#it was a weird challenge but it was important to the plot

[neon-danger]

A lot of these I go back to Starcrossed because I just love it so much but I know you don’t want it mentioned but the one where Alex slept with Richard I loved how it showed a different side to Jack than we had seen in the story a more protective and even jealous side of him but also he got to a point where he enjoyed himself maybe not watching the alien have sex with Alex but watching Alex enjoy himself and I feel like that also might have been a turning point in their relationship where Jack realized how much he actually cares for Alex because after he was kissing him all over and saying mine but yeah I fucking love the whole story because every chapter has one of these moments 😍

Possessive Jack gives me life

[hazelfoureyes]

I just need you to know this story has had me in a chokehold and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I am enjoying writing it. This is gonna be a weird smutty slow burn, so still smut every post but full p in v sex will be a reward you have to work for?

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

Part 1 - Pretty in Redsmut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedysmut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds

A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

「warnings/tags: HumanAlastor x FemaleReader, implied attempt to SA, fingering, plot with porn?, Multi part work, bad kind of choking, blood kink, blood licking, just in general blood, Non-Sex repulsed Ace Spectrum Alastor, stalking, murder obvs, finger sucking, smoking kinda kills if you squint, Public sex acts, garter belt, You have a stage name but no one important uses it, Greed, Lust, Human Alastor is a little different than Demon Alastor. 」

minors dni 💅🏽

Part 1 Pretty in Red

The marriage between burlesque and jazz wasn’t unexpected. Before the Great Depression took the nation into a stranglehold, both Jazz and Burlesque were immoral wastes of time only the most barbaric sought out.

And oh, did you love it. Everyone who was made to feel like nobody flocked to your theater and the surrounding neighborhood. Men, women, the people who didn’t agree with either. The biblically inclined, those closer to sodom, the sapphic dolls. Everyone was equal in the halls of jazz rooms and theatres where burlesquers were welcome.

Because of the inclusive nature of such places, you often saw familiar faces. It wouldn’t be unusual for someone from Thursday night to be seen Saturday at a different locale.

That presented certain opportunities and challenges. When you found a good mark, it was easy to be wherever he was and play it off as fate and common interests.

And when you gained a new stalker, someone wanting a personal show, it could be hard to tell until it was too late. 

Maybe it was your greed, or just your love of attention, but you found yourself focused almost entirely on a particularly well dressed man one evening. You’d seen him around before. Clean cut, sharp suit, a welcoming smile always on display. He looked like he had money, the most attractive quality of any man you could meet.

So focused on his gleaming stare from the side booths you hadn’t noticed the man at the stage front tables. You barely noticed him the night before, or the night before that, either. Because Smiles, as you took to calling the handsome stranger in the back, had been here three nights now too.

You really put on a show. Shimmying your hips, ostrich feathers following suit with every move. Your brassiere was heavy with shining rhinestones, panties of silk and lace. Your set was almost done, all that was left was to remove your top and slink away behind the curtains to hollers and whistles. Back turned, you unhooked the painful bra and let it fall to the stage with a clunk. Foot in front of foot, you stalked the stage length. With your hand hidden from view you took the feathered fan from the stagehand behind the curtain. As the music crescendoed you turned, fan unfurling just in time to hide yourself.

Groans, mass begging from the audience. Your stage name a chant now, a prayer. “Autumn! Come on!”

As the band slowed, music dying to mark the end of your number, you scanned the crowd. Eyes blinking coyly, you mouthed, “More? Did you want more?”

People were jumping to their feet, not Smiles but that was fine, you were focused now on the adoration of the crowd. The music ended, a second of silence. 

You winked, the drums hitting one last beat as you let the fan close.

Fanfare! Men whistling, women clapping. Someone shouted a marriage proposal. You took a bow, twirled on the balls of your feet and slipped gracefully behind the curtains.

Your hands wound to your spine, rubbing blood flow back into your skin as the staff removed your headdress. Someone slipped your robe over you and you nodded a thanks, aching feet carrying you to the dressing room. It was chaos, as usual. Women buzzing around, tits and ass here and there. You smiled. You happened to enjoy this part of the job. Soft bodies in shiny costumes, lovely smells and sweet voices. If you could get dressed quickly enough, you could still take a tour of the room and slide into Smiles’ booth. 

“Enjoy the show?” You’d ask. He’d lean in, maybe blush, “Always when you’re here.” Or something like that. You’d cozy up to him, flag down a waiter for something strong and pricey, and get him properly drunk. He’d wake up outside, fine and dandy except his missing cash. 

You’ll call him a drunkard if he confronts you, accuse him of getting himself robbed after you refused his advances. You’ll say it too loudly, and he’ll run off. 

You danced a little in your seat, another game of cat and mouse about to commence. But first, a smoke.

Unbeknownst to you, the well dressed man hadn’t come to see you. He preferred your singing shows at the little dive bar two blocks over. No, he had come for the man at the front table. For weeks now, he had watched him harassing the ladies of the few joints in New Orleans that weren’t regularly hounded by police. Your smiley mark even heard stories of unsavory acts, many women leaving the dance scene entirely after.

He didn’t care for it. He didn’t care for him. So he took to his hunt, following the man to come to his own conclusions. The pattern of behavior was obvious, and though he hadn’t seen what ended the last obsession, it was clear one of the performers at this club was being stalked as the next victim. 

He watched your dance with half lidded eyes, just as much as he watched the man give dirty looks to the other men cheering. Heard the, “Marry me!” shouted at you.

Yes, it was obvious to him now. 

So when the target of his interest got up and pushed his way into a staff only door, well, the well dressed man was sure to follow. 

The great thing about confidence and a nicely tailored suit is that no one questions you about why you are where you are. So while the brute he tailed had to shove past people to get wherever he was going, people smiled and made room for the gentleman who was not far behind.

He caught the street access door before it closed, allowing it to stay open just a sliver. Enough for one golden brown eye to watch the events unfold.

“Can I have a light?” The stranger asked you. You looked at him, then to the staff only entrance he just came out of. 

“I don’t think I know you….,” you handed him the lighter but he instead leaned into you, cigarette hanging from his lips. “You… new?”

You sparked the flint with a practiced thumb, taking three tries to get it lit, and put your hand out. The man didn’t budge, eyebrows rising, “You really don’t recognize me?” He asked, motioning with his hand to come closer. Your eyes glanced down the alley, cars slowly moving past the street. When you looked back, the man took your wrist in his hand. He held you so tightly that the muscles in your palm locked and you dropped the lighter. 

“What the fu-,” his hand came across your face, halting your sentence.

“I’m your best customer. Every show. I’m the one who brings flowers.”

Dozens of men bring flowers, especially on the weekend shows. You held your cheek, skin burning. Your hand pulled back, the corner of your lip bleeding from his rings. Scrambling, your mind was searching for the right words.

With a forced smiled, your shaky voice finally piped up, “Oh! Yeah! Oh geez. I am so sorry, doll. I’m just so tired, and the alley is so dark. Here, let’s go inside so I can get a better look at you.” You tried to take your wrist from him but he didn’t loosen up.

“Nah, you ain’t tricking me. You owe me.” He pulled you into him, large hand gripping your face with ease, “You can’t lead on men like this and think you don’t gotta answer for it.” He kissed you, forcing your face into his. “Bitch! Did you fucking bite me?” He threw you into the tin trash cans beside the wall, knocking the wind out of you. 

No purse, no sharp object, not even a heeled shoe to defend yourself with. You cursed, so preoccupied with Smiles you forgot your wits.

You spit out the copper saliva, his blood and yours. “I’ll keep biting, too.” 

Why scream? The sounds of the next act were bouncing off the brick walls. Upbeat jazz and applause echoing around you. No one would hear you. Men can break your body but you never had to give them your dignity. Never give them the satisfaction of a response.

No. No screaming. You instead spent your energy trying to get to your feet. He took hold of your neck now, throttling you. It wasn’t what you had expected, but as he lifted you off the ground and your little dressing room slippers fell off, you thought this was actually better. 

“Well I think that’s quite enough.”

You felt warmth, then registered wetness. Your shin scraped on the asphalt as you were dropped without warning. Trying to open your eyes, you found you couldn’t see. Wiping and blinking away the foreign liquid, you watched your attacker fall to his knees.

Blood was shooting from between his fingers around his own neck, each pulse becoming weaker and weaker, evident through the stream.

When he finally fell over, drained, you were startled to see another man with you. The light reflected off his glasses as he adjusted them, the knife still in his right hand as he did so. 

“My, my. What a mess he’s made.” The man smiled down at you, offering a hand. When you didn’t immediately react, he cocked his head to the left, “Is that anyway to treat your rescuer?”

Is that was this was? A rescue? You took his hand with both of yours, pulling yourself up. 

Smiles? You blinked away the shock, time to shift into your next part. Damsel. You weren’t out the woods yet.

“You saved my life!” As you pressed yourself into his chest, you tucked your head beneath his chin. You tried to make yourself small. “I owe you! Please let’s go inside, drinks on me!” You looked up, batting your lashes.

“I don’t think that’s wise, dear.” His gaze panned down your dress, soaked through. He could see the thinking behind your eyes.

“No, right….,” You gripped his vest, “We gotta get outta here, fast. There’s a hotel just behind the threatre.” You started to pull his suit jacket off, slipping it over yourself. “No cops, the theatre will get raided. Just— take me somewhere safe?”

You watched him look you over, arm finally extending to let you hook yours with his. 

As soon as the hotel door closed behind you, you slipped off his jacket and ran to the dressing table mirror. 

Your face was painted red, navy dress now black and sticky. It was good you stayed from view of the reception staff. “I didn’t get my rescuer’s name,” you licked your thumb and rubbed at the blood around your cheeks. 

“Alastor. It’s a pleasure.”

You laughed, “Is that what you call a pleasure?” Turning, you pulled the mostly still dry handkerchief from your pocket and dabbed the corner on your tongue. You brought it up to the frame of his glasses and wiped the blood from the metal. “I’d hate to see what you call a bad time.”

Your hand slowed, noticing the way he was looking at you. Typically men’s pupils were blown when they fell on you, but his were constricted. They flitted around your face. His hand took hold of yours, fingers separating the thumb from the handkerchief. He pulled the little square of yellow fabric free with his other hand, allowing him to hold your thumb now by itself.

His lips opened, tongue licking the blood stained finger before placing it directly into his mouth.

Your stared, horrified, as he sucked the digit clean. 

His eyes fluttered close, finger popping out of his mouth with a debauched sound. You made no attempt to take back your hand. The realization you may have hopped out of the frying pan and into the fire set in.

“You are a funny one, aren’t you?” You tried to sound as in control as possible. Calm. Unwavered. Offered a timid smile. 

He chuckled, “You could say that. May I?” His fingers lifted your chin. You didn’t know what he was asking. His soft smile looked downright loving. He smelled so good, notes of something earthy rising above the copper.

You nodded, because part of you wanted to see where it would go. And part of you thought you didn’t have a choice.

As his face came to yours, you instinctually closed your eyes expecting a kiss. But no, instead you felt his tongue wipe across the cut at the corner of your mouth. His breath blanketed your cheek. Then his hand left your chin, the warmth of his body gone entirely. 

You opened your eyes to see him at the door, slipping back into his jacket, “I’ll pay for the night.” He tipped his head to you and exited the room back first, eyes locked with yours until the door closed.

You just stood there in the silence left behind. But as if on cue, the adrenaline waned and your knees buckled under you. You were moments from death, now somehow spared. But what had he— Alastor, been doing there? Did he follow you, too? The cat and mouse had been flipped, or perhaps now this was a fox and hound?

Gripping the dressing table, you pulled yourself up and into the view of the mirror again. Face streaked in dried blood save for the one clean spot where your lips met cheek. 

You felt like a ghost the next day. It would be nice to tell someone about what happened but, “Hey a man tried to kill me and then another man killed him! Then he licked blood off my face and I let him. It was the most disturbingly erotic thing to happen to me in months!” would get you tossed into a wagon. 

“Are you rude or just stupid?” The theatre manager pulled you aside by the arm when you came into rehearsal. “You can’t just disappear like that, people were waiting.”

Your eyes narrowed, “Was… my absence really the most exciting part of the evening? Not the John in the gutter?”

He huffed, “So that’s it? Got a beau?”

“Wait— nothing else happened last night? After I left?” 

“This show doesn’t revolve around you. Plenty happened.”

“Excuse me,” you hurried into the back, “And sorry!”

You opened the street access door and looked into the alley. Trash cans neat and tidy, no dead man, nothing strange or telltale.

You ducked back inside. Had Smiles done this? Obviously, actually. No stranger just cleaned up the dead body. If the flatfeet had found him, the club would have been under scrutiny.

Good, you thought, and went about your work.

Rehearsal dragged on. Little details summoning you back to the night before. 

“You okay?” Another performer asked, grabbing your hand and inspecting the blood around your cuticles.

“Oh it’s not mine!” You laughed, she laughed, you walked off before she could clarify.

When applying your makeup, you remembered his hands on your face. They were so soft. Definitely a man of means. A brief intrusive thought, the other hands on your face last night.

You pranced on stage, going through the motions of your routine. Even in the empty hall, your eyes wandered to the booth he’d been in. And as you took the stage in earnest later that night you searched the crowd for the glint of his glasses and found nothing shiny nor promising.

Back in the dressing room you took a moment to wonder what the actual fuck you we’re doing. He murdered a man in front of you, why were you hoping to see him again? He had half a mind to kill you next.

But would that really be so bad?  Your life was routine, boring even. The only thing keeping your lungs expanding was the applause. Maybe the headlines of your death would cause such an uproar, dancer struck down in her prime, that you could bask in the loving glow all the way from hell.

One way to remain famous, you considered. A dramatic death.

Not that you were famous. You weren’t part of the national circuits. Just your local theatres, a common face and body to the sinners of Louisiana’s most infamous city. But, well, fame is relative. For the scene you were in, you were your own little star. 

A shining light. Shimmering. The faint light reflecting off— Blood. For a second you could only remember looking through bloodied, heavy lashes. 

“You’ve been so out of it. Trouble in paradise?” Ruth, the curviest of your coworkers and arguably the favorite of the crew, rested her chin on your head. Looking at each other in the mirror, you offered a soft smile.

“I’ll letcha know when I get there.”

She pinched your cheek, “Tommy said you had a new guy. I just figured-,”

“That isn’t,” you clenched your eyes shut, “no, no guy. I just got locked out last night in the alley. The sticky-,” sticky and viscous blood, “back door wouldn’t open up. I didn’t want to come in the front in my slippers so I just hoofed it home.” 

She patted your head, “if you say so! Be careful out there though. Dangerous these days.” 

An understatement.

You enjoyed the spotlight, but more than that you craved the attention doted on you after. You’d walk through the hall to the bar to adoring looks and free drinks. It bothered you that Tommy was telling the girls you had a man. You didn’t want to appear too closed off, or for word to spread to the customers. 

Last thing you needed was men passing you by for more available options. Not that the pay wasn’t fine. Ends were being met, but grifting added an element of thrill. You really did love the chase. Finding someone and deciding he would be yours, he would fall under your spell and be at your feminine mercy. It made you feel powerful, almost mythical. And the money was nice. Sometimes you didn’t even need to steal, the men would just lavish you in gifts and you’d let it fizzle out naturally. Normally their wives would snatch them back or they’d just get tired of waiting for you to leave the stage and dance into their domestic dreams. A housewife? An adopted mother to a grown man during the day, a hungry nymph at night? For what, an allowance and a home you didn’t own? Pass. Where’s that handsome man with his knife? That was a much better steel to fall onto than what these men offered from their laps.

From your view at the bar you knew he wasn’t there. But with a nod you decided the chase was still on. You were going to get your victory. If anything, this would be easier. You had dirt on him. Blackmail would be simple enough. Bloody clothes and the perfect alibi; being a woman. No cop would think you took down that hulking man. 

Ah, right. There was no body.

That would be an issue. He had to have taken it somewhere. Just find him and follow. Worst case scenario, you play the usual game and steal whatever cash was in his wallet.

Well, worst case you die. 

You slept sitting up to keep your hair set, during the day your makeup barely was there but a red lip always the star. You had three nice dresses (well, you had had four) so you figured three nights to find him before moving on.

You slinked through the crowds of the hot and sweaty dance club Moxie. Swinging music kept bodies moving, and though you kept your eyes open you didn’t catch sight of this Alastor fellow. Which was fine! You enjoyed a few dances, swing always making you feel energized. Not a waste of a Friday night.

Saturday was easy, the lounge on fifth. Smooth jazz, plush chairs, rich men. Definitely a place you could imagine Smiles to frequent. The whisky was all top shelf, and many gentlemen offered you a lap to sit. Sure, no Alastor, but you didn’t go home empty handed.

You weren’t a particularly great singer, but if the room was small enough and the piano loud enough, you could please a crowd. Your friend had you on a semi-set schedule most Sundays at her little dive too many blocks from Main Street. Her darling played piano, you sat and sang to the couple dozen patrons stuffed into the one room bar. When you finished your set, you took your bows and looked for your friend. You needed to tell her you wouldn’t be staying. 

Your polite nods and gracious thank yous were abruptly ended by a tap on your shoulder, “You dropped this, miss.” You did a mental check of your purse before turning around.

“Oh, a sight for sore eyes. Mr. Alastor.” Your face lit up, you could see it in his glasses.

“You’re too kind. Here, I apologize for the delay. I wanted to return them clean.” In his hand was your yellow handkerchief, folded neatly. You took it and found it uncharacteristically heavy. 

When you unfurled it, your brass lighter fell into your waiting palm. Your thumb caressed the engraving. 

Alastor watched your face as the lighter tumbled out. “I figured it was important, given the condition and detailing.”

You tested the weight in your hand, “Did you fill it?” You looked to him incredulously.  He nodded.

It was a surprisingly kind act, and you needed a second to regain your composure. “I don’t know how to thank you.” Your quick wit failed for a moment, but rebounded fast. “Except with a drink. My treat. To my rescuer.”

He mulled the idea, your reaction to him was interesting. Alastor had thought if he approached you first you’d show a little more fear, or shock. But you looked downright chipper to see him there. 

“Unfortunately I don’t have much time tonight. I had just wanted to return your items.”

Your smile dropped. How did he know you were here? Had he been carrying— no, he said he had them cleaned. Had he seen you here before, before the incident? A chuckle, smile brought back, “My luck is terrible. You always flee me. I hope you don’t see my company as deadweight.”

Alastor’s smile twitched, eyes hidden behind the glare of his glasses, “Not at all! I think you’d find I’m quite comfortable with-.”

“Lugging people around?” You said. That constricted pupil again, eyes wild. A chill ran down your spine. Alarms were going off. Wrong answer. You straightened your back, popping the items into your purse, “Next time.”

Alastor nodded, “Yes. Next time, then.”

You fucked it up. You knew you had, but suddenly his words felt like a thinly veiled threat. 

You turned to leave and hadn’t seen his smile sour.

It hadn’t been a threat. He hadn’t anticipated you to notice the implication. Most people would have been so blinded by his charm they would fail to notice the glaring red flags. He was mildly impressed. You would be more trouble than he had expected.

Alastor knew he needed to do something about the clearly clever woman who was seemingly expecting him. He had followed you for several days, surprised to find you not spreading word about the murder. You hadn’t spoken to anyone, really. Even the man you left the lounge with, you just smiled and nodded nearly all evening while the man dominated the conversation. So, your sharp wit took him off guard. Who were you pretending to be? And why?

All of your cleverness fell apart when you tried to follow him. It was almost comical. He felt bad. This was going to be embarrassing for you.

He took several right turns and stepped into the park just outside of the bar. You thought perhaps he had gotten lost and considered turning around after you realized you’d lost sight of him. As you passed a large weeping willow, you were pulled under the curtains of hanging moss by your waist.

Back against the large tree, you could only pout.

“What are you after, stalking a man in the dead of night?” Alastor had you pinned, both hands on either side of your head. His body boxed you in, not that there was much more to see than moss and darkness.

You blinked several times. What a question. You answered honestly, “You.” He cocked a brow. Then you lied, “Your affection. Your time.”

Something akin to a giggle bubbled from his chest. “I don’t have much affection, but I have even less time.” Your eyes darted around, looking for your next move. “I-,” you grabbed him by the face and kissed him. When you broke the kiss he was staring wide eyed, glasses askew. He opened his mouth to speak and you kissed him again, longer, harder.

He seemed frozen under your mouth, lips taut. Your hands roamed his face, messing up his hair and glasses. Mind reeling. Play the nymph. Be the whore the men always said they hated. Be too strong, too forward, too much and he’ll run off like men do. You could try again another day.

Your hand reached for his lap, his hips instinctively jerking away. Perfect. Men these days can’t get it up for a woman who takes the lead. 

Alastor was entirely unsure what the fuck was happening. You were wildly unpredictable. When you grabbed at his dick, he thought his eyes would cross from the shock. Is this what ‘affection’ meant to you? He couldn’t understand it. Couldn’t understand you. Were you really just lustful? Even after what you’d seen him—

You bit at his bottom lip, pulling slightly. Big eyes looking back at him. Your breath was already running away from you, adrenaline seemingly synonymous with Alastor. Staring up at him, you waited. His move.

It was his turn to blink. He looked off to his left, eyes swinging back to you. With a shrug, he leaned his body back towards yours. His hand slid down the front of your dress; red silk. A deer in the headlights, you tensed. The rare third option; fight, flight, freeze. Soon his fingers were tracing the lace of your stockings, climbing up the garter straps. 

His eyes were studying your face. You didn’t want to give the wrong answer again, but at this point you weren’t sure any answer was right. This was taking a sudden turn and your foot was off the brake. You closed your eyes, opting out of the scrutiny of his stare. His hand met your stomach and began to slip down again. He rested it between your thighs, longer fingers and palm cupping the entirety of your sex.

Alastor struggled to decipher your expression. It was almost like a pout, but more subtle. You hadn’t said stop or pushed him away yet. Was he right? You were just… horny? As his hand slid back up and pried their way into your panties, you trembled.

It had been so long since someone else’s hand was on you. Someone whose hands you genuinely enjoyed, who you wanted to be on you.

Is that right? You wanted him to touch you? 

Maybe it was the stare, or the smile. Probably just the adrenaline.

His hand found its place again, middle finger bending to part your folds and feel your wetness. You whimpered, hand coming to cover your own mouth. 

“Is this what you wanted?” He said it low, a husky tone he didn’t have before.

No. Maybe. You nodded yes.

“Will you be satisfied now? No more tailing me?”

No. Probably not. Another nod.

His finger pushed in, and with a kind of greed you didn't recognize your hips ground down into his palm. He slipped in and out of you with ease. You had no idea when or why you got so wet.

“I always end up dripping around you, Alastor,” you whispered through your fingers. His ring finger joined. Why couldn’t you shut up? Why did you have to bring up, well, the murder?

“A common problem for those I take an interest in.” 

Oh no. You moaned softly into your hand. Sharp mind made dull by his fingers so you didn’t, couldn’t, process his double meaning. 

Oh no. The sounds of footsteps, a pair of lovers sneaking into the park for privacy. You heard their giggles, the sounds of kisses interrupting their walking.

“Shhh”, he breathed into your ear as he worked a third finger into your heat. One knuckle, two knuckles. A whimper. His hand came to press down over your own on your mouth, a second barrier for your mewling. You groaned, the sound coming from your throat.  

Whispers. The silhouette of the two interlopers was visible through the willow’s curtains. You watched from over his shoulder, pussy clenching around him. Three knuckles deep, bottoming out.

Fuck it. You moaned freely into your hand, wiggling down onto his hand. Hips rolling, you let your little sounds of praise flow.

The couple laughed, “That’s the spirit!” A man said, a woman hushing him and pulling him away.

Alastor grinned into your neck, immensely amused. He would have better luck predicting a dice roll than your next move. 

You hadn’t realized how hollow you’d been until now, feeling so full. When alone, you focused on just cumming, fingers on your clit and mind on memories. You never bothered much with anything else.

Your hunger intensified. You wanted more. Both hands reached for his crotch again, finding nothing there for you. You could have cried. How were you a wet mess pressed against a tree and he was soft as a newspaper in a rainstorm?

Your pride stung. Men usually stood at attention around you. A half sob into the air earned you a chuckle from Alastor. “It’s no reflection of you, darling.” His nose nudged your ear lobe, “I need a little different stimulation than most.”

“Do you play for the other team?” You considered how you could momentarily switch. 

A louder laugh, “I don’t have a team.” He leaned back now to look at you. His freehand came to press on your lower stomach, gently pushing your womb down. Your brows knit, why did that feel so good? Hands going to the tree behind you for stability.

“Sure feels like you know how to play. This is-,” his hand switched from thrusting slowly in and out to moving front and back. It sent vibrations up into you. Your eyes rolled close. Shut up. Stop talking. Focus. Close.

He kissed around your open mouth, “Well, it’d be unamerican to not dabble. When necessary, or when the conditions are right.”

Double speak over, “Just tell me what to do to get you to fuck me.”

Alastor’s head fell back as he laughed earnestly, most likely alerting anyone in the immediate area. “Ha! No, this is more fun.”

“Oh fuck you,” you brought a hand around to your throbbing clit to quicken your release.

“Maybe next time, dear.” He took a second, fingers in you sliding around your walls in search of something before finding his place and continuing. Your breath noticeably changed, instead of panting you were practically holding it in. You needed the pressure, you needed something to squeeze that spring of pleasure down so it could snap back. As your face went flush, he kissed at your temple, “You look so pretty in red.”

“Oh god-,” Your head fell onto his chest, your joint effort bringing you to orgasm. 

“A little late on Sunday for prayers, don't you think?”

A tiny scream into his suit pocket, his hand not stopping until your thighs finished twitching around him. Even after his hand stopped moving you gripped him by the wrist and rolled onto his fingers a few more times. The pleasure ebbing but still spiking every time he moved against you. 

Ah, greed. That was it. He understood a little better. This wasn’t lust, not alone.  You were definitely a mix of the two. With a sigh, you released your hold and let him slide out of you. Already you felt lonelier. Already you wished to start over.

With his dry hand he smoothed out your dress. You weren’t ashamed but you suddenly felt too embarrassed to look him the eye. But you did, hearing him hum as he sucked his fingers clean. 

Why were you only ever in his mouth in the strangest ways?

“You always taste so sweet, dear. Now!” You wanted to say something clever and salacious like, ‘there’s more where that came from’ but he didn’t afford you the opportunity. He offered you his hooked arm, “It’s dangerous in the park at night. Let’s get you to a cab and on your way home.”

“Is this a hobby of yours?” Your legs were wobbly but otherwise fine. “Illegal activities in public?”

“Funny, I was just wondering the same of you. Stalking is a crime, dear.”

You bit your lip. “Touché.”

He flagged down a taxi, “Tell him where to go.” You slid into the back seat and half-whispered to the driver. Alastor leaned into the passenger side front window and after paying the man, went to close your door, “You’ve been an entertaining sparring partner. Goodbye, sweetheart.”

With a thud of the door and a growl of the engine, you were driving away from him. You could see him in the rear window. He didn’t dare to move, he didn’t need you following another step of his.

Which was unfortunate for him, as you were already scheming how to find him again.

༻Masterlist༺

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar , @angelicwillows

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan ,@valkyrie-expeditions

[inbarfink]

In general, I feel like Zim’s panic and paranoia are very important aspects of his character that sadly often get overlooked and underutilized in the fandom. I feel like some folks just kinda go ‘oh, well, Zim thinks he is the greatest and most fearsome Invader in the universe so obviously he is certain that he can beat every obstacle’ when… I mean, sometimes he is like this - but some of Zim’s most iconic moments are powered by his fear and anxieties about failure.

So many of Zim’s schemes are motivated by an assumption that Humans are a lot smarter and more observant than they actually are. 

Or even just scarier and more dangerous.

He probably would have conquered the planet in a day if he just directly pulled all of the technology he had at his disposal and marched his way publicly to President Land. But he is just so obsessed with the idea that the Enemy is basically constantly one second away from uncovering him that he just wastes his time on pointless ‘infiltration’ and ludicrously overcomplicated ideas of how to ‘subtly’ take over or weaken the Earth’s defenses via fast-food or the Skool Student Council or Dookie. 

I mean, that is basically Duty!GIR’s big complaint about Zim in ‘GIR Goes Crazy and Stuff’. His progress has been stupid, because he’s been far too Stupidly Subtle about information gathering and world conquest and information gathering for the purpose of world conquest. When literally just heading to the public library and sucking out people’s brains is actually incredibly effective and has no real consequences. 

‘Walk for Your Lives’ is another excellent example of how Zim’s extreme ego and extreme anxiety go together. Zim is driven entirely by a totally made-up arbitrary ticking clock revolving around the idea that the Tallests WILL call again soon and so he MUST get rid of the Time Explosion NOW.

But he’s overconfident in the sense that he is certain that the solution he comes up with is Actually Good and won’t just make everything worse even as literally everyone around tells him it would. 

Enter the Florpus’ plot kicks off with a very similar scenario. Zim just comes up with a Made-Up Deadline and a Made-Up Consequence for ‘forgetting Phase 2’ and just starts… stressing himself up with it. 

On one level I think this is like… also a weird result of his Ego. You know, the logic being that if any potential challenge is not 100% effortless for him, Irk’s most amazing and powerful Invader, then it must be a horrible and fearsome threat. If Zim actually fully admitted that Earth is the stupidest, easiest-to-conquer planet in the universe - he would have to admit that failing to conquer this planet of all planets makes him a huge-ass loser. So instead, Zim salvages his own pride by constantly overestimating the humans.

But I also think in general Zim has a lot of anxiety and nervous energy. Maybe just from all the insecurities and failures he’s trying to deny and ignore all the time? And he’s just channeling them into the only channels he can consciously acknowledge - worrying about his enemies. 

[sitzfleischh]

Okay inspired by this post by @irispurpurea and this post by @ouidamforeman (both of which are excellent, please read) I wanted to add some thoughts about the structural weirdness of season 2.

The reason season 2 feels so structurally WEIRD is that it's the second beat what is now a three act story, but that wasn't written as one in the first place.

Season 1 was a complete, self-contained story arc with completed character development, based on a complete, self-contained novel. The story of Good Omens is about an angel and a demon going from opposite sides to their own side, aligned with earth and its humans. And at the end of season one this story has been told! It's done!

If you want to keep the story going, then, you have two options -- either you find a completely new story to tell with these characters, or you do what Neil Gaiman et al have chosen to do and you complicate and unresolve the conclusion from the first story in order to tell the same story but in an even bigger and more nuanced way.

The challenge of season two, then, is to reframe the events of season one not as a completed story but as the first act of a three-act arc.

And genuinely I think this is just not the way that most TV shows tasked with writing their second season go about doing it. Not that this is a bad choice! But the reason it feels weird on first glance is because it's taking its structure from like... half of the sequel to a novel, not a TV show that gets a second season.

This is the point of all of the historical flashbacks in season 2-- to make us understand that Crowley and Aziraphale are not on the same page and haven't been for 6000 years, despite appearing to be by the end of the first season.

The other thing I think season 2 does is make the whole story about Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship in a way it just wasn't in season 1. Taken on its own, season one's A-plot is the apocalypse, and the B-plot is relationship between this angel and demon.

What season two does then is literally FLIP the importance of those two things structurally. Season one's apocalypse and various side characters now occupy the same place as the Gabriel mystery in season 2. Which is also why it feels so weird to be like "wait this thing that felt like The Big Important Thing before is now suddenly the background of something else."

All this to say, this season is SO structurally interesting because it's just straight up not like other TV shows in structure, and because of the way everything now has to be marketed and framed in trailers as one, more typical kind of story, AND because the first season was a complete story that has now been reframed as an incomplete story, Good Omens season two feels very weird but imo much less weird upon rewatching, and will again feel less weird once we have season 3 and the story gets to complete its arc.

[inkskinned]

hey it's nanowrimo. i have tips bc i've done it about 34 times.

Don't edit. Ever. Stop it. If you just decide to start a new project half thru this one with all new characters, no problem. pick up and keep writing as if you'd already written the first half of that.

"but i spelled it wrong" whatever. "but the grammar" whatever. make it exist first. no time for sense. think like you're working on a typewriter. no backspace. only forward go.

Don't re-read further than a paragraph or two backwards. "did i mention the gun before?" listen - it doesn't matter. if you need there to be a gun there, the gun is there. put it back in once you finish the book.

"i forgot the specifics of X thing i already wrote" whatever. change it, make a note/comment to figure it out later, and just write what makes sense for the moment. "no raquel it's legit the characters name and origin" idc that character is now reborn as Claudius from Elsewhere. it's fine.

only you see your mistakes. nobody else knows. one of the ways writing and dance overlap - only you know the choreography. nobody else will know if you miss a step, so just keep dancing and pretend you meant to do it like that.

it's an illusion that you need to write linearly - from point A to point B to point C. Nah; that's just timeline propaganda. I've written a LOT of books out of order and just reordered them once i've finished. if you have a scene you'd LOVE to write but can't get there yet because of plot, just fuckin write the scene. I've always found its easier to establish "point F" "point J" and "Point A" and then wiggle my way between those scenes.

write what you WANT to write. 230 pages of smut? of well-researched discussion on bread? whatever. the point is to strengthen muscles however you can.

if you miss a day, a week, whatever. not the end of the world. we all have dry days. also time is a myth so u can do this challenge whenever u want.

as soon as you try to write for a specific audience, you kill your voice. you are writing for yourself. stop thinking about how people will take ur book. it don't matter. what matter is u, enjoying writing. i luv u.

play to your strengths. i have characters talk so much because i don't know how to write a plot if it kills me but i'm really good at dialogue so.

i love a flight of fancy. write a poem in there. shift tactics and write in code. keep it fun for yourself.

see what happens if you shift something major about ur main characters - gender, wealth, superpowers. or if you change point-of-view. or if you kill everyone in a big explosion. do NOT edit anything before this or after it. often these little weird one-off exercises teach me what interests me about what i'm working on. it is never what i thought. plus it is a fun way to add like 1k words.

stretch.

it's for fun and for practice. stop doing that project if it's giving you anxiety. once my nano was literally 50k words of half-started stories. just things i tried and tried and tried and wasn't able to flesh out. oops. but i am now 50k words of a better writer.

add dragons?

read books/listen to books on tape/etc. people often make the mistake of "buckling down" to just write. you need inspiration. you need to like. fill up on words. you need to remember how it feels to lose yourself in a story.

i don't have the time or space to really talk about this in this post but a lot of creative people turn to drugs/alcohol because it can help you be more creative. this is harmful, and walking a blade that only cuts deep. if you notice you and your loved ones are turning more to substances, please know i love you and i hope you are able to get help soon. i feel like this almost never gets mentioned because it's kind of a hazy underbelly to art. you are always more important than the work.

on that note. drink your fukin. water.

don't talk about a story until you've finished it. once you tell the story, it exists already, and isn't about discovery. i usually have a very canned "haha we'll see" response.

grapes :) tasty snack.

i love you be free.

[mod-jazzy]

I was asked so! Here are my silly lil prompts for my personal month challenge thing!!!

NOTE: This is not a official thing or what have you, I was just asked to share the prompts for my lil self challenge, so I am! This is my own personal little challenge because I've had these prompts since 2019 and I want to use them

I'll put under a readmore because it is... like. 30 things lmao

Day 1: First Askblog OC The first blog OC you made! Day 2: Most recent askblog OC Can be a side or main character, just the most recent OC you've made for a blog! Day 3: The Modsona Draw your modsona! Self love n all that Day 4: Redraw a silly/funny askblog panel Find a old silly/funny or shitpost panel from one of your blogs and redraw it! Day 5: Evolution scene Draw your OC evolving! Can be past event, future event or something that already happened for a silly redraw! Day 6: Blog Swap Draw one of your blog OCs as a character on one of your other blogs! If don't have more than one blog, switch up their role with someone else on your current blog! Day 7: Favoritism wins Draw your absolute favorite OC from your blog! Indulge a little Day 8: "Nothing bad happens" What would your OC look like if their plot had nothing bad happen Day 9: Redraw a sad panel Redraw a old sad panel! Last prompt was too cheery, redraw that angst with your updated abilities! Day 10: Favorite Magic Anon Blast from the past, relive that glorious magic anon Day 11: Easiest OC to draw Draw that easy fellow, relax a little! Day 12: Difficult OC to draw Back on that grind, draw that one guy who is the absolute most difficult for you!! Day 13: Redraw your least favorite panel We all have that one panel that just, didn't come out right. Try again! Maybe it'll be nice to see your improvement.. or maybe you'll hate it again. Anyways, chop chop Day 14: Injury Draw that dramatic/important injury your character went through. Past, present or future! Day 15: Beach episode What it says on the tin, we love a filler episode. Can be plot relevant but hey, they deserve to relax too Day 16: Favorite blog Draw some fan art for your favorite blogger! Whether they are a friend, inspiration or what have you! Extra challenge: redraw some old fan art you did for them Day 17: Plot Changer That one moment... the thing that made everything twist. That really hit a hard turn in your storyline! Can be past, present or possible future! Day 18: Scrapped Idea What was that scrapped concept again? Or was it a character.. or even something as silly as a slight design change? Day 19: What's a God to a Blogger Most of us have that one god. That one important guy in the sky... or the ocean.. or under a truck... man pokemon is weird. Day 20: Canon Compliant Stylization is so interesting and unique!... but strip that away. Be close to pokemon canon. Day 21: Shiny Beam A easy one... make that little guy shiny!!... Oh they are already shiny?... well then undo that. Silly. Day 22: Dream interaction What's a interaction with your characters that you would really love to see or are excited for? Can be within your own storyline or a interaction with someone else Day 23: Real World Sighting Draw your OC(s) in a real life photo! Bonus points if its a photo you took. Take this chance to go for a nice walk and take some pretty pictures!.... touch grass. Day 24: A spoiler that.. wouldn't make sense to others That's right. Be vague. Spoil a little bit in the most vague manner. It's always fun to see others speculate. Day 25: In blog ship Draw your favorite ship within your own blog! Friendship/romantic ship/hate ship... Just whatever one makes you smile Day 26: Out of blog ship Same prompt as 25.. But with your OC and someone ELSE'S! again, friendship/romantic ship/etc etc! Day 27: Different Art Medium! That's right. Draw/sculpt/etc your OC in a different art medium than normal. This will either be fun or horrifying for you Day 28: The Inspiration VS the OC Draw your OC with their inspiration! Can be the storyline that inspired them... or the character that desired them! Etc etc Day 29: Song drawing Yeah that's right. Draw your OC/Blog with the song that you associate them with! As a treat Day 30: Redraw first blog post / Thank you Cliche ending alert!! Redraw your first ever askblog panel you have ever made. Not the first post on a more recent blog.. no. THE FIRST ONE. EVER. Or be corny and draw a heartfelt thank you to all of your friends and followers you made Or hell.. maybe even both

[mammalsofaction]

Here are things I have to keep in mind while writing Heinz and (usually Human) Perry dialogue;

Perry:

-This is a talkative character who is mute

-What this means is that while he doesn't verbally talk, he's VERY VERY expressive. The most "show, not tell" character challenge in all the fandoms ive written for

-Signing is all well and good, but he's also a big gesture guy. If he can send his point across without signing, I should probably do that.

-How Do You Emphasize Words While You Sign????

-If he's writing, keep track of his notebook.

Heinz:

-Rule #1: He's multilingual.

-This translates into a lot of weird stops and emphasis in his sentences, which I figure is his brain translating words from German to English in rapid speeds.

-There's got to be somethings he prefers to call or refer to in his mother tongue.

-Cursing depends on impulse and suitability actually. He has a wide range of knowledge for cussing. Sometimes Fuck and Shit hit harder, so take care.

-Rule #2: He rambles.

-REMEMBER. HE IS THE ONE RAMBLING, NOT YOU. (the writer)

-His rambling is A VERY IMPORTANT VERBAL TICK/TENDENCY. He doesnt like prolonged silences, and he mumbles to himself. Keep him talking.

-However! Do not let him run away with the sentence. That's the surefire way to lose control of the plot. Control the ramble: keep it realistic but also know l how you want the people around him to react!

-HE IS THE ONE RAMBLING, NOT YOU.

When writing dialogue:

-Heinz DOES bounce off of Perry's reactions. He keeps an eye out for it more than you think. Make sure you do too!

-Perry rarely interrupts him, but he DOES make his opinions known.

-When it comes to Heinz, Perry's first instinct is to hit him. It's important to keep in mind they know each other's boundary.

-When Heinz gets jealous, he gets sad and sulky. He gets angry, but the tearful kind, where a partner really just wants you to apologize actually.

-Perry almost never gets REALLY mad at Heinz, even when he's really upset with him. I think because he knows, at the end of the day, Heinz comes back to him.

-Sorry I got distracted. Anyway, oh yeah. Interaction and communication is key! Perry doesn't "just" listen, and Heinz doesn't just talk. Give them equal communication opportunities!

[gennyanydots]

Really? Now?

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x f!reader

Part of the “Spitfire” Universe but can be read alone.

At this point in your life you barely remember what life without Jake was like, not that you ever wanted to remember a time without him. You knew in your heart that Jake was your person- the one you were to spend the rest of your life with.

Being with Jake has always been a little challenging. Not because of him, of course, he was the most perfect boyfriend you’ve ever had but because you swore the Navy loved to keep the two of you apart. Some days when you were feeling particularly down you swear the Navy must be plotting against your love. You always picture a whole room of Navy admirals sitting around a table, with a map laid out in front of them, deciding where the least convenient place was to send Jake, a bulletin board on the wall has a calendar with all the important dates for the two of you circled in red so the admirals knew exactly when to send Jake off somewhere or when to deny him leave.

But for once you’ve thwarted their attempts to keep the two of you apart! You were spending your first Thanksgiving together at Jake’s family farm, despite being together for five years. His parents always invite you despite Jake not being able to attend but you have always politely turned the offer down. You love his parents but being there without Jake would feel weird to you and you’d miss Jake extra, so you’ve never gone. Until now.

Jake was able to get the whole week off so he made it to the farm a couple days before you were able to fly out which you were glad about. You didn’t want to monopolize Jake’s time at home even though you know his family would understand. Jake needed time with his family without you. Didn’t need his girlfriend following after him like a little lost duck his whole leave despite his very vocal protests.

“Darlin, I want nothing more than for you to follow me around all day every day for the rest of my life.”

“How am I sposed to show you off to my whole hometown if you’re only there for a couple a days?”

“Mama’s gonna think you don’t love her as much if you don’t spend the whole week with me. You gonna break my mama’s heart, darlin?”

That last one almost got you to cave but you stuck to your guns and decided that flying in to Texas on Tuesday night would be the plan. Jake had the whole week at home so he got there Saturday night and was leaving the Sunday after Thanksgiving. Three ish days seemed like a good amount of time for Jake to be home alone with his family.

Those three days have seemed to be torture for Jake if the text messages he’s sent you are anything to go off of.

“I miss you.”

“I’m bored here without you.”

“Can’t we just change your plane ticket? I’ll pay for it.”

“I’m about ready to just hop in the truck and drive to your apartment and pick you up.”

It would take him longer to come get you than it would to just wait until you flew in but there’s really no reasoning with a pouty Jake. You had to text his mom just to make sure he didn’t go through with his ridiculous idea. She hid his keys from him. He pouted more.

Finally, after three long days and an over three hour flight you were finally stepping off the plane to see your favorite pouty man child.

It takes you about a half an hour to figure out where to go to find Jake, airports are never simple to navigate. You see him before he sees you which meant you got to watch his face the second his eyes fell upon you. The biggest smile you had ever seen passed over his face as he broke out into a jog to get to you as fast as he could without running into others. You giggle as you rush towards him. As soon as you are within arms reach, Jake lifts you up into his arms, holding you as tight as he could against himself as he buries his face in your neck. You drop your bag and wrap yourself around him and take a moment to soak up the feeling of being surrounded by Jake, the feeling of being home.

“I missed you so much,” you almost miss his words as they’re mumbled into your neck.

“We saw each other last month!” You say with a laugh.

Jake shakes his head the best he can while his face is still pressed against your neck, “It felt like an eternity since you’ve been in my arms.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

Jake chuckles and finally pulls his face out of its hiding spot to gaze into your eyes, “Only about you, darlin.”

“Hi,” you whisper to him, his face only a breath away from yours.

“Hi,” he whispers back, a genuine smile plastered on his face. You scrunch your nose as he places a soft kiss on the tip of it, making you giggle. “Are you ready to get out of here? We got a whole herd of people waitin’ to meet you at the house.”

You scrunch your eyebrows in question, “But like how many people? You didn’t say anything about meeting lots of people today.”

Jake shrugs, “My family is all excited for Thanksgiving so they wanted to come and visit with everyone from out of town at the ranch before the prep work tomorrow for Thanksgiving. Nana’s even back at the house.”

“Nana? I thought she never leaves the nursing home anymore.”

“Pops thought he’d spring her from the joint for a few days. She’s goin back Thursday after dinner,” Jake explains.

“Oh okay,” you say worrying your lip. You hadn’t expected to meet everyone today. You thought you would at least have the day to yourselves, but this is Jake’s leave and you weren’t about to dictate what happens during it. There would be plenty of time together after everyone goes home.

Jake kisses you quickly before setting you back on the ground and taking your hand to lead you out to his truck. The next half hour is spent soaking up your alone time with Jake in the truck, catching up on the little things that rarely get talked about over the phone.

As the truck pulled up to the Seresin farm house you were feeling a bit anxious. You knew Jake’s family were all nice, you’ve met his parents many times so everyone else has to be friendly at least, but large groups of new people makes anyone a little uneasy. You knew you were never going to remember anyone’s name. Despite Jake being an only child, his extended family was huge.

You fiddle with your finger nails while Jake parks the truck.

He looks over at you with a smile and a pat on your thigh, “Ready?”

You nod and he tells you to stay put.

Jake got out of the truck on his side and jogged around to your side to open the door for you.

You smile as you hop out then reach up to kiss his cheek.

Jake flashes you a grin as he reaches into the truck to grab your bags. He lifts them easily, shuts the door, then grabs your hand to pull you towards the front door.

The two of you are almost at the door when it swings open to reveal Jake’s mom rushing towards you with her arms out stretched.

“My baby girl is back home!” She says as she pulls you into an enthusiastic hug.

You hug her back and then get passed off to Jake’s dad who hugs you as well while welcoming you into the house where you’re met with about 30 people all standing up to greet you.

The next half hour is a blur of handshakes, hugs, and introductions. You’re pretty sure you’ve already forgotten everyone’s name except Jake’s grandmother and that’s only because she’s just Nana. Kinda hard to forget.

Eventually the commotion dies down and Jake’s mom announces it’s time for dinner. Since she has to cook for the next two days she had ordered enough pizza for everyone. It turns into a frenzy of everyone trying to get pizza all at the same time. You quietly sit down next to Nana who seems to be the only other person not trying to fight their way to the pizza boxes.

“You’d swear that everyone hasn’t eaten in days with how this family acts around food. God knows they all take after my husband. I tried to teach them all manners but clearly they didn’t stick,” Nana explains, gesturing to the mob of people.

You snicker and she shoots you a wink.

Jake walks over with a plate in each hand. He leans down to kiss his nana on the cheek then leans down to do the same to you before he hands you both a plate of pizza each before heading back.

Nana nudges you softly, “Maybe I spoke too soon.”

You and nana happily eat your pizza chit chatting together. You learn that Ethel at the home has been cheating at poker and nana is sure that the plan she’s concocted will catch her in the act. You also learn that Fred has been flirting with one of the new nurses and nana thinks he is laying it on a little too thick to be appropriate.

Someone announces that they have the fire going in the backyard and nana decides that the two of you must go out enjoy the night together, but first she makes you promise not to say anything about Fred or her plan to catch Ethel. You told her you swear on your life not to tell a soul before you help her outside to an empty lawn chair. Everyone seems to have made their way outside by the time you make it out with Nana.

Jake walks up behind you once you get nana settled and grabs your hand, pulling you away from everyone else.

You glance behind yourself to wave bye to nana and notice most everyone has their eyes glued to you. Weird. You’re not too sure you like that but you turn back to look where you’re going and try and ignore the eyes you feel are staring at the back of your head.

You notice Jake check his pocket and while you’re not too sure how you know you just know that Jake is about to propose. This is it. Has to be it.

“Really? Now?” You whine at him and drag your feet a little.

“What?” He asks as he stops walking. The two of you are still within earshot of everyone.

You put your hands on your hips, “You’re really doing this right now? Really?”

Jake looks at you exasperatedly, “Yes, right now. Do you know how long I’ve had this thing?”

You shrug, “Since I sent you the link of the ring I wanted?”

Jake sighs, “Yes, since you sent me the link. It’s not my fault. You’re the one who wanted a simulated diamond ring. I didn’t have to save as much money for it than I expected.”

“The amount of times I walk away from things is too many for you to buy me an expensive ring. Or what if I lose it? No. You’re not spending some stupid amount of money on a ring. It’s just flat out dumb. You’re also not giving me a ring with sentimental value. I’ll feel like an asshole when I lose it,” you explain.

“I know, darlin, I know. You’ve told me all of this. Can I get down on one knee now?” He asks.

You shrug, “I guess I can’t stop you.”

Jake rolls his eyes as he gets down on one knee and takes both of your hands, “Darlin, I’m not quite sure what to do with you, never have been, but I want to spend the rest of my life trying to figure that out. I want to save you from getting your ass beat by men a foot taller than you every day for the rest of our lives. Maybe not every day. Maybe like once a month. It doesn’t matter. Anyways, you are my greatest joy. The best part of my day, every single day. I am sick to death of the Navy keeping us apart and this is the best way to make sure I get to keep you with me. Where you should be. With the nature of my job we’ll still get separated at times but knowing that no matter what you’ll be taken care of will make it so much easier on my heart when I’m away. I want to be able to wake up next to you every chance I get until the day I die. I want to have cute little smartass babies with you that will get me into as much trouble as their mama. I want everything with you, anything with you, because you are all I need in this world to keep me happy. Will you make me the happiest man in the world and be my wife?”

“Did you ask my sister?”

Jake furrows his brows, “Did I do what now?”

You let out a huff, “Did you or did you not ask my sister?”

“What? Yeah, I asked your sister. You told me I had to. You think I got a ring and planned a whole proposal out without asking your sister?”

You shrug, “I wouldn’t be surprised. Sometimes you don’t listen.”

Jake stares at you, “Is this really happening right now?”

“Did you expect anything less from me?”

“Maybe some tears.”

“Have you met me?” You ask raising an eyebrow.

Jake shrugs, “Clearly I wasn’t thinking straight. Could you maybe give me an answer please? Everyone is staring at us and it’s starting to wear on me.”

You laugh, “Of course I’ll marry you, idiot. You’re the love of my life.”

Jake grins and stands up, wrapping his arms around you to lift you up then yells, “She said yes!”

Jake’s family cheers from their seats. You look over and see Jake’s mom clutching his dad’s arm tightly with tears streaming down her face.

“Your mom is crying so at least you made someone cry,” you say to Jake while laughing.

Jake slides you back to the ground, “She’s crying because she finally gets to say your her daughter. I’m pretty sure she loves you more than she loves me.”

“I KNOW she loves me more than you. Your dad too. How does it feel to be second best?” You ask playfully.

Jake laughs, “With you in first place I’m surprised I even made second place.”

You lean up to kiss him but stop just in front of his lips, “At least you’re first place in my heart every time.”

He pumps a fist, “Yes!”

You laugh as you close the distance between his lips and yours as a thought comes over you, you have a LOT of names to learn.

[avelera]

Gif courtesy of @apaethy

I just finished re-watching the first season of Interview with the Vampire because in light of what's going on as of 2.6 of S2, I felt I needed to, because this moment above is driving me crazy.

Why is Armand staring straight at Daniel during Louis' declaration? And why is it that, to me, he almost seems to plead with his eyes for Daniel to get him away from Louis?

My thoughts on the matter:

Doylist reasons (aka, out of universe, production, practical reasons): this is a big reveal that "Rashid" is actually Armand. It makes sense, from that angle, as an acting choice that Armand-no-longer-Rashid would look straight at the camera so we could get a good look at him.

Thing is, it's certainly a choice.

Because I would argue the more logical choice when having one character declare the other is the love of their life is for those characters to look at each other. Even a passing glance, a faint smile, a little bit of heart eyes.

Louis just gave a pretty romantic declaration. Actually, even more haunting as of 2.6, Louis just said out loud that he loves Armand in this straightforward, unambiguous, but frighteningly passive way that he refused to do back in Paris, what Madeleine had to cajole him into saying. Now Louis drops the L word all casual, almost as a challenge, right in Daniel's face??

Daniel Molloy voice: Nuh uh, I don't buy it, not for a second.

Ok, let's get into a meta reason this is a really freakin' weird moment and scene that they chose to use as the final note of Season 1, and therefore I think it's meant to be important and, as of Season 2, I think we're seeing the crux of why it's the end of one season and the set up of the next.

Metatextual reason: Armand is not the fucking love of Louis's life in the books. He's barely a footnote, unless that footnote is labeled, "THE VAMPIRE WHO KILLED CLAUDIA". Louis and Armand's relationship, such as it was, soured immediately after her death. They didn't stick together for decades, from the text they barely stuck together a few years after that. Armand wasn't at the Interview with Daniel (but he did pick up Daniel later, when kidnapping him when Daniel went to investigate Lestat's house and look for evidence to corroborate Louis' story).

So as a book fan, I sat up in my chair and audibly shouted, "What the fuck?" at that line. Because as I'm sure anyone who has read this far knows by now, in the books Louis is not the love of Armand's life.

Daniel is the love of Armand's life.

Daniel is Armand's only fledgling, ever.

So not only is there a weird declarative quality to the almost nonsensical (to book readers) statement that Armand is the love of Louis's life-- I don't know how else to explain it except it's like having a revival of Romeo and Juliet where they didn't die and Romeo's early girlfriend Rosaline show up to say that Romeo is the love of her life in Juliet's face. Do you see what I mean? Daniel/Armand is Romeo and Juliet, Louis the temporary fling. Having Rosaline tell Juliet that Romeo is her love would give a similar level of dissonance as I got hearing Louis/Armand was a thing over and above Daniel/Armand.

So to go back to Armand's creepy eye contact here (as if he has any other kind).

Watsonian Reason (aka, in-universe, what the story is going for): We are setting up the plot that becomes much more apparent in S2: Daniel was invited to Dubai to be the wrecking ball in Louis/Armand's relationship.

Which means the big canon divergence moments from the book are:

1. Louis and Armand didn't break up right after Paris, but stayed a couple for several decades longer.

2. Regardless of whether or not the Devil's Minion happened already (or if it's going to happen later in this story), Armand didn't turn Daniel into a vampire soon after meeting him a few years post-Interview with the Vampire. That event got pushed back.

My money is on Armand and Daniel had their fling but Armand refused to turn him. It's a fairly logical canon divergence beat because Armand didn't want to turn Daniel in the books either so in this universe, he just actually followed through and did the responsible thing.

But, I think Armand pined. And pined. And pined.

Whether or not Armand is Alice turning down Daniel's proposal (I at this point disagree with the theory) or if he was just stalking Daniel closely enough to read Alice's thoughts in that moment, he clearly has been keeping tabs on Daniel.

In my opinion, Armand is finally done with the relationship with Louis.

The interview is meant to passively accomplish these things:

Remind Louis how much he loves Lestat.

Remind Louis how much he loves Claudia and by extension if/when it "slips out" just how culpable Armand actually was (as the mastermind, not a bystander) for her death, it will give Louis the impetus to finally leave.

Bring Daniel back into their life. Because whether or not he'll admit it to himself, Armand has been pining for him over Louis for a while now.

I've kind of already explored this in another post but the more I watch of S2 and re-watch of S1, the more certain I am that this is Armand's actual goal. The pining looks he keeps shooting Daniel's way, the way Daniel seems to lose his train of thought whenever he looks at Armand, the palpable tension between them...

Basically, Romeo and Juliet are getting back together soon. We just need to get Rosaline out of the picture first, and that's why Romeo is having an interview that digs up what a shitty boyfriend he was to Rosaline so that Rosaline will break up with him first so he can get back with Juliet.

[silverglimse-productions]

Am I crazy or is the Suffering Game issue the book where most plot has been cut out??? Cause it feels so weirdly paced. And just kinda weirdly written in general.

Like there’s no Betrayal/Trust game, they go directly from Wheel to Monster Factory (and only fights the bear) and directly from Wheel to Heart Attack (no explanation for why they would end up there, just that it’s the “next stop”).

Then they skip the last Wheel round (meaning we don’t get Taako’s loss of Elven Beauty - a pretty important moment for his character, Merle loses his eye in the second round instead, and Magnus keeps all memories of Governor Kalen - he was offered loss of Julia instead and didn’t take it. Which. Fair.. and also, no bad luck) and go straight to the Lich fight??? So no boss Rush either. We also never see a penalty in this book.

Speaking of things missing from this book. Where the fuck is Cam? Or Lord Artemis Sterling? Rowan and Antonia???

The book is almost 300 pages long. They enter Wonderland at p. 52. We see the full room at p. 107. They only spent 55 pages on the bulk of this arc. The rest of the book has good pacing so what the fuck happened here. The book should have been longer. The impact of the suffering game isn’t felt as hard when there’s less gruelling challenges that loses Tres Horny Bois hp, or when you cut out any other npc that was affected by Wonderland from the story.

Due to this limited number of pages we also get weird pacing like Merle asking Magnus whether he spent “all that time thinking up the move” during the direbear fight, even though there’s only like 2 panels between Taako ending his move and Magnus beginning his. Also Merle you didn’t do anything during that fight, so get off your high horse.

Also, we only actually see one spell of Merle’s fail, that being the healing spell, so for all he knows, nothing is wrong with his powers, so him commenting on the fact that it would be nice to “be able to commune with a higher power” once they’re out of wonderland makes no fucking sense. Cause he could just?? Try and contact Pan?? Like he does later anyways??? Like we actively see him reaching into the astral plane without issue, so clearly up until that point no magical foul play.

Now, did stuff like the boss rush and the like have to have been in the book? No, but it’s weird when you think of what was kept in and was removed. Like fx, why was Taako shown giving up his acrobatics prof but not his elven beauty?

Also side note about Heart Attack - this is not relevant but it just makes me personally crazy, the book seems to imply that the mannequins have free will??? In that Lydia and Edward literally whisper to each other about “oh no the audience and the hot hot hot contestant actually likes these guys”????? WHAY?? Like aren’t they the ones who control all of what happens inside wonderland??

[astaldis]

Witcher Cat Fics

Do you like cats and The Witcher? Then maybe you'll also like Witcher cat fics! (sorry, not Cat Witcher fics). Here is a little list of fics I found that feature cats, but it's certainly not complete. If you know of other Witcher fanfics where a cat plays an important role in the plot, please let me know so I can add it to the list.

Have fun with cats and Witchers!

(The order is totally random)

5 Times Someone Else Had To Watch The Damn Cat

Foltest, Ves, Geralt of Rivia, Iorveth, Silas of the Blue Stripes, G, 500 words:

Five times someone else had to watch Roche's cat.

It's the latest in a series of drabbles about Roche's cat: Kits Out for Temeria by Faetality, check it out, it's so funny!

The Sorceress' Challenge by Annaatemychocolate

Yennefer/Triss, F/F, 11,485 words:

“The Sorceress Yennefer has set a challenge: capture her black cat and retrieve the key around its neck before the end of the month, and you get your wish granted. That’s why everyone’s here.”

Triss’ eyebrows were now dangerously close to disappearing into her hairline. “You’re not serious.”

flowers in every room by SummerFrost

Geralt/Yennefer, Ciri, F/M, 5,077 words:

Hey, Mum! Sorry, I can't stay long, there's this—" Ciri tilts her head. "What's with the cat?"

"Fuck if I know," says Yen.

Aka: The one where Geralt gets turned into a cat and dumped on Yennefer's doorstep.

Here Kitty, Kitty by round_robin

Geralt & Jaskier, Gen, 1,671 words: “Cats don't like—you can't be serious.” Geralt said nothing and Jaskier gasped. “Of all the weird fucking things they did to you, that takes the cake.”

This got a small chuckle. “Oh yes? The heightened senses that bring headaches if I'm in a town too long, the poison tolerance that still hurts like I'm dying, but no, cats hissing at me is clearly the worst...”

Of Wolves and Cats by A_hopeful_disaster

Geralt &/ Jaskier, Gen, 1,353 words: Jaskier adopts a cat. Geralt isnt sure what to think.

The Mystical Divinity of Unashamed Felinity by Star_dancer54

Geralt & Jaskier, Gen, 2,778 words: It's a morning like any other when Geralt wakes up, until he discovers that Jaskier's been turned into a cat. (unfinished)

The Way to a Man's Heart Goes Through His... Cat? by Frywen

Geralt /Jaskier, Cirilla, Yennefer , M/M, 16,861 words: Jaskier is a live-in cat sitter and Roach is the biggest and meanest cat he has ever met. Just what kind of owner does a cat like that have? (unfinished)

Ball of Purr by kentucka

Geralt, Gen, 1,211 words: A fluffy little thing (pun intended) in which Geralt gets to pet a cat.

Cat Got Your Tongue (But I’ve Got Your Heart) by WanderingDrui

Aiden/Lambert, Geralt/Jaskier, M/M, 31,093 words: After the mountain Jaskier throws caution to the winds and decides to use a secret he's kept his entire life to get back at Geralt. He expects a short and petty journey of revenge. Instead he makes new witcher friends, explores his past, and finds peace with who he is and what he wants in life. Meanwhile, Geralt hasn't heard anything about Jaskier since he sent him away and is growing worried.... (WIP)

Lovecats by Lula_Claims_The_Snakeskin_Jacket

Cahir/Yennefer, F/M, 16,404 words: Cahir and Yennefer acquire a stray cat. Or does the cat acquire them? As a witch, Yennefer vibes with cats well. Cahir is sceptical, as to his best knowledge cats are of no use on the battlefield. Obviously, some tensions are inevitable here. But this relationship will, yes, evolve.

powerful by mayoho

Rience, Gen, 100 words: Rience has always been drawn to power, even in the most unexpected places.

Figs and black pepper by calvaria

Assire var Anahid, Merlin (the cat), Gen, 233 words: Assire prefers Merlin to all astrolabes, signs and pendulums.

Cat Comfort by Molanna

Cahir, Assire var Anahid, Merlin (the cat), Gen, 1,805 words: Merlin is not only suddenly brought to a different place by his Witch, but, when he comes back to the apartment late at night from exploring the new garden, he finds a stranger in the bed he is not sure how to feel about at first. (POV Merlin)

A Furry Foundling for the Bard by Molanna

Jaskier/Radovid, M/M, 1,111 words: Jaskier and Radovid are disturbed in their very enjoyable nightly activity by a strange, eerie sound. Luckily, what they find in the street is not a monster but a pleasant surprise.

A Fiery Night by Molanna

Jaskier/Radovid, M/M, 500 words: Jaskier and Radovid are having a great time together at Radovid's little island cottage. Unfortunately, one night, something goes very wrong.

Cat-Napping by Molanna

Rience, Gen, 500 words: Unexpectedly and totally against his will, Rience ends up with a fluffy tabby cat napping in his lap.

[andmaybegayer]

I rewatched Dune P.1 and it was a good idea. I got Catsed.

Getting Catsed

When I watched Cats The Musical The Movie for the first time I was like yeah, this is good, this is a weird way to go about it but I enjoyed this. The second time I watched it I was like hang on. This is missing crucial information that makes it really bad. I just filled in the things I know about Cats because I've had a twenty minute rundown of the complete plot of Cats loaded up and ready to go since I was 8.

To be clear Dune is good despite me getting Catsed. But it's missing so much stuff that it's a really different experience from reading the books. There's almost no politics! Which makes sense and arguably makes more sense if you're planning to make Dune Messiah and the rest, Paul wins politics at the end of Dune and fundamentally cannot be politically challenged after that, he's the Emperor, all his drama is Messiah-related.

All the obsessively detailed stuff about the Harkonnen-Atreides feud and links to the ancient Earth and the Empire's power and the spacing guild is not actually very important unless you really like the fun precise politicking of the houses. You can even comprehend Farad'n without really getting into the politics, you can just give his mother a personal desire for the throne.

Visual Style

Anyway that aside one of the things that stands out about the aesthetics of Dune is how much every scene looks like DeviantArt Concept Art drawn by a fan of the books. Detailed things are really detailed but there's very little clutter.

When the Hunter-Killer goes for Paul he's in his barren-ass concrete bedroom but the headboard of the bed is a super detailed gilt fish thing and that's a thing that's mentioned explicitly in the books!

When they're packing up Caladan there's a bunch of guys standing around huge empty caverns loading very specific items into crates.

The stillsuits and thopters are really gorgeously detailed mechanical things, every stillsuit has little unique features, but the landing fields are just open sweeping concrete, the city is monolithic sandstone that looks like an architectural scale model, it works and I think we're going to see a lot of people copying this style and getting it wrong by not having any of the details.

[inbarfink]

I mean, the thing is that fiction about aliens is almost always going to be about some sort of Other on some level. Whatever it’s about demonizing or fear-mongering about some sort of Outsider Group or trying to get the audience to sympathize with the Other via the metaphor of a lovable alien. 

And Invader Zim is kind of an interesting spot there because, like, it’s not just ‘Bad Outsider Out to Destroy Our Beloved In-Group’ or ‘Poor Sympathetic Outsider Being Put-Down by the In-Group’. First thing first because Zim is kinda both. He is both the Outsider secretly hiding inside the in-group plotting their destruction - but the narrative and framing also sympathizes with him and supports his view of the in-group (that humans are stupid and gross).

So he can’t really be A Scary Demonized Outsider when he gets so much narrative sympathy and support, but also… he is a murderous little world-conquering bastard and most of his suffering is generally just him gets exactly what he deserves so he can’t be your classic sort of Sympathetic Outsider either. 

And the other thing is that the in-group is not even really involved in Zim’s conflict. Zim’s biggest challenge in conquering the earth is Dib, another Outsider. Often, despite being a human and thus part of the literal in-group, Dib is an even bigger Outsider to humanity than Zim is.

Zim and Dib are both Outsiders, and Zim isn’t just an Outsider as an Alien on Earth - among his own people he is in the same situation as Dib is, an Outsider in his own in-group. (Not that he can ever admit to himself that is the case). So these two Weirdos are fighting to protect/further the goals of two in-groups that will never actually accept them. 

And so often their main weapon against each other and the primary danger and the source of their suffering for themselves is the same thing; the in-group conformity and enforcement of social norms. 

Dib’s main evidence that Zim is an Alien is, most of the time, just the fact that he looks and acts weird. But also he himself is constantly bullied for looking and acting weird.

And Zim’s most constant source of anxiety while undercover on Earth is the fact that he’s going to get caught being Too Weird and then not just fail his mission, but get brutally dissected and experimented on. But his best defense against being exposed is… basically just to point out just how much Dib also Diverges From the Norm.

It’s the story of two Weirdos trying to get the other punished for being weird in some way, while the Normies just kinda look on and laugh at them both. And the actual thing they want, recognition and acceptance from their in-group is the one thing they are doomed to never actually get. 

And honestly, I think that's actually what makes a lot of real-life Outsiders cling to IZ, especially while we’re teens. I think, in a way, the fact that it’s kind of a messy Outsider narrative makes it more relatable to the messy middle-school/high-school experience than something more neatly crafted to be uplifting to the Weird Kids.

I mean, I certainly see the obvious value in fiction that’s actually trying to create a positive narrative for queer teens or autistic kids or maybe just scene kids or any combination of the following. This sort of media is very good, and can be just as important to some folks.

But... also the truth is that when you’re an edgy teen wrecked with self-loathing for Weirdness you don’t even fully understand “There’s nothing wrong with me and all the people making me feel like they are Bad!” can be a hard message to really believe in. Sometimes it’s easier to start from “Maybe I am all the terrible things people say that I am but.. still deserve love and sympathy, I can still be the hero of the story”. 

And because, sadly, the problem of Weirdos attacking each other for being Weirdos using the same rhetoric that’s used to hurt them, just for the sake of approval and recognition from in-groups that are never going to treat either of them as nothing but a joke - is not a phenomenon exclusive to the Silly Alien Invader Nicktoon.

And Dib and Zim’s rivalry is a great basic framework to explore it both in analysis of the canon and in fanworks.

[secondhandsorrows]

Keys to Crafting Characters Readers Will Root For (w/ some examples)

As a writer and while making up this blog, I’m quite adamant that characters are just as important (if not more) as plot. In the grand scheme of things, an active, relatable, and engaging main character is crucial for a novel's success. But how exactly do we make a character all these things? There’s many ways, in fact. It is up to us as authors to keep track and manage the developmental arc of our protagonist: primarily, who they are on the inside, and how they grow or change / adapt to the situations or people around them. 

Here are some examples and tips to help you develop a compelling protagonist (or all kinds of characters). Keep in mind these tips are at their most basic, essential level (there’s just so much that can be explored in each one), so I hope to go further into each point sometime in the future. 

~`* They have clear goals and motivations.

First things first: you’d want to clearly define your character's goals and motivations — and the sooner, the better. Proper and well-set goals and motivations provide a sense of direction to the narrative. They should be specific, measurable, and achievable — or perhaps, not achievable, at least to its fullest extent. This would ultimately depend on the type of arc or ending you intend to write for your story, but there should at least be some main goal the character is vying for, and a motivation that dictates how much they want or need it. 

For example: An aspiring actress hoping to make it to the stage and audition for the lead role in her favorite play.  —> Why does she want to be an actress so badly? What does it mean to her to act in her favorite performance? What does she have to prove, to herself or others?

~`* They are flawed, yet relatable:

I’m sure you’ve all heard this before… but I’m still going to reiterate:

Your character should have relatable flaws that readers can sympathize with. It’s no secret that flaws make characters human and relatable. Flawed characters help us remember that nobody’s perfect, and that we’re not alone in our struggles and in our plights (stay back, Mary Sues!). These flaws can be anything, from fears, limitations, biases, misbeliefs, quirks, shortcomings, or behaviors. It’s useful two have at least two: a minor flaw and a major flaw, where the former affects only the only character and nothing else, and the latter hinders the character and affects the plot. 

For example: A highly-knowledgeable yet socially awkward and oblivious professor who can hold a bar of soap better than a conversation.  —> Does this flaw make him out to be charming or weird to others? How can his social-awkwardness affect the plot… does it hinder him from connecting to his students or colleagues? 

~`* They have unique talents or interests.

Sometimes I read a story, and personally I have a hard time connecting with a character if all they care about from beginning to end is what’s happening in the plot. It’s like they exist for the sole purpose of the plot, and are nothing but a shell to see through the events or its challenges. This is understandable, especially when it’s an action-packed story or thriller. 

Personally, I can’t help but wonder what its main character does for fun. What they’re like before the events of the novel. 

I think it can be useful your character skills or interests that set them apart. This not only makes them interesting, but can drive the plot in unexpected ways. *Bonus points if they have a particular skill or hobby that conflicts with the way they present themselves to others, or if they hide it well if they are embarrassed by it or afraid of getting judged. Essentially, this is all to clue-in on the reader to the character’s backstory, their personality. It helps them seem more individualistic, like humans with their own sets of interests or ideas that give them more complexity and uniqueness. This can also be useful in creating parallels or connections to your story’s themes or your character’s arc. 

For example: A brave warrior with an aptitude for gardening and flower arranging.  —> Seems random, right? But what if this warrior had workin in their relative’s flower shop, and has kept the skill alive in their days of battle to see pieces of beauty around them, hope from fear and danger? They might dig graves of their fallen friends and leave behind flowers in remembrance. Just an obscure  example, but see all the possibilities something like this can open up?

~`* They have deep, complex relationships.

Sometimes we can get a better idea of a character when we see them interact with the people around them. It’s like showing vs. telling, where we get a firsthand look at how the main character treats his family members, how he accepts or refuses help from those he’s close with, what he appreciates most about his significant other, how he feels about the annoying neighbor next door. Who’s the one person they most admire and never want to let down? Who’s the one person they despise with all their body and soul? Whether it's friends, family, enemies, or romantic entanglements, complex interactions and relationships add layers to your character and in how they showcase themselves to the world. 

For example: An excellent, compassionate therapist with a strained relationship with his own family member.  —> How does this character feel about this kind of relationship? Does it stem out of shared family troubles, or something deeper? Is there a glimmer of possibility the therapist might reconcile with this relative, or are they dashed because of mutual pride or distrust? 

~`* They often face moral dilemmas.

It’s time to get philosophical. Human nature is full of paradoxes and tough moral questions, and so characters with conflicting qualities can be intriguing and relatable. Introduce moral dilemmas and conflicting values that force your character to make tough choices and confront their conflicting values. Do they have a friend with conflicting beliefs that challenge their own? Are they forced to act a certain way because of external pressures? Are they forced to choose between saving one person while destroying another? 

No matter how serious this dilemma is, you can also add a moment of clarity or self-awareness for your character. This can be a turning point where they acknowledge and confront the conflict within themselves, thus becoming face-to-face with their internal crisis and how they decide to go from there. Do they weigh the pros and cons considerably, do they fumble because they’re hesitant, or do they embrace the new changes? 

Despite conflicting values, make sure your character's behavior is consistent with their established personality. Consistency helps maintain authenticity and keeps the character grounded. 

For example: A scientist torn between protecting humanity and the pressure of making a groundbreaking discovery.  —> How does making this discovery very important to this character? What do they stand to lose… what do they stand to gain? Are they at the risk of becoming something completely opposite of who they were at the beginning of the story, losing their sense of morality or forced to choose a side? 

~`* They show their quirks and habits.

Introduce quirks or habits that make your character memorable. These little details can make the character more relatable and interesting, because just like talents or hobbies, this can also give a clearer sense to the reader of what kind of personality the character has and what they’re like. Not to forget, it also helps them to stand out from other characters on the page, giving them a unique voice with their kind of dialogue, their behaviors, style, and mannerisms.  

For example: A scholar who can focus only if she’s chewing gum or wearing her lucky ring.  —> How might’ve this character started this habit or tradition? Does it actually work? Does it not work, but they still do it anyways because it’s comforting for them? Also, where did they get this quirk from?

~`* They have a backstory.

Most of what we’ve been discussing in this post already leaves some framework for the character’s backstory. It’s important to have a meaningful backstory in mind that influences the character's present actions and explains why they are they way that they are. This adds depth and helps readers understand their fears, desires, and motivations better; not shallow and two-dimensional as cardboard cut-outs. 

Sometimes we don’t get a backstory for our character right away. Backstories takes time to brainstorm and shape — let alone into a complex or compelling one — but its helpful to trust the process. What you can do if you’re still looking for the right one, is to ask yourself questions  on things that matter to you most. This pertains to your story’s themes and other main ideas you may like writing about, such as grief or family matters. It all boils down to who your character is (the present), and where it stemmed from (the past). If we take this a step further: does this backstory guide them or force them to make changes within themselves, thus leading to their changed self at the end of the novel/series (the future)?

For example: A woman with a fear of marriage because she’s seen firsthand its faults, including her own parents’. —> Is her parents’ divorce still something she’s struggling to come to terms with? Is her misbelief equating marriage to constant conflict? Does she have a secret desire to get married, yet it put off by its pressures? Does she make up for this fear by focusing on other matters? Will this fear later be disproven?

~`* They are often vulnerable. 

Every hero needs vulnerabilities. Imperfections. Weaknesses. We’ve talked about strengths and flaws before, but giving them that dent in their armor, any little opening someone or something might get through, leaves a reminder that no one, especially our hero, is invincible. Nobody’s perfect, after all (side-eyeing you, Mary Sues…). Make your characters messy: adding vulnerabilities helps makes them more authentic and genuine, opening up chances for them to learn and evolve as the story moves along. 

It can also add a layer of suspense to the story, especially in conflict and tension. How will the character handle someone breaking their walls down, or a bad experience threatening to make them crumble and fall back to old habits? How do they handle their insecurities? How well do they hide their fears, and will they ever admit them?

For example: An old woman with bad eyesight and lives alone can’t tell that the reluctant robber breaking into her home is not her grandson.  —> This is a fun little example that opens up many possibilities. Her bad eyesight is a physical vulnerability, and so is her soft spot for her supposed grandson. The robber notices this, and he too may have a soft spot for any old woman who treats him kindly. Does he use this to his advantage to rob the house, or does he humor her for a while?

I’d definitely like to expand on these tips sometime. If there’s anything you’d like to share or add, please do so! I’d love to hear y’alls thoughts. Hope this helped!

[pinazee]

Rob-a-bye Baby

Finally some focus on Chief Vick! Kirsten nelson did a great job on the first real ep where she gets to play a more substantial role. (“Head detective my ass” always makes me chuckle) i only wish it had been more. She was more of an obstacle than part of the plot, though i guess technically her character kind of grew at the end. She does admit she was overreacting with Shawn but this realization was done off screen. I’d have loved to see her try to run over her husband, and having a little breakdown. Something that gave her more depth. I want to know who she is as a person. Was she a runner who wanted to get back into it so she can finally have some time for herself? Does she struggle with who she wants to be as a mother? Was the baby even planned? Was she concerned it would affect her job, or her ability to do her job? Idk, just something that added a bit more color to her character tapestry. I think theres a lot to explore here is all.

Perhaps im biased, but i feel like Shawns reaction is a bit out of character. Like yeah, he’d find it a boring assignment but i also think he’d understand how important it is to the Chief and take it seriously. Plus, Gus is right, she gives them cases, it’s pretty important for their business that they remain on her good side. And in the end he didn’t help her at all. The nephew just came back and that was the resolution. i think i would’ve preferred if Shawn had been struggling to find them too. Like every nanny he came across he could find something wrong with them because Chief Vick deserves the best. Or he had a nanny picked out all along, she just couldn’t start right away but he somehow needed the excuse to look into the nanny burglary ring? Idk. I guess its not really that big a deal. Perhaps it was to introduce a flaw in Shawns character. Like they were saying he needs the thrills to make the job worthwhile. Which is fine, i think that aligns with his overall character. In fact, i wouldn’t be surprised if he fucked somethings up later just to bump up the challenge for shits and giggles (which is such a weird phrase btw). I just think in this one specific case, he would have handled it with a bit more care.

Gus’s blimp dance! He’s so excited! After the last ep, i just want him to be happy

I just wanted to point out the lady who plays ada was in a movie called Wolfcop. Theres an actual movie called Wolfcop.

Chief Vick’s power pose is so strong, it possesses her when she sleeps haha

Did she just spit her pastry out on the ground??

This always makes me chuckle because, like, why? Why would they have them go down those hill lol

I think this is another case of Juliet getting way too into undercover work. I don’t think thats any of her actual wedding or birth plans even if the show made it look like such.

Im so confused why they were at a pet store instead of a pawn shop. What did that guy sell to him? How did the pet shop guy know it was stolen? Unrelated, but it was a nice touch that Shawn immediately spoke in a way the pet shop guy understood, even if it was just for the haha’s.

Gus’s nickname Schmuel Cohen is a real dude! Why does Shawn have the name of the composer of the Israeli national anthem locked and loaded?? The guy died in 1940. When/ how would he know that???

Awww poor Tim!

Juliet agreeing pivots and divots is fun to say lol

I wish they could have expanded on Nanny Henry! Like he was going to refuse to keep helping out but Chief Vick broke out her mommy voice and also kind of pleaded with him for help. Then we could have gotten some scenes of them, maybe talking about the past, or Henry asking her to look out for Shawn since he doesn’t have the police as part of his squad and therefore no backup, which Chief Vick explains that he’s practically a member anyways and would be treated as such, not only because of who his dad is but because he’s practically one of her own anyways, so of course she has his back.

[gaycey-sketchit]

Milo Murphy's Law is honestly such an underappreciated show because not only does it have the same kinds of stellar music and humor as its predecessor P&F (with bonus points for music due to having none other than Weird Al Yankovic voicing its main character), but it has two unique things going for it that are very important to me:

Milo is such an inspiring character, he was literally born unlucky and despite that he remains upbeat and optimistic because he's learned to roll with the punches of life so well! He treats his bad luck and the chaos it causes as a challenge to rise to!

It is a plot point that there is an island populated by a massive amount of versions of Dakota because he keeps traveling back in time to save Cavendish's life, which is a spectacularly gay level of devotion to one apparently very accident-prone man. Please appreciate the gay time travelers.