#i have just been daydreaming about it and i can see so many scenes very vividly

[ladysharmaa]

Heir

Anthony Bridgerton x reader

summary: telling Anthony she's with child after facing difficulties getting pregnant

It's been three years since the wedding between Anthony Bridgerton and Y/n. The love between the two was one of the strongest anyone could have ever seen, it was obvious that they were made for each other.

They met in a very unusual way. While Anthony was courting Edwina Sharma, Y/n was seen very close to Benedict, the two of them discreetly courting each other. However, they both quickly realized that the connection between them was better as a friendship than a romantic relationship, where things seemed quite forced and uncomfortable. At the same time, Viscount Bridgerton had also broken up with Edwina after she had doubts on their wedding day.

Y/n remembered that day perfectly. She was sitting next to Benedict and the Bridgerton family on the chairs waiting for Edwina to appear and the wedding to begin. She waved a fan, trying to alleviate the horrible heat in that room. The delay seemed to make everyone nervous, especially Anthony who had drops of sweat falling from his forehead and was speaking hurriedly to his mother.

Finally, the doors opened, but, to everyone's surprise, it wasn't Edwina walking down the aisle, it was Kate Sharma, her sister. She didn't look happy, walking with an air of confidence and a serious expression, her eyes never leaving Anthony. The two exchanged quick words, until Anthony dropped his head and closed his eyes in frustration, but he still nodded and Kate left.

After a few tense seconds, Anthony finally had the courage to look at the people watching the scene and said that the wedding had been cancelled, before leaving the room too, leaving the murmur that formed.

"What a scandal." a lady gossiped with another, the two starting a conversation about what could have happened, some theories being completely ridiculous and that could ruin the family's reputation.

Y/n couldn't help herself and turned to them with a polite but sarcastic smile. "My apologies for interrupting, but the only scandal here is the fact that your son, who decided to be a priest, got so many prostitutes pregnant that only they could fill an entire line of these."

The woman gasped in horror while Benedict, who was listening to the conversation, had difficulty containing his laughter. "You foolish girl, how dare—"

"Excuse me, but I have better things to do than sit here and imagine what could have happened." Y/n got up from her chair, looking at the women one last time before going to try and find Anthony.

Despite being acquaintances, since Y/n was so close to Benedict, the two had never spoken much. However, the woman was still worried about Viscount. When she found him, sitting on the porch floor with his head in his hands, Y/n kept him company, also sitting in silence. From then on, a relationship was formed between the two that quickly became inseparable.

"My love, daydreaming again?" Anthony hummed, breaking Y/n out of his thoughts. The man wrapped his shoulders around her waist and pulled her closer, gently kissing her head. "What are you thinking about?"

"How lucky I am."

"Well, I'm the lucky one. I have a beautiful wife who I love very much. I couldn't live without you." he confessed, causing a blush to appear on her cheeks as it always did when he pronounced his love for her. "I have to go finish some paperwork, but then I'll come see you so we can go visit Daphne's son."

Y/n nodded, giving him a quick kiss and sighing as she watched him go to his office. Daphne had just had her second child, a beautiful baby boy. The couple was going to visit the family so that Y/n could help with whatever her sister-in-law needed while Anthony and Simon were going to entertain the baby's brother, a toodler who demanded a lot of attention.

Even though Y/n loved their children with all her heart, it only reminded her of what she couldn't give Anthony. The couple had been trying to get pregnant since they got married, but without success. Anthony's wife had already cried on his shoulder many times because she couldn't carry the child, her heart breaking every time she started her period.

Even though the Bridgerton man assured her several times that all he needed to be happy was her, Y/n still wanted to give him a heir. She wanted the house to be full of their children's laughter and for them to be able to create a mini version of them, a product of their love.

However, he tried not to occupy his days thinking solely about that. It was enough of all the doctors she had seen who told her that it was her fault, that her womb was not capable of developing a baby. Of course, Anthony, as soon as he heard those accusations and the look of complete heartbreak from his wife, demanded that they leave his house.

Y/n she couldn't take the blame anymore, going into a state of shock and for three days she refused to get out of bed. However, her husband would not accept that. He just wanted her to be happy, even if they never had children.

"We don't need children to be happy, I only need you. We have so many nieces and nephews who can take on my role, and we can take care of them from time to time, I'm sure my siblings wouldn't mind." Y/n remembered Anthony telling her this firmly, his hands grabbing her cheeks as they both had tears in their eyes.

And since then, they've never brought it up again.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

"Lady Bridgerton, are you feeling alright?" one of the maids asked worriedly when she saw Y/n enter the dining room for breakfast, immediately turning paler when she smelled the eggs. "Should I fetch for Viscount Bridgerton?"

She had time to shake her head before running to the nearest bathroom, dropping herself onto the cold floor and emptying the contents of her stomach. She could feel tears forming in her eyes, gagging at the sour taste that remained in her mouth. With unsteady legs, she got up and went to wash her mouth, the maids who entered the bathroom right after her helped her to hold herself upright.

However, she quickly realized that she wasn't finished yet when a new wave of nausea consumed her and she knelt again in front of the toilet. She felt strong hands, which she recognized as Anthony's, caress her face before grabbing her hair.

"Oh, Anthony…" she moaned in discomfort. "I don't want you to see me like this."

"Hey, none of that. Come here, love." he comforted, helping turn her around and supporting her against the wall when she was finished. He took a towel and started wiping her mouth.

When Y/n had the strength to open her eyes, she saw her husband's face analyzing her closely, looking for anything that could be wrong. The concern that swam in his eyes made her raise a hand and rest it on his cheek, and he turned slightly to be able to give her a lingering kiss on her palm.

"How are you feeling? I'm going to call the doctor. Are you okay with staying with one of the maids until I get back?"

Y/n held his arm, preventing him from getting up. "No, please don't go. I'm alright now. If this continues, I promise you can call the doctor, this is probably an one time thing. Let's not worry about it."

Anthony sighed, locked in a staring contest with the most important woman in his life. Accepting defeat, but with a serious look that screamed that if that happened again she would see a doctor, the Viscount picked up Y/n, carrying her to their bed.

Laying her down gently and helping Y/n take off her dress, the man pulled the covers up, making sure she was comfortable. Afterwards, he took off his shirt and pants, lying down next to her.

"What are you doing? We can't be in bed already, especially you. It's only morning, we still have many obligations to fulfill."

"No. My wife is not feeling well, and I'm going to take care of her. The paperwork can wait, as well as all my meetings. I just want you to be healthy." Anthony brought her closer to him, Y/n resting her head on his chest so she could hear his heartbeat. "Now, sleep. You need it."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

It happened again. More specifically, two more times Y/n threw up her meals. The first time, she was alone and not wanting to worry anyone, she preferred to remain silent. After all, she could still be recovering from some kind of illness. The second time, it was in the presence of her most trusted maid, who she considered a friend, Joanne. And so she begged her not to tell the Bridgerton man about it, claiming she would see someone.

Alone, because in addition to feeling sick, she also realized that her period, which was always regular, should have already arrived. Her first thought was that she was pregnant. But upon thinking better, she questioned this possibility. After so many years of trying and failing, why would she be pregnant now? There must be another explanation.

However, she did not share these possibilities with Anthony because the last thing she wanted was to give him hope only to end up disappointed with her inability to give him a heir. Fortunately, Joanne accompanied her, helping Y/n explain to the doctor why the Viscount wasn't there with her.

And when she left that office, she could feel her legs losing strength. She placed a hand on her chest, starting to find it difficult to breathe in completely, still shocked by what the doctor had said to her.

Pregnant.

She was carrying Anthony's child in her womb, something they thought to be impossible. She was going to be a mother. Even though Anthony always assured her that he was completely happy with just her, Y/n knew that he would love being a father. At the beginning of their marriage, he had revealed to her that he dreamed of their family, their chhildren running through the garden while he chased after them and Y/n watched while sitting under the shade, her hand on her swollen belly.

And, by a miracle, this dream could become reality.

"Lady Bridgerton, are you ready to return to the mansion?" Joanne questioned after Y/n sat down in the carriage, her hands shaking together in her lap. Her gaze was understanding, in case she needed a few more moments alone to process this, but her lips held a small smile.

"I'm going to be a mother." she whispered.

"A wonderful, beautiful mother, I'm sure. Congratulations, Lady Bridgerton." she smiled, feeling enormous happiness for Y/n. She knew how much the couple had suffered. "Shall we return?"

Y/n nodded, no longer trusting her voice to speak. The woman took advantage of the short trip to process everything that was happening and before she knew it she was already in front of Anthony's office door.

With barely controlled excitement, she knocked on the door, waiting for permission to enter. When she heard Anthony's voice, she timidly opened the door, seeing that her husband was gathered with his brothers.

"Oh, my apologies. I didn't know your brothers were here. I can come back later."

"Nonsense, love. They can just leave." Anthony said, leaning back in his chair and opening his arms, an invitation for Y/n to come to him. The man, after already having Y/n in his arms, looked at Benedict and Collin, who were looking at him with a smirk. "Did you not hear? I told you to leave."

"Anthony, be nice!"

"It's not a problem, Y/n, we know when we are not wanted. Come on, Benedict, let's leave the lovebirds alone." Collin teased, getting up with his brother and leaving the room, but first, he took Y/n's hand and brought it to his lips. Benedict, for instance, kissed her cheek in a brotherly way. Despite their farewell with Y/n, Anthony was completely ignored by his brothers.

"Did you need something?" the man asked, putting all of his attention on Y/n, who began to fidget with her fingers nervously.

"Actually, I have to tell you something. I went to the doctor today…"

"What? Y/n, why didn't you tell me? Did you feel bad again? Nauseous? What did the doctor say? Are you okay?"

"Calm down, my love. I'm better than fine. I'm sorry I didn't tell you about being sick again, but I didn't want to worry you." she admitted, feeling guilty that Anthony was feeling precisely what she didn't want. "Well, I received some very interesting news."

"Please, just tell me what's wrong. I can't bear not knowing if something is wrong with you." he muttered with a pained look, as if he felt physical pain when thinking about the possibility of Y/n being hurt or unwell.

"Anthony…" she said his name with so much love that he shuddered. "I'm pregnant."

A silence formed in the room. Anthony took so long to react, just looking at her intensely as if he didn't know what was true or not, that Y/n began to feel worry invade her system. Was he not happy? Did he not want a child with her anymore?

"W-What?" Anthony finally managed to whisper, his heart having stopped as soon as he heard those words. "You're pregnant? With my child?"

"Well, obviously." Y/n rolled her eyes. "Are you happy?"

"Happy? My love, I'm more than happy. I love you so much. And I love our child too." the man kissed her fiercely, needing to convey all his love and adoration for her in that kiss.

He was addicted to his wife's lips, and now that he knew she was carrying his child, something animalistic was released inside him. Without giving any warning, he grabbed Y/n and twirled her around, without ever taking his lips off hers. Even so, Y/n giggled against them, circling her hands around his neck and holding on tight.

When her feet touched the floor, the Viscount knelt in front of her, his hands resting hesitantly on her stomach. He looked at Y/n in permission, who just nodded in encouragement and placed her hand on his brown hair, stroking his scalp.

Very gently, Anthony kissed his wife's still flat stomach. "Hello, you. I'm your father and I love you and your mother very much. You two are my entire life."

And the two stayed like that for the rest of the day, moving to the bedroom where Anthony continued to talk to Y/n's belly while exchanging passionate kisses with her. A beautiful new stage had begun in their lives, and they couldn't wait to meet their heir.

[hyunebunx]

Wow I’m stupid I pressed send way too fast 🩵 with Lee Know??

˖˙ ᰋ ── 🩵 - kissing in the rain with Minho

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. genre: a teeny tiny amount of angst but it has a happy ending

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. a/n: thank you sm for requesting!!! <3 i had soo many ways of writing this in my head that i struggled lol. i really hope you like what i came up with. it's loosely (very) based on the rain scene in pride and prejudice so enjoy!! <33

Arguments were not a usual occurrence in your relationship. Most of the time you managed to settle any disagreement before it could escalate to such heights, the perfectly communicating couple all of your friends couldn’t help but feel a little envious of.

Now was not one of those times; your stress and emotions were getting the best of both you and Minho in the most unpleasant way. You hated arguing with him, getting angry and unable to see the other’s point of view, clouded by the desire to be right and make each other understand where you were coming from.

“You don’t get it.” Minho shakes his head with a sigh, forearms resting on the wheel as the rain poured outside your safe haven, hitting the windshield at an alarming pace and preventing you from seeing anything, even with the headlights on.

“Explain it to me, then!” You bite back, body facing his in the heated passenger seat that was keeping you warm and cozy despite the chill outside. Even when arguing you could admit Minho was the most considerate person alive – you didn’t ask him to turn on the heat, he must have done it when he noticed you trembling like a leaf after getting in.

He surprised you after work, dropping by and driving directly to one of your favorite restaurants just in time for dinner and a well deserved date night. Everything was perfect, the location, the food, and especially the company, laughing and having a great time with the love of your life.

Until things turned sour on your drive home, and what started as a silly disagreement turned into a full-on argument about something you didn’t find significant enough even to remember.

“That’s what I’ve been doing for the past ten minutes but it seems you don’t want to listen!”

You’ve been walking (or driving) in circles, with him getting frustrated and you following right on his tail until the car came to a stop right in front of your apartment building.

It’s not like you didn’t want to listen or care to hear him out, it’s just that Minho seemed to make something out of nothing, insisting and pushing forth the same idea like you were nothing more than a child who lacked basic comprehension. It was frustrating and exhausting, especially after the long day you’ve had.

“Min, I’ve been listening.” You try to smooth things over, warm hand landing on his thigh comfortingly. “Just because I’m not giving you the answers you want doesn’t mean I’m not hearing you.”

Minho remains silent, head turned the other way to stare out the window and not acknowledge your presence. When the silence stretches on, you give up with a sigh and retract your hand, reaching for your purse in the backseat and opening the car door in the same breath.

“What are you – “ You close it right before he can finish the sentence, set on getting inside with or without him to finally take the bubble bath you’ve been daydreaming about all day at work.

“Kitten!” His voice follows a moment later, the sound of the car door slamming louder than him amongst the deafening rain. “Y/n!”

Despite yourself and the insanity of spending even one more minute in this storm, you stop and allow him to catch up, not protesting as his warm hands land on your shoulders and turn you around almost desperately.

“Where are you going? We are not done talking.” He states, dark hair and clothes getting soaked at an alarming pace as the rain spares neither of you.

“But I am!” You exhale, the chill settling into your bones. “We won’t reach an agreement like this so let’s just stop!”

His eyes widen as he pulls you closer, chest to chest, figures illuminated by the bright headlights almost blinding. “Baby, wait – “

“I hate fighting with you, Min.” Without meaning to, you interrupt him once again, reaching up to cup his face and drag him closer. “I’m sorry, okay? We can talk this over calmly inside after we cool down. Just not like this, please, I can’t do it anymore.”

He nods instantly, agreeing without a doubt and most likely seeing his faults too, and not only yours. Then, when you expect him to let go and finally follow you in, Minho surprises you the second time tonight by leaning over and connecting your lips in a kiss full of passion and love, reminding you once again that the heart in his chest beats first and foremost for you. His upper limbs cling to your body just like your clothes, hugging you tightly while your hands squeeze his face affectionately, a smile sneaking past and pulling one from him as well, on the verge of beaming into the kiss.

The rain seems to disappear, the cold too, like you weren’t bothered by either in the first place. Minho has that effect on you, helping you see the good in every situation. Sure, the location was not ideal – nothing could be less romantic than a barely lit parking lot – but as always, the company mattered more. And the message he was trying to send. When words failed you, actions worked better, speaking louder and getting your point across without much effort.

Sure, the argument wasn’t resolved but you both managed to make the other understand what mattered the most. You might be disagreeing now, momentarily stuck in a small pothole along the way, but you still loved each other, you would get over it and be okay in the end.

Because that’s what true love meant. Getting through things together and continuing to walk down your joined paths, hand in hand, no matter how many potholes or rough patches you encounter. A small setback won’t ever erase your feelings for each other, or make you forget all the beautiful moments you’ve shared.

And maybe, just maybe, a kiss was all you needed to finally understand Minho’s point when you sat down and resolved things that night. He, on the other hand, needed a few more to be satisfied.

[n0n-sen-se]

💌 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐊𝐍𝐘 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐀𝐝𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐫. . .

includes ;; genya, muichiro content ;; pure fluff. a/n ;; stresstember eh? the perfect time to indulge in some adorable escapism! (´｡• ◡ •｡`) ♡

☆☆☆ # genya shinazugawa !

genya regularly receives check-ups at the Butterfly Mansion, thus you tend to bump into him a ton!

this is where things start to take a turn. . . he stops getting so angry and quick to shut you down. . . and instead, he starts watching you train a little more, keeping idle tabs on your schedule, daydreaming of you when he should be focusing on training. . .

then it hits him:

he's got a crush ?!

to this boy love literally feels lethal.

he can't function. at all. he's unable to stand or talk to you for more than a few seconds without becoming flustered and wracked with nerves.

so loving you from afar is the simplest-easiest option.

he stares a ton, and tries hard not to get caught.

daydreams when he shouldn't- and at the worst times- you can only get punched in the face while training so many times before you start to wonder if having a crush is really worth it.

i'm pretty sure anyone could see the reason this quick-tempered boy suddenly turns shy when he's around you.

and he hates admitting it. (what is he supposed to do? he's never been in love before?)

there are times when he's 100% undoubtably sure that you're busy- or far, far away from the scene of the crime. . . he'll sneak into your room (after double checking that the coast is clear, again) he'll leave a few wildflowers next to your nightstand.

just the thought that he's showing romantic affection towards you has his heart palpitating. . . even if it is, technically indirect.

has him paranoid as hell, like somehow even after all his precautions, you'll just know it was him. if you suspect him, or bring it up, he'll vehemently deny everything.

(whenever he leaves flower btw, it'll be up to a week before he works up the courage to bring another bunch, and in between he tries to garner the courage to talk to you. . . without success)

he'd actually get pretty comfortable with this scenario, and eventually saves up enough to produce a small vase to hold all the flowers.

and it feels like the biggest step yet!

its a painfully simple pot, and he feels he could do better, but he's tied a woven red string around the neck to help. . . at least a little.

you know. . . in the future he could tie notes to it. the thought has his ears burning red hot, and he flees the scene just as quickly.

☆☆☆ # muichiro tokito !

honestly, it doesn't fully occur to him that he is a secret admirer at first.

he just one day happens to notice you because you caught his eye. nothing in particular, there was just something. . . bright about your presence.

your eyes? your smile? who could really say. all he knows is that your very interesting to look at when you're around.

even your voice catches his attention, like the sound of bells to his ears. its calming and also so alluring? how are you able to charm him like this?

the couple times you caught him staring he looked away quickly, then he starts wondering why he's afraid of being caught?

that's when the idea of an idea starts to form in his head.

a crush!

honestly, i think he'd smile to himself at the thought. its all very confusing and all very new and exciting!

he'd stare a ton and try to be subtle. . . but then fail at that too. (at this point he's just standing beside a tree rather than behind it?)

muichiro gifts you things that remind him of you: things that are eye-catching and interesting to him.

. . . something that holds his attention as much as you do. . .

mostly things he's found, like the shiniest shells or rocks, broken ornaments or porcelain he's found. the best would probably be a tiny pearl he. . . acquired.

instructs his crow to deliver them to you, which in turn means you get hit in the head with said object- you don't need a more obvious clue to know that his crow hates. your. guts. (don't worry she's just a little jealous)

at first, he completely forgets that he's sent anything to you at all.

until he see's you holding them and it all connects.

silently hopes you to make the connection too. and i don't think he'd mind being caught at all. (its kind of like a fun game he's playing, that subsequently causes the faintest blush to appear across the bridge of his nose)

thinks about you maybe a bit too much, and starts to get excited at the prospect of being in love or a relationship! what would it be like to hold your hand, or even have all of your attention for once? (now he's just smiling up at the clouds like an adorable idiot)

if he writes anything (a note?) its just doodles and drawings he's done that he then hands over to his crow to deliver.

actually very fond of leaving you snacks too. . . or straight up offering to share while (innocently) asking you what ❛all those things in your hands❜ are.

[merakiui]

I see a lot of the sugar daddy thoughts going around, but I think a lot of the cast are average guys. Who do you think is working a second job to try to afford that sugar baby lifestyle for Darling, and does she know about his secret?

:O you're so right!!! There are many characters who are just average and aren't from rich or royal families like the others. My mind immediately goes to someone like Trey or Cater. Perhaps to make it easier for thoughts, here are the groupings:

Can genuinely afford sugar daddy lifestyle (i.e. family is rich/very financially stable): Leona, Jade, Floyd, Kalim, Vil, Idia, Malleus

Somewhere in the middle (not nearly as extravagant as the above category; perhaps middle class/upper-middle class): Riddle, Azul, Neige, Rook

Average middle class/lower-middle class/working class (comfortable and average/normal lifestyle): Ace, Deuce, Trey, Cater, Jack, Jamil, Epel, Sebek, Silver, Lilia

Lower class: Ruggie

I think it's cute to imagine Deuce working so hard so that he can afford a lifestyle like that. Being able to support you is a wonderful thing, so he'll do his best to give you the world!!! Or Riddle using that doctor's salary of his (in an au in which he is a successful doctor) to fund your sugar baby life). So many thoughts!!!

I feel like some of the characters (in their youth) are already well-off by way of inheritance. Azul's mother runs the most successful restaurant in the Coral Sea, so of course that brings in lots of money. And then Azul himself has his own business, which will inevitably grow and become even more successful. Or the twins who have never known anything else outside of being wealthy because they've always been spoiled and the "family business" seems to be very successful.

It's difficult to place Rollo (my love, my light, my life) in one of the categories because we know so little about his family (aside from what happened to his little brother), but I like to imagine he'd live modestly. Rollo who works at a flower shop will forever be my favorite thought for him. Twst can't tell me his hobby is cleaning and his talent is gardening and not expect me to daydream about flower shop owner Rollo or househusband Rollo. OTL although it is fun to imagine him working extra hours or jobs just to be able to give you all the things you want. <3

OH!!!!! Or Cater!!!! Cater who has curated this entire persona for himself online. On Magicam, you think he lives so lavishly. How else is he able to afford being your sugar daddy? But then behind the scenes he's working so many jobs,,,, there is so much more I could say about this omg........ so many thoughts filling my brain. orz I love Cater.

[osarina]

I CAME SCREAMING AND RUNNING WHEN I HEARD YANDERE DAZAI OMLL HOW DO YOU PERSONALLY SEE YAN!DAZAI??? cause theres so many ways to characterize him if he becomes Yandere especially if you compare and contrast his PM and ADA self

... here we go. yanzai my beloved - i dont think u guys understand how insane i am over him. anyway, i'm not making this one as long as i planned to because (surprise) i've planned out a two-part fic for this that i want to write when i'm done with civilian!dazai, and i dont want to spoil it. hehe.

but. in general, i think even non-yanzai would be veryyyyy possessive over his lover. yanzai is on an entirely different level though - and even WITHIN yanzai, i think pm yanzai and ada yanzai are entirely different monsters and i mean that so literally. but first, in general, possessive, very manipulative. yanzai has likely found his reason to live in his lover and he's NAWT about to let that go.

yanzai in general would tend to lead toward manipulation through guilt and isolation, i think. i don’t think any version of yanzai would ever get violent with his partner and i stay heavy on that belief. he’s got more of a tendency to treat you like you’re something fragile that could break at any given moment.

also i'm going to split pmzai into two - canon pmzai (ages 15-18) and then pmzai in an au where he never left the pm. so the order i'm gonna talk about is canon pmzai, canon adazai (as a direct follow up to canon pmzai), and then im gonna talk about pmzai au where he never left the pm.

for the purposes of this, assume that reader joined the pm when they were young

canon pmzai

so first i want to talk about how it probably starts, because i could sooooo very much see this starting while he & his lover are young. since this is canon, i imagine they meet at around 15/16 like i have dazai & pmreader meeting. dazai's clearly a lot more unstable during his early pm years and i think his obsession with his lover could start with something really minimal tbh. maybe they shoot an offhand compliment to him, or stop to pick something up that he dropped, and dazai is just so alone & isolated by mori atp that he just completely fixates on this person because they’re the first one to ever say/do something kind for him, as small as it may have been.

i think it would even start out harmless, spends a lot of time thinking about you, daydreaming. maybe he even steps in on missions for you - which he notably doesn't do for anyone because he doesn't want to do more work than he has to. but something would happen that eventually triggers the shift from harmless to a veryyyy dangerous obsession. maybe you got critically wounded on a mission, or maybe you start spending time with other people—whatever it is, it just flips a switch in him because he realizes that he is not about to loose you and he doesn't care what he has to do to make sure of it.

on this topic ^^ maybe this is a hot take, but i think canon pm yanzai would be entirely more dependent on his lover compared to adazai. adazai is still dependent, but not to the extent pmzai is. i know people hc him as hyper independent, which i also mostly hc for him, but i think if he's found someone that he's attached himself to like this, he’s young enough that he'll quickly become codependent on them, and that obviously scares him which makes him even more intense with his yan tendencies.

that being said, i still think that he would be careful to not alert you to any shift of his mentality. he'd be very hyperaware of keeping a good image in your eyes, so everything he does do is going to be behind the scenes. he'd probably work a lot with isolation and trying to make you as dependent on him as he is on you—justifies it by telling himself that it's not fair that he can't live without you but you can live without him LOL, won't be satisfied until he's inclined enough to believe that if he was gone you would be ruined without him (which comes into play when he leaves the mafia). he also makes sure that the missions you go on - if he even has you going on any - are all easy AND he makes sure he's overseeing them. probably phrases it as just a shift in command, assuming you were someone else's subordinate first, and you don't really have any reason to think anything of it.

i think he'd keep a really tight hold on his image up until the events of dark era, that whole ... week ? i assume its about a week, of everything going down with ango and oda just tosses him into a mental spiral and he'd probably let the mask slip a few times in front of you. i still don’t think it’s enough for you to really question anything—not until he leaves, that is.

now moving on to adazai - but first, the underground years:

we're gonna assume that you stay with the pm when he leaves. i think he'd spend a lot of his underground years honestly just keeping an eye on you from a distance. i think he'd be like very back and forth with how he feels, like a part of him is soooo satisfied that you're so broken about him leaving but then the other part of him has him wanting rip out his own throat for being the reason for your distress. he'd be rlly hyperaware of you "moving on" from him. his go to would be driving people away from you, like it was while he was with the pm but it's a lot harder now that he has to be a "ghost" so to speak, so i think he would target you yourself more often. and it would be little things, like whenever he sees you start talking to someone new, he'd leave little things around your apartment to remind you of him. maybe pictures you'd taken together, or small trinkets, anything to make you remember him and trigger you back into that spiral of missing him. BUT that being said, i think he would be very careful to ensure that you don't realize it's him leaving these things around, so he'd go through your apartment and look for stuff and would lay it out carefully to make you think that you just happened to leave it out.

i think over the course of his underground years, you start to realize that whatever you had with dazai was not healthy and how he acted with you was not healthy, and dazai does take note of this in his 💀 long hours observing you, which is why he’s so careful to keep up his new mask with you when he inevitably meets you again (read below).

OK now adazai

adazai is interesting. i went back and forth with this a lot, but i think adazai would really utilize his new job & demeanor as a tool to make you come back to him/fall for him again, especially if you’d started to put things together during the years he was gone. he frames his leaving it as how it was just something he had to do, look how much better he is now, he’s healed & hes good now, and he didn’t know what else to do because he knew his mental state wasn’t healthy back in the mafia. <- i think this would be important specifically because you would take note of how he acknowledges how incredibly possessive and weird he was with you, and in your mind, someone who acts like that probably wouldn’t see anything wrong with it, so the fact that he acknowledges it would be a green flag in your mind because maybe he has grown.

he also would probably hit you with a few guilt trips like he didn’t even know he meant enough to you to make you care about whether or not he was there. he’d be veryyyyyy sweet and honeyed with his apologies and pleas for forgiveness, and he’d be patient too. if you weren’t open to listening to him the first time you run into him, he’d orchestrate several other “run ins” over the next few weeks, whittle down your guard until he can finally claw his way back into your skin.

once that whole first stage of “winning you back” is over, dazai would quickly return to old habits although, however careful he was while in the pm to keep a good image in your eyes, he’s 100000x more careful now. because now it’s beyond just not letting you see the “demon prodigy”, he’s been advertising himself to you as a good, changed man and he has every intention of maintaining that image in your eyes. so yeah, he might be using access to cctv cameras to stalk your every move and yes, he’s slowly but surely driving everyone away from you, but in your eyes, he’s a detective who spends the saving people and that should never waver in anyway.

i think one notable difference is that adazai’s first big goal is going to be to drag you from the mafia, so while he is isolating you from people in the pm, i think he wouldn’t be so quick to isolate you from the members of the agency. in fact he would even encourage it to an extent - as long as they know their place 💀 - until he gets you to leave the pm, that is, then he might start to isolate you altogether again.

adazai likes to fashion himself as a bit of a savior to you i think. he saw how you spiraled without him, and came back to you, promising to never leave you again, apologizing for ever having have. gets in your head by making comments about how he didn’t even know you rlly cared about him like that.

^^ he’ll drag u from the dark shadow of the port mafia and tuck you right into his own shadow instead. and yeah, it might be just as dark, but at least he’ll be there to to make sure some light is peeking through cell bars of his “love”.

nowwww pmzai who never left the mafia.

i think i’ll keep this one short because imo i feel like this would just be canon pmzai without bothering to keep the whole front up in front of you. he doesn’t really care to hide his obsession over you - what are you going to do about it? run? he’s not going to let you do that, and he knows you don’t want to do that anyway. this pmzai is even more unstable than canon pmzai - i imagine he still lost oda, but then failed to even fulfill his last request by leaving the mafia and going to the light, so instead he focuses all of his energy onto the one person he has left: you.

forget missions. you’ll be lucky if he ever lets you leave the pm hq again. people die for looking at you the wrong way - whether it be pity, concern, or “envy” (because dazai is paranoid and thinks everyone is trying to stealing what’s his). sometimes you make comments about it to him, wanting to go on missions & talk to people again, and it triggers breakdowns in dazai that you can never tell if they’re real or fake - panic attacks over losing you like odasaku, begging you not to leave him too, etc. you don’t know if these are real, but he’s got you so tight around his finger already that the off chance that these aren’t manufactured to guilt you into dropping the subject is enough to make you give in.

[bananayuyu]

Between the Blinds

Pairing: Yeosang x f reader

Genre: smut

Word count: 5.8k

Summary: Your favorite coworker is handsome, but oh so quiet. It's not until you stumble upon a lewd scene at work that you understand who he really is.

Warnings: smut, MDNI, masturbating at work, handjob

A/n: I absolutely love ateez in suits so that is what I imagined for this entire fic. Also, I would generally advise against many of the things that happen in this fic, but it is certainly fun to fantasize. Hope you enjoy! :)

Yeosang was by far your favorite coworker.

From the moment you met you felt a spark there when your eyes met, like a tiny thread suddenly stretched between your brains so you could feel and think everything he was feeling and thinking. He was quiet, the quietest in the office. He worked in a small office on his own, at his request. He was smart and efficient, and the boss liked him. So did everyone else, from a distance. He didn't let anyone in and never socialized; no one really knew him or knew much about his life. All they knew was his stunning face, his perfectly shaped body, and on the occasion when he had to use it, his deep and expressive voice. Many people in the office were in love with him; it was a regular topic of conversation.

It was your first real job post-college, your first true taste of independence. You had always been so responsible, getting straight As and going to bed at 10pm sharp. Your life was impressive from the outside but lacked intrigue, and you knew you were prone to daydreaming and delusion to keep yourself entertained. It was something almost no one knew about, and you had no intention of changing that. Your infatuation with Yeosang, and especially your certainty that he felt the same, was something you kept to yourself.

It started the second day. You were in the kitchen making coffee first thing in the morning. As you stood in front of the machine you yawned and closed your eyes, oblivious to Yeosang entering. He moved quietly, as he did everything quietly. You were wearing a fitted black top and tight black slacks, the shape of your body on full display. Yeosang just kept staring at you from the side, his eyes scanning your body, your thighs and your hips, and finally landed on your chest. His reaction to you was visceral and uncontrollable, taking him by surprise. He gulped as you finally looked over to him, clearly catching him checking you out. You looked at him with wide eyes and raised eyebrows, confused if you saw what you thought you did.

"Sorry, sorry." The words tumbled out of him. He turned and walked away, a blush beginning to spread over his cheeks. You looked down to see his coffee mug on the counter, still empty. Filling it, you couldn't help but smile at the way your body felt warm, his look of lust replaying in your head.

"Come in," he says when you knock on his door, his mug of coffee in your hand.

"You forgot your coffee," you say.

"Oh, you didn't have to. Thank you, though," he responds, this time more smoothly.

"It's Yeosang, right?" you ask, having not forgotten since your introduction the day before but wanting to make conversation.

"Yes. And you're y/n, right?" he responds.

"Yeah. I started yesterday."

"I hope everyone has been welcoming so far."

"Oh yes. They all say you never talk to anyone, though. Is that true?"

Yeosang's eyes widen, caught off guard by how direct you are. "Well, yes, generally. But you can always come knock if you have a question. I'm just not really, well, very social. I prefer to work on my own."

"That's fair," you say, staring at his perfect lips, at the way his nose slopes so gently. He probably can't deal with unwanted attention, you imagine. But he stares back and you feel it, that first tug of the thread connecting your minds, your own cheeks suddenly flushing just as his are. "I like being around people, sometimes," you say, knowing the words are clumsy and so simple but needing something to say. The little office feels warm and you feel yourself melting, wanting nothing more than to live in this moment forever. But suddenly another knock sounds on the door.

"Come in," Yeosang responds, just as before. Your bosses head appears around the door, and your chest suddenly tightens. He asks Yeosang a quick question and reintroduces the two of you; you catch a slight look of amusement Yeosang gives you, at the way your boss is being overly professional.

And that's how it began, always a bit awkward, always a bit tense. There was the time you thought you saw a bug in the kitchen and screamed and grabbed his arm, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up that day because someone had cranked the heat too high. Your hand on his arm felt electric, the skin to skin contact even more intoxicating than you could imagine. Then there were the notes, little jokes or observations he left for you on your desk. Always tucked under your coffee mug at the corner of your desk. And your responses, always laid on top of the stacks of paper you had to bring him. There was the time he asked you to print something for him, then came into the printer room and stood right behind you, reaching over to grab something on a shelf above. You had heard him enter the room that time and tried to move out of the way but he held you in place with one hand on your waist and you stood frozen, feeling the tense muscles of his chest and abdomen against your shoulders. There were the early mornings which no one but you two volunteered for, when clients from oversees wanted to video conference at a certain time or meet last minute in the office before a flight. As he made you both coffee you sat on the counter next to him, your eyes roaming his face.

"What do you want?" he'd ask, rolling his eyes.

"You, duh," you would say sarcastically, but you were only half joking, of course. He would laugh, a rare sight and one you felt priviledged to see. "I'm just making sure you make my coffee right, dummy."

"I always make your coffee right, smart-ass," he'd reply.

"Fine, I'll leave you to it then," you'd say, jumping off the counter and sauntering away. It was always fun, always got you excited. You barely even needed the caffeine to be awake for those early morning meetings, as long as Yeosang was there.

It continued like this for a while, for longer than you expected. You weren't really sure where it would head or what could even come of it. For one, you worked together. And your interactions were still sometimes awkward or stilted; though it was almost more endearing, it also made you wonder if he even liked you. Or if you were just two coworkers, joking around to pass the time. Regardless, your feelings grew and grew, and there was nothing you could do to stop them. When you asked your best friend what to do, she recommended being a bit bolder.

"Who cares if you work together, you probably won't in a year. It's not like you're gonna be there forever. And if you really like him... just go for it."

"I do," you said, sighing. Sighing, because when did this situation get so complicated? For you, emotionally, that is. It was all so fun usually. But you felt something building inside you, and realized you really did care. It was less than wholesome, you had to admit. And you wanted it, wanted him badly. It wasn't like you often came across people who you found so damn attractive.

So you decided to do something about it.

The next week you wore your favorite long sleeve t-shirt, one that's hem came right below your belly-button, hugging your body just the way you liked. It was a little casual for your current job, but that didn't matter. The slight strip of skin that showed above your pants was suddenly cold as you entered the office in the early morning, another morning with just Yeosang. As you made coffee you waited for him, and finally he entered, later than you expected. He was hard to read but if any word described him that day he seemed distant. He took one look at you and did a double take, his tired eyes passing over your outfit. He looked almost disapproving, and it made you laugh. Once again he was unable to take his eyes off you and you felt sure, if only for a moment, that he liked you too. But that itself wasn't enough.

"You did your buttons wrong," you say, walking up to him and unbottoning a few on his shirt, the words a complete lie. He looked completely professional and put together, as he always did. But you wanted to touch him, you needed to see his reaction. You redid the buttons and smoothed the shirt down over his torso, then ran a hand along his arm and redid the button on his cuff. You could feel his body tensing, and heard him gulp. You looked up at him, his pupils larger than you expected in the brightness of the office. And then you ran your hand up to his chest and felt his heart beat, strong and very fast.

"Your heart is racing, are you that nervous for our meeting?" you teased, hoping to get a reaction out of him. But none of it was working. He just stared at you, his face nearly blank as he clearly was working very hard to keep it that way. You knew everything you did wasn't the most creative or forward but still, how was he not reacting? And why wouldn't he say something by now if he liked you too? Your frustration at him was building and you knew it was illogical. The months of flirting were making you pent up and you needed something, anything, from him to feel some relief.

Soon enough the normal day started, and everyone else had arrived. It felt like your opportunity was missed, but you were determined not to let the day go to waste. You thought on it for a while, as you made copies and busied yourself by pretending the machine was giving you trouble. You went back and forth with yourself, weighing the risk of your ideas. Eventually you decided you didn't care to be careful.

How do you look so fine in just a plain black and white suit? the note read, sitting atop the pile of copies you made for him. You set it in his office with a thud, running out without even making eye contact with him. Your heart pounded; it was your first real and direct admission that you found him attractive. Now he must have something to say, you thought. He must have some reaction.

You had to wait another hour, the time passing agonizingly slowly, and again you had to busy yourself with your work and pretend everything was fine. As Yeosang got ready to leave he came by your desk; if you hadn't spent months observing him so closely you probably wouldn't have been able to tell his gait was off, betraying his nervousness.

"These copies came out poorly, can you make some more before you leave today? You can just leave them in my office," he said, his voice clearly full of tension, his volume just high enough for you to hear. He too wasn't making eye contact with you, his gaze stuck on the far wall, like the blankness of it was somehow mesmerizing.

"Oh, um, of course. Sorry about that. I'll go redo them here in a moment," you say awkwardly.

"Great, thanks," he says, walking away as he swallowed thickly.

You glance down at the stack to see a small piece of paper folded on top, the top page of the stack appearing to have been copied just fine. You glance around to see if anybody is watching you, your heart in your throat in anticipation of Yeosang's response. You hear his office door open and close as you pick up the note, and see his back swiftly exit the front doors of the office. He is rushing, there's no doubt. Your excitement builds at this, feeling like he must have written something naughty, or at least not very work appropriate.

Finally, after one more check of everyone around, you open the note.

Be careful, smart-ass

I'm your coworker

And that was it.

A quick pang of embarrassment runs through your chest, your breath catching in your throat. That's it? you think. How the hell could you have read it all wrong? He clearly, obviously likes you too. But the note is so short, it's impossible to read between the lines. The first line is somewhat jokey, an inside joke between just the two of you. But the second, so short and plain, is hard not to interpret seriously. Maybe he doesn't like you, at least not like that. Or maybe he's warning you not to do things like that at work. But if not here, where? He keeps everything about himself private and leaves before you every day.

As you sit stewing in your embarrassment, the feeling starts turning more to anger, more to frustration. Well, you thought, if that's how it is, I guess I was wrong. You doubt he wants you to entirely ignore him but that's what you pledge to do, if for no other reason than to save your feelings. You certainly weren't going to let a coworker ruin how you feel at your job. Things had been going smoothly on the professional front, and you weren't going to let this screw things up for you. You decided it was time for seriousness and responsibility again. It killed a part of you, the part that had so enjoyed messing with Yeosang and fantasizing. But your anger and frustration at him was winning out. No more playing around. Even if he meant it jokingly, he wasn't making that clear. And that pissed you off more than anything, that he wasn't letting you in or telling you how he truly felt.

The next weeks are agony, to put it lightly. Self doubt plagues you constantly as you question your initial reaction, wondering if being so upset with him is even warranted. But then you think of the months of flirting, the months of trying to pry open a small door and him never even giving you an inch. You hadn't realized it at the time but looking back your frustration had been building, every single day that he joked with you but stayed so guarded. You considered that maybe your reaction was a bit unwarranted. But it made sense to you. There was just something in you, something that needed more of him, that needed access to the human parts.

It was dull but it was work, and you made it through. You thought is was probably for the best, that you were doing the right thing by not flirting with your coworker anymore. Things almost felt like they had reached a new equilibrium, and you felt like you could be just as satisfied with your work again, once you finally processed your little crush and the embarrassment over the note you left. How utterly childish, you thought. You were determined to be a professional adult. Unfortunately, one of your coworkers had other plans for you. It was out of nowhere, caught you completely off-guard, and unfortunately undid in a moment the nonchalance you had worked so hard to attain.

"Y/n, don't you think Yeosang's been weird lately?" Nora, your desk neighbor asks you one day. You were truly focused on reading a report and felt snapped back to reality, your heart squeezing in your chest at the mention of him. Of course, you think, he hasn't been normal cause he hasn't been flirting with me. Cause I've been fucking avoiding him. But you can't tell her that.

"What do you mean?" you ask instead, giving her an encouraging look. It isn't like you to be interested in talking about office gossip, so anytime you are interested your coworkers don't hold back.

"I swear he takes forever to respond to my emails now. And Jun said the same. I know he's always been quiet but he like barely leaves that office of his anymore. It's like he's hiding away in there. But then why is he not responding to our emails quickly? He used to just fine. And if he's in there all the time he should be even faster, if anything."

"Oh, I hadn't noticed," you lie, swallowing the lump forming in your throat, trying to keep your racing thoughts at bay. "About the emails, I mean. But yeah he's barely been out here recently. I wonder why?"

"A part of me is like, he's probably just feeling down lately or something," Nora responds," but then another part of me is like, he's probably up to no good in that office. I mean if he's so distracted every afternoon that he can't answer my emails for like three hours, what is he doing?"

"I don't know," you sigh out, turning back to the report. But Nora won't let it go.

"You seemed to get along well with him, what do you think it is?" she asks you.

"I don't know. He's very guarded Nora, I don't know him any better than the rest of you. Which is probably a good thing, we are coworkers after all." You sigh at your words. Nora looks at you intently, like she's expecting something. "What? You want me to go ask him or something? No way in hell is that happening."

"I know, I know. But listen, I had an idea. I know it's kind of insane but I was thinking, you know how his office door has those blinds? He keeps them closed all the time so no one can see in. But what if they were open and we could take a peek in there? It's always after lunch that he doesn't respond. I have an old stack of things I'm supposed to take to him before I shred today, and you have your daily afternoon delivery to him. What if when I'm walking out I open the blinds, just slightly? And then you can take a peak when you go over there, just before you knock so he doesn't know you're there."

"Oh, Nora," you sigh, shaking your head slightly but also smiling. You know you shouldn't engage in this ridiculousness, that you should be more mature than this. But you can't help being intrigued. If she's the one who opens the blinds you won't feel like it's your fault if you accidentally see anything. You can' imagine you will, given how professional Yeosang is at work. Or that Nora will even be able to open them. But something within you is very excited by the idea. You try desperately not to show it.

"I doubt you'll even be able to open them," you say. "And what if he sees you doing it? He's gonna be confused and creeped-out." You know you should be discouraging her but you can't bring yourself to tell her no.

"You don't know how stealthy I am," she responds.

"You're crazy," you say, laughing and shaking your head. This time you really do go back to your report, not letting her keep the conversation going.

It only takes about thirty minutes and she's back at her desk, leaning over towards you.

"I did it!" she whisper yells, excited and clearly proud of herself. All you can do is still shake your head, not believing she actually went through with her plan. "You better tell me what you see later y/n."

"Fine, I will," you tell her, trying to pretend like you don't care. You know you shouldn't; a sneaking feeling that you're both invading his privacy sweeps through your gut. But the excitement is still bubbling away, unfazed.

Finally your lunch break approaches and you head outside, not wanting to be bothered by anyone. You've started doing this ever since you started ignoring Yeosang, ever since he left you that note. Being inside with everyone during lunch no longer appeals to you; the pain of seeing him grab his food out of the fridge only to head back to his tiny office is too much to handle. And today especially, after that conversation with Nora, you desperately need the fresh air. It's hotter than ideal but the solitude feels nice. The loud sounds of the street are a welcome distraction, your brain still reeling. You feel tears forming at the corners of your eyes, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you try to keep yourself calm. What on earth had come over you? An anger like nothing you've ever experienced has hit you; it is laced with shame and longing, and feels utterly overpowering. You miss terribly your interactions with him, even if they were short, even if they never left you feeling satisfied.

When you head back in you see the stack of reports you made this morning on your desk, the stack you must deliver to Yeosang. Your heart always sinks this time of day, when you have to knock on his door, say a quick hello, and leave. You always want to do more, to stay and poke fun at him, to stare at his face for just a little too long. But you've stopped that now.

When you finally grab them, finally adjust your outfit and take a deep breath as you ready yourself, Nora smiles mischievously at you, reminding you of what she wants you to do. You give her a look of distain but you nod anyway, making your way over. The walk feels miles long, though it only takes you some fifteen seconds to make it to his door. As you get close your steps slow down; you attempt to keep them silent on the tiled floor of the hallway. You see now, the little gaps in the blinds that Nora had somehow opened unnoticed. Had Yeosang really not closed them again? Had he really not noticed the small streams of light coming into his office that usually weren't there? You took a big deep breath, your arms clenching the stack of papers in your hands. You were just to the side of his door, not truly able to see in yet. You weren't sure what you should do; you felt stuck. A wave of nauseating anxiety ran over you, making you shaky. This isn't worth the stress, you thought. You decided to just walk in, to not play the game Nora wanted you to.

You take a step, about to reach up to knock on the glass of his door, but your eye catches on something. It's Yeosang's monitor, and the movement of his arm. The picture on his screen is unmistakably someone in a bikini, and the movement of his left elbow suggests a rhythmic up and down motion of his hand. You stop in your tracks, completely taken aback. You're reeling from how unprofessional and lewd the scene is, something you never would have expected from your quiet, proper coworker. The shock of the situation makes you unable to move as a wave of jitters runs through you, so strong you forget what you're doing, forget that Nora might be watching. Other people might start to as well, if they see you stood outside his office for an unusual amount of time. What feels like thousands of options of what to do next flood your mind in an instant, making it impossible for you to choose one. As you stand frozen you continue to watch his screen, his right hand reaching up towards his mouse. Suddenly you see the bikini in the photo, the bright red and white one you got last summer for your beach trip with your best friend. What the fuck? And then the next photo, the tab he clicks to, is unmistakably a girl in your favorite pink hoodie, and that photo, you know it from somewhere, right?

All at once you realize Yeosang is scrolling your best friend's Instagram, looking for photos of you, while jacking off. What the fuck is he doing, you think, anger shooting through you ferociously. You can't explain your next movements, your body on auto pilot, your entire being focused on one thing and one thing only. You open his office door without knocking, spinning around and closing it as fast as you can, dropping the stack of papers in your hands on the side of his desk without warning.

"What the hell are you doing?!" you ask as you loom over him, doing nothing to hide your anger.

"Fuck, y/n, what are you..." Yeosang trails off, scrambling to zip his pants and buckle his belt again, his hand flying to close the open tabs on his monitor. But you're fast enough to grab his arm and stop him, staring back at the photos of yourself on vacation. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, this is so wrong, I know, I'm so sorry," Yeosang babbles out, his words running together, his chest heaving from how turned on and scared he is. Even though what he's done is obvious grounds for being fired, for even struggling to find a new job, he can't help how hot it was, your presence suddenly upon him as he was touching himself to the thought of you. The anger in your tone only heightened the feeling, his head feeling faint as the rest of his body stood rigid.

He always worried about being caught ever since he started this, ever since you started ignoring him. He worried someone else would somehow catch him, that he might lose his job. But he just couldn't help himself. No one had ever had the affect on him that you did. He missed the ways you flirted with him, the actions and words that he'd think about as he touched himself late at night to the thought of you. Work became mind numbingly boring once you stopped talking to him, and having his own office allowed him the privacy to do what he needed to. He knew it was so wrong; he really couldn't explain it. And he couldn't explain or understand how turned on it made him now, your angry face looming over his, still unsure of what you would do next.

"What is wrong with you?? You're jacking off at work??" You speak sternly but try to keep your volume down. You feel the thread between your minds again, this time red and singeing, and realize your anger is turning him on even more.

"I don't know, I-"

"No, shut up. Don't say a fucking word to me. You leave me a note telling me to be careful?! And you're doing this?!" you continue, climbing onto his chair now, your faces getting closer and closer. The fact that he's hot and bothered by your anger, the look of terror and embarrassment on his face, it gives you a head rush like nothing you've ever experienced. Suddenly you feel yourself throbbing, needing something to take the edge off. You sit your hips down on his and immediately feel how rock hard he is, his dick straining against his pants. You slowly roll your hips back and forth, the friction making your cunt warm and tingly. Yeosang throws his head back with a groan, the layers of fabric cruelly limiting him from feeling any relief at your actions.

"Fuck, y/n-"

You grab his head, moving him to face you.

"Shut. Up," you whisper, moving your face down to kiss him, roughly sucking on his bottom lip. You keeping rocking yourself back and forth, a haze setting over your senses, your mind lost in the feeling of finally being on top of him.

"You really missed me that badly? That you had to touch yourself to pictures of me?" you taunt him, whispering in his ear. His head falls back again at your words, tears starting to form in his eyes at the frustration he feels between his legs. His hands come up to grab at your thighs and ass, completely overcome with lust and desire. You look down between you at his bulge, the sight of it straining making your mouth water. You move yourself back and begin unzipping his pants; Yeosang's head shoots up at the sound, his eyes joining yours in staring down at his crotch. His cock is hard and already leaking when you pull it out, and you spread his precum around his tip with your thumb slowly. Yeosang lets out a whimper, his whole body feeling on fire with your hand finally on his cock.

"This is what you really wanted, isn't it? Me touching you when we're at work and I'm mad at you? Are you that fucking perverted?" You can't stop teasing him, loving the way you feel so powerful, the way he is like putty in your hands. You spit into your hand and spread it down his shaft, finally starting to pump you hand slowly, watching the way his face scrunches up in pleasure and his body submits to you. "Is that all you think about when you see me, me touching you until you come? How do you even get any work done? You're just pathetically horny in here all day, touching yourself?"

Yeosang's breaths are coming out fast and ragged, his chest and face flushed and beads of sweat forming on any and all exposed skin. You lean down and swipe your tongue along his neck, tasting the saltiness of his skin, how warm and soft it is. Your hand is pumping faster now, your motions slowly picking up to what Yeosang needs, which is a total ravishing. He has long forgotten his professional morals, long forgotten how wrong he thinks this is. He'd do anything to have it last forever. "Y/n, y/n..." he mumbles out, trying to tell you to go harder, go faster. But he can't get the words out, his mind is too hazy. Regardless he's even harder now, his dick flushed and almost painfully hard.

All at once his breaths speed up, and then he's moaning involuntarily, clearly close to the edge. You move off his lap as quickly as you can, momentarily moving your hand away from him. He looks up at you as if confused, his eyebrows slightly raised in the middle.

"No way am I letting you ruin my pants, I just got them last weekend," you say, your tone patronizing. "You can ruin your own pants." You're touching him again, pumping your hand up and down, your mouth on his neck. You look and see his monitor is still lit up, still set on the picture of you in your bikini. "Look at the screen Yeosang," you whisper in his ear. "Is this what you've been coming to for the past weeks? This little, innocent picture? All because I stopped talking to you? You poor, poor thing." Yeosang whines as you tease him, pathetic little mewls coming out at every word. And then he's falling over the edge, coating his nice black work pants in his own cum. His body shudders as you keep stroking him, riding out the entirely of his orgasm. As soon as it's over you both are shocked back to reality, Yeosang attempting to get his breathing under control. Your hand is covered in his cum, your own face beaded in sweat. You look around quickly and grab a tissue from the corner of his office, wiping down your face and neck before trying to clean your hand. The nastiness of what you did hits you, your stomach tying in knots at the thought of everyone having heard you. You look back at Yeosang who has turned in his desk chair to face you, his eyes not leaving you, his face strangely calm in the face of your obvious panic.

"What?" You can't hide how unsettled you are. Yeosang just smiles and chuckles. "I don't get why you're so calm, you're going to have to walk out of here with no pants on," you say, wiping the last of his cum off your hand and tossing the tissue in his small trash can.

"I'll just change into my gym clothes early, and if anyone asks, I'll just say I spilt coffee on myself. No one will know, no one will care," he responds. Again so composed, mere moments after you had him moaning and whining. It pisses you off, how relaxed he is already.

You start towards his door, realizing now that the length of time you spent in here will probably seem suspicious. But Yeosang grabs your arm, stopping you and turning you towards him.

"Y/n, what's wrong?" he asks, worried by your demeanor.

"Yeosang, stop," you say, stepping back from him.

"I'm sorry, I'm really sorry. I should not have been doing that. I will quit tomorrow if it'll make you feel better."

"No, Yeosang, no. Just... fuck. I'm sorry, I don't know what the fuck I just did..."

"I'm not gonna tell anyone, if that's what you're concerned about."

"No Yeosang, I-" you sigh, trying not to overreact. "God you annoy me," you huff out, shaking your head at him. He smiles, not sure how to respond.

"Y/n, listen-"

"No, no. We're not talking about this. I'm leaving, I've already been in here too long." With that final statement you step out, immediately making your way to the restroom to assess how bad you look.

Thankfully the damage is mild, your hair just a bit more frizzy due to the sweat and heat of the room. But overall you look normal, at least as far as you can tell. When you finally make your way back to your desk Nora is nearly jumping out of her chair with anticipation.

"So, what did you see?'" she asks.

"Oh, it wasn't anything weird, just a spreadsheet he was entering stuff into. And making a graph it looked like? Probably something special the boss requested."

"But you were in there so long," she responds, with a slight frown.

"Yeah, one of the reports had something confusing on it, he was asking me some questions. I think he's just busy with work Nora, that's why he's slow with the emails." Your body is buzzing, lying not something you feel accustomed to.

"Well, I guess this place is super boring after all," Nora concludes, sighing and going back to her work.

You spend the rest of the afternoon fighting back a smile, trying not to visibly shake as the adrenaline is still pumping through you. Your emotions are all over the place. Your mind races and you can't make sense of most of it but there's one thing you definitely know.

You've never felt so powerful in your life.

[ffcrazy15]

"Just Write For Yourself"

I think the thing that gets to me the most about the whole "just write for yourself!" response to writers complaining the lack of engagement in fanfic, is that it makes me realize that there's a fundamental misunderstanding between writers and readers of how much work writing fic is.

Like, there are 2-3 scenes in any given oneshot or chapter that I want to write. I usually write those first. They'll take me a couple of, very enjoyable, hours at most.

And then I have to go back and write the whole rest of the fic. Which is work. And it's usually not immediately enjoyable.

For example, one of my best fics on AO3 is a Star Trek fanfic called Rascal'ed. This was one of the fics that was easiest for me to write, one of the ones that just possesses you until it's done. It took me less than five days to create.

And I still had to go back in and fill in blank spots and cut bad prose and revise the dialogue.

If you want to see what a difficult fic to write looks like, like my fic Leap of Faith, here's what I do for my stories that I actually plan out:

And that's just the planning. I still have to write the damn thing. And there are things in the above layout—which is just for Chapter 1, mind—that got changed between this and the final published version of the chapter. You can see that the title of the story itself was changed at some point.

So when people say, "write for yourself, not for engagement!" What I personally hear is: "I as a reader do not understand how much work writers put into getting a story into a publishable form, and I also do not realize how easy it would be for them to write the couple of scenes they enjoyed writing and then to let it sit forever in their drafts."

(Of these eight fics—averaging more than 20 pages each—only two of them ever made it to AO3. The rest remain unfinished and unpublished.)

And for the record: I, personally, have wonderful readers. Kind, attentive readers who leave me comments engaging with the work. And it's because of them that I continue to publish stories! Like, I don't want to sound like sour grapes here, because I know that I get way more comments than many great writers out there.

But I've seen, across the board, writers trying to express that they are just not getting the engagement that they desire and expect for the work they put in, and people responding with "you shouldn't expect engagement; just write for yourself."

And the thing is, I know they're not trying to be rude. I know that! Of course they don't know how hard we work, who would have ever told them? We can't blame them for not knowing what they've never been told. Which is why I just felt the need to get out here and say:

Writing fics takes a lot of work. A lot of work. Hours upon hours of unpaid labor. Any fic that you see on AO3 or Fanfiction.net or Wattpad, is not something someone wrote solely for themselves. They could have just daydreamed about it, or written a couple of scenes and then left it unfinished. But they chose to put in the hard work it took to finish it. Because they wanted other people to read and engage with it.

Please engage with it.

Because if all fic writers ever hear is "you should just write for yourself"—we might start believing it.

[loveydovey-leviathan]

asmo loves you 

x gn!reader

cw: descriptions of torture

-

it’s safe to say how asmodeus feels about you– he has never felt before in the hundreds of thousands of years he’s lived. millions of eyes have gazed upon him in awe and astonishment, marvelling at his beauty. his champagne-coloured hair, his gem-like eyes that enchant the very soul of every being around him, the soft lips that enticed even before he became a demon, he was the very epitome of beauty. he created it. it didn’t exist before he did.

but you… you never fell for his outwardly charms no many how much he tried. one look into his eyes and you should’ve been captivated for all of eternity, doomed to never love and lust as much as you did with him. you shouldn't have been able to think of anything but him until he permitted it. but no matter how much he denied, the mere existence of you proved to him that there was someone who wasn’t utterly enchanted. 

and so he was set on making you fall in love with him just as everyone should be. if you couldn’t be under his spell by a mere glance, then he would show just how beautiful he was.

and it worked. you loved him just as he planned, the only problem was he fell for you too.

though maybe he shouldn’t call it a problem. these feelings– this overwhelming pressure in his chest when he saw you with anyone that wasn’t his brothers, the flutter of his heart when you kiss, the daydreams, the nightmares, maybe they weren’t so bad if he got to see you every morning. if he got to paint your nails and dress in matching outfits and kiss under the starlight and the everlasting moon of the devildom.

it feels nice, really. he dismissed the mere idea of loving you back at first. all he wanted was to make you love him, but as much as he rejects and rebutted– the soft look in his eyes when you hold his hand is enough to tell him that he truly fell for a human. with a lifespan too short and beauty that would never compare to that of demons and angels. 

and sometimes that love can get a little extreme.

“would you kill for me?” you asked one night.

would he kill for you? it’s silly to even utter the thought because of course he would. he’d claw out the hearts of every enemy you have while they were still alive and present them to you as proof, he’d tear out their nails and gouge their eyes out, he’d pile their bodies high and watch the river of blood fill the room– he’d tear out his own heart and prove that it beats only for you.

“hmm… do i have to? the blood will get all over my clothes,” he pouts.

you only giggle, reaching your hand out and softly stroking his cheek. he can imagine it now, the mass of bodies around both of you, the moonlight shining down gentle silver and you wiping away the blood on his face with a proud smile at what he did for you. it’d be a scene straight out of a romance. 

because as much as he’d complain, he would do it for you in a heartbeat– if only to see you look at him the same way he looks at you.

[byoldervine]

Writing Tip - “Mine Isn’t As Good As Others”

We’ve all heard someone say it. We’ve all said it ourselves. We read a book and then go to our own writing project and this “Mine isn’t as good as that, will it ever be good enough to have anyone care about it?”. And today I’m going to give you some reasons why you feel that way

1. You’re too close. This is your own writing, where you’re aware of all the failed drafts and the struggles to try and get it right and, most of all, the idealised image in your head that you conjured up all by yourself. When you’re reading someone else’s work, you only see the best in it, and it paints you a picture that wasn’t there before. I guarentee you the author couldn’t paint the original image in their head as beautifully as they imagined it, but since you have no frame of reference for that original image you can only enjoy the amazing new image you’ve conjured up yourself. The words never do the original image justice, and that can be a struggle for authors to accept since they read such vivid descriptions from others

2. Familiarity. You know how when you read the same word over and over it stops looking like a word? Thats what happens when you’ve been working on the same story too long. This is why we always say fresh eyes are so important; someone entirely unfamiliar with the story will view it completely differently, but not someone who’s micro-analysing every little word choice

3. Faulty comparison. If you’re reading a finished book, one that the author was proud enough to publish, and then turn around and get sad that your first draft isn’t as good, you need to be realistic; you can’t compare a finished product to a work in progress. Finished books will undergo a whole bunch of edits, the least amount of edits I’ve seen is about three dedicated ones before the book got published - and for some books I’ve seen it go upwards of ten. Are you really gonna compare the first draft to the twelfth one?

4. First drafts are bad. In fact, don’t ever compare your first draft to anything, because they’re not supposed to be good. Your first draft will never see the light of day. Many writers rarely if ever share their first draft outside of getting advice on how to progress on something they’re stuck on, usually they’ll at least wait until the second draft before that gets out to beta readers or anyone like that. Your plotting is your foundation, and your first draft is like the scaffolding and framework of your house. Sure, it does good to hold it up and give you a clear idea of where you’re going, but it doesn’t exactly constitute a house, does it? It’s not supposed to be the house, it’s just needed in order to progress further

5. Difference in experiences. On the whole, reading is passive and relaxing, which is why everyone enjoys it as such a chill past time. All the work has been done for you, you can just sit back and enjoy it without putting any effort in. But writing is an active project that you need to be putting a lot of effort and mental strain into. You can’t just zone out and watch the scene play out in your mind, you actually have to write it down. This can be very discouraging, especially when it breaks you out of your immersion constantly. Reading feels better in comparison because it’s easier, all the hard work is someone else’s problem, and as such we can think that the other book is so much better than the thing we shacked together just to get our daydreams to work out

[dduane]

Diane, I am wondering something about writing and you are very wise and very kind.

For context, I've been seeing a therapist for a few months and just saw a psychiatrist Sunday night and they both used the phrase "dissociative daydreaming". It started when I was about 13 and I'm 28 now and it is getting in the way of my life. I'll be having a one-on-one conversation with someone alone in a quiet room and completely miss a few seconds of what they say, and I zone out a lot when eating at restaurants and it creeps people out. The psychiatrist says we are going to work on getting this under control in the next couple months.

The thing is, I like writing fiction and I do a lot of my imagining while I'm in this "zoned out" state. You know, that being a major part of dissociative daydreaming. So I'm wondering, sorry for assuming (assuming makes an ass out of you and me), but if you do not also dissociative daydream, or any other fiction writers here do, how do you think about your stories? Do you just sit down at your desk and say to yourself "I shall write a story now" without leaving your unoccupied body staring at a wall?

First of all: my apologies for having taken so long to get to this... my ask box is so piled up with overdue stuff right now. (sigh) And thanks for the nice words. I don't know about the "wise", and sometimes I screw up the "kind", but I do what I can with what I've got.

Anyway, re: "Do you just sit down at your desk and say to yourself 'I shall write a story now' without leaving your unoccupied body staring at a wall?"

...Yeah, pretty much. Here's how the story-building process usually goes for me.

First I outline. (As detailed here.) The outlining is for me the equivalent of drawing a blueprint, or doing the measure-twice work that comes before taking a saw to the materials you're going to use to build a bookshelf. For this part of the process, as I assemble the underlying framework of the story, I've found it vital to be as completely present, alert and aware as possible. This is where the order of physical action gets laid out, errors of reasoning get caught, blind alleys get erased from the blueprint, useless character transactions get identified and thrown away, and hunches / incomplete ideas get incorporated.

While assembling the outline, if I find my concentration drifting or somehow compromised, I stop work as quickly as possible and put it aside until I can find time to deal with it when I won't be distracted by other stuff. Much experience has taught me that if I get sloppy about this, I may well wind up being really annoyed about it later on... secondary to having missed something vital about character interactions, or screwed up some important sequence of physical action. The writing time lost in fixing careless errors of this kind infuriates me... so I take my time with the outlining.

It's after the framework of the story is in place that the vaguing-out stages of both writing and thinking about the writing come into play. Over many years I've found that the shower, in the morning, is one of the best places for this. Usually when I'm in active writing mode on a project, the first thing I'll do after waking up (while still in bed) will be to look over the writing done the previous day, and—if there's need—check the outline to see what I was planning to do next. Then I hit the showers.

That's where the ideas really start to flow while I'm unfocused: scene descriptions and action sequences in particular. I don't know what it is, but running water really seems to do it for me. (One time I was up at this place for a writing trip, and plotted about six novels one after the other, over a week. Those tubes in the picture dump a liter of hot water per second onto your head. Very, very effective for me.)

...I'm also absolutely horrified to have to admit that one of the very best places for me to be in order to have dialogue arrive is at the kitchen sink, doing dishes. Possibly because there are few other situations in my day to day life where I more desperately want to have my mind be somewhere else. Anywhere else. (But also: running water again...)

In between these two modes of composition lies a hybrid "full-spectrum" writing mode in which I can switch pretty much seamlessly from total immersion in the scene presently unfolding to a more analytical examination of what's going on: a constant realtime adjustment of format issues, timing, pacing, and a lot of other things. When in this mode I can vague out when necessary, inventing new stuff as needed or refining material that was already there, and then snap back into the mode where I'm keeping an eye on paragraph lengths or whether there are too many em-dashes popping up. :)

...Anyway, that''s how it goes for me. The usual caveat applies here: other people's (entirely successful!) processes will not necessarily look anything like this. ...Meanwhile, I absolutely wish you good results in your upcoming brainwork, and the better management of your own process.

[rhaegang]

So, this is going anonymous because I'm a pussy. But I have a very huge size difference kink, I don't know, I love it, and Cattonquick makes it even worse, but something I haven't seen much in fics is exploring Oliver with a size kink. AUHGGG IT'S JUST, Félix is a giant, Oliver looks so tiny next to him, just his hands are huge, now imagine the size of his cock. Idk, it bothers me to think about that and not see people doing something with it

Sorry, I'm cringe

I do think this features in most cattonquick stories. Their size difference is such a main aspect of the pairing!

But as far as it being like, THE central focus of a fic or a scene in one, I don’t know of many. So…

It’s fun to imagine what Oliver is daydreaming about all those times he’s staring at Felix. Longing for Felix. Thinking of Felix (forever thinking of Felix).

So let’s imagine, Oliver is staring at Felix. He’s inching up every last inch of Felix with his eyes. And there are so many. His arms and legs go for miles. His chest and back are broad, even if he’s a bit bony and slim. His neck is long. His fingers are too. His hands — on the fretboard of the guitar, or holding a plastic cup and a beer bottle together in just one hand, or resting on Oliver’s knee and completely covering it — damn. Felix has such big hands.

Oliver absolutely would think about Felix’s hands and consider, okay. Proportionately, that means his cock has to be…

He takes the bus to Reading, which has the closest adult shop outside of Oxford. He has, folded in his pocket, an outline he made of Felix’s hand on a piece of notebook paper by tracing it while Felix slept.

He becomes someone new when he goes into the shop, someone who has no shame, someone who does shit like this all the time. Oliver becomes this someone because that’s the only way he’s going to get what he wants.

He asks one of the shop clerks, “what have you got that’s big enough this hand would barely fit around it?”

The clerk doesn’t give a fuck that it’s a strange question. She’s heard far stranger. And since this guy looks harmless (he’s barely bigger than herself, which, aw) she plays along.

“Did you want something that takes batteries, darling?”

She opens boxes for Oliver so he can feel each one. The weight, the length, the almost anxiety-inducing girth of some of them. The one he chooses is as realistic looking as the come. In fact, it’s apparently molded from a real man’s cock; the little racy blurb on the back of the box has a few sentences about him, including his height and how much he bench presses.

The front of the box doesn’t have sentences. It’s just one word: goliath.

It costs a fortune, wiping out Oliver’s pocket money so he’s actually as broke as he’s been pretending to be, at least for the next two weeks.

Oliver is half hard in his trousers the entire bus ride back to Oxford, clutching his backpack with its passenger on his lap to hide it.

The curtains get closed, the door locked; and fuck it, Oliver sticks his chair under the doorknob for good measure, too. He can’t take any chances. He needs to focus.

There’s a few less than sexy steps between barricading the door and when Oliver finally hovers over the massive silicone cock he’s got stuck to the centuries-old hardwood floor, but they’re done and now he’s here.

He’s here, and he’s going to fit this massive thing inside him (and imagine that it’s bloodwarm, imagine that it’s pulsing, imagine that it’s Felix that he’s straddling because if they did missionary, Felix might crush him—) even if it fucking kills him.

It winds up taking Oliver a lot more work to take the whole thing than he expected. It’s hours later, and he’s sore and swollen and overstimulated, but he gets there in the end. His thighs burn from all the careful squatting and shifting, and when he finally can get down near the base of it, his legs give. It drops him a bit harder down onto Felix, rams Felix’s dick up into his guts in a way that makes him hiccup.

“So big.” It’s a whimper. “God, Felix.”

His hole feels so stretched he worries it’ll never go back to normal. But then, for Felix, Oliver doesn’t care if he has to be broken. He doesn’t care if he’ll feel loose to anyone else, anyone smaller. Oliver knows anyone less than Felix would never satisfy him in any way, so, no. He doesn’t care if he becomes a sloppy, fucked out, loose-holed little slut from how much Felix uses him.

Curious, Oliver presses his fingers against his belly until he thinks he can feel the head. There. He looks down. He flails an arm for his backpack, drags it closer with desperate fingers because he can’t shuffle closer to it to grab the strap properly. He’s fucking impaled where he sits, Felix filling him up and nailing him down.

He uncaps a permanent marker and draws a line on his stomach where the head must be. Permanent marker isn’t permanent enough though. It’ll wash eventually. Maybe he’ll have it tattooed, he thinks.

Yeah. He’ll get a line branded in ink on his skin, a straight line with a few hashmarks, sort of like on a ruler. But more like an F.

He wants to see it every time he looks down at himself. He wants to look at it and think, look how far inside me Felix goes. Look how much of me he fills up.

Felix fills all of Oliver, really. All of his thoughts. All of his dreams. All of his heart. It’s only fitting that he’d be big enough to fill Oliver’s body beyond reason, beyond comfort, the same way he fills up the rest of him.

And when the day comes that Oliver can do this for real, can get Felix’s fucking massive hands holding him down while he fills him up, Oliver will be ready. He won’t have to pant and struggle and bleed and curse, because his body will have already made room for every fucking inch of the man, will have reformed to hold him perfectly, cling to him like a fitted glove.

For now, Oliver can barely rock himself on Felix, just a little careful rolling of his hips, but even that pulverizes his prostate and leaves his cock dribbling precum in semi-clear, stretchy drips. He folds over, bracing himself on his elbows, and works his hips until he’s close to bouncing, until he punches his own orgasm out of himself with Felix buried as far as he can go.

Oliver passes out like that, his puffy hole twitching around Felix like it would pull him in deeper, were there more of him to take.

Which — Oliver hasn’t actually seen Felix’s dick while it’s hard.

What if this goliath isn’t big enough, after all?

[my-favourite-zhent]

Writer Interview

Tagged by the lovelies @commander-krios here and @coreene here

Tagging: @dustdeepsea @thisaccountisagainstmywill @fistfuloftarenths

@littleplasticrat @captainsigge @grossestjay

Questions under the cut!

When did you start writing?

I suppose depends what counts? Where I went to school we did creative writing as early as six. The first stories I remember were Halloween stories I wrote with very unhappy endings.

Writing purely for myself maybe not till high school? I dabbled in a little fanfiction and then didn't touch it again for years and years and then suddenly BG3 and Rugan happened, smdh.

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

Just like Krios I enjoy horror novels, although I actually prefer horror as short stories/novellas. If you look at my spotify history you will see a lot of NoSleep podcast and Knifepoint Horror so its definitely a running theme. I could never write horror though, would spook myself too much. I did rather like the tiny horror story in one of the books in Baldurs Gate.

I also enjoy reading low fantasy (low magic, more grit, considerably plucky, ensemble casts) which I think comes across in New Tricks, but in contrast the stories I read have very minimal if any romance.

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

Nope, as much as there are many writers I enjoy and at times think "I wish I were that talented" I also don't wish to be a perfect copy of anyone's style because what's the point of that?

I suppose if it was something more like "as funny as so and so" or "world-building on level of such and such" then probably Pratchett, Rothfuss, Sapowski or Glen Cook?

I will literally write anywhere, a lot of my ideas pop-up while daydreaming and I have to get them down when they happen or I won't remember clearly later. So at my desk, in bed, on the couch, on the train, standing in the shoppe, literally anywhere.

What's your most effective way to muster up a muse?

Consuming other media. Books, TV, movies, podcasts, etc. Seeing a scene or circumstance and imagining how the characters I write would react under similar circumstances.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

Hmm hadn't considered it before but I guess so far: grey morality, class differences (this likely due to my muse being Rugan) and overcoming betrayal? I suppose the last one surprises me a little, I think I might just like the angst of it.

What is your reason for writing?

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

I mentioned earlier I haven't touched personal creative writing since high school, although I did consume fanfiction on occasion. I originally returned due to a frustration at the lack of Rugan content. I wanted to consume, but at the time there wasn't much, compounded by the fact that I did not have an AO3 account at the time so of the few that existed I could only see half. So I started by writing how I thought getting that drink at the Elf Song might go.

After that I got a bit attached to the OC and was inspired by the works of @dustdeepsea to write something with a little more emotional depth. I was prone to daydreaming these sorts of things before but I never put pen to paper till now.

I'm happy any time someone enjoys my work, but I suppose the best comments are when the reader notices the characterization I've been trying to get across. It makes me feel validated that I'm able to write certain qualities without (hopefully) being too on the nose with it.

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

Me or my writing? Myself, hopefully reasonable and open-minded. My writing, I hope they find it funny and exciting in turns, I hope it makes people feel some sort of emotion even if negative rather than being boring. I hope the world I've tried to piece together from bits of Forgotten Realms lore feels consistent and cohesive, that the rules and stakes make sense.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

Similar to Krios I think my dialogue comes across the best of all my writing, and it certainly feels the easiest to get down.

How do you feel about your own writing?

It seems to change by day and chapter. There are some things that when I write I'm quite pleased, and then come back a month later and am quite embarrassed by. Other things I didn't like originally but actually enjoy quite a bit on reread. I find myself having to just post things I'm unhappy with at times otherwise I won't get on with the story. I jokingly tell myself "we'll fix it in post!" and I have slowly begun some edits of early chapters so it's not a complete lie.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

It's mostly what I think the story needs at the time. There are times where I feel "augh we've been on this mood/theme for too long, the reader will get bored" but I try to reframe it to myself as "is the pacing good? is this scene necessary right now?" and that helps me make a decision that is hopefully a bit more objective. Sometimes we need that information for later, sometimes we don't. I have been known to go back and adjust a thing here or there if the current chapter is missing a bit of set-up and will continue to do so until the story is over. I'm treating it all as a work in progress.

Thanks for reading this far!

[mrgaretcarter]

This is going to be long and sort of a bummer, so if you’re enjoying this season of Ted Lasso and are satisfied with Ted and Rebecca’s individual and joint storylines don’t let me ruin it, just scroll past.

Right out the gate I’ll say, this references up to 3x09, maybe the last 3 eps will turn everything around and it’ll all be wonderful once more, I sure hope it, I just gotta to get my right now feelings out of my chest, okay?

So, I’ve been unsatisfied with this season in general for a while, but this is just going to be about Ted and T/R: for the past couple days I’ve been chatting with people a lot trying to figure out what the actual problem with them is, because it’s not just that I haven’t been enjoying it on the show, it’s that I haven’t been able to access them in my own head, not even to daydream, and yesterday I think I finally got it.

At first I thought the problem was the distance, you know, no scenes together, nothing to jolt the imagination, and that’s definitely part of it, but I realized that, at the moment, it’s not just that. The problem, the real problem, is Ted. I just don’t really like him right now, and I know that sounds harsh, but I don’t know what else to say!!

My favorite thing about Ted was the fact that he was nurturing. I know we all say he is such a Dad™️ (and he is), but for real, what he actually is, is motherly. I know that sounds nuts, but even if nobody consciously thinks this, that is how he is interpreted; it’s in the fic, it’s in the art, it’s in the meta, but I’m not gonna get into explaining my reasoning there, cause my point is just that I love that about him!

Straight male characters can be providers and protectors (and Ted is that too, to an extent), but only very rarely are they nurturers, very rarely are they primarily home and hearth (right now the only other popular example I can think of is Peeta Mellark, and sooo many people did not like him for exactly those traits!), so it was interesting and exciting to me that Ted had these characteristics! And I say had because we haven’t seen that from him, as in, we haven’t seen him take care of others in a significant way, in forever.

Mind you, he was isolated for most of s2 as well, but we had a very clear reason for it then, but now? He’s had a couple good coaching moments this season, one good speech, he’s still a leader and a point of reference, but he hasn’t been nurturing (not even with his actual literal son lately).

This’s been the problem with him to me. I feel like this Ted lacks the very thing that made me love him, and who (I thought) he was, was an essential part of me shipping him and Rebecca, because the thing she needed most was that care.

The fact that I thought that he was so hungry to give, while she was so starved is the very thing that was appealing about them, but he hasn’t cared for her since I couldn’t even say when (funeral?), and what’s worse, it’s not just her, it’s everyone. He’s been completely on his own, so I haven’t even been able to imagine him that way anymore, which means I have no recent point of reference to extrapolate from in order to make up my silly little scenarios, so you can see how frustrated I am! (Feels important at this stage to say, to those who don’t know me, that I’m quite attached to canon, I need a foothold to picture things).

The other thing that makes this worse is that Rebecca has remained consistent. She still cares about him. She checks in, she worries, she asks after him, she’s eager to help him and does. She is still pulling her weight, but Ted is nearly a blank. He said “Our run-ins” and then all he did was criticize her about the Rupert stuff, and don’t get me wrong!! I’m not stupid, I know he was right and that her resentment and obsession would only bring her down, I’m glad he held her accountable in that way, but I wish he would’ve also had her back at the same time instead of just offering the moral lesson.

Also, I ship them, obviously, but none of this is even inherently romantic, I just wish they were important to each other again, which I’m sure even people who believe they’re only friends and platonic soulmates would agree with. And if I can’t have that, I’d at least like to have Ted feel like himself.

Anyway, I hope this makes sense, pleeeease don’t be mean to me, and again, maybe the last 3 will make me change my mind completely, I definitely would like to enjoy the final stretch.

[the-boney-rolls]

The Great Covid Beatles Binge, Day 2: Give My Regards to Broad Street

Hoo boy, here we go!

OK so we open with a stern/bored looking Paul stuck in traffic in the rain and it looks like he's spacing out... hey, Paul, are you starting to daydream? Paul? Is this whole movie about to be a dream, Paul? Oh god

This silly little car! The computer, the carpet, the pool ball gear shift. It's giving the 80's car version of the Beatles house in Help! It's also giving hyper-masculine in a way that is, I'm sorry, not convincing.

This plot is already deeply inscrutable. Something about some missing tapes, a reformed criminal that Paul knows somehow and trusts for some reason, and some ominous business men. Something bad will happen at midnight if the tapes aren't found. OK!

Ringo looks so cool and hot! That vest over that sick as hell dragon shirt. Yes. This scene is genuinely funny, too -- Ringo spends the entirety of "Here, There and Everywhere" and "Yesterday" searching through his mountains of drum equipment looking for brushes, only to find them too late. Apparently, the reason for this scene is that Ringo just didn't want to re-record old Beatles songs!

And now we have Paul, Ringo, George Martin and Geoff Emerick all together in a scene! Makes me think about how George Harrison apparently was a little miffed Paul didn't just call him to ask for filmmaking advice since it was something he had experience with. What could have been!

“Wanderlust” is such a great song, actually, damn.

“I’m not a bad boy, really. I’m just — er, manipulated” John??

Now this is more like it! Surprise Linda in drag, hell yes!

I don't know why this scene is happening? It's a rehearsal for... something? But I'll take it. I love "Ballroom Dancing" and I love vaudeville Paul.

I'm starting to feel like Paul's grandpa in AHDN, "so far, I've been in a train and a room, and a car and a room, and a room and a room." Did Paul's experience on that set define what a movie is to him? "Ah yes, a movie must include lots of transportation from one location to another and then some musical scenes." But dear, it worked because there were jokes! And all four of you to play off each other.

I.......... what

This is Silly Love Songs, of all things!

Again, I don't know why this scene is happening in the context of the movie. Is it another rehearsal for something? A music video? Television special? Who knows, Yoko! But OK here we go, I sure am having fun! Linda is extremely into it. That slap bass kills. There's a Michael Jackson impersonator for some reason? Sure! It makes no sense but I love this man and his bizarre beautiful mind.

So now we're doing band rehearsal in some kind of barn? Or abandoned warehouse? Or something? All of the plot of this movie seems to happen in dialog in cars en route to some ambiguous musical engagement.

“Do you think we can get some heat in here or are we practicing to be Canadians?” God bless you, Ringo.

“Should we try Not Such a Bad Boy” “Do we have to?” “Yeah” Bossy Paul bosses around a Beatle, we love to see it.

Is this song about him or John? 

The French horn player coming in late to record "For No One," inexplicably in a bright red motorcycle helmet, so late that he’s preparing up until right before the solo starts. Reminds me of that story of Ringo recording Hey Jude. But it also feels very symbolic of something. There are so many odd inscrutable details in this movie, it could almost be Lynchian in someone else's hands.

“We’re running, and running out of time too” It feels meaningful but I don't know how.

Hello Mr. Darcy! Wow, can I have an entire movie that’s just this Victorian dream sequence? Can we go back in time and do a Beatles movie period piece, please??

The strings in this which are inspired by but are not quite "Eleanor Rigby" are lovely. Apparently this whole sequence is called "Eleanor's Dream," which implies that Paul is Eleanor. Make of that what you will, I suppose.

I like that Linda is a pants-wearing photographer in this period scene. Linda's gotta Linda.

This strikes me as very Evil Beatles. Again, make of that what you will.

Barbara and Linda are acting the HELL out of this going over the waterfall scene damn.

I don't know, I could screen grab this entire segment, it's amazing, it's insane.

But I can't gloss over Paul being horny for Ghost Horse Girl Linda. Incredible.

"That’s it you’re finished. What are you gonna do now?" Well ok at least this one is pretty obviously a reference to the critical reception of his career after the Beatles and again after John.

"Uncle Jim" Ok so I guess this is supposed to be his dad, but what is the point of this scene? And why the monkey? The further I get into this film the more I feel like I am looking deep into this man's psyche but through the murkiest of windows. I'm here for the weird dream symbolism, Paul, but if you're gonna go that route, again go full Lynch and get even weirder.

Just the straight up original recording of "Band on the Run" feels out of place with all these re-records. I wonder why that choice.

His car license plate is "PM 1" That's right, baby, you're number 1.

Another little cute but inconsequential day dream (presumably within the dream that is this entire movie). He looks like Roy Orbison here.

Oh ok Harry was just locked in a cupboard this whole time. So the whole "plot" was pointless. Cool cool cool.

Paul and Harry being giddy and laughing together is cute though, and it makes me wish that that relationship was fleshed out more. Who are they to each other, exactly??

Yup it was all a dream. Love it, love that for us. Thanks, Paul.

OK so this was definitely barely a movie. There could have been something here, but I'll go back to what I said above -- I wish he'd gone weirder with the whole thing! And I wish Paul himself had been weirder. The character Paul is kind of a dud, just plodding along from place to place and only coming alive when he performs. It's like that Hawaiian shirt is supposed to be a stand in for characterization. But worth it for the music video scenes and for getting a tiny glimpse into Paul's psyche.

[utahlive]

Sorry!! No episode today but I do have some extra content for you! The Wilbur/Quackity comic (?) has been in the works for a while so I want to show you some of the behind the scenes stuff. Sorry if its not too interesting ^_^’’

The comics are a bit long so I’m going to put them under the cut

Here’s the first draft of the scene, drawn sometime in early December. I was originally going to have it be a daydream Wilbur was having from behind the counter at the store. I decided against it because it felt like a weird transition from him being home to suddenly being back in the store. The dialogue (sorry if you cannot read my handwriting </3) also felt really stilted, plus I had a point I was going for that wasn’t really hit with what was being said here.

These two are essentially the storyboard for the text below. I originally intended for Quackity’s face to never be fully shown, but when I tried to draw it digitally it looked weird. Plus, I feel like there’s more of a connection if you can actually see his face. Im also a bit proud of my cquackity design sorry. This iteration is the one where I decided that Wilbur would be in his car rather than at the story (its very messy, but the 4 tiny boxes on the side is the transition from him smoking in LN to being in his car and driving away).

plus some warmups and deciding how long I wanted Wilburs hair to be at the bottom

Here’s the original script, written on a plane with about 3 hours of sleep. I condensed it a bit, since I didn’t want to draw 15 whole pages and I didn’t want it to drag on. I also scrapped the last part in the notes, obviously. A gradual “waking up” would have worked too I guess, but I think the more jarring transition was more the feel I was going for (the kind of “snapping back” when you finish a memory/when something catches your attention).

I didn’t originally intend for the comic (can I even call it that?) to be a two parter, but once I decided Wilbur would be in his car, it would be too odd to just...go back to normal. I hope it was clear in the final product, but Q only shows up in the reflections of the window/mirror. Reflections are so great for so many things, and I’m definitely going to (continue) to use them lol!

I did get some people in the inbox saying how Quackity’s colors were similar to the sky from the first part, but they’re actually the same (just a bit more glow-y in this part) since I took the sky/background from the previous comic and overlayed it. The whole idea of Q using snippets of speech from the previous comic was also really fun to do. I’ve always wanted to have a story where I can do that (I did it for more reasons that it just being cool, but that’s definitely one of them! haha). Anyway that’s all! If you read this far, thank you for indulging me :D Apologies again for no episode; I burnt myself out a bit, and I’m working on another big episode and those tend to take up a lot of my time.

[saveraedae]

Late Indie Animation Day Post (A thread)

Pouring my heart out edition

Nothing new to show for myself this go around, but hi! I'm Saver! I'm making The Mark Side— a comedy about queer teens in Texas with an underlying personal story about life, mental health, & navigating friendship with a best friend who wants nothing to do with you!

My thread here is less about the series' content, but about my journey as a creator through the years, and my gameplan for it moving forward. If you wanna learn about the series itself check out this post or go to the official TMS website.

But if you've never heard of me— hi!

I'm Saver! An artist, storyteller, and animator!

A bunch of personal and sappy stuff below the cut!

I am not new to the indie animation scene by any means. Just a very small creator with a tiny reach. My journey in beginning to develop TMS as a show kicked off in 2016 when I was only 13.

During this time I made lots of little productions with TMS, most of which had pretty sub-par quality. (I was a kid with no experience after all.)

They're all still out there if you go looking for them!

But hey, I set out to make stuff and guess what? That's what I did!

In 2020, I released an animatic titled "Friend Fiction," which serves as both the pilot as well as episode 1 to the show. I was in high school during its creation and had no idea what I was doing, and it shows! But guess what? I set out to make something, and did exactly that.

Episode 2, "An In-Tents Trip" is currently in production. It will feature a huge increase in production quality, full animation, and will serve as the proof of concept for the show as a whole! (A bit messy with the proof of concept to pilot pipeline, but it's got the spirit!)

Throughout the years I've been through so many personal struggles, both related to TMS and not. There's been countless times where I felt like I was at my breaking point, or like I wasn't good enough. But I kept pushing through, because I wanted to see the show come to life.

I've spent my whole life up until recently living with undiagnosed neurodivergence and untreated mental health issues, and only a short time ago did I realize that despite all of that, I always held onto my one goal: To make a cartoon and tell a story.

Ever since I was a young child, even before TMS existed, I always knew I wanted to make cartoons. Not just any cartoons, my own cartoons. I remember being just 4 years old and daydreaming about spearheading my own production, telling my own stories and entertaining others.

A handful of indie cartoons nowadays, much like industry produced cartoons, feature full teams managing each department, as well as several to many other animators. Which is cool as hell! Who would have thought that one day animation would come to this point?

GLITCH and Spindlehorse are truly blowing my mind by what they have and continue to accomplish. It's really remarkable and satisfying to see as someone who grew up thinking the only way to get things in front of others was to give up control and sacrifice the quality.

Another handful of shows though, which The Mark Side falls under, has everything lead, animated, produced, and even more by just one person: the creator. There's people with enough passion to do what teams of hundreds do, just by themselves. Because they want to.

I one day aspire to expand its production to the likes of the aforementioned studios, but only time will tell if that goal will get met. Regardless, I'm going to keep going. My goal is to get a show made, and my eagerness to see it all in full one day is what drives me.

Does any of that sound messy? Unprofessional even?

It does!

And that's ok!

Indie is not the industry.

Indie is independence, and breaking free from the norm. Don't let anyone tell you what you can and can't do. Let your passion and love for your craft drive you

I believe the best creators write and tell stories from the heart.

Not everything will look perfect, but our love for what we do is evident in everything we create, and our eagerness for the future accomplishes more than we think. That's what indie means to me.

I've been through a lot as a creator. And I'm far from meeting my goal. But the world will be ready for what I have to offer some day, and same for whoever this thread resonates with.

Until then, let's support our colleagues and let our creations guide us.