished.

It should be something romantic. A true, deep connection between two people who have given their hearts to each other and Leo has never felt that way until you.

When it comes to Leo’s first time I think there's a lot of lead up. Like a nice dinner and a bath together maybeee. Candles, I mean the whole thing.

Its slow and sweet and a little awkward but the kind of awkward that makes the two of you laugh in each others arms.

You 100% suck him off to start. I mean he’s gorgeous, so pretty and handsome that he deserves to get his dick sucked u know what I’m saying.

He doesn’t know what to do with his hands at all. Like he doesn’t know if he should touch you, touch himself. They keep moving. First they’re gripping the sheets, then they’re above his head clenching into fists, and finally you guide his hands to the sides of your head. Winking as you pick up your pace.

He also is a little loud. He tries at first to suppress his noises but he can't help it. His moans are heavenly. So desperate. He whimpers too btw. Like 100% that is a man who whimpers.

He doesn’t last long. Look Leopold is no stranger to. Getting himself off but this is unlike anything he’s ever felt before. So warm and wet and your hands are on his thighs and its a sensory overload that he can’t help but come hard in your mouth.

Even though it's his first time he really really wants to go down on you. He wants to make you feel good so badly. To make you moan because of him.

He's a little hesitant at first, not sure what to do but after some coaxing he dives right in. At first you think he's a dirty fucking liar about never doing this before because holy shit he is filthy without even trying.

Sloppy and wet and needy as hell as he buries his face in your cunt. He listens eagerly to all your instructions. What you like, what you don't like. He plans on studying you until he remembers every little thing that drives you insane.

HE LOVES TO BE CALLED A GOOD BOY!! I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL. He has a praise kink too. Loves to talk about how wonderful you are, how good you taste, how lucky he is. Oh my god call him a good boy and tug on his hair and he's a fucking goner.

"Such a good boy, so pretty."

He loves eating pussy btw. Like he's can't help himself and slowly humps the bed as he feels himself start to get hard again. He could live between your thighs.

Anyways when it comes to actually having sex you ride him for the first time. Wanting to give him nothing but pleasure. He watches with wide eyes as you sink down on his cock. He needs a second to just process it all. His arms wrapped around you, face buried in your chest as he slowly rolls his hips.

It's slow for the first time. You just riding him nice and slow as you whisper sweet things into his ear. He can't stop telling you how much he loves you. How happy he is. He can't get enough of you, especially when you moan his name. (He's def whimpering again)

After a little bit he'd switch positions to be on top. Missionary but he's got one leg hooked on his shoulder. His hips move slow but get harder with every thrust. Your nails dig into his back with every thrust and it turns him on a little more.

He's kissing every bit of skin he can while he's making love. He loves your neck. The whole experience is just overwhelming to him. It's amazing and wonderful but overwhelming. Every one of his senses are being overloaded with you and he can't get enough.

He makes sure you finish before he does of course. Asking you in a desperate tone what you need and how he can do it for you. Begging you to finish because he's going to explode soon.

"Please, please my love. Tell me what to do. Need to feel you."

When he finishes he (reluctantly) comes on your stomach, rolling over onto his back for a minute. He needs to catch his breath, a smile on his face that won't go away. He just feels completely blissed out.

When you try to move he stops you, wanting you to stay comfortable as he goes to get a towel to clean you up. Kissing every inch of you as he does so. Thanking you for this and telling you how much he loves you. He just can't help himself.

He falls asleep pretty quickly after. Holding you close in his arms as the exhaustion takes over.

It's a pretty soft and sweet first time, fueled by love. Leopold is gentle and kind and I think this is the perfect time to for him to show that in a more intimate setting.

Anyways I am obsessed with Leopold he deserves the world okay ty!!!

[artist-issues]

you're fun to talk to about media so I've got something to ask.

what do you think of this trope where a lie or misconception becomes commonly accepted as truth by the characters in story? especially as a resolution.

example: in the finale of "Kubo and the two strings", the Moon King(main villain) loses his memory, so when he asks who he is, the townspeople lie to him and say he was a kind member of the community, rather than the dictator he really was.

I don't like it. I see a falsehood being widely accepted as a tragedy, and I'm just left imagining what happens if/when the characters find out the truth. I can't really take something as a happy ending when it's.. y'know, fake. I imagine you feel similarly.

but hey, I could have totally missed the point of the ending of KATTS, if you watched it, you might have seen something I didn't.

I haven’t seen Kubo in a really long time; I don’t think I was thinking critically about it the first time I watched it, so my opinion now is an afterthought. I’d have to see it again to be fair!

…But I do seem to remember that the villain is defeated with some importance placed on memory. And the identity of the monkey and that beetle warrior also have to do with the sacredness of memories. So, if that’s the case, then yeah, taking his memory away as a “good resolution” can kind of hamstring the whole theme of the movie. Unless you tilt your head and squint and go, “no, see, if all you have is bad memories, then it’s just as powerful to take those away—the point is, memories have power either way!” But even that feels a little half-baked, gymnastics-brainy.

Basically, I agree with you. A story that resolves with a character, or characters, accepting a lie as truth is always going to be a fumble of the whole story…unless it’s intended to be a tragedy, a cautionary tale. I can think of three where that’s super evident.

1 ) A Streetcar Named Desire

In this movie the main character, Blanche, is lying about who she is, for the whole story. She even has this great symbolism thing with light—she hates bright light, on the surface because she’s vain and doesn’t want anyone to see signs that she’s aging. But under the surface, the character is really an immoral, lust-filled, broken person who knows she can be cruel and isn’t deserving of love. She doesn’t want anyone to know that side of her. She hides it all under vainglory and pride. So she pretends to her sister, Stella, that she’s upright and moral and has simply fallen on hard times. But her sister’s brute of an abusive husband, Stanley, who is always 100% his authentic, awful self, sees through Blanche when she comes to stay with them. In the end, Stanley rapes Blanche and then carelessly shrugs her accusations off.

The main point of this example is that Stella, the wife of the rapist Stanley, has been portrayed the whole movie as sometimes-leaving her abusive husband…but only as far as the apartment above their own, literally right above him, so that she can easily go back to him. And at the end of the movie, when Blanche is being taken to a mental institution because she’s broken-down after being found-out as a fraud, then raped, Stella lets them take her away. And then Stella goes up to the apartment above, where she always “pretends” to leave Stanley. It’s such a halfhearted, lazy way to end a movie that’s all about desire-versus-truth. Because what it implies is that Stella is leaving Stanley for now, like she might believe that he raped her sister…but she’ll eventually go back to him. And in the meantime, Blanche goes off to the mental hospital, with this iconic line “I have always depended upon the kindness of strangers.” By which she means, “strangers don’t know what a two-faced monster I really am, so I can con them into thinking I’m a morally-upright woman fallen on hard times, and they’ll take pity on me—so sure, I’ll go with you, strange doctor I’ve never met.”

The central point of the movie is “as long as nobody looks the truth in the face, everyone can go on getting what they desire.”

Of course, that’s true. But the other truth is that, if Stella accepted what her sister and her husband really are—her sister is broken and her husband is a monster—then she could choose to rise above “animal desire.” She could choose to take care of Blanche, and Blanche would see that “someone seeing who I really am” doesn’t always have to lead to ruin and damnation. Stella could then, also, choose to really leave Stanley, for good, and be at peace, while Stanley’s “desire” would be rewarded with ruin.

But instead the opposite is what happens. Blanche goes away believing, in her broken mind, that her womanly wiles and faking will protect her from further injury, even though they never have—Stanley ends the movie exactly where he began it, screaming for Stella to come back and knowing that she will—and Stella, too, ends the movie going away from Stanley…just for a little while, until animal desire convinces her to just pretend Stanley isn’t really a monster, Blanche must be crazy, except this time, when she goes back, she’ll be carrying a child into that abusive lie.

All characters wholeheartedly embracing hurtful lies so they can keep riding their desires. I hate that movie. You could see it as a cautionary tale. Most don’t. Most see it as a movie with “hot Marlon Brando” who “really loves Stella—all the characters ‘really love each other,’ they just don’t know how to express it healthily!” 🙄

I think the worst part is that the movie behaves as if it is true that every time Blanche reveals her own brokenness or is vulnerable, the world STOMPS on her for it, nobody loves her despite her brokenness. That’s the real mistake this movie makes. It has an opportunity to show unconditional love and it leaves the audience thinking Blanche was right, and there’s no such THING as “unconditional” love, instead.

Anyway.

2) X-Men Origins: The Wolverine

This one is less thematic. But it’s just dumb because the whole movie the main character, Logan, Wolverine, is being taught that “Giving in to Bloodlust Makes You an Animal—Compassion For Those Weaker Than Yourself Makes You Human.”

So in that context, the whole narrative is centered around the exploration of “Who is Logan/Wolverine?”

…Which makes it really stupid that the movie ends with him losing his memory. So…the movie asks “Who Are You?” and right after the character figures it out, he forgets and ends it with the answer: “I don’t know who I am.”

That’s just a waste. That’s silly. It allows you to take the character to real, hearty, coming-of-age, hero-forged-in-fire, a man-born-of-tragedy places…and then just shrug all that stuff off at the end. “Never mind. But it was a fun ride, wasn’t it?”

Especially because they built it all around the dichotomy between Logan and his brother, who’s little more than an animal—and Logan and his wife, who could be an animal, but chooses compassion instead, and reminds him of his choice, too. —and then she dies, and it’s implied that maybe his brother does too, but who cares, cuz he forgets. Who cares? Not Logan. So why should the audience?

I get that they “needed” to do this so that the end of this movie sets up the beginning of the X-Men Movies, which already established that Logan can’t remember “his past.” But like…then don’t make the point of the movie “Who Am I?” just to end on “…Okay, So WHO AM I?”

It’s a fine movie up until that point.

They should’ve made the movie center around “Can’t Change What You’ve Done; But You Can Be Redeemed.” And then show his memory loss around a moment of self-sacrifice. So that it’s still tragic, but at least when he wakes up from the self-sacrificial act, he’s “a new man.” Then later, in the third X-Men movie, when Logan chooses that mutant kid over “learning the secrets of his past,” it all comes full circle, because his “self-sacrifice moment” can stay where the Old Logan died.

Anyway. You didn’t ask me to re-tell X-Men Origins: The Wolverine. But it’s the same basic premise—a movie ends with a character losing their memory, or believing a lie—whatever.

You know, actually, this one isn’t so much “believing a lie” as it is “going back to considering the lie (that he’s an animal) because all the work done to convince him of the truth has been stupidly erased”

3) The Dark Knight

Saved this for last because nobody would read all that if they saw me scratching up the beloved Christopher Nolan Masterpiece.

But The Dark Knight is a perfect example of what you’re actually talking about.

The movie is awesome until the end.

It’s not hard to guess what I’m going to say. Harvey Dent is supposed to be a shining example of a good guy, and the goodness, that Gotham is capable of. The Goodness that will ultimately defeat Evil. And Evil is represented as Chaos.

Bruce sees that and that’s why he’s willing to give everything to make Harvey succeed as the hero Gotham needs. Because if Gotham sees that evil can be conquered by doing things the right way, the orderly way, that will get Gotham out of it’s “Justice is Broken, Vengeance is The Only Form of Justice” cycle.

Then there’s the Joker. He doesn’t believe there’s any such thing as Good—it’s all just Chaos (which is evil.) And his big mission is to prove it. It’s ironic that he twists Harvey’s sense of “justice” around to this viewpoint—where Harvey uses “chance” as just another form of “retribution.”

Anyway. All of that’s interesting.

But the movie both perpetuates a lie and does so by having the characters end believing a lie.

The lie it perpetuates is “The Joker is right, there’s no such thing as Justice or Good—it’s all just chaos, but pretending it’s not can get you through the day.”

That’s the lie it perpetuates!

And how does it do that?

By having the “city of Gotham,” and Bruce himself, believe a lie.

They believe Harvey Dent really was a good guy who died a hero. Bruce believes Rachel died still waiting for him, which symbolized her supposed belief in the good of Bruce and capability of Bruce to let it all go.

And why was it important that they believe those lies? Because the supposed truth is too harsh—that there’s no Good, it’s all Chaos. And if they believe that supposed truth, they’ll all turn out like Harvey or Joker. If Bruce believes Rachel chose Harvey, he’ll supposedly give up on something important in himself.

Okay but the problem with that is you have characters believing a lie because of a truth—that isn’t the truth. It’s the same problem with Streetcar.

The people of Gotham, the worst people of Gotham, aren’t always going to choose evil. There is such a thing as justice and good. And Harvey turning into Two-Face doesn’t change that. The movie could’ve shown that. It started to, with the prisoners on the second boat choosing not to kill the civilians to save themselves.

But it chose not to make that the point of the movie. It chose to make “The Joker was Right, Good is a Comforting Lie, & the Closest You’ll Ever Get to Justice is Vengeance & Chaos” the point of the movie. By having Batman convince the whole city to believe the comforting lie, what you’re saying is, Bruce believes that the truth won’t set Gotham free, only wrap it in chains.

That’s the problem with these movies.

And that’s why I think Captain America: The Winter Soldier licks The Dark Knight hollow every time, and is all-in-all a better movie, hands down. In this continued essay—

[slaymitchabernathy]

All in the Timing

It's later that day when Coriolanus is walking down the busy Capitol streets. Everyone is out shopping for last-minute gifts and he can't help but look into a few shop windows, admiring the pretty dresses and bags that are on display for the women. He wonders what it would be like to purchase something like that for his wife, for someone he loves. 

He's passing by the door to one of the shops when someone bumps into him.

"Oh, pardon me, I didn't look where I was going." 

Coriolanus almost falls over when he hears the soft, familiar voice that belongs to one woman and one woman only. 

He looks down to find Soarynn Nightingale looking up at him, her blue-gray eyes wide in surprise. She's bundled up in a cream-colored coat today, with her hair pulled into a bun, showing off her beautiful complexion. 

"No need to apologize, you're a rather enjoyable person to keep running into," he says, making her blush. 

"Well, it seems to be a recurring issue where we're both concerned." 

Coriolanus grins and looks down at the large bags she's holding, filled to the brim with clothes no doubt, "Allow me to carry those for you." 

Soarynn looks conflicted for a moment, as if she doesn't quite trust him and she'd have every right to not trust him. He's still a stranger. 

"Alright," she finally decides, handing over the bags, "you're very kind to offer up your services." Coriolanus chuckles as they begin walking down the sidewalk, side by side but not hand in hand. 

The scent of vanilla overwhelms him and he can only guess that it's her signature scent. It's as sweet as she is. 

"Busy day today?" He asks, lifting up the bags. Soarynn nods, fixing the collar of her coat before answering, "Last minute shopping for the company's holiday party." 

Well, it looks like he didn't need to pay Festus to fall onto the floor and act as if he was dying. 

Coriolanus pretends to be surprised, "Oh, you're going as well? Perhaps we'll see each other then." 

Soarynn raises her eyebrows, shyly looking up at him, "Maybe we will. Although Ceraphina won't be there, she's stuck with the nanny for the night." 

Coriolanus can imagine that Ceraphina's not too happy about being stuck at him instead of being the center of attention. "Is she at home right now?" He asks, trying to remember if she's old enough to be attending school yet.

Soarynn shakes her head and nods for him to take a right, "No, she's at school. I'm actually headed there now to pick her up."

"Which school is she attending?"

"The Academy." 

That sounds about right. Coriolanus attended the Academy, along with every upper-class child in the Capitol. To sport the Academy rouge is a sign of wealth. It's no surprise that Ceraphina is attending as well. 

"I do hope it's not too out of your way," Soarynn adds, eyeing the bags as if she might take them back and send him on his way. Coriolanus quickly shakes his head and offers her a reassuring smile, "Not at all, I'm headed downtown to meet a friend for a late lunch." 

Soarynn hums, chewing on her lip before asking a question, "Is it your friend I saw with you that night at the Grand Oak?" 

He didn't know she remembered Fetus but it seems that Soarynn Nightingale is more perceptive than he thought. "Yes," he confirms, the Academy building coming into view, "Festus can never turn down a free meal." Soarynn chuckles, reaching into her coat pocket and pulling out a silver compact with a rose engraved on it, "A free meal is a hard thing to decline."

They come to a stop at the crosswalk, traffic zooming by them and Coriolanus takes a moment to watch Soarynn as she inspects her reflection in the compact mirror. She looks stunning. He wonders what other people think of them right now.Do they see a young couple on their way to pick up their child from school?

Ceraphina could certainly pass as his daughter, with her blonde hair and blue eyes. 

"That's a lovely compact," he says, "my mother used to have one just like it." 

Soarynn snaps it shut, giving him a better view of the rose, "Thank you. It was a birthday gift from my father. Was your mother fond of roses? I think I heard something about the Snow family and their roses."

Coriolanus nods, making sure to block any traffic from hitting her as they cross the street, "Yes, my grandmother used to grow roses on the roof of our penthouse apartment. They fetched a pretty price before the war. Now I just tend to them as needed." 

Soarynn sighs, staring up at the blue sky, "Ceraphina would love something like that. She's always running around in the backyard, rain or shine." 

There's lots of commotion surrounding the Academy, older children walking home by themselves and younger children running to hug their parents after a long day of school. "Does she have much longer until the holiday break?" 

Soarynn shakes her head while scanning the sea of students, all dressed identically to one another. "No, this is her last week when then they're all off until January." 

Coriolanus begins looking for Ceraphina too, trying to pick out her blonde head of hair. It's hard when all the girls wear the same skirt and button-up shirt but he finally spots her at the top of the steps. "There she is," he points, crouching down so Soarynn can follow his line of sight. She leans into him without hesitation, lighting up when she spots her daughter. 

Ceraphina is quick to spot them too, a big smile on her face when she sees Coriolanus, "Fancy seeing you here," she says, throwing her arms around her mother's legs. Coriolanus smiles, watching Soarynn crouch down to properly hug her daughter, she's so gentle, brushing her hair out of her face, asking how her day was. 

"It seems that the stars aligned today," he replies, "I just happened to bump into your mother." 

Ceraphina eyes her mother for a moment, a small smile on her face, "Sounds like a love story to me Mommy." Soarynn scoffs, her entire face turning a bright shade of pink, "Oh hush. This is nothing like the fairy tales I read to you. Now say goodbye to Mr. Snow so we can go home." 

Coriolanus frowns, just a minute ago Soarynn was warming up to him and now she's shoving him away. Ceraphina pouts but Soarynn is firm in her decision, "I can call my driver if you two need a ride home," Coriolanus offers, handing over the bags to Soarynn. Ceraphina peers inside, gasping when she sees what's inside, "No need, we have our car waiting for us over there," Soarynn says, pointing near the the other end of the steps. 

They do in fact have a car waiting for them and Coriolanus can only nod, out of tricks and offers. "Well, it was lovely seeing you ladies again." 

Ceraphina smiles up at him, looking so cute in her tiny uniform, "Are you gonna see us again soon?" 

Coriolanus gives her a wink, "I'll try my best." 

Ceraphina giggles, looking up at her mother who doesn't look too impressed, "Have a good afternoon Mr. Snow," she says, taking Ceraphina's hand, "and thank you for carrying my bags." 

He gives her a short bow at the waist, only furthering Ceraphina's giggles, "It was my pleasure Ms. Nightingale." 

He watches them go, making sure they're tucked away in the safety of their car before he begins his own journey. He tries to think about anything else, about work, about his friends, but he keeps thinking about Soarynn. 

Running into her again has to be fate. He's just got to take that chance. 

꧁ ꧂

"Oh Coryo, you look so handsome." 

Coriolanus grins at Persephone's words as he climbs the last few steps leading up to Heavensbee Hall. Festus and Persephone make an attractive pair for tonight's party, both dressed in dark greens that compliment their complexions. 

Festus wraps his arm around his wife, giving her a playful smile, "Keep your eyes on me tonight darling, Coriolanus is on the hunt for his future wife." 

Persephone gasps, her eyes going wide with excitement, "Really?! Oh, how exciting! Who is she? Do I know her?" 

Coriolanus shakes his head, following the couple into the building that has been decorated to the fullest for the holidays with drapes and garlands, twinkling lights, and bows. "I'm not hunting for anything," he reminds Festus, "I'm simply doing some recon." 

Festus snorts, grabbing two glasses of champagne from a nearby waiter, "Well I've never seen someone put in so much work for 'recon' but maybe it's just your ambition talking." 

Coriolanus feels a bit caught but he won't feel ashamed for how much effort he's put into this. He cleaned up exceptionally well for tonight, making sure his curls were perfectly styled, his face freshly shaven and his suit brand new. He looks important and he feels important. 

He's a man on a mission. 

He scans the room, desperate to seek out one individual and his eyes finally land on her. Soarynn Nightingale is an absolute vision tonight, dressed in a long red dress, form-fitting in all the right places, and strapless on top of that. Her blonde hair cascades down her back, perfectly curled. 

She's standing with her father who's speaking with several other men, probably talking business. Even though tonight is supposed to be relaxed, men can't help but talk about work. 

"I'll be back," he mumbles to his friends, his legs taking him across the floor for him. Many people are already dancing while the orchestra plays a happy tune and he's got to find out if Soarynn can dance. 

She looks bored out of her mind right now, idly standing by her father's side. Her eyes meet his for a moment and she visibly lights up which gives him the green light to approach her. If he weren't interested in her then he'd greet her father and the other men first, but they all disappear from view when he sees her.

"I must say, you look absolutely beautiful tonight," he tells her, gently taking her hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it. He's not holding back on that famous Snow charm tonight. 

Soarynn grins, looking him up and down before giving him an approving nod, "I must say, you clean up nicely Mr. Snow." His last name rolls off her tongue so effortlessly and he longs to give it to her. 

Coriolanus smiles down at her, admiring how long her lashes are, how soft her lips look, and how good she smells. "I had to clean up once I knew you'd be here," he replies smoothly, "and your father too," he adds, reaching his hand out to Glen. 

Soarynn's father seems more than pleased at their interaction and gives his hand a firm shake, "No need to impress me Coriolanus, I'm far less high maintenance than my daughter is." They all chuckle when Soarynn gives her father a playful shove, "One can never be too careful," Coriolanus decides. 

Glen turns to the other men he was speaking to, all men who look very important which means they probably write lots of paychecks. "Gentlemen, let me introduce you to Coriolanus Snow, he works at the firm." 

Coriolanus hadn't planned on being introduced to the higher-ups but he's more than glad to leave a lasting impression, "A pleasure to meet all of you," he says, nodding at each man. 

"You're Crassus Snow's boy aren't you?" One of them asks, sporting a very large mustache. Coriolanus nods, "Yes sir, I'm doing my best to follow in his footsteps." 

"Well I'd say you're doing more than that," Glen tells him, giving his shoulder a pat. 

Coriolanus looks back down at Soarynn for a moment, not wanting to ignore her and she's already looking up at him, and she looks...impressed. 

"Thank you, sir," Coriolanus says, not willing to let such a compliment go to waste. His whole life he's been trying to live up to the Snow name. Glen eyes his daughter for a second, a small smile growing on his face, "Yes. Well, don't let us stop you two from enjoying your night." 

Soarynn's eyes slightly widen but Coriolanus won't let this moment go to waste, "Do you dance?" He asks her, hoping she'll say yes. 

She brushes her hair behind her ears, giving him a small nod, "I do." 

"Allow me the honor to dance with you then?" 

Soarynn looks at her father, almost as if waiting for permission but all she gets in return is an amused look from Glen, "Alright," she finally says. 

Coriolanus offers her his hand and she takes it, instantly warming his skin. It's just his luck that the orchestra strikes up a lively tune, allowing them to fall into a waltz. Coriolanus slips one hand around her waist, guiding them through the steps and she keeps up with him tremendously well. 

Soarynn giggles when he spins her around and it's music to his ears. He wants to make her giggle all the time. 

It feels so right to have her in his arms, by his side, safe and sound. He doesn't know what Soarynn is looking for, but he'd take such good care of her and Ceraphina. 

Once the music comes to an end they're both out of breath and he's ready for a drink. "Would you like something to drink?" He asks, sliding his hand down to the small of her waist. Soarynn doesn't even blink at that movement, simply nodding, "Yes, dancing always leaves me parched." 

They both walk over to the bar where Coriolanus orders bourbon for him and champagne for Soarynn. "You don't like bourbon?" He asks, wondering if she has a preference. Soarynn shakes her head, "I'm partial to anything sweet, and bourbon is not sweet." Coriolanus chuckles, handing her the glass of bubbly champagne, "You just haven't been drinking the right bourbon. I'll have to show you my collection." 

Soarynn takes a sip of her champagne, humming contentedly, "Why am I not surprised that you have a collection?" 

Coriolanus takes his glass from the bartender, thanking the man before turning back to Soarynn, "It's actually a rite of passage for a man to start some collection of alcohol. Festus collects wine, and I collect bourbon. I bet your father has quite the collection at home." 

Soarynn rolls her eyes, taking another sip. The drink must be loosening her up because she's much more comfortable around him now, almost leaning into his touch, "My father has collections for everything. Books, photographs, drinks. It never ends."

 

Coriolanus wonders where they live, he's never seen them on the Corso and that's where all the rich families live. "What street are you on?"

"Cornelia Street." 

Coriolanus almost chokes on his drink, she's only a block away and he never knew it. Cornelia Street is known for its gorgeous townhouses with private backyards and spacious rooms. Most Capitolites live in apartments but the few who can afford it live in townhouses. It's not surprising that Glen Nightingale resides on such a prominent street. 

"I'm on the Corso," he tells her. Soarynn grins, tilting her head, "Really? I would've never thought," she teases. 

More and more people spill into the Hall, the party getting even louder making it more difficult to hear her, "Do you want to go somewhere more quiet?" He asks, hoping for a more intimate space to talk. Soarynn furrows her brows and glances over at her father who's wrapped up in several conversations. 

Coriolanus leans down so that his lips are right next to her ear, "You're in good hands I promise." 

Soarynn bites her lip, weighing her options in her head before she finally nods, "Alright." 

꧁ ꧂

The air is cold but it feels wonderful after being cooped up in a room with so many people. Soarynn sighs, tilting her head back as they walk out onto the balcony, "Much better than inside," she decides, looking at him from over her shoulder. 

Coriolanus smiles, admiring her dress again, how it's the perfect shade of red, how it's just the right length. It's only missing a rose or two. Her shoulders are already covered in goosebumps so he doesn't hesitate to shrug off his suit jacket, "Here, don't want you to catch a cold out here." 

Soarynn looks so genuinely surprised when he covers her shoulder with his jacket, and it makes him wonder if Felix ever offered her his coat. He barely spoke to Felix but he does recall him mentioning a girl he was courting every once in a while. It sounded like a business agreement more than a relationship to Coriolanus who was happy being free as a bird. 

"Thank you," she says softly. 

They both stare out into the open sky for a while, enjoying the silence. "You know I almost didn't come tonight," she says, breaking the silence. Coriolanus looks down at her, but she keeps staring straight ahead, "Why not?"

Soarynn shrugs, "Not really my scene. My father practically bribed me into agreeing to come in the first place. I always feel terrible when I have to leave Ceraphina behind." 

Coriolanus can't recall a single time when Soarynn hasn't been without Ceraphina since he met them. "You two are inseparable," he decides, "she's very lucky to have you." 

Soarynn softly chuckles, shaking her head, "I'm the lucky one. She's my biggest blessing, I don't know what I'd do or where I'd be without her." 

Coriolanus wants to ask her about Felix, about the accident and how it all happened but...he doesn't. He prefers her company over finding out her secrets. 

"She's very close with you," he observes, "and she looks just like you."

Soarynn nods, picking at her cuticles, "Well she doesn't really have a choice." 

Coriolanus swallows, leaning against the balcony railing so that they're almost at eye level, "Her father isn't around anymore?" He carefully asks, not wanting to pry but if she's willing to talk about it, he's more than happy to listen. He has a feeling that she doesn't have a lot of people to talk to about all of this.

"Her father is dead." 

Coriolanus watches her face carefully for any signs of tears but he finds none, only the hardened face of an independent woman who's raised an amazing little girl on her own. "He died before Ceraphina was born," Soarynn continues, picking at her skin even more and Coriolanus reaches out to take her hand, lacing his fingers through hers. 

For a second he worries that he crossed the line but Soarynn only squeezes his hand tighter, "It was a car crash, no one saw it coming. Especially not me since I was newly pregnant. I didn't even go to the funeral which only led his parents to hate me even more." 

Coriolanus rubs his thumb across the back of her hand, back and forth, "Her father was Felix Ravenstill wasn't he?" 

Soarynn nods, her eyes trained on their intertwined hands, "His mother called me a slut when we found out I was pregnant, even though it was her son who pressured me into having sex with him, no protection of course because he's always been so good at pulling out. Turns out he wasn't." Soarynn gives him a bitter smile and Coriolanus can feel his heart break for her. 

"You didn't deserve that," he tells her, "he shouldn't have pressured you and she had no right calling you a slut." 

Soarynn sighs, her shoulders sagging, "Doesn't matter. Felix is dead, he honestly got off easier than I did. I was terrified to tell my father but he's been my biggest supporter, making sure Ceraphina and I have everything we could ever need. He thought Felix would take care of me but he always wanted to just help himself and fuck around without getting in trouble." 

Coriolanus wishes Felix were still here so he could give him a piece of his mind. How could he hurt a girl as sweet as Soarynn?

"Felix was selfish," Coriolanus says slowly, not wanting to say the wrong thing about a very sensitive topic, "but he left you with something irreplaceable. Something that only you could make because when I look at Ceraphina, it's like I'm looking at you Soarynn."

She sniffles, quickly wiping away a stray tear from her cheek, "You don't even know me. You don't even know me and yet my daughter keeps asking about you and I find myself feeling completely safe in your presence."

Her words make his heart beat faster, it almost breaks out of his chest. "Well you two make it easy," he jokes, "you're both so sweet, and it's hard not to fall in love with Ceraphina's personality."

Soarynn laughs, nodding along with him, "I don't know where she came from," she admits, "I feel like she's nothing like me sometimes. So sweet and outgoing, so confident and brave. She's got a million friends at school and I don't have a single one right now. Without her, I would've never found you."

Coriolanus gently cups her face with his hand, her words striking something within him that he never knew existed. Soarynn looks up at him and he can see so many things in her dazzling eyes.

Uncertainty, nervousness, hopefulness, and maybe, just maybe some love.

"I think I've been looking for you my entire life," he admits, "and if you'll let me, I'd like to be there for you, be by your side, support you and every dream you've ever had. Let me take care of you Soarynn, I promise I'll be a better man than Felix."

Soarynn draws in a shaky breath like she doesn't believe him, "I have a daughter," she reminds him, "you won't get one without the other. Where I go, Ceraphina goes as well. That's probably why I haven't had much luck in finding a partner," she mumbles the last part but he won't have any of it.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," he assures her, "I plan on taking care of both of you and if I ever falter, you have permission to drag me and my name through the streets."

Soarynn's lips turn up into a soft smile, "I don't understand where you came from. It feels like this happened out of nowhere and I'm still waiting for an explanation."

Coriolanus rests his forehead against hers, leaving them mere inches apart.

"It's all in the timing."

| Part 2. | Final Part |

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

[tamayokny]

one of my favorite parts about “old enough!” is when the audience can see the camera crew running full speed to keep up/keep ahead of the children who are running their first errands

[mymarifae]

aHA! i have finally figured out why i never jived with the kanade tenma hc. like you know me. THE found family guy. even if i don’t hc it myself i can still have fun watching other people have fun. but this one was always just 1. confusing and 2. not fun for me to see and i could never articulate why but i’ve got it now

the entire problem with Kanade Tenma is as a whole the fandom has a tendency to treat kanade like an orphan. like she has no family, no support system, like she’s all alone and needs to be taken in by the... tenmas... for some reason... (still not sure why the fandom decided she needs to be a tenma like she’s never even met tsukasa or saki. how is she getting over there. if she’s getting taken in by anybody it should be like... the mochizukis) and it’s like... guys. you do realize she’s not an orphan, right? she has family. she has good family. idr all the reasons why her grandma doesn’t live with her, but i’m assuming it’s along the lines of her being too old and frail to properly take care of a child at this point in her life - which is why she set kanade up with that caretaker/housekeeper system. it’s not perfect, but at least she isn’t being left to fend for herself

her dad is alive. just because he had a stroke and is now experiencing vascular dementia doesn’t mean he’s basically dead or that kanade is basically fatherless or something awful like that. (i’m genuinely still not sure what the fuck the game thinks it wrote irt what put kanade’s dad in the hospital but like. it wrote a stroke followed by vascular dementia. that’s what it did. “burnout” my fucking ass) i know at the end of the day kanade tenma is ultimately just a harmless headcanon, but like... please take a moment to think about the message even your most harmless headcanons might send. “if your parent is suffering from dementia and no longer recognizes you... well you don’t have a parent anymore. you need a new one. sorry.” obviously no one intends to say such a horrible thing, but remember that intent <<<<<<< final impression left on your outside audience.

having a family member that you love so much forget about you is a story that needs to be told. the prsk fandom needs to take a step back and just let this be told As It Is. kanade’s family is so, so fucking important to her. she’s only the person she is today because of her parents and all the gratitude and love she feels for them both. like, literally her most recent focus was her realizing how loved she was in light of mafuyu’s mother’s coldness. she knows that she experienced true unconditional love - something that mafuyu’s mom seems incapable of giving her daughter - and she still carries that love and warmth in her heart now. it’s what defines her as a person. it’s what gives her the courage to continue living. it’s why she believes she can save mafuyu and so many other people. she has that memory of what real genuine honest to god unconditional love is, and she’s so fucking determined to share it with the world.

kanade doesn’t... need a “new” family. her family may have suffered multiple tragedies, and it may be fragmented and a little broken, but... it’s hers. i don’t think it’s in good taste to take that away from her and try to “fix” her by placing her in a “better” family. it’s completely unnecessary.

[mimi-saurio]

Did I have a fever dream or are we getting a new comic about Jonathan and Argyle? I swear I saw two whole pages.

[thethingything]

finally processing that we're probably gonna have to have these teeth removed with either sedation or general anaesthetic and unfortunately I have a phobia of both of these to the point where just thinking about it gives us panic attacks and I genuinely don't know what to do because I absolutely want to avoid this at all costs but we also might not have any other option

[aethernightmare]

[asjjohnson]

Part 6 of my poll adventure fic. Links: the beginning, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5.

It's mid-day Wednesday (at least for my time), which means a new part of my poll adventure fic, because I've been here for over a year and still don't know how to use this site effectively. :D (Oh wait, here, I made a poll about tumblr timing.)

---

Valerie walked toward Vlad through the rubble, hugging a hissing and clawing Maddie against her armor. "Found him," she said proudly, smiling up at Vlad. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"Actually, there is. There's a malevolent ghost loose in Amity Park, posing a serious risk to my health, as well as to the city. I need him contained and brought to me."

Oh, cheese sticks with marinara dipping sauce! He had meant to do the responsible thing here—not ask a fourteen-year-old child who couldn't even hold a cat properly to risk her life in his stead.

...He really had become too accustomed to avoiding anything unpleasant.

"Sure thing, Mayor Masters!"

Maddie squirmed out of Valerie's hold with an angry yowl and ran off.

Well, he could still work with Valerie. ...If he truly wanted to. He was unlikely to succeed on his own, anyhow, if this older version of Daniel actually was as powerful as he'd heard.

But did he truly want to be a part of this endeavor? He was already dreading it, with only the thought.

He recalled what the older Daniel had said—that he let his emotions hold too much sway, and that in turn caused his plans to fail.

Which had been exactly the case when he'd felt some level of compassion for that ghost.

Thinking purely objectively, Vlad could still use the ghost if he could get him back under his control. And if Vlad were to have some part in the ghost's capture—in saving Amity Park—it would boost his ratings. He did need to keep his position as mayor of Amity Park for his contingency plans.

"Valerie, dear. Why don't we work together? I'm sure it's just misplaced guilt, but I can't help but feel somehow responsible for this situation. Ridiculous, I know. However, working with you on his capture would ease my poor conscience."

"Oh... uh, you've never suggested this before," Valerie said uncertainly, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, as though she was trying to think of some way that poor old 'Mayor Masters' could work with her. "But if that's what you want."

'Cheerleader' isn't, ah, a literal cheerleader. (Don't make me dress him up in a skirt.) It just means... like, advertising and cheering her on. More of a cheer-leader (...which is probably an even more literal meaning actually).

---

"Alert me when there's an update" list:

@charlietheepic7, @chrysanthemum9484, @mymadmedleyw, @dp-marvel94, @aikoiya, @whydouwantmyname, @cinturon-cadena, @freakofyournature, @satanicrutialspecialist, @danphantom80

(if you want on the list, specifically ask to be alerted for updates in a tag or comment. Ask again if I forget! If I can't tag you, I'll send a Message.)

[evil-ontheinside]

Byler Week Day 2: 80s movies - Kiki's delivery service, 1989

“You’re really going to leave?”

A bunch of clothes glide out of Will’s arm into the bag lying on the ground when Mike’s voice rings out through his room. Will almost doesn’t want to turn around because if Mike looks anything as sad as his voice sounds, Will isn’t sure if he can stay strong in his decision.

He takes another look at his heavy journal, placed on the table beside his bed, a constant reminder of his family’s tradition, and takes a deep breath before turning to face his best friend.

Mike is standing in his doorway, one hand clutching at the frame while the other fidgets with the hem of his shirt. He looks at Will with big eyes and sadness written all over his face. There’s mud smeared on his cheek where Will had left it after hearing the exciting news on the radio.

A clear full moon night with warm temperatures and no rain in sight: the perfect night to leave and find his own town just like his mother had done when she was thirteen.

Mike was always excited when Will took the radio from the living room and they went out to Castle Byers to listen to the weather report. Granted, Mike had never been much interested in the weatherman and listened more to the music and news report when they came on but still.

Will’s shout of excitement had made Mike excited just because Will was excited but that excitement had soon been washed away when he understood what Will was so excited about. Will hadn’t taken the time to look at Mike’s troubled expression before he snatched the radio off the ground to go home and tell his mother of his choice.

He isn’t sure who is more troubled by Will’s decision to leave, Mike or his mother. Still, his mom had rummaged through the hallway closet and gave him the bag she had used all those years ago when she had been his age and told him to be mindful of what he takes with him.

Per tradition, Will isn’t allowed to return home. His family has never been big on traditions but even then, Jonathan had taken to writing letters only two years after he left and was still set on visiting after he turned eighteen earliest. Will is dead set to follow in his footsteps.

Still, that meant not seeing his mother and his friends for five whole years. Even the giddiest feeling of excitement couldn’t quite drown out the sadness.

He would miss them and if Mike looked at him like that for more than five minutes, he might not leave at all.

“I told you I would,” is all he says, determination seeping into his voice. He turns back around, trying to ignore how Mike’s face falls, the last bit of hope washed away by Will’s words, and folds his clothes into the bag. Will can see Mike shuffling about in the doorway, swaying a little from side to side and wringing his hands in front of him.

He knows Mike is trying not to tell him to stay. They had this conversation plenty of times in plenty of scenarios, the latest of which was a sleepover, just the two of them in the middle of the night.

Mike had spoken into the darkness, not sure if Will was still awake, and quietly asked him not to leave. To just stay in Hawkins and become his mother’s apprentice or something of the sort, or to wait until Mike was old enough to come with him.

Will remembers sighing to himself and telling Mike, again, that this is something he has to do. That he has to prove to everyone and himself that he can do this on his own. His mother did it, Jonathan did it and now Will was going to do it as well. No way around it.

Mike’s whispered okay had almost broken Will’s heart as he listened to it. It sounded very different from the last time Mike had tried to convince him which ended in a fight and a whole week of not talking to each other shortly after Will’s birthday. Only Mike’s birthday soon after got the two of them to talk to each other again and even then, it must have been the worst birthday Mike had ever had because he looked miserable half the time.

Will hears a sniffle from the door and has to close his eyes for a second to will the tears away and walks over to his bedside table to get his journal. When he turns back around, Mike is sitting next to his bag, rubbing at his eyes and folding the rest of Will’s clothes into the bag.

Will can’t help but grin, especially when he sees that Mike brought some of his own things to add to Will’s collection. Other than Will’s favorite sweater of his, a green one that matches Mike’s eyes but is also really warm and has found its way into Will’s hands plenty of times during the winter, he also brought Will’s set of dice that he usually stores in Mike’s room and the stuffed tiger that they both share custody over ever since they won it together at the fair. What other people might call cheating, they call teamwork, suck it, Max.

Will joins Mike on the ground again and watches for a few seconds before pulling the bag away from Mike to place the heavy journal on top. While Will closes the flap of the bag, Mike attaches the radio somewhere on the side and gives it a little tug to see if it will come off.

After that, they sit in silence for a while, neither quite looking at the other until Mike reaches out for Will’s hand and squeezes it a few times as if to convince himself that Will is still here. Will squeezes back and finally looks up at Mike, who has his face scrunched up in a look that Will knows means he’s trying not to cry.

Will’s own eyes begin to leak. The tears drip down onto their hands, Mike finally looks up at Will and lets out one heartbreaking sob before he pulls Will into a hug. For a second, all air leaves Will’s lungs but that doesn’t stop him from holding Mike just as tight when they both start crying into each other’s shoulders.

“You cried before me.” Will gets out between two sobs, trying to lighten the mood at least a little since he’s responsible for Mike’s tears in the first place but it doesn’t seem to help.

“I’m going to miss you.” Is Mike’s response which has a new wave of tears streaming down Will’s face.

“I’ll miss you too.”

Will isn’t sure how long they sit there and just cry their eyes out on his bedroom floor but he knows his mom came and watched them from the door for a little. He saw a part of her cardigan disappear from view which didn’t help stop his crying and only set Mike off again when he realized that Will was back at it again.

When they separate, Mike presses a stack of papers against his chest before he even finished to dry his tears.

“Here. So you can write.” It’s a stack of letters, one from each of his friends and with their addresses written on the envelopes in familiar handwritings. The whole thing has Will tearing up all over again and he can’t help himself when he pulls Mike back into a hug for a fourth round of tears.

“I’ll write. Promise.” Will’s voice is muffled by Mike’s hair but he seems to understand him all the same. He nods in jerky movements and if Will could see his face, he’s sure there would be fresh tears on Mike’s face too.

Will prepares himself for another round of crying later when he says goodbye to the rest of his friends for the foreseeable future and a different kind of sobbing competition when he gets to hug his mom one last time. But for now, he thinks the tears might have been shed. Still, he and Mike don’t let go, keep clinging to each other like they will never see each other again.

Which they might not. If Will takes a note out of Jonathan’s book he won’t write for two years and a lot can happen during that time. Maybe Mike won’t want to be Will’s friend anymore, maybe he’ll get tired of waiting for Will. The tears tell a different story but Will can only wait and see what the future holds for them.

For now, Will tries to stay optimistic. In a few hours, he will take off and follow his family’s tradition to become a witch of his own town. In two years, he’ll write his first letter and in the meantime, he’ll take comfort in the five letters now tucked into his bag. In five years, he’ll come to visit, if his friends didn’t make the trip first to see him, which they might. His friends are crazy like that, sometimes. He wouldn’t be surprised if they stole a car and made a road trip out of it.

“Don’t steal a car while I’m gone.” The comment startles a laugh out of Mike and it makes Will smile just hearing it.

How is he supposed to survive five years without hearing Mike laugh?

“Have you met our friends? What am I supposed to do if they want to steal a car?” Will leans back, lifting his head off Mike’s shoulder where it had been resting for a while, and gives Mike a look.

“Not encourage them, maybe.”

Mike grins, cheeks red and eyes puffy but smiling. Will tries to burn the view into his brain for the next five years.

“No promises,” he says shrugging, and then takes Will’s hand again. He places a journal, smaller and a lot lighter than the one already in Will’s bag, into his hand and closes Will’s fingers around it.

“For when you’re lonely,” Mike says bashfully, cheeks growing redder by the second in the way they do when Mike does something unbelievably sweet and gets embarrassed about it. When Will tries to open it, Mike slaps his hand on top of his and yells, almost frantically: “Don’t look at it while I’m around!”

Will laughs at Mike’s hysterics and places the journal carefully next to the letters. They share another look before Mike helps Will carry his belongings outside and it’s time for another round of goodbyes when all their friends are already gathered in front of the house.

A few hours later, sitting on his broom, Will sheds a few more tears when he thinks about what he leaves behind. If he wasn’t afraid to lose them to the wind, Will would already be reading through the letters but he keeps them safe in his bag, at least for now.

Five years, he tells himself. That’s not that long. He spent the first five years of his life without his friends, without Mike. He’ll manage to do it again. And if the pain in his heart grows too big, he can read their letters. And if that still isn’t enough, he’ll have Mike’s journal and if that only makes the heartache worse, he can just pick up a pen and write some letters back.

He rubs a tear off his cheek and corrects his course toward the ocean. With his friends and family only one letter away, Will allows himself to be excited again. At least he’ll have a lot of stories to tell when he sees them again.

[tamsinbeybey-she-no-porcupine]

...

[deadrlngers]

OC SPEECH MANNERISMS.

i was tagged by @indorilnerevarine​ @nuclearstorms​ @liurnia​ @morvaris​ and @swordcoasts​ thank you so much beloveds, ily!!!

tagging: i feel like this already made the rounds so i’m tagging whoever wants to do this <3

BASICS

NO. OF SPOKEN LANGUAGES >> 1 / 2 / 3+ (english, french, spanish, sign language + can understand a bit of italian since she can speak spanish)

TONE OF VOICE >> high / average / deep

ACCENT >> yes / no

DEMEANOR >> confident / shy / approachable / hostile / other (polite, stoic)

POSTURE >> slumped / straight / stiff / relaxed

HABITS

head tilting / swaying / fidgeting / stuttering / gesturing / arm crossing / strokes chin / er, um, or other interjections / plays with hair or clothing / hands at hips / inconsistent eye contact / maintains eye contact / frequent pausing / stands close / stands at a distance

COMPLEXITY

VOCABULARY >> ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚪️⚪️

EMOTION >> ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️⚪️

SENTENCE STRUCTURE >> ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚪️⚪️

PROFANITY

FREQUENCY >> ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️

CREATIVITY (in regards to profanity) >> ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚪️⚪️

BOLD THAT APPLY

arse / ass / asshole / bastard / bitch / bloody / bugger / bollocks / chicken shit / crap / cunt / dick / frick / fuck / horseshit / motherfucker / piss / prick / pussy / screw / shit / shitass / son of a bitch / twat / wanker

THIS OR THAT

straightforward or cryptic? / finding the right word or using the first word that comes to mind? / masculinity, neutrality, or femininity? / formalities or with abrasiveness? / praise or equivocation? / frankness or lies? / excessive or minimal hand gestures? / name-calling or magnanimity? / friendly or blunt?

IMPORTANT QUESTIONS

DO PEOPLE HAVE A HARD TIME HEARING OR UNDERSTANDING YOUR CHARACTER? almost always / frequently / rarely / never

DOES YOUR CHARACTER’S POINT COME ACROSS EASILY WHEN THEY SPEAK? almost always / frequently / sometimes / rarely / never

WOULD YOUR CHARACTER INITIATE CONVERSATIONS? almost always / frequently / sometimes / never

WOULD YOUR CHARACTER BE THE ONE TO END CONVERSATIONS? almost always / frequently / sometimes / rarely / never

WOULD YOUR CHARACTER USE ‘WHOM’ IN A SENTENCE? yes / no / only ironically

YOUR CHARACTER WANTS TO MAKE A COUNTERPOINT. WHAT WORD DO THEY USE? but / though / although / however / perhaps / maybe

HOW DOES YOUR CHARACTER END CONVERSATIONS? walk away / ask if that’s everything / say that’s everything / give a proper goodbye / tell their company they're done here / remain quiet / they don’t

WHAT SOCIAL CLASS WOULD OTHERS ASSUME YOUR CHARACTER BELONGS TO, HEARING THEM SPEAK? upper / middle / lower

IN WHAT WAYS DOES THE WAY YOUR CHARACTER SPEAK STAND OUT TO OTHERS? accent / vocabulary / tone / level / politeness / brusqueness / it doesn’t

BASICS

NO. OF SPOKEN LANGUAGES >> 1 / 2 / 3+ (italian as mother tongue, english + can understand spanish and even say a few lines)

TONE OF VOICE >> high / average / deep

ACCENT >> yes / no

DEMEANOR >> confident / shy / approachable / hostile / other (polite, stoic) + way too smug for his own good

POSTURE >> slumped / straight / stiff / relaxed

HABITS

head tilting / swaying / fidgeting / stuttering / gesturing / arm crossing / strokes chin / er, um, or other interjections / plays with hair or clothing / hands at hips / inconsistent eye contact / maintains eye contact / frequent pausing / stands close / stands at a distance

COMPLEXITY

VOCABULARY >> ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️⚪️

EMOTION >> ⚫️⚫️⚪️⚪️⚪️

SENTENCE STRUCTURE >> ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚪️⚪️

PROFANITY

FREQUENCY >> ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️⚪️

CREATIVITY (in regards to profanity) >> ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️

BOLD THAT APPLY

arse / ass / asshole / bastard / bitch / bloody / bugger / bollocks / chicken shit / crap / cunt / dick / frick / fuck / horseshit / motherfucker / piss / prick / pussy / screw / shit / shitass / son of a bitch / twat / wanker

THIS OR THAT

straightforward or cryptic? / finding the right word (just to say something wrong to piss off someone lmao) or using the first word that comes to mind? / masculinity, neutrality, or femininity? / formalities or with abrasiveness? / praise or equivocation? / frankness or lies? / excessive or minimal hand gestures? / name-calling or magnanimity? / friendly or blunt?

IMPORTANT QUESTIONS

DO PEOPLE HAVE A HARD TIME HEARING OR UNDERSTANDING YOUR CHARACTER? almost always / frequently (sometimes he expresses himself with italian sayings translated in english that...ofc don’t make much sense to anyone that doesn’t know about them) / rarely / never

DOES YOUR CHARACTER’S POINT COME ACROSS EASILY WHEN THEY SPEAK? almost always / frequently (but with same problem as above sometimes) / sometimes / rarely / never

WOULD YOUR CHARACTER INITIATE CONVERSATIONS? almost always / frequently / sometimes / never

WOULD YOUR CHARACTER BE THE ONE TO END CONVERSATIONS? almost always / frequently / sometimes / rarely / never

WOULD YOUR CHARACTER USE ‘WHOM’ IN A SENTENCE? yes / no / only ironically

YOUR CHARACTER WANTS TO MAKE A COUNTERPOINT. WHAT WORD DO THEY USE? but / though / although / however / perhaps / maybe

HOW DOES YOUR CHARACTER END CONVERSATIONS? walk away / ask if that’s everything / say that’s everything / give a proper goodbye / tell their company they're done here / remain quiet / they don’t

WHAT SOCIAL CLASS WOULD OTHERS ASSUME YOUR CHARACTER BELONGS TO, HEARING THEM SPEAK? upper / middle / lower

IN WHAT WAYS DOES THE WAY YOUR CHARACTER SPEAK STAND OUT TO OTHERS? accent / vocabulary / tone / level / politeness / brusqueness / it doesn’t + rudeness sometimes

[maddy-ferguson]

Yeah and since this doesnt only involve writers but also other production stuff, i wonder how theyre gonna start filming in may or june? Bec that would also be breaking the strike too... like idk how they are going to work around that. But anyway. My estimation is that the strike will at least take 3-4 months at the very least. So like. Yeah. 2025 release seems more likely bc the strike also involves other production staff

i can't lie to you i don't know shit about how american strikes in the entertainment industry work and i was a baby (6) and not american in 2007 but i mean yeah that season 5 is never seeing the light of day i fear

[bi-writes]

Could we get some Simon POV on mail order bride reader? Perhaps his thoughts on how timid she is?? Pls and thanks!

mail-order bride

it is something that he knows as soon as you step over the threshold for the very first time. he's observant to a fault; he can't be surprised by anything because he pays too much attention to the small details, to the things no one gives a second glance.

the way your head whips around when a loud noise carries across the room. the way you jump when you weren't expecting him behind you, crowding your space. the soft way you talk, the way you constantly try to make yourself disappear when there are others in your vicinity.

it speaks volumes, this kind of behavior. this intense need to appease others, to not disturb them, tiptoeing to gauge reaction to make sure you haven't done anything wrong, that you haven't upset anyone.

simon knows this kind of timidness all too well. he sees the veil that you wear, the kind that flutters when a hand is raised; he recognizes it, and you are a reflection of a woman that he used to know.

a woman he used to look up to. one that he loved, and one that loved him back.

the more time he spends with you, the more unlike himself he feels, the more aware he is of the other half of himself that is so far away from him, a stranger. never in simon's life has he felt that same burning anger. he's never felt the need to make those around him afraid. he's never relished in being the bigger man, the stronger one--and when the voices get loud enough, he still remembers being the boy who hid under his bed until he was too big to fit underneath it.

so he makes his steps louder. he shuffles his feet on the carpet. he makes them heavier, soft thuds that can be heard in the hardwood of the kitchen.

he makes noise. in whatever room he's in, he makes it known. the clatter of his toothbrush into its holder. the metal scratch of hangers as he gets a jacket. the clatter of a mug in the sink. the thunk of his boots by the door.

you stop flinching. you stop looking over your shoulder. the sounds of his boots coming off, it brings you into the living room to greet him. when you hear his toothbrush in the bathroom, you shuffle inside so you can stand beside him and do the same. when you hear him in the kitchen, you always pad into the room, giving him those big, soft eyes and asking him for the millionth time if he needs help (no, go fuckin' sit down, too pretty to be workin').

there is a woman in simon's life who used to do the same. who used to be too scared of the world to ever live in it. who never got the chance to unlearn all of the ugly that the wrong man had taught her.

simon grabs the canvas bags in the closet, tossing them over his shoulder as he makes his way to the door.

"we're goin' t'be late," simon calls out. "won't 'ave the bread y'like 'f we don't leave now."

"coming! coming!"

you hurry into the living room, shrugging on your cardigan as you go for your purse hanging by the front door. you slip into your shoes, following simon as he walks out the door.

when simon makes his way down the steps, he expects to have to tell you to stop, to let him walk down the steps first so he can give you his hand; but when he turns, you're waiting there at the top of the steps, fiddling with your purse. he holds out his hand, and you take it on instinct, without even looking, letting him guide you until you've made it to the pavement and can walk to the car.

and when you make it to the passenger side, you're standing at an angle, putting your earrings on as you wait for simon to open your door.

as you wait.

after simon pulls the seatbelt around you and clicks it closed, he lingers, staring at you as you try and fix your hair in the rearview mirror. you pause, looking down at him, giggling.

"what is it, simon? i-is there something on my face?"

he sighs deeply, shaking his head. he lifts a hand, cupping your cheek, swiping a thumb under your eye before stepping back to close your door.

"no," simon mutters. "look bloody perfect."

there's no past with you. only present.

[kaijuposting]

"Saw traps for people with moral OCD" is a phrase that has embedded myself into my brain because, well, Saw traps for people with moral OCD are everywhere.

Stuff that basically amounts to...

"You have to listen to my opinions on [issue], or else you don't care about [issue]. (Constantly talks about how people like you are the absolute worst.)"

Anything that's functionally like, "you have to let me tear you down over things you can't control or you're a bad person."

Anything that's functionally like, "you have to let me vent to you whenever and however I want or else you're a bad person."

"If you enjoy X media/trope, you just hate Y people."

"Everyone knows that X thing is harmful/hateful; if you engaged in it, it's just because you were fine with perpetuating hate/harm."

"You should have just known better/should know this already!"

This thread over here talks about the inherent issues of putting this kind of stuff out there. The TL;DR is that it really only works on people who are mentally unwell and have poor boundaries, while just pissing off everyone else. It really doesn't matter if you're technically correct; you're still attacking people, and that means they're not wrong to block you.

I think that many of these Saw traps are created when people effectively write posts directed toward people who don't want to help, rather than the ones who do. Like, if you catch yourself writing an angry, shame-laden post, ask yourself: who are you writing it for and what are the odds you're going to change their minds? If your mental image is some smug fuck or angry reactionary, you're writing for the wrong person. Write for the person who's curious, who's willing to learn.

Also? Work on figuring out how to transmute negative feelings into positive, encouraging rhetoric. EG:

"Why is there no X positivity?" -> "Let's hear it for X!"

"No one cares about Y problem!" -> "Hey, we need more recognition of Y problem" or "I haven't seen many people talking about Y problem, so here's some info on what's up."

"If you don't reblog this, you don't care about [group]" -> "Please reblog this, it would mean a lot for us [group]."

And if you're really super duper frustrated and want to vent with a lot of nasty words and sentiments? Consider taking it to a private vent channel or a journal or somewhere that a stranger with moral OCD/scrupulosity isn't likely to run across it.

Remember, most people don't want to hurt anyone. More people are ignorant than malicious. People naturally want to do the right thing, so if you feel like you have to guilt them or shame them into it, there's probably a fundamental communication issue somewhere, or they simply lack the context to understand why what you're saying is so important.

[creature-wizard]

Connection is not a feeling.

With some of the responses I've been getting on my post about connecting with nature, I realized I needed to write about this.

Folks have got to understand that connection is not a feeling. "I feel such a deep connection with-" nope, that's not connection you're feeling; that's fascination.

Whether it's nature, or a culture, or anything at all, connection isn't transcendent. It's something you build with actual physical effort. It's a relationship.

Let's say there's a stray cat outside, and I want to have a connection with it. So I go inside my house and meditate on the cat, visualizing myself sending out rays of love to the cat. I look at pictures of cats on the Internet. I collect cat memorabilia and pray to cat goddesses. But when I go outside and try to pet the stray cat, it runs away.

This is because I never built a genuine connection, or relationship, with this cat. I'm a parasocial admirer, at best. To the cat, I'm a weird stranger.

But let's say I put cat food outside, and I stay out there while the cat eats, and slowly get closer to the cat as it becomes more comfortable with my presence. Finally, I give the cat light touches, and it gradually learns that I am safe. And we become friends.

Now I have a connection with the cat, because we have a relationship. I feed the cat, the cat eats my food, and we're in each others' social networks.

"But what if I can't build relationships like this?"

It's okay if this is impossible for you right now. You're not going to be a Bad Pagan or a Bad Witch because you can't do something that is literally impossible at the moment.

But, if a connection is something you want to have, at some point? Get studying. You want a connection with nature at some point? Okay, then start studying ecology. Learn about the rain cycle. Learn about environmental damage. Find materials about the plants and animals in your area.

What about a culture? Okay, go learn about its history, go learn what kinds of problems its people are currently facing, and work on perceiving them as real, complex people instead of whatever stereotype you have in your mind right now.

And above all, remember: that's not a mystical connection you're feeling, that's fascination.