#writing suspicion

[askyourwritergrandma]

Can you give me some advice on how to write suspicion please? I'm working on a murder mystery where the main character knows that the killer is someone in their family, but I'm having a bit of trouble writing distrust and suspicion.

Hello!

The easiest way to convey distrust and suspicion is to have your narrator assign unsavory motivation to actions taken by the other person in the scene. At least if you're writing in 1st or 3rd person limited.

So say they're making tea in the kitchen and Family Member says something about what a shame it is that Murder Victim died. Your narrator can then be like oh a shame they died or a shame they were found so quickly? A shame that they're creating such a mess with their death? A shame that everyone is focusing on how they died and not how you feel about how they died? Just in the narrator head.

Conversations with people that the narrator deems likely to have been murderer are either going to be very, very sympathetic to the point that its over the top ("I just wish murder victim had gotten to say goodbye" / "You're so thoughtful and kind!") because your narrator is uncomfortable but they don't want to seem suspicious around a murderer. OR they will be distracted and terse: ("I just wish murder victim had gotten to say goodbye." / "He said goodbye enough in his life, what difference does one more time matter?") because narrator thinks this might be a murderer and they're nervous but also fed up with the lying.

You can intersperse this with moments of complete normality where the narrator is interacting with family members and just kind of being like, no, this person can't have killed anyone. Look at them they have lace doilies for their drink coasters. They don't have the stomach for it.

But these moments of heightened suspicion where the narrator is assigning motivations to the family members need to be moments where there's relatively nothing interesting going on. it's easy to walk in on someone spatchcocking a chicken and think "oh my god they could absolutely have decapitated Mr. Frankenfurter" but real suspicion is watching your Meemaw make oatmeal and deciding she was a stone-cold killer who hung a man upside down by the ankles until he suffocated under his own weight.

I hope this helped, but if it didn't or it doesn't fit your story feel free to send another ask or message!

[atalienart]

✧*:･ﾟArt summary 2024

2014-2017 | 2018 | 2019 | 2020 | 2021

[beastsovrevelation]

Captured Angel

Michael Langdon x F!Angel!Reader

Contains: vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, elements of coercion, implied loss of virginity, blasphemy, hierophilia

“Good, you’re awake.”

A chill ran down your spine. You had awakened in an unfamiliar room. Your head ached, your wings hung limp, and your limbs were heavy. The air was soaked to the last thread in malice. It made you nauseous. Gritting your teeth, you dragged yourself up, your mind aflame with a single thought – you had to get out. You looked around, but before you could spot a way of escape, you felt a presence. Dark... Darker than the blackest night. Your heart froze in your chest, a taste of iron suddenly coating your tongue. Though you had not seen his face, you could recognize him anywhere. Seven heads. Ten horns. His honeyed voice left a cold, oily trace on your very soul as he spoke. You drew a deep breath, and spun around, to meet a pair of piercing blue eyes.

His lips crooked into a smirk. Holding your gaze, he moved towards you. You drew back.   

“Get away from me, filthy Beast...” you snarled.

Deep down, you loathed yourself for the instinctive reaction. You were a soldier. You had a duty to stand your ground, and instead, you cowered. He promptly crossed the gap between you two.

“Ah-ah!” he scolded, clasping your chin “That’s not very nice, now, is it?..”

You grimaced. Michael Langdon. How ironic, for Satan’s son to bear your General’s name. The one who cast him out... You hoped it hurt the Evil One greatly. Michael caressed your cheek. You winced, and pushed his hand away. Sneering, he grabbed you by the throat.  

“Why am I here?” you hissed through gritted teeth.

He glanced down at your heaving chest.

“You’re my captive” he purred “Isn’t it obvious?”

You swallowed. Struggling would only worsen your chances, you knew as much. His gaze darkened with hunger as he watched you – like a wolf, salivating at a wounded deer. Your guts had coiled into a tight knot, a sickly sweet taste coating your mouth.

“Why didn’t your bootlickers kill me?” you asked, not quite certain if you wished to know the answer.

A chuckle escaped his lips. The Antichrist’s lecherous expression made your blood boil. How dare the abomination touch an angel of the Lord, you thought. A strange sensation was budding between your legs, but you pointedly ignored it, just as you ignored the feeling of unease clawing at the back of your skull.   

“That would’ve been a waste...” Michael tilted his head “They thought a gift would please me. They weren’t wrong...”

You snarled, attempting to pull away.

“Get your putrid hands off me!”

He tightened his grip on your neck.

“Hush” he coaxed in a mockingly gentle voice “I’m not going to hurt you, angel.”

“Vile creature...” you spat.

He pulled you closer. You bared your teeth, as your face almost crashed into his. Though you did not need air, the pressure on your throat was beginning to make you dizzy. Every nerve in your body screamed to fight - your muscles   had tensed, prepared for combat. You might have broken away. Escaped this unholy place. You should have at least tried... But, perhaps because of the mist gathering over your mind, your legs trembled underneath you. You found yourself staring at his mouth. His breath brushed against your skin, warm and silken. Your pulse leapt into a frenzy.

Michael snuck his other hand under your clothes. The captors had stripped you of your armour, and taken away your sword, leaving only your linen tunic to cover you. His fingertips caressed your thigh, slowly creeping upwards. You held your breath as you felt him part the soft folds of your skin.

You had never been fondled like this before. Carnal pleasure was forbidden for your kind. You should be disgusted, you understood as much. Still, the electric-like impulse roused by his touch paralyzed you, preventing you from breaking his arm.

He stroked your entrance. You stifled a gasp, your intimate muscles tightened in anticipation. Your hole was beginning to well with slick. Taking your lack of resistance for a welcome, he slipped two fingers inside you. The feeling of his skin against your sensitive membrane made your head spin, and you barely held back from bucking your hips into his hand.

He let go of your neck, only to wrap his arm around your waist. Keeping you steady, he spread his fingers wider, straining you until it hurt. You shuddered. He massaged the velvety walls of your flesh, driving you to the edge of madness. Aware of how much satisfaction hearing your cries would give him, you clenched your jaw. His skin grazed against a certain knot of nerves, and you nearly sunk to the ground as your legs buckled from the bolt of stimulation. Still, somehow, you did not make a sound.

It only made Michael more determined. He fixated on your sweet spot, leaving you to desperately clutch the lapels of his jacket. His mouth lingered but a thread away from yours - you felt his heartbeat echo against your rib cage. He narrowed his eyes, and pressed his thumb to your clit. Overwhelmed, you drew a sharp breath.

“Enjoying yourself, aren’t you?..” he teased “What is it, my dear? What do you want, hm?”

He pushed a third finger into your dripping slit. You whined in pleasure muddled with despair.

“Speak up, angel” he demanded.

Virtue be damned. Something tameless had infected you. Caught in the furor of sin, you eagerly cast your innocence aflame.

“I...” you stammered “I want... I need you to ravish me...”

Michael threw you onto the bed, and climbed on top of you. Laying flat on your back, your wings sprawled open, you looked up at him, your eyes sweetly half-lidded. His knee shoved between your thighs, he ripped the front of your tunic open. You sighed as cold air brushed against your nipples. He placed his hands on your breasts, savouring the softness of your bare skin. His eyes aflame with lust, he took a moment to admire your flushed, helpless body. Biting your bottom lip, you pushed your chest into his touch. He grabbed you by the throat again.

“You’re mine” he snarled “Mine alone...”

Against your better judgement, you nodded. Your gaze wandered down to his crotch, causing your mouth to immediately water. Michael’s lips crooked into a sleazy smirk. He unbuckled his pants, and slipped his underwear down. Your eyes widened as his hard cock sprung free. Large, but not obscenely so. You pulled the skirt of your tunic up, leaving your aching cunt at his mercy.

He pinned you down under his full weight. You wrapped your arms around him, savouring the feel of luxurious fabric under your fingers. Like an animal in heat, you craved to feel him inside. His eyes locked with yours, Michael clasped your leg, and positioned himself more comfortably. You blindly caught hold of his member, helping guide it into your hole.

Your heart skipped a beat – you let out a moan as your membranes clamped around him. Hardly giving you a moment to adjust, he began to move. The sudden strain roused a twinge, but it soon was obscured by shattering pleasure. No longer holding back your mewls and whimpers, you sank your nails into his back. Should the expensive suit get ruined, it will be his fault.

Michael groaned, his teeth bared in primal satisfaction. Your response only encouraged him, and he quickly picked up the pace. Each thrust sent a shattering wave of pleasure through your fevered nerves. You wrapped your legs around his waist, welcoming them. He traced the tip of his tongue over your neck. You hissed as his long hair tickled you, overwhelming your senses even more. He purred, and nipped at your jaw.

“Kiss me” you demanded.

He obeyed, leaning down to press his mouth against yours. You parted your lips for him, and allowed your tongues to battle for dominance.

“Say my name” he ordered, upon pulling away.

“I can’t...” you gasped in horror.

“Your general isn’t here...” he growled “It’s just you and me...” he pressed his face to your temple “Say my name, sweetheart. Show the Beast how much you’re enjoying your downfall.”

He pulled his cock almost all the was out, then slammed it back in, roughly grazing your sweet spot. Your cried out, and sank your fingers into his hair. You didn’t want to think about her. You loathed to imagine her disappointment in you. But his presence eclipsed her face. Drowned it in the storm of ecstasy ravaging you.

“Michael!”

“Good girl” he praised with a grin.

Shock after shock of ecstasy tore through your body, setting every cell of it aflame. Your forehead was laced in sweat. Your muscles quivered from the tension. You were close. Very close. Turned feral by the pleasure, he grabbed you by the wrists, thrusting into you with merciless force.

“Michael...” you moaned.

You couldn’t stand it anymore. You arched your back, trembling and convulsing as a scream escaped your throat. Michael threw his head back with a snarl. You had grown painfully tight around him, prompting him to reach his own release. You felt him spill inside you – it was the strangest, most pleasant sensation  you had ever experienced.

You collapsed into the pillows, limp and gasping for breath. He slumped down on top of you. For a moment, you allowed yourself to soak in the glowing haze of bliss. But, just when he had crept off of you, and was about to pull you into his arms, you leapt up. Using his surprise for your advantage, you climbed onto him – this time, you were the one to pin him down. You caught his gaze, and drew a dagger from underneath your ruined tunic. Afraid to molest their master’s gift, the devil worshippers had missed it.

“You will find the men who captured me, crucify them, and bleed them like pigs” you growled, pressing the blade against his throat “Do you understand me, Antichrist?”

A drop of blood sept from under the metal, glowing against his milky skin in a warning.

“Yes” he murmured, as his eyes blazed with adoration.

[stardustdiiving]

I get to stressed out when ppl complain the gods in genshin dont “act/feel like gods” or feel “too human” like that’s the point…! That is the point of every single one of their characters and one of the themes of Genshin impact the video game !!!!!!!

[persicipen]

if you’re much shorter than mydei then whenever he’s standing somewhere near you, he leans against surfaces to appear not so broad, to not tower over you like he usually would when the purpose is to intimidate someone. if possible, he might even sit down so you don’t have to strain your neck to look up at him. in most conversations or social situations, he asserts his position as confident and dominant but if you’re included there, he moves next to your side like a loyal guard.

[liriostigre]

The Tunnel posting ✌🏼 (chapter 35 in the original and 36 in some editions in english. anyway, if you read it and find it boring please DON'T let me know lol)

[echoes-of-courage]

Question: what’s with the chains in Forge’s panel in the magic sensitivity comic?

That’s…. not too helpful. Someone else with sensitivity toward light magic might have something to say, though.

Hm. Thanks for the insight, Collector. It’s too bad that it usually takes closer observation to sense magic like that.

Original comments:

Archive

[crypt1dcorv1dae]

I really like kafhoshi ... it good.... Ther s so much potential and so much material to work with AND YET THERES LIKE NOTHING!!!!! *Rolls up my sleeves* gotta do everything myself in this damn house...

[therealaxlrose]

RAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH I JUST SAW BYLER ON MY FYP MY-MY-MY FUCKING HYPERFIXATIONSFEJINGRHOWIUCLENIOOASK AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHCBWIUKYHJGR*F&EOIDUWSNHADKBRCGEDUSABJJJJJ

BYLER CANON

NOW

[hussyknee]

From the blog of K. J. Charles dated 19th April 2024, copy-pasted for Tumblr history nerds and historical fiction writers.

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Eponymosity!

A quickie blog post today, inspired by Benjamin Dreyer’s entertaining rant on the distinction between eponymous and titular (it’s in footnote 1 for a clearer explanation than I am inclined/able to provide), and also by the fact that one of these sneaky little bastards nearly got me in a recent book.

So. An eponym is simply a word taken from a person’s name. Obamacare is an eponym, so is Reaganomics. If you hoover your carpets, the verb comes from the eponymous brand of vacuum cleaner. (We do not use the capital letter, no matter what the Hoover corporation may think: that ship has sailed, as demonstrated by the fact that I hoover with a Dyson.)

If you write historical novels, eponyms are one of those damn things. They tend to be extremely and usefully specific in meaning, but they are also extremely specific in dates, meaning you can’t rely on the old “well it was probably around for decades before it made it into the dictionary” line.

Here for your advisory is an incomplete list of eponyms that may trip you up, depending on period.

Boycott: The name comes from 1880 (Ireland, Charles Boycott, a shitty land agent who was socially and economically ostracised). The practice is older: there was a widespread boycott in the UK of slavery-produced sugar starting in 1791, during which sales plummeted by something like 40%. It is totally historically plausible to have a consumer or personal boycott in your Georgian or Regency novel, but you can’t call it a boycott for several decades more.

Chauvinist: Named for a French vaudeville character. Meaning ‘blinkered nationalist’ it dates from 1840; you can’t use it for a male pig until 1960.

Fedora: The hat beloved of men who spend too long on the internet getting angry about Star Wars sequels actually used to be a symbol of female liberation and cross dressing. Comes from the 1887 play Fédora starring Sarah Bernhardt.

Fuchsia: You will be able to spell this if you remember it’s an eponym for Mr Fuchs. The flowers are so named in the UK in the 1750s, the colour not till the 1920s. Do not put your Regency heroine in fuchsia, is what I mean.

Maverick: Supposedly from a US cattle owner, Samuel Maverick, who let his calves run wild. 1880s US at the very earliest, more probably 1930s. Yes, that is irritating.

Mesmeric: He may have compelling eyes but they ain’t mesmeric before the 1860s. The hypnotist Mesmer flourished in the late 1700s, giving us mesmerism (hypnosis); mesmerise wasn’t a verb till the end of the Regency, and even then it still meant ‘to put into a hypnotic trance’.

Sadistic: Marquis de Sade, as you already know, but NB that sadist/sadistic aren’t in general use till the 1890s or so when sexology got going, along with masochism (also an eponym).

Sandwich: 1762 since you ask.

Silhouette: The outline picture is named for French finance minister Etienne de Silhouette. Used in France from 1760. However, despite there being a craze for silhouettes in England, the actual word didn’t come here till the mid 1820s, which is sodding annoying if your novel about a silhouette cutter happens to be set in 1819 I’M JUST SAYING.

Sweet Fanny Adams: This UK usage originally referring to something no good, now often used as an alternative to ‘sweet FA/fuck all’, came in from 1869 and cannot be used before 1867. You really don’t want to know where it comes from but here if you must (be warned, it’s genuinely grim). (My note: tw for CSA and child murder.)

Thug: Originally from India. Used to describe the Thuggee (as Brits then called it) sect from 1810. Didn’t become generalised to all violent lowlifes till 1839. You can’t be assaulted by thugs in a Regency unless they are actually Thugs.

Trilby: Another hat your Regency gentleman can’t wear. Comes from George du Maurier’s mega hit Trilby published 1894, which also gave us svengali (the name of the baddie in the book).

Feel free to add to this in the comments, there’s always something!

Death in the Spires, my Oxford-set historical murder mystery, is out now. The silhouette book, The Duke at Hazard, publishes in July.

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End c+p.

KJ Charles is one of my absolute favourite writers in the world and the contemporary star in the crown of the MM historical romance genre. Her blog is also worthy of following because she reads incredibly widely and diversely and posts book recommendations as well as good advice about writing.

Re: Dreyer's rant, I am absolutely a prescriptivist, and if you use the word "nonplussed" in that unholy way I'm blocking you. We colonized folk of the former Raj didn't learn the intricacies of this cussed language for you to change meanings on a dime because you couldn't be bothered to crack open a dictionary.

[angelsaxis]

I wish I saw more posts/people talked about the pseudo (?) religion of Kier in Lumon more. That handbook is a Bible. They're reciting verses to keep one another in line and further the surveillance and behavioral control on Lumon's behalf. Their art clearly has religious overtones. They're in a cult! For various reasons people have unknowingly (!!!!!!!!) joined a 200 year old cult and it's being sold to them as work-life balance.

[astralspen]

You know this was supposed to just be a silly fun AU

I don't know how I got to the point of expanding everything to the point of introducing constellations to the religious system and creating an all new craft type

Also my computer is infected with loop critters. This doesn't have anything to do with the AU I just thought it was fun :P

[yarrayora]

you have gotta respect how servamp can add so many plot twists yet the writing stays consistent

no, you didn't see the betrayal coming, and yet it's not out of character, as proven by various people pointing out since years ago that mikuni and lily would make the worst pair possible, the same way the fandom already deduced since forever that lily's tragic backstory would be because he was a victim of sexual violence and that his name was a telltale sign of his lack of faith in love

[jenniferstolzer]

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Psychonauts - The Hornblower Incident - Chapter 69

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Psychonauts - The Hornblower Incident - Chapter 69

Jaoquin

Raz and Hollis run down to Medical for Jaoquin Leblanc's interrogation and hopefully some answers.

Tumblr's Ao3 link formatting broke again. I'm thinking it's because I'm on Bing on this computer. I hate Bing. Anyway this chapter's later than I said it would be because it's super important and really long. Hopefully you guys will get answers to some of the questions plaguing the team.

[planetsano]

so… since its the new year can we collectively agree to get the vibes right and back to how they used to be on ani fic tumblr in 2020-2022?

[linkahavocz99]

There’s a line in mgs2 before Emma gets shot where Snake is all like “maybe I should see if Otacon is okay if I ask her out” and many rightfully assume that he’s trying to ask out Emma but I’m here to tell YOU yes YOU that it could also be Karen Hojo—the news reporter who was cut from the game but makes an appearance in the motion graphic novel.

Surely, Otacon wouldn’t want his boyfriend to fraternize with a direct link to a major media outlet (especially after they went through all that trouble to fake his death) right?

I have so much metal gear brainrot that I headcanon them as having been in ap bio together in high school and they keep running into each other during random world-ending events.