#Each one gives you a vivid idea of the personality of each character even if you know next to nothing about them.

[writing-with-sophia]

Writing a novel: Step by step

Most writers aspire to publish at least one book in their lifetime, but writing a novel is not easy. From new writers to experienced writers who have published hundreds of books, everyone must follow a step-by-step process to create their work. These steps are based on the wisdom of famous writers, so while they may not be entirely definitive, they will certainly be helpful to you.

Step 1: Generate ideas

Start by generating ideas for your novel. This can involve brainstorming, keeping a journal of potential story concepts, or drawing inspiration from real-life experiences, books, movies, or current events.

Once you get an idea, hone it.

Step 2: Create characters

A novel cannot be successful without unique and charming characters. Create compelling and well-rounded characters for your novel. Develop their backgrounds, motivations, personalities, and relationships. Consider their strengths, flaws, and how they will evolve throughout the story.

Remember, the more realistic the characters, the better the novel will be.

Step 3: Build setting

Establish the setting or world in which your novel takes place. Whether it's a real location or a fictional world, provide enough descriptive details to immerse readers and make the setting feel vivid and believable.

Step 4: Define plot and make an outline

What is your story about? How will it unfold? How does it begin, develop, and conclude? What and how many scenes will be included? Make an depth and very depth outline, even going so far as to outline every chapter.

Step 5: Write

Begin writing your first draft. Don't worry about perfection; the goal is to get the story down on paper. Embrace the creative process and let the ideas flow. Please remember, don't go back and make changes. Just write!

Step 6: Revise and edit

Once the first draft is complete, take a break (for 3 days) before revising and editing. (This will keep you from overediting or not editing enough.) Then, read through your manuscript with a critical eye, focusing on plot holes, inconsistencies, pacing, character development, and overall storytelling. Revise and rewrite sections as needed.

Step 7: Get beta readers

(You must) seek feedback from trusted individuals, such as beta readers, writing critique groups or your friends. Their input can provide valuable perspectives on areas that may need improvement. Consider their suggestions while maintaining your unique voice and vision for the story.

Step 8: Polish and refine

Polish and refine your novel based on the feedback received. Pay attention to sentence structure, grammar, punctuation, and overall prose. Ensure clarity and coherence in your writing.

Step 9: Publish

You can research different publishing options, such as traditional publishing or self-publishing. Remember to evaluate the pros and cons of each approach and decide which is the best fit for your goals and circumstances.

That's all. I hope you success in publishing your novel!!

If you want to read more posts about writing, please click here and give me a follow!

#writerscommunity #writer things #writersociety #writers #writeblr #on writing #writblr #writers on tumblr #writing #creative writing #novel #novel writing #romance novels #fiction #author #short stories #self publishing #publishing #write #writings #writer #writers and poets #writerslife #writers block #ao3 writer #writing stuff #women writers #writers life #writing community #writing tools

[em-dash-press]

How to Improve Your Secondary Characters: 6 Fresh Ideas

Secondary characters make your stories stronger. You can have a fully developed protagonist, a vivid world, and a great series of plot twists, but it will all fall flat if your secondary characters are starkly underdeveloped.

There are a few ways you can improve those characters, even if you've already completed your story or novel.

Figure Out Their Life Story

Turn your protagonist into a supporting character and map out your secondary character's life as if they're your next protagonist.

Give Them Unique Characteristics

What are their hobbies? What is their physicality when they're nervous? Are they obsessed with something? Do they have a quirk, like talking in their sleep? Even if these details don't all make it into your story, just a few will make that character feel more real to you and your readers.

Assign Each Character a Purpose

Your secondary character will support the protagonist, but why else are they there? The best characters often fit into a particular story because they represent a secondary theme. Their purpose is to deepen your story or carry a theme as a B Plot to your main plot.

Make Your Character Unpredictable

People are never just one thing. Your characters shouldn't be either. The supportive best friend to the protagonist is boring if they don't do anything but make jokes and offer a word of advice occasionally. What happens to your plot if they purposefully make a bad decision? What if they can't fix a terrible mistake?

Include a Few Flaws

No one is perfect, just like no one is ever one thing. If your secondary characters never have flaws, they'll be unrealistic and take the reader out of the experience. Maybe they have a temper, they can't keep a secret, or they have a bad habit like self destructing serious relationships.

Plan a Future for Them

If you're writing long-form content like a series of short stories set in the same world or a novel, will your secondary character return? Deciding this will guide how you invest your time and energy into developing each character. Sometimes it's okay to forget characters. It's very likely that you don't remember every person who ever appeared in The Hunger Games books, but you do remember the ones who had the most influence on Katniss or the plot.

---

I know I have to remind myself to spend time with my secondary characters just like I spend with my protagonists. They make or break a novel or short story, so trying these ideas or any others that inspire you will be a worthy investment of your time.

#writeblr #writing tips #secondary characters #writing supporting characters #character development #writing advice #writers of tumblr #writing community #creative writing #writing help

[cherryrainn]

Could you write a Onceler x male Reader (ftm) lovestory? Like, I imagine they're partners in business doing their thing and cutting down trees to produce more thneeds, but they notice their feelings to each other during that?

That would be very, very awesome :)

thanks for the request! hope you're having a great day

☽ ༚  ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰  ༵ ༚ ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰ 

— corporate chemistry

onceler (greedler) x male reader (ftm)

being in a business partnership with onceler wasn't easy at all. he had a tendency to be selfish, overly confident, and controlling, always telling you what to do. he didn't hesitate to act like an asshole, making it challenging to work with him. however, surprisingly, you didn't find his behavior bothersome to the extent one might expect.

the path that led you to become onceler's business partner remains a mystery. despite his occasional weird looks and mean treatment towards you, somehow you managed to become his little partner in crime. perhaps it was his unique personality that intrigued you. he had a way of drawing you in with his complex character, and you couldn't help but be captivated by his enigmatic nature.

onceler sat behind his cluttered desk, poring over stacks of papers, his brow furrowed in deep concentration. you stood by the window, watching the hustle and bustle of the outside, waiting for the opportune moment to speak up.

finally, unable to contain your curiosity any longer, you cleared your throat and ventured, "onceler, i have an idea that could completely change our approach.. what if we-"

before you could finish your sentence, onceler abruptly looked up from his work, piercing you with an intense gaze. "you, with your ideas again? what makes you think you have something worthwhile to contribute?" his words dripped with skepticism, as if dismissing the mere thought of your input.

undeterred, you roll your eyes and took a step forward, meeting his challenging stare head-on. "i believe in this idea, dumbass. it's bold, innovative, and it could be the game-changer we've been searching for. we need to take a chance on it."

onceler leaned back in his creaky chair, a sly smile playing on his lips. "oh, so you think you can challenge my methods, do you? fine. convince me. lay it all out. but remember, if it fails, the consequences are on your shoulders."

a surge of determination coursed through your veins as you launched into your proposal. you spoke passionately, painting a vivid picture of the possibilities, the untapped potential waiting to be harnessed. with every word, you could see onceler's interest piqued, his eyes narrowing as he absorbed the details.

as you finished, there was a palpable silence in the room. onceler leaned forward, his gaze piercing through you. then, unexpectedly, a slow smile crept onto his face. "you know what? there might be something to this idea of yours. it's audacious, risky, but it just might work."

your heart leaped at his unexpected approval. "really? you think so?"

onceler chuckled, the sound filling the room with a mix of mischief and excitement. "i'll admit, you have an uncanny ability to surprise me, y/n. let's give it a shot. we'll do it your way this time."

and so, the journey began.

you discovered that beneath onceler's tough exterior, there was a complex soul yearning for validation and connection. and in your own way, you provided that, offering a different perspective, a voice he had never truly listened to before.

through triumphs and setbacks, arguments and moments of shared triumph, you forged an extraordinary bond. it was a partnership that defied conventional norms, fueled by a blend of ambition, resilience, and an unwavering belief in each other.

however, one day...

you couldn't help but steal glances at him, admiring the way his eyes sparkled with determination, even amidst the chaos. there was an unspoken connection between you, a bond that seemed to transcend the confines of your business partnership.

one day, as you reviewed a proposal together, your eyes met, and a warmth spread through your chest. it was as if the world around you faded into the background, leaving only the two of you. the air crackled with an unspoken tension, a longing that neither of you could deny.

unable to resist the pull any longer, you mustered up the courage to speak your heart. "onceler, there's something i need to say. these past few months working together have shown me a side of you that goes beyond business. i... i think I'm falling in love with you."

onceler's eyes widened, his usual air of confidence momentarily faltering. he stared at you, his expression a mix of surprise and vulnerability. "i never thought i'd hear those words from you," he murmured, his voice soft and uncertain.

you took a step closer, closing the distance between you. "onceler, i know we have our differences, and it hasn't always been easy. but despite all that, i see something special in you. your passion, your determination, it's captivating. and i can't ignore the way my heart races when i'm with you."

onceler's gaze softened, a flicker of emotion dancing in his eyes. he reached out, tentatively brushing his fingers against yours. "i never expected to feel this way either," he confessed, his voice laced with a mix of vulnerability and longing. "but there's something about you, something that draws me in, challenges me in ways i never imagined. i think... i think i might be falling in love with you too."

onceler gently caressed your cheek, his touch sending shivers down your spine. "i never thought i'd find someone who understands me like you do," he whispered, his voice filled with a mix of awe and gratitude. "you see past my flaws and bring out the best in me."

a smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you leaned into his touch.

as your fingers intertwined, you knew that love had a way of transforming even the most unlikely partnerships. the once tempestuous nature of your relationship had softened, replaced by a deep respect and a shared vision for the future.

days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, as your love for one another continued to deepen. each day brought new adventures, shared laughter, and heartfelt conversations that solidified the bond you had forged.

#onceler #y/n #reader insert #the lorax #x reader #onceler x reader #fluff #greedler #greedler x reader #ask #mlm #male reader #x male reader

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

Thumbprint Challenge

Thanks @oh-no-another-idea for the tag!

Rules: look back on your work, both past and present, finished and unfinished. What are five to ten narrative elements or tropes that continuously pop up in your work? Give a list of these things!

Back at my old work? Okay...not sure how much of these count but here are the commonalities:

Found family/importance of friendship. The focus on best friends from when I was a kid is very prominent in childhood writing and friendship is still a key part. Interpersonal relationships are a very important theme across everything.

Female main characters. Not sure if this counts, but almost all of my childhood works were about girls. My first male main OC was a character named Julian/Mikey (changed his name) in an old draft of TSP. Hell, my first male POV was my Warriors cats fanfic (they were OCs though) and the first time I wrote a male voice in first person was a character named Jesse in eighth grade.

Queer undertones. Looking back at my old work, a lot of my main characters were sapphic or ace/aro spec. Anahi and Marlis from what later evolved into SOTL were very gay for each other. Even Mossflower and Lemonfrost from my Warriors fanfic. The aforementioned Jesse was asexual-coded. Christy and Trish in TEOS. It was just always there as I hadn't figured myself out yet.

Dialogue-driven storytelling. Maybe not in early early writing, but like age 8 onward included a lot of dialogue. I've always been more character focused than environment focused, so I'd say this adds up.

Intelligent main characters. Most of my protagonists were emphasized to be very, very smart. It's interesting that I'm not a STEM person, but I am a former "gifted kid" so that may have something to do with it, but I usually emphasized this with a STEM field they were interested in. Christy from TEOS, math nerd. Hollyn from Perspectives, science geek. Twinkle in my bear cubs series as a kid, astronomer. Even in the Warriors fanfic the first POV is Mossflower the medicine cat. The only pre-high school time I can find where I emphasized intelligence that wasn't in a STEM field is Anahi, who was very literature based.

Multiple main characters. I liked a group of people, even if it was one POV. TSP D1 followed Alexia and Aurora, then they ran into four other people. 3+ was my usual. I guess it comes from the interpersonal relationships themes, like #1 talked about.

Fantasy elements. Man, I almost never write in realistic fiction. I mean, my earliest works were, but then I'd occasionally have an anthropomorphic animal pop up and now it's fantasy. Now, the only realistic fiction WIP I have on the shelf is Perspectives. Arguably IWAJAD because I guess someone can have a vivid dream where a character arc is forced upon them but idk.

Dramedies. I loved to incorporate humor among things I thought were high stakes. I like to be angsty but that doesn't stop me from being very silly. I mean, look at TSP D1. They are threatened to be killed and I still have humor in there. Good? No, but I still tried.

Communication I realize is a prominent theme. Oftentimes, things are not resolved due to not communicating, or I show communication allowing a character to experience comfort, or how not listening to someone leads to trouble, or how hiding a part of yourself isolated you, or acting like someone you're not pulls the wrong people in... So much, man.

I hope this is an okay list. I'll tag @gracehosborn @illarian-rambling @mk-writes-stuff @little-peril-stories @buffythevampirelover @dyrewrites @elsie-writes @sleepywriter00 @theelfauthor @theeccentricraven @thepeculiarbird @finxi-writes @writingsfromspace @winterandwords @revenantlore + anyone else

#thumbprint challenge #writing tag game #writers on tumblr #writing community #writers of tumblr #writing on tumblr #writeblr #writeblr community

[bobfloydsbabe]

FIC REC FRIDAY | october 20th 2023

dancing beneath the moon – @delopsia ↳ rhett abbott x reader

WHY I LOVE IT

I’ve read most of Del’s fics, each one better than the last, but Dancing Beneath the Moon is something else entirely. Not only is Rhett a ghost, but he’s a little shit who makes Reader’s life a little more interesting. Del’s trademark attention comes out in full force, painting a picture so vivid it feels like I’m standing in the room as the story unfolds. The way Del describes Rhett’s ghostly appearance and presence is so different from anything else I’ve read, and it was amazing to read. As the story progresses, you get a sense of longing and despair woven through every word. Rhett and Reader yearn for each other, long for a world where he’s alive and they can be together, and your heart truly aches for them. A standout element of this story is the humor, and while it isn’t a humorous story, it provides a break from the tension. Rhett and Reader are clearly comfortable and aren’t afraid to poke fun at each other. Reader’s amusement at Rhett’s confusion about a video game consol was truly precious, and as readers, we feel the affection they feel toward him. The smut is another brilliant part of this fic. Del could teach a masterclass on writing smut that is both filthy but also intimate and sweet. I love the moment of them stumbling up the stairs because Rhett’s a little unsteady on his feet. I love that he’s mindful of being dirty and uses Reader’s fingers as opposed to his own. I love the inclusion of lube. They’re joking and laughing and enjoying themselves, and it shows even as it gets hot and heavy. The ending is just another layer that I absolutely adore. Del pulls back and looks at the bigger picture, and gives us a vague idea what happened to Rhett that made him a ghost, but it’s never spelled out. And finally, Rhett being confused by crabs is so fucking funny that I laughed out loud.

TOP 3 REASONS YOU SHOULD READ IT TOO

➛ Ghost!Rhett but make it sexy. That's it. That's the reason.

➛ Attention to detail and truly atmospheric writing sets this fic apart from others. It feels like you're moving through the story with the characters.

➛ Rhett being a little shit and possessive menace is so funny, and it made me chuckle several times while reading. I'm sure you'll do the same.

A NOTE ON THE PROCESS

fics are assigned a number. i then use a random generator and recommend you the fic corresponding to the number the tool picks. all recs are my personal favorites. if there's an author whose work you think i should check out, please reach out.

JOIN THE TAGLIST

REBLOG TO SPREAD THE WORD AND SUPPORT THE WRITER

TAGLIST: @roosterforme, @sweetwhispersofchaos, @wkndwlff, @sylviebell, @blue-aconite, @yanna-banana, @desert-fern, @anniesocsandgeneralstore, @ereardon, @horseshoegirl, @callsign-magnolia, @callsignspark, @teacupsandtopgun, @bradshawsbitch, @bradshawsbaby, @seresinsweetie, @scarlettwidow19, @bobgasm, @notroosterbradshaw, @fanficfandomlove, @nenelysian, @b-bradshaw, @cherrycola27, @kmc1989, @keyrani, @sebsxphia, @withahappyrefrain, @laracrofted, @lewmagoo

#fic rec friday #fic rec fri #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott #rhett abbott fic #rhett abbott smut #outer range #outer range fic #friends fic #del tag

[tabswrites]

Author Ask Tag

Tagged by @writernopal here 💜

Gently tagging: @pandoras-comment-box @elbritch-kit @clairelsonao3 @thatndginger

1. What is the main lesson of your story (e.g. kindness, diversity, anti-war), and why did you choose it?

Don’t let the past define you. Each MC is weighed down by something in their past: A reputation, a legacy, trauma. They will explore their grief in many ways, and while some of them will overcome it and grow, some will let it consume them.

When I started writing again, it was to help me process some really heavy stuff that I went through last year, and I realized I had let the situation overwhelm me to the point where I didn’t recognize myself anymore. It happens in little ways over time, and I’m sure others have experienced the same thing. I want people to know that the things that have happened to them, the things people have done, they don’t go away. Not completely. But if we learn to accept them and confront the emotions, those things become easier to overcome, and you don’t have to lose yourself in the process.

2. What did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding (like real-life cultures, animals, famous media, websites, etc.)?

I’m inspired a lot by nature and animals, tv/movies I love, books, random and weird history facts, fairy tales/folklore. I also experience vivid dreams from time to time and they inspire a lot of my story ideas.

3. What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? Do you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness, help readers grow as a person?

Besides the whole “bring back magic” thing, I think overall the characters in ToL are trying to achieve inner peace for themselves, and I want the same thing. I do want to inspire people to realize that sometimes the greatest empathy you have should be towards yourself. Forgiveness is definitely one of the minor themes, as it has been a key part in my own personal healing process.

For the readers, I just want them to be mindful of tbe complexities of life and of other people. You never know what someone else is really going through.

4. How many chapters is your story going to have?

….more than 2, but less than 100? Honestly, I planned for 15 with ToL but it might go longer. I’m not the one behind the wheel, if I’m being honest.

5. Is it fanfiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it?

Original! Both of WIPs are on Ao3 and Wattpad.

6. When and why did you start writing?

I originally began writing when I was 14 when I started role playing on Goodreads. (Yes, that one.) My classmate and I started our own 1x1 and decided to turn it into a novel just casually. I ended up dedicating way more time to it and she stepped away, so I rewrote everything in my style. I finished it during NaNoWriMo a year later and even submitted it for Script Frenzy. That was the only serious writing project I ever did, 99.9% of my time was spent role playing. When my RP buddies started to drift away I got really depressed and ending up not writing for almost 6 years. Started back up again last year and here we are!

7. Do you have any words of engagement for fellow writers of Writeblr? What other writers of Tumblr do you follow?

No one will ever love your writing as much as you do, so you should love it the most! Don’t second guess yourself, and stop comparing yourself to everyone else! You chose to write the story for a reason—if that other person was meant to write it, you wouldn’t be the one kept up at night by story ideas.

I follow so many who have been tagged by other people but too bad:

@writernopal I love her writing and her OCs and she’s always supportive 💜

@outpost51 I would love to file a formal adoption request for Atria and no one else matches my deranged commenting style like him

@writingmaidenwarrior Always supportive and up for a chat, silly or otherwise!

@clairelsonao3 I love her writing and she’s super supportive too!

@sam-glade Sam has amazing world building and gives great critique!

Others I don’t know very well yet but I have enjoyed their writing and/or interacting with:

@reneesbooks

@mysticstarlightduck

@pheita

@avrablake

@coffeewritesfiction

#wow I talk a lot #tag games #writeblr positivity #writeblr #tess talks

[sublime-beyond-loss]

‘I have you on repeat, grasping for tender moments I hold onto like delicate keepsakes 

They are so few and far between And I'm grateful for the memorability of each moment 

Moments wrapped in romance that end with bitter sunrises and goodbyes 

Moments so fragile and rare that I wonder If they would have the same taste if not such a delicacy 

But I'd still devour you as I lay here and recall years of wavering emotions 

Suppressed desires and volcanic explosions that retreat into dormancy I wonder could we ever flow together 

Or are we two twin souls finding each other in the wrong lifetime’

-------

Soooo this got me thinking. This reversed lyrics is often seen as yet another instance of the narrator being the gayest thing in the parable, but considering that this whole sequence in the hole is a dream/daydream Stanley’s having while the narrator isn’t present, maybe this is the closest thing we get to seeing what Stanley’s internal thoughts are outside of the player’s control and the narrator’s own unreliable narration.

Dude’s just as gay for the narrator as the narrator is for him lmao.

It also shows that Stanley has one hell of a vivid imagination. It’s a pretty common theory that the narrator is the one holding Stanley hostage within the parable and keeping him looping forever, but maybe its the other way around. If we take the apartment ending at face value, maybe the parable really is a vivid escapist fantasy that Stanley came up with to cope with his boring life, one that grew out of hand and functionally became real at some point, or maybe the experiments that were being run on the workers in the office caused it to become real at some point.

Interestingly, the figurine ending is the only ending now after a patch that cannot be replayed or looped. We know that the narrator is ready to move on, and yet the parable continues to loop regardless. Stanley is too invested in in it and the narrator to give it up. And despite what the real person ending implies, we get multiple instances of Stanley asserting his own agency outside of the player’s control in Ultra Deluxe with him refusing to destroy the bucket and the bucket version of the escape pod ending being something he does entirely of his own volition without the player’s input. He is not quite the empty shell he seem to be at first glance. And if the bucket escape pod ending is a reflection of what would happen if the narrator could be brought to the ending, maybe its not that the narrator would let Stanley go, but Stanley would let him go.

Boy would that explain the narrator’s existential dread too. Despite all of the power and narrative control he’s been given over the parable and Stanley himself, deep down he knows he’s just a fiction that Stanley came up with and that the moment Stanley stops paying attention to him, it’s over for him. That is why he is so loud, angry, and sarcastic whenever Stanley strays from the path pre-UD. He must force Stanley to keep paying attention to him even as he strays further and further from the narrator’s intended purpose of telling his escapist fantasy story of freedom. By the time the UD content hits though, he has seemingly mellowed out considerably, having perhaps realized that he doesn’t need to be forceful to keep Stanley’s attention. Maybe he figured out that Stanley is already invested in him and his reactions and that it’s much easier to keep him entertained than he once believed. Considering the lack of choices in the UD content, maybe its a sign that Stanley has gone through some character development too and is no longer interested in pushing the narrator’s buttons and is, more or less, along for the ride with whatever new ideas the narrator comes up with.  

Maybe within the impossible logic of the parable they inhabit, they essentially created each other. The narrator in his loneliness and inability to make choices, created Stanley, and Stanley, looking for an escape from the boredom and lack of choice in his life, made the narrator.

Gay. 

#the stanley parable #stanarrator

[thegreatwicked]

Shadows of Deception- Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

Drive You Insane by Daniel Di Angelo

Summary: In Gotham City, a world of secrets and danger, Belladonna finds herself embroiled in a web of crime when she becomes a witness to illicit activities at Roman Sions' exclusive club, Masquerade Noir. Instead of eliminating her, Roman sees an opportunity and spares her life, forming an unconventional alliance. They pose as a couple, using each other as alibis to deceive the police. But as they delve deeper into their charade, their connection intensifies, blurring the lines between reality and deception. As desire and danger collide, they discover unexpected love in the midst of a thrilling and forbidden affair.

Rating: Explicit; graphic depictions of sex and violence

Pairing: Roman Sionis/OFC; Belladonna Black, slight Zsasz/OFC if enough interest.

"What does your zodiac say about you?" 

Roman scoffed at the very idea ‘Give me a break’. To him, it was just grown-up fairy tales, a celestial tooth fairy for women to get all starry-eyed about. The alignment of stars and planets predicting one's personality seemed preposterous, an amusement he dismissed with a dismissive roll of his eyes.

"What your favorite drink says about your personality?" 

Attempting to distill the complexities of human character into a mere sip, at least that one had some merit. Bourbon, no nonsense. The older, the better, aged in a barrel with minimal exposure to oxygen. Sometimes these quizzes were amusing, 

"What Greek god do you embody?" 

Roman paused finding that particular magazine article headline kind of interesting, his folklore and mythology were a bit rusty but he gave it a thought since he had one to spare while he waited for the barista to finish up his order. Jesus, it had been years since he’d thought of something as useless as mythology and the only one he was really familiar with was Greek.

In his head, a damn parade of names was competing for the title of "Roman of the Day." Aries took the main stage, especially after the tango with Cobblepot's goons at the docks. Yeah, God of War was the flavor, temper and all. But there were others in the running, especially with Belladonna thrown into the mix for the past couple of months. Starting to think he and Hades might share more than a taste for a dark underworld and a brooding vibe, even if he wasn't exactly kidnapping Belladonna. Coerced, well, that depended on who you asked, didn't it? The plot thickened, and the emotional rollercoaster kept on rolling.

Leaning casually against the coffee shop counter, Roman's eyes locked onto the reflection staring back at him. The sharp lines of his black suit accentuated his powerful frame, every detail meticulously chosen. His hair, perfectly styled, added a touch of rebellion to the sophisticated ensemble. The Armani shades perched on his nose completed the look, casting an air of mystery.

A smirk played on his lips as he soaked in the image. Damn good, he thought. It wasn't arrogance; it was an acknowledgment of the effort he put into presenting himself. His appearance wasn't just a reflection; it was a statement, a silent proclamation of power, control, and, yes, undeniable charm. Why the hell not revel in it?

His meticulous attention to detail was more than just a morning routine, he never left his place looking anything less than immaculate but lately, he’d taken this routine to an obsessive degree. His customary lunchtime visit to Belladonna's workplace was an opportunity to see and be seen, and today he expected a bit more of a spectacle.

He was practically salivating at what today's reception would be like – the coffee delivery to Belladonna and Daisy. The excited whispers and jealous stares, that were sure to follow were like sweet music to his ears, especially with the little surprise he had orchestrated that morning: a delivery of the most extravagant roses money could buy.

In his mind, he painted a vivid picture of the grand entrance; strutting in like he owned the place, a flash of that infamous charm that captivated everyone around. And then there she’d be– Belladonna, hard at work, looking like a vision of effortless beauty, maybe even playing with one of the rare roses he had sent. She always knew when he was staring at her so of course she'd notice him, abandon whatever she was doing, and greet him with that adorable 'Hey baby.' The public display that followed, a couple of nice, lingering kisses – it was all part of the show. 

But it wasn't just the show he was looking forward to. Belladonna's kisses were something else. Nothing like the coy games or aggressive maneuvers some women played. Hers had the perfect mix of teasing and desire, leaving him hungry for more. His mind, always wandering to steamier scenarios, now danced with ideas of clandestine encounters in her office – quick, intense, and hidden away in secluded corners. 

Christ. His damn libido was on the rise, and the thought of breaking his self-imposed celibacy was growing more tempting by the minute. Being around Belladonna was pure agony, especially when she flaunted those curves in those sexy-fitting work outfits. The woman looked spectacular, and sure, he could make a few calls and have a willing girl on his lap in no time, ready to fulfill his every desire. But he didn't want them. Forced abstinence was nothing new; Blackgate had been a temporary home more than once. But this... this was different. He was doing it to himself, willingly enduring the torment, all in the hope that when he finally got her in bed, it would be worth the damn trouble. And from everything he'd seen so far, disappointment wasn't on the horizon. His grin grew wider.

Now that their coupledom had been plastered across social media and tabloids, the public perception of him had taken a rather favorable turn, it was night and day. It was a refreshing change to see himself painted in a mostly positive light, his every action was still scrutinized and analyzed. From the way he followed Belladonna to how he held and touched her throughout the night, even down to his lack of usual engagement with the press – the media was having a field day. 

Could it be that the infamous playboy, Roman Sionis, was finally tamed? 

Of course not, but playing the part was undeniably enjoyable, Jesus, he should have been an actor. The public lapped it up. Sure, there were a few unsavory remarks from notorious paparazzi, insisting that he was just using Belladonna and would toss her aside once the novelty wore off. If he were fair, that had been his pattern in the past. But it wasn’t like it was his fault; most women were just goddamned boring. 

Not Belladonna, though.

Oh, yeah, today was going to be one for the books.

He didn’t let the lack of texts or calls thanking him for the roses get to him. No surprise there. Belladonna did mention drowning in post-fashion week chaos, and he could imagine her buried in whatever it was she did at work. Come to think of it, he wasn't entirely clear on what that was. Photographer, yes, but beyond snapping pictures, the details were fuzzy. Ah well, he'd find out soon enough. He couldn't wait to see how she'd shower him with affection for his sweet gesture. Chicks love roses.

Despite the weekend's radio silence, Roman's confidence sailed high. He was certain his charm would effortlessly iron out any unspoken tensions between them. A twinge of surprise lingered that she hadn't reached out, but oddly enough, he welcomed the change from the typical clingy inquiries he'd grown accustomed to. All weekend his phone remained silent. Not a beep or a buzz. 

'Work'—that had been the pretext he used to keep himself occupied during the weekend. The truth was, it wasn't until Sunday afternoon that it hit him – oh yeah, he had a bit of making up to do. Sure, he mulled over a spontaneous visit that night, but Roman, ever the showman, decided to save the grand entrance for Monday.

~~~

Yet things didn’t quite go how he imagined them, starting from when he strolled into the fashion house. It was bustling with activity, reminiscent of the previous week and while a few heads turned, there were more indifferent glances rather than the usual acknowledgment of his presence. He tried to brush it off as Belladonna had explained to him previously that the week after fashion week was just as busy, if not busier, now that they had to meet demands after new collections had been shown. But still, not a single smile, no acknowledgment of any kind? He might as well have no teven been there. He frowned, these people knew him, right? It wasn't his first time at the fashion house but he was less than amused but still, he was feeling generous, willing to settle for a less-than-glamorous reception. He was sure that would all change when he found Belladonna, she’d give him the welcome he deserved.

He shook off the strange reception, maintaining his charming smile as he made his way to the corner of the third floor where Belladonna usually worked. But to his irritation, it too was empty, devoid of Belladonna's usual charismatic allure. Now, annoyance crept further into his mood. He scanned the area but saw no real signs that anyone had even been there at all, he reached into his pocket to check his phone, expecting a message that might explain the absence– maybe a meeting, a phone call, or an impromptu photoshoot outside the studio. But the screen remained stubbornly blank.

“Maybe you should call her,” Zsasz's voice cut through the quiet, and Roman shot him a look. 

Roman scoffed, muttering more to himself than to Zsasz, "Don't be stupid." The knee-jerk response was clear - why bother? She hadn't bothered to mention she wasn't at work; why assume she'd answer if he called? Yet, an unsettling unease nagged at him, urging him to rcheck his phone again. Not to make a call or send a text, but to check, as if the information might have miraculously changed in the sixty seconds– predictably, still no messages.

Roman shot Zsasz a look that said, *Seriously?* Sometimes, as sharp as Zsasz could be with certain unsavory tasks, his solutions were disappointingly simplistic. His jaw tightened.

"Roman?"

He swiveled at the voice that unmistakably wasn't his elusive angel and there stood Daisy, burdened with papers, a laptop, and files, looking somewhat taken aback by his unexpected presence, as if him being there was the last thing she expected. Always the adept performer, Roman effortlessly flipped his mood, turning a potential snarl into a charming smile as if following a script, erasing any hint of irritation before Daisy could catch wind of it.

"Daisy, sweetheart, let us take some of that." 

Roman quickly placed the coffees on a the desk, playing both the useful and chivalrous cards by snagging a few files about to cascade onto the floor. Zsasz efficiently managed the rest, arranging them neatly on the desk and liberating Daisy's hands. Roman then promptly pivoted, swapping Daisy's now-empty hand for the green tea latte. She appeared both grateful for the well-timed drink and somewhat surprised by it. 

At least someone seemed pleased to see him.

"What are you doing here?" The sincerity in her voice was all the confirmation he needed that Belladonna wasn't in the building. If she were, Daisy wouldn't be so astonished by his appearance.

"Looking for an angel, of course." Roman drawled, his voice a concoction of charm and confidence. Slipping his hands into his pockets, he adopted a casual stance, masking the underlying irritation with an air of nonchalance. Shooting Daisy an inquisitive look, channeling an irresistable lost puppy vibe, that would make any heart melt.

"She's not here." Roman could see for himself that Belladonna was absent, but Daisy might have some insider knowledge.

"I can see that.” The nature of his forced chuckle made him want to bite his tongue till it bled, but he needed to charm Daisy and snapping at her wouldn’t get him the answers he wanted. “Where else would she be?" Roman cringed internally at the banality of the question and the necessity to maintain a charming front.

"Yeah, obviously," Daisy chuckled in return, shaking her head as if acknowledging the simplicity of her response. "I mean, she was here this morning at her usual time but left around nine, said she wasn't feeling well." 

Not feeling well? What happened? Why hadn't his driver informed him? He thought he was clear about his requirements to the driver regarding Belladonna’s whereabouts.

"Is that right?" Roman's curiosity had shifted to genuine concern.

"Yeah, she didn’t look very good; like she hadn’t slept at all. But honestly, it makes sense. Fashion week tends to drain us all; some just bounce back easier than others." Daisy pondered, staring at the ground, lost in thought. "You know, come to think of it, I don't think I saw her eat anything this morning. If that's the case, no wonder she felt like crap," Daisy remarked between sips of her latte.

"What do you mean? What does food have to do with it?"

With a nonchalant attitude, Daisy enlightened him. "Belladonna’s hypoglycemic. She can get pretty sick if she doesn’t eat. She didn't tell you?"

"Must have slipped her mind. Does she do that often? Forget to eat?" Roman inquired, his tone carrying a hint of indifference.

Daisy's eyes rolled, and she scoffed before nodding, clearly no stranger to the issue. "Well, not since you've started making your lunchtime visits, but yeah, when she's stressed, she's bad about it. Last year she passed out and cracked her head on the desk, had to call an ambulance, huge drama. She’s got a scar on her hairline from it; it was pretty nasty, two other people fainted from the blood."

"Hypoglycemic, huh?" Roman echoed, the revelation settling heavily in his mind. Leaning against the desk, he wore a subtle frown that betrayed the deeper concern beneath his exterior. "How’d we miss that?" he mumbled to himself, contemplating the extensive research Zsasz had conducted on Belladonna. If it had been a year ago, it would have been around the time of her attack, he supposed itmioght have been an easy thing to miss.

Daisy, seemingly indifferent to the weight of the information, nodded. "It's one of those things she doesn't talk about much. But it's not a huge deal; she manages it, mostly," she shrugged, hinting at a degree of skepticism. "Belladonna's not the type to play the victim, you know. Not even when she is the victim." Daisy's words lingered, encapsulating a truth that cut deeper than it appeared.

Roman absorbed this new information about Belladonna, a facet of her life he hadn't considered before. "So, what's the deal with hypoglycemia? She passes out if she doesn't eat, is that it?" he inquired, casually folding his arms across his chest. “Is this a ‘she needs insulin’ type thing?”

Daisy, shook her head, "Oh no, not insulin. It's a blood sugar thing. When she doesn't eat regularly, her blood sugar drops too low, and that can lead to all sorts of problems. The passing out is one of the extreme reactions, but it's not the worst." Roman's expression shifted, a mixture of concern and curiosity playing on his features. "If she drinks when her sugar is low, she can have a seizure. It's crazy."

The intricacies of Belladonna's health hadn't been on Roman's radar, and this revelation exposed a vulnerable side he hadn't seen before. 

Daisy, now feeling fine with sharing Belladonna's personal medical history to her boyfriend of all people, continued, "It's why she keeps snacks stashed everywhere – in her desk, her bag, Seriously check her beag one of these days, she’s always got something quick to snack on– when she remembers. French macarons are her favorite. She's got this fear of passing out again, especially in public. Understandable after what happened last time, right?"

Roman nodded, the weight of the situation sinking in. The usually nonchalant demeanor he wore took a back seat, replaced by a more serious tone. "Yeah, I get it. Anything else I should know?”

Daisy hesitated, her eyes assessing how much information she should reveal. "No, she just has to check her sugar periodically throughout the day, with this little thing that pricks her finger.” She shuddered, clearly not a fan of hte prospect f finger pricking multiple times a day. “And stress makes it worse, but only because if she's stressed out, that’s when she forgets to eat. Fashion week is always a nightmare because of the crazy hours and running around from one show to the next. Belladonna is a workaholic and comes in clutch almost all the time but she tends to push herself harder than she should; I’ve literally found her asleep at her desk before, even on the floor."

She looked so... normal. But what did he expect? A neon sign saying hypoglycemic? "I had no idea. Thanks for letting me know." His thoughts shifted to the next mystery, and he couldn't help but address it, "Did my driver pick her up?"

"Oh, that kid that picks her up and drops her off, sweet guy." Yes, that one. "No, She had me call her a cab home, said didn’t want to bother him in the middle of the day,” She misinterpreted Romans irritation for concern and reassuringly touched his arm, “I wouldn’t worry too much about her, I bet she got home and just passed right out. You’ll probably get a phone call or a text anytime now."

"I’m sure I will." He paused, knowing full well that wasn’t the case, but he wore his best fake smile anyway. "Well, you enjoy that tea, and it sounds like I’ll just go and surprise my angel at home."

"Oh, I bet she’ll love that! Tell her I hope she feels better! Make sure she eats something, if she crashes it can take a while before she’s up and running again, she’s always so tired afterwards."

Roman flashed Daisy a charming smile, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of confidence and intrigue. As he and Zsasz prepared to leave the fashion house, Roman halted, turning back with an air of casual authority.

"Oh, Daisy, could I trouble you for one more thing?" he called out, a sly grin playing on his lips.

Daisy turned, responsive and willing. "Sure."

"What was the name of the cab company that picked her up?" Daisy swiftly retrieved her phone, navigating to the recent contacts menu.

"Uh, Lightning Cabs. The driver picked her up around nine fifteen in the lobby."

"Perfect. Oh, and if you hear from her, could you let me know?" Roman extended his phone toward Daisy, a silent request for her contact information. She nodded emphatically, typing her details into his phone as if it were the most ordinary exchange, yet she was providing her number to one of the most prominent men in Gotham. "Let's keep this between us, huh? I want to surprise her and all that." A playful wink punctuated his sentence, and Daisy nodded in agreement.

"Sure, I’ll keep you posted if I hear anything." The subtle dance of charm and secrecy had played out effortlessly, leaving Roman with the information he sought while maintaining the air of pleasant camaraderie with Daisy.

"And if she feels under the weather again, let me know. I don’t want her taking a cab back home; you never know what you’re getting with some of those drivers, you know?" Roman nodded with a calculated show of concern, mirroring Daisy's exaggerated gesture, before she darted back into the bustling studio. "Goodbye, Daisy."

"Bye, Roman. Bye, Zsasz." Daisy’s parting glance lingered on Zsasz, who, Roman noticed, returned the attention with an intensity that wasn't entirely professional as she disappeared into the busy studio.

As soon as Daisy vanished from sight and they found themselves back in the car, Roman's charismatic facade faded, replaced by a scowl.

“I checked the feed at her place; she’s not there, unless she’s the invisible woman.”

“Of course, she’s not. Well, Zsasz, let's go on a scavenger hunt.” Roman initiated the search by dialing the cab company. “Yes, hello? I'm Detective Ramirez with the GCPD, and I need some information about a cab pick-up today in Park Row at 5324 Park Lane, suite 32, around nine fifteen? … Yes, I’ll hold.”

~~~

Roman pondered their destination — a storage unit. In his world, those spaces held a smorgasbord of secrets, ranging from illicit gains, to ill-gotten cash, to cold, lifeless bodies in deep freezers. The possibilities intrigued him as they accelerated towards the storage facility but he had a hunch any storage unit of Belladonna’s was more likely to contain yearbooks and stuffed animals, or whatever women held onto.

The storage facility, though utilitarian, boasted an unexpected level of sophistication. Locks, gates, keypads, and even barbed wire atop the metal gatessurrounding the premises, but what captured Roman's attention were the myriad security cameras. Not a blind spot in sight — a detail that would have impressed him if he weren't preoccupied with the mystery unfolding before him. He’d have to remember to come back and check this place for future reference, a good storage facility was like a plumber or a mechanic; people in his world were always looking for a good one.

"What are you hiding, angel?" Roman's thoughts churned with a blend of irritation and curiosity. Their conversation about transparency echoed in his mind, and the fact that Belladonna seemed to be veering off that course irked him.

The transaction of a wad of cash, a nonchalant greasing of the wheels of discretion, granted him access to the facility's surveillance footage. It was a nice place but looked like it didn’t pay as wella s he did, money talks and everyone listens. 

The surveillance footage unfolded like a noir thriller, revealing Belladonna's covert maneuvers. Her discreet exit from the cab then waiting for it to leave and then vanishing act into a smaller unit escalated into a fascinating revelation as she emerged. Her high fashion work outfit replaced buy dark jeans, a jacket, boots and gloves, cutting quite the mysterious figure astride a high-performance motorcycle. The black machine, crafted for speed, agility, and precision, hinted at a taste for the adrenaline of the open road. It was a revelation that caught both Roman and Zsasz off guard, prompting a rare exchange of surprised glances between them.

"You find any record of a bike in her name?" Roman inquired, keeping his eyes fixed on the monitor. 

Zsasz, never one for lengthy conversations, replied with a succinct, "Nope."

Zsasz was meticulous in his work. The fact that Belladonna had slipped this detail past both of them added an unexpected layer to the enigma she presented.

Roman's lips curved into a sly smirk as his gaze landed on the helmet crowned with two triangular cat ears. "Well, that gives a whole new flavor to the name Kitten, doesn't it?" he chuckled, reveling in the subtle, cute, girlish touch that adorned her all-black riding ensemble.

The growl of the motorcycle reverberated within the storage unit, transforming the sterile space into a symphony of mechanical vigor. As the engine's low purr vibrated through the air, Roman's irritation, initially sparked by the clandestine escapade, brewed further into a sense of fascination.

The sleek and potent wildcard of a motorcycle in Belladonna's arsenal had Roman caught off guard. It unveiled a facet of his angel that transcended the realms of high fashion and artistic allure, presenting her as more than just a mystery shrouded in elegance. As it turned out, she was a speed demon, reveling in the visceral thrill of the ride.

“Seems my angel has wings,”

~~~

Chloe, her first sort of girlfriend, and she used the term girlfriend very loosely; Chloe had been the girl she’d skipped school with to explore sexuality and smoke cigarettes with, who threw her into the world of motorcycles and the wild thrill of racing faster than reason. The graceful dance of tight turns, almost brushing the ground, and the defy-gravity physics that kept the bike upright became an addictive obsession.

In the shadow of those attack scars and the chaos that followed plus the new chaos taht was her current life, riding became more than a thrill for Belladonna. It was a way to outrun all the crap that clung like caked on mascara. The city blurred into streaks of light as she maneuvered the streets, totally absorbed in the dance of speed.

She'd dodged more than she could count of those flashing blue and red lights more times than she could count, a dance where luck and skill wove together to keep her free. The city streets, especially in places like the Bowery where the police didn't interfere much, allowed her to let loose after dark. But with Roman in her life and his rule,s a midnight ride was out of the question, she’d have to burn rubber during the daylight. Despite the restrictions, the ride was her escape, liberating. In the sunlit hustle of the day, her mind was far from the haunting past. Roman, that mystery in her life, faded away, just a fleeting image in the mirrors.

Lost in her thoughts, the unmarked GCPD SUV she zipped past hardly registered until those familiar blue and red lights blazed in her mirrors. Roman's presence, though physically distant, rushed right back into her mind. There was no dodging this cop; space and time didn't allow it.

Why was this guy pullingher over? She didn’t do anything. It wasn't like she was tearing through the streets like a maniac, just pushing it a bit, like everyone else did. But cops, especially with motorcyclists, always seemed to have a bone to pick. Beyond the speeding issue, a deeper worry nagged at her — the realization that she couldn't afford any extra attention from the police. With a reluctant sigh, she pulled over, bracing herself for what looked like the least enjoyable part of her day.

~~~

Cops never appreciated sarcasm. Not on good days, and certainly not on bad ones. This particular officer wouldn't have tolerated her smart mouth even if she'd had a chance to use it; he had real hardass vibes, the type of guy who peaked in high school. The whole exchange played out like a bizarre scene, breaking all the usual protocols she'd come to expect. He didn't bother with the usual spiel, no request for the key to her bike, just a bold move—taking it. Now, that was a definite no-no. No standard procedure: no demand for a driver's license, insurance, or registration. She had this nagging feeling that something wasn't quite right, but it wasn't until she found herself halfway from her bike to the unmarked GCPD vehicle, ordered off her ride, that it hit her like a sucker punch.

She hadn't checked the guy's badge, hadn't asked for any form of ID, and she was about to step into an unmarked police car. Blind obedience. In the grand scheme of things, Roman was going to be pissed. Not a great move on her part, and she'd feel the repercussions soon enough.

First, she'd need to figure out how the hell to explain ditching work without telling anyone where she was, plus she also kinda lied, which she knew Roman wasn’t af an of, but it wasn’t like she lied ot him… Going against Roman's strict orders not to venture out alone and not calling for his driver. Then, there was the bike and storage unit bombshell, which, to be fair, he never bothered asking about, but she’d also never volunteered it, that wasn’t going to do her any favors. And now, as the icing on the cake, getting pulled over by a cop right smack in the middle of a murder investigation, just a day before they were set to give their formal statements at the precinct. 

Yeah, he was gonna be pissed.

He swung the car door open, playing chauffeur like she was some damn VIP, at least sans the cuffs this time. But seriously, what the hell was she getting pulled over for? Not a clue, and of course, that lawyer's card? Yeah, it was probably catching a breeze on its way to becoming litter. Roman might just decide she's due for a one-way cruise to Gotham Bay after this shitshow. Really, how much worse can this whole crapfest get?

"Well, hello, kitten..."

"Shit."

Here was how much worse.

~~~

His annoying smirk made her nervous, like, truly nervous. He just lounged in the seat like it was his throne, all smug and comfortable, like he'd done this police car routine a million times before, which he probably had. With a blink of disbelief, she hesitated before the door slammed shut on her giving her the final push into the vehicle, locking her in a confined space with Roman. The air in this cramped space hung heavy, like waiting for a judgment day or, in the darkest corners of her imagination, an impending execution.

Roman, though, smiled a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. It was that kind that you put on when you're know something everyone else doesn’t know or the kind where you smile because screaming in public isn't an option.

The term 'shit-eating grin' was a perfect fit for the look he was giving. She couldn't quite figure out why he was so damn pleased or how they ended up in this mess, but at least the pressure of confessing her joyride was off her shoulders, hard to hide it when you’re caught red-handed.

A thick silence settled in, intentional discomfort left for her to stew in for his own twisted enjoyment. Just as irritation started to simmer and she was ready to snap, Roman ended the quiet with a tone full of casual amusement.

"You know, kitten, if you're in the market for something powerful between your legs, I’m only ever a phone call away."

Her expression twisted, a mix of annoyance and displeasure. For someone who was so vocal about sex, Roman sure acted like a prude when it came down to it, lots of teasing, ltos of talk but not much else to back it up. Bringing up their last encounter in the back seat of his car would probably just lead to more trouble, and her pride had already taken a hit. Reliving that memory wasn't high on her agenda, so she decided to let it slide.

"Do I even want to know how you found me?"

The smirk disappeared from his face, replaced by a bit of a scowl, not the expression seemed more fitting. "Doesn't matter, angel. I'm the one throwing out the questions here. So, lets start with this one: any clue how my day went?" Irritation played on his features, turning that once-amused smile into a disappearing act. He arched an eyebrow, silently demanding a response.

"Oh, I'm sure it was a hoot."

His grin took a wicked turn, and he beckoned with a finger for her to come closer, the gesture was very snakelike. Confusion washed over her — they were stuck in the back of a squad car, for crying out loud, how much closer wa she supposed to get? But that devious smirk of his persisted, and he pointed to his lap. Oh, goody, It was clear he hadn't forgotten their last rendezvous, and the look in his eye said that he had no plans of settling for a 'no.' 

She shrugged off her riding jacket, giving in to his unspoken request. It was more than just a comfort thing; there was a power play going on, a subtle move to establish control in the cramped space.

This time, it wasn't the playful, sexy dynamic that they’d enjoyed before. Crawling into his lap felt tense, especially with his silence and the intensity of his gaze. He wasn't content with her perched on the edge, as she had initially tried. His disapproving 'tsk, tsk, tsk' and the shake of his head made that clear, and the firm hand on her back, along with a sharp pull, brought her completely against him, hip against hips. It was all about control.

“Angel, angel, angel… ” He paused, his fingers splayed on her lower back, thumb brushing her skin, “Tell me, do you know the significance of the Juliet Rose?” 

What the hell was a Juliet Rose? She looked at him confused, not really understanding his question—significance? What was that supposed to mean? Roses were popular kiss-ass gifts, but she decided to keep that particular personal insight to herself; the ice that was Roman’s patience felt thin, and she didn’t feel like testing it further than she already had.

“Is it a death threat?” To go with the traditional answer of ‘love’ seemed like a stretch, and by this point, it was clear that Roman rarely did things without some depth of deep consideration. He shook his head so leisurely that it was hard to tell there was anything wrong, but she knew Roman was exceptional at donning masks. “Ok, I don’t know, significance?”

"Really, didn’t that fancy private school teach you anything?" Roman let out an exaggerated sigh and gave a small shake of his head. "Every flower has a meaning, angel. The Rose, it was Shakespeare's go-to bloom, you know? Especially in a little known play called Romeo and Juliet, maybe you’ve herd of it?” Everybody in the english speaking language knew that play. “Come on now, you know the line, don’t you?"

Roman's easy charm worked like, well, a charm, and smooth as the aged bourbon he drank and suddenly, any hint of dread in the back of the squad car melted away. It felt as if they were back to last Friday before the whole dock mess. Damn, those lips of his had a certain charm even when they were throwing questions around. Or was it just the effect of those late-night thoughts creeping in? Whatever it was, it worked. Oh, wait, he did ask her something, didn't he?

"Um," Belladonna thought back to her high school English class. Sure, she'd read the play like everyone else, but it wasn't exactly a favorite, she gave up. "Yeah, I don't remember much. I hated Romeo and Juliet."

Roman's expression of surprise appeared almost genuine, and if it wasn't, it was a compelling act. "You don’t like one of the greatest tragic love stories ever?" Belladonna wrinkled her nose at the notion that Romeo and Juliet could be anything more than a dramatic mess. He got the tragic part right.

"Romeo and Juliet is about a hormonal seventeen-year-old and a stupid love-struck thirteen-year-old. And over the span of three days, six people die. That's not a love story, it’s an episode of Jerry Springer. Anyone who's actually read the play would know that."

"You don’t think the notion of star-crossed lovers romantic?"

“No, I don't. It’s a tired and overused trope, horny teenagers use to justify screwing around and making poor decisions, as if it makes them immune to consequences. If two people really want each other that bad, they can get together without involving a murder-suicide.” Belladonna chose not to delve further into the irony of her words, especially concerning her and Romans own history. “Frankly, I'd rather read Twilight.”

“What in the hell is Twilight?”

“You’re better off not knowing.” Roman paused, considering it as if he were debating in his head. She wasn’t sure if he had ever read either play or if he was just going off pop culture.

Luckily, he let that topic slide, saving her from having to dive into the absurdity of Edward Cullen and Bella Swan's twisted, borderline abusive romance. Honestly, the whole murderous love thing was a train wreck. Opting to ignore the eerie parallels between their saga and the fictional nonsense, she steered the conversation back to the question he'd left hanging.

“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell just as sweet.” 

Oh, that quote. Sure, she knew it; everyone did, but still didn’t understand where it was going. It sounded a hell of a lot better when he said it. Roman looked away, reaching onto the seat next to him, picking up a rose, specifically a Juliet Rose. When she saw it, confusion and fascination played across her features as he held it out to her. She’d never seen such a peculiar-looking flower before.

Unlike other flowers, its petals flared out at the ends, forming an opulent, cup-shaped bloom with cascading waves. What made it truly captivating were the innermost petals, tightly packed in the center and gradually loosening as they radiated outward. The color transitioned from a bright yellow on the outside to an almost burnt orange at the center. She marveled at its intricacies, then lifted it to her nose, inhaling the sweet floral scent.

“Shakespeare used the rose to convey the painful side of love and the passing of time. In Juliet's lament on love, the rose is a metaphor for the darker aspect of love.” 

Roman sounded like a literary professor or something, talking as if it were common knowledge. Belladonna just blinked, it wasn’t the first time she thought she’d had him all figured out and he’d turned around and shocked her, she did not peg him for a shakespeare fan anymore than she would have thought it possible for him to know the intricacies of the language of flowers or their meanings, she didn't even know that. Yet here they were. 

“It’s one of the most expensive roses in the world and one of the rarest.” The charm instantly fell away and his displeased look returned grinding the breaks on his charm train to a halt. “And had you stuck around work instead of playing hooky, you would have seen the ones I had sent to you this morning.” 

Shit.

His grin made a reappearance—the kind of grin that seemed to conceal something unpleasant, like the expression someone wears just before labeling you an idiot.

“You sent me roses?” she asked, and he confirmed with a nod.

“I sent you fifteen roses.”

Fifteen? What an odd number? Her confused look prompted Roman to dip his hand into the back pocket of her jeans. His touch rested casually on the curve of her ass as he fished out her phone. With a smirk, he handed it back to her, making the situation feel more like a playful game than a mere retrieval.

“Why don’t you Google it?” The fact that he whispered the suggestion didn’t bode well.

She swiped up and typed into Google as he suggested, ‘significance of fifteen roses.’ The result left her stunned:

15 Roses – If you've done something to upset someone and wish for forgiveness, opt for 15 roses.

Her head snapped up to him. Roman Sionis apologizing? Belladonna stood there, mouth agape, struggling to find words. His usually suave expression shifted into seriousness. If Roman Sionis was apologizing, her gut told her to just accept it, as it wasn't a gesture he tossed around lightly, if at all.

“Um, I uh, forgive you.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter if you forgive me now. Now you’re the one who owes me an apology, and fifteen roses aren’t going to cut it.” The idea of being indebted to Roman Sionis wasn't appealing. It was never straightforward with him. Still, she couldn't help but ask:

"What do fifteen Juliet Roses run?"

"More than you can afford." She didn’t like how he said that.

"So," he began, and Belladonna felt a mixture of apprehension and curiosity as Roman didn't delve into details about the expensive roses. "Imagine my confusion when I stroll into your studio with your rose-infused white mocha only to find… nothing. No one says a word to me, and Daisy informs me that not only are you not at work, but you claimed to have gone home..."

His head shook, the tsks sounding almost predatory, and he continued, "But you didn’t go home, did you angel? Not only that, you didn’t call my driver, and you took a cab across town to a storage unit you didn’t tell me about, and you’ve been joyriding all over the city. I’m very disappointed in you, angel." The tone suggested either a deliberate exaggeration or a level of anger that hindered proper articulation.

"I had to impersonate a police officer to the cab company to find where you’d gone, and its a good thing their standards aren’t high because I’m a shit cop. Then I had to bribe the security guard at the unit to see the footage, and it’s a good thing he was cheap because I only had a few hundred on me, there goes my snack money. Finally, I get to see the footage, and surprise, surprise, my angel likes strong things between her legs, and off she goes to parts unknown. That left me leaning on a contact inside the GCPD to trace your bike, which isn’t under your legal name. It’s under your mother's name, and I spent the last four hours scouring this whole damned city looking for you, all the while the police are investigating us for a triple homicide." The sheer dedication to track her down was either annoying or oddly impressive, and she couldn't quite decide which.

"Can you see how that’s problematic?"

Belladonna knew she was in a bit of a bind. It sounded bad because it was bad. His hand, initially gripping her hair, tightened, and she tensed. However, he swiftly softened his grip, running his fingers through her hair to draw her closer.

“Angel, what part of ‘you don’t go anywhere alone anymore’ didn’t you understand?” His stern gaze bore into her, a mix of parental concern and disapproval, like she’d been caught breaking curfew and any moment he was about to tell her ‘she could do better’. He awaited an answer, and she hesitated before attempting to respond.

"Look, Roman, I—" Her words were abruptly swallowed as he yanked her into a kiss. It wasn't gentle or tender; it was hungry, almost demanding. Pleasure danced at the fringes, but the dominant force was control. It wasn't painful, but it carried a weight, a reminder that in his world, his rules were the only ones that mattered. As he eased back, he held her in that space where the air crackled with tension, close enough to feel the heat of a potential kiss but withholding any further touch. His voice dipped into a growl, a low, demanding tone that made it clear – the simmering anger, once concealed, was now seeping out.

"Belladonna, we have the goddamned GCPD on our tails, just itching to poke holes in our story. And we both know it's far from bulletproof because they know a few things: one, I’m not a good man, I’m a damn criminal and I like being a criminal. And two, I’m not a one-woman man. Two days before we met in the back of my club, I had six women in my bed, all begging to suck my cock and milk it dry, begging me to fuck every hole they had, offering to do the most degrading things if it made me happy, and I let them." He tilted his head curiously. 

"Why on earth would a man turn that down for just one woman? I mean, you're gorgeous, and you're entertaining, but... It means a few things. Either you’re somehow the love of my life, and I’d do anything for you, thus making you a weakness to be used against me, or we’re both liars…” The coolness of his gaze was disturbing, and his detached nature, when any other criminal might be radiating unbridled fury, was just something else entirely. “Do you see my point?”

Yeah, she did.

"What happened to no more secrets, angel?" His tone was deceptively softer now.

"Jesus, Roman. Do you want me to lay out every detail of my life? Down the magazines I'm subscribed to?"

"No, I don't need to know about your Cosmo guilty pleasure, or your six-year devotion to Urban Photography Monthly. I don't care about your Motorcyclist Mechanic collection or the notes you scribble inside the margins. But I do need to know about this secret storage unit under the name Maribella Caruso on the other side of town and the fact that you own a twenty-thousand-dollar performance motorcycle for joyrides." He paused, eyeing her. "You don't street race, do you?"

"No, I just like to go fast," she responded defensively. Why did she feel the need to cover her ass all of a sudden? She hadn't done anything wrong—maybe a bit stupid and shortsighted. "And I wasn't hiding it from you. I haven't been on a ride in a few months. I don’t ride much in the rainy season, and I just go when I need to blow off some steam."

"And what were you trying to blow off steam from, angel?"

She exhaled sharply. Well, it wasn't like she could hurt his feelings, so what was the point in beating around the bush? "You."

"Me? What did I do?" His surprise seemed either genuine or a well-played act to make her feel guilty. "Oh, is this about last Friday night?"

"Is that why you sent me the roses?" Belladonna's tone carried a mix of curiosity and challenge, a hint of defiance in her eyes. 

Roman's dissatisfaction surfaced, breaking through his nonchalant demeanor. In response, he seized her hair again, a flicker of irritation in his touch. "Angel, I get it, rejection isn't your usual flavor, but when daddy says no, it means no. When duty calls, you take your hands out of my pants, hop off my lap, and be a good girl and wait for daddy to finish his work."

Her wince betrayed genuine fear and pain, something Roman hadn't seen from her before. "Please let go," she requested, a subtle tremor in her voice. He released his grip instantly, an uncommon emotion stirring within him – regret.

"I thought you liked when I did that," he remarked, uncertainty creeping into his voice. His hand, now soothing the spot on her scalp, felt oddly out of character.

Belladonna wasn't having any of it. "No, I don’t like this," she asserted, frustration evident as she grabbed a firstfull of his hair at the crown of his head, yanking and jerking his head backward, full of fire and aggression. A rage filled snarl escaped him, his lips contorting into a snarl, teeth baring, and a flash of molten anger sparked in his eyes. Her power play took him off guard, like tugging at the scruff of a dog's neck; his hackles were raised in rage, all directed at her unless she took further action.

"I like this," 

As quickly as she’d ensared him, her fingers relaxed their grip, threading through his hair, massaging his scalp while still maintaining her hold. The aggression replaced by control, confidence and sensuality, mussing his meticulously styled hair. 

Leaning down, Belladonna pressed her lips to his, sensing the gradual release of tension in his curled lip. Her tongue delicately licked his lips, an instinctive move to ease the lingering anger. The other hand cupped his jaw, moving down to caress his neck as their mouths slanted together. The dynamics shifted, and his anger seemed to vanish, like soothing a feral dog by scratching behind its ear.

Eagerly, he kissed her back, indulging in the talents of her lips. Unbothered by the slow, lazy pace she set, the power play held no significance; he simply craved more of that mouth, those lips.

Each pass of her lips and stroke of her tongue mingled with the pleasurable pull on his hair, and the rage that simmered between them faded. The car was heating up, with that in mind, she gently started withdrawing from him, before things got too out of control a series of soft, parting kisses leaving him yearning for more of his aggressive angel. When she finally let go of his hair, now in total disarray, her fingers massaged his neck, addressing the kink from looking up at her.

"Okay?" 

His chest rose and fell all traces of agitation were gone, replaced by a wild look in his eye. Yet, through the fog of desire, he seemed to understad, and in a tone as unfamiliar to her asi t was to him, he uttered, "It'll never happen again, angel." Odd as it sounded, she found herself believing him.

"Thanks for the rose," she murmured, her tone seemingly calming any remnants of Roman's anger, more effectively than the kiss had.

"My pleasure, angel. Now, we need to head back. We have some things to talk about regarding tomorrows visit to the precinct."

His ability to maintain control in the heated moment surprised her, and she had anticipated more resistance when she ended the kissing session. "I’ll follow you."

"No, you’re riding with me."

"Roman, I get it, twenty-five thousand dollars might be pocket change for you, but that bike out there is the most expensive thing I own. Until some jerk puts a ring on it, it's my baby. I'm not leaving it here or trusting your goons with it." Leaning in, she kissed him, a strategic move to secure his compliance. "I’ll follow you."

In a rare turn of events, Roman didn’t resist. His chest rumbled with a growl, but he didn’t intervene as she put her jacket back on, pulled on her gloves, and zipped up. He chuckled to himself as she climbed off his lap and hopped out of the car without further arguments. In fact, he found it amusing when she reclaimed her key from the man who had pulled her over.

“Next time you take my key from my bike, you’re gonna eat it.”

He believed her.

~~~

Belladonna's leg bounced uncontrollably in the car from the moment she sat down. It didn't take five minutes into the ride from her loft for Roman to place a firm hand on her knee, attempting to stop the nervous action. Instead, her other knee took over the jittery motion. Roman let out a frustrated breath, slipping his phone into his pocket before turning to face her.

"Angel, if you don’t stop that, I’m going to take you over my knee," he warned, half teasing, half serious. The unexpected response halted her jittery motion in sheer shock instantly. Roman frowned, "Damn, I was hoping you wouldn’t be able to stop. Oh well."

As they drove to the police station, he maintained his usual nonchalance, seemingly unbothered by the impending statements they were about to make. Belladonna, on the other hand, had never felt so on edge.

"How are you so calm?" she blurted out, genuinely surprised at his level of nonresponsiveness.

He casually shrugged, glancing up at her from his phone which he’d retrieved. "Not my first time." Was he playing angry birds?

"When was your first time?"

A sly grin crossed his face, "I was fourteen. What was her name? Alice? Anne? Eh, one of the women who helped around the house. I’m not sure, but hey, gotta pop that cherry sometime, right?"

"That's not what I meant." If he was serious, that explained a lot. 

"I’m well aware of what you meant, angel. I’m not worried because I’ve spent more time in furry handcuffs than real ones. Trust me, in either scenario, the novelty of it all wears off after a while."

She shook her head, pressing further, "What if they want to do a lie detector test?"

"Polygraphs are inadmissible in court," he responded with a dull and measured tone that bordered on boredom. "Even if they did, it wouldn’t prove or disprove anything."

“But–”

“Angel, you could bomb every question they give you, and the polygraph chart could look like a bad sketch of the Rocky Mountains, and it wouldn’t change anything. The science behind them is flimsy, used to intimidate people into confessions, and it's been proven more times than anyone can count, that a polygraph is less reliable than the weatherman. Don’t worry about it. You’ll have your lawyer by your side; Derrick is a smart kid and knows what's what. You’re his top client. Just remember what we talked about last night, and you’ll be fine.”

Ah, last night at Roman's place—a fun trip down memory lane it had been, but in a way it had been helpful. Like making a gameplan, going over how the whole process would work and surprisingly Roman’s council had been helpful but then again, of course the man who had been to prison would know more than his fair share about how these things worked.  

She nodded, “Wish I didn’t feel so nervous.”

“So don’t be nervous; be something else.” Mad, he had told her to be mad. In times like these it paid immensely to feed into stereotypes, like how women were hyper emotional for no reason. She had a reason she was under investigation for accessory to murder, she wasn’t being emotiona for no reasonl, she was scared shitless. But not as scared as she had been at the thought of what might happen if she were to turn on Roman.

“Belladonna, they’re going to try and put a wedge in between us, scare you and rile you up so let me be very clear about this. If you turn on me, I will make sure you live a long life while all the people you love live just as hideously long under the most agonizing circumstances possible. There won’t be a safe place for you to hide from me, and I’ll stop at nothing to see you suffer for it…”

“Like what? I’m not a light switch.” He chuckled darkly, and his hand slowly slid up from her knee to her thigh.

“Oh? Pretty sure I could give you a flick or two, and you’d turn on for me.” She didn’t have a comeback for that one because, well, it was a good one, but ignoring it didn’t change anything, nor did it determ him. “That’s not a no.” He gripped her thigh a little tighter.

The car hummed along the road, the tension palpable as they neared the police station for their statements. Belladonna shifted in her seat, her nerves evident but whether it was from their impending visit or the effect Roman had on her was hard to say.

“It’s not a yes, either.”

Roman grinned, a playful glint in his eye. “Don’t be a buzzkill, Belladonna.”

A skeptical look crossed her face, anticipating his usual antics. “You’ll have to excuse me; I don’t wanna walk into the precinct smelling like sex.”

Roman scoffed. “Who said anything about sex? I wasn’t going to fuck you.” His hand slid up further, and he continued, “No, I was just gonna make you come once or twice. Does wonders for the nerves. Besides, whats wrong with smelling like sex?”

Her eyes searched his face for the punchline, but it never came. His self-assured expression remained, and realization dawned on her that he was dead serious. It wouldnt be the first time he’d coaxed an orgasm out of her, but there was a difference between what they did behind closed doors and what they did in a moving car on their way to the freaking police station. 

“We’re ten minutes from the station; you’re good, Roman, but you’re not that good.”

His smugness transformed into a different expression, a blend of satisfaction and a touch of shock. It was as if he was contemplating a challenge that hadn't been issued. Right? That wasn’t a challenge. 

“People get stuck in traffic every day, angel. It’s a hell of a way to pass the time.” His gaze traveled up from his hand along the length of her legs to her face, relishing the uncertainty he found there. “You know, you do still owe me for those roses.”

“Never gonna let that slide are you?”

He shook his head, “I can’t allow debts to go unchecked, angel, not even from you.Iit’s bad for business. People hear I’ve gone soft then it’ll be nothing but work, work all the time.” He removed his hand and turned to face her in the seat placing a hand to his temple the other on his knee tapping as he thought, “How should I collect…?” It was possible he was teasing but it was also possible he didn’t know how to let something as simple as a bouquet of roses go and he’d outlive god trying to have the last word. “Any ideas, angel?”

“Does it matter what I think?”

“No, but I’m still curious what you think might satisfy me.”

The concept of satisfaction and Roman seemed like they would always be at odds with one another, how could someone like Roman ever truly be satisfied? Was it even possible? 

“I have no idea what even makes you tick, Roman, I’m pretty sure the usual stuff wouldn’t work,”

“And what is ‘the usual stuff’?” The air quotes were unnecessary, but it probably made perfect sense to him as he lived anything but an ordinary life.

“What motivates any man, blowjobs and cash.” She avoided his gaze opting for a glance out the window instead, but she could feel him staring and she swore she could feel the grin on his face.

Roman chuckled at her response, a low sound that reverberated through the car. "Blowjobs and cash, huh? Well, you certainly know how to speak my language, angel." His eyes gleamed with a playful spark as he leaned closer, a conspiratorial air about him.

Belladonna couldn't help but smile despite herself as if that was a language any woman couldn’t figure out, but his playful banter did momentarily distracting her from the nerves about their impending visit to the police station. She sighed, shaking her head. "You're impossible, Roman."

He winked. "And that, my angel, is precisely why you can't resist me."

"But, in any case, you're spot-on about the money part, but as for the blowjobs? Well, you might be onto something there. What man doesn’t love a pretty pair of lips wrapped around his cock?"

She chuckled, "Very funny. You telling me you want fifteen blow jobs?" When he responded with silence, his expression as unyielding as stone, she couldn't help but press further, "Don't tell me you don't have a little black book to take care of that."

"I have several. Organized by city. And they're probably wondering why I haven't called any of them in two months." She froze and looked back to his smug face. What did he say? "But then again, I'm off the market, so it doesn't paint a very good portrait of a boyfriend if I'm out fucking my waythrough a briar patch of daddy issues, does it?"

"Are you saying you haven't been laid since we met?" His unamused expression was all the answer she needed. Her lips started to form the words 'what?' or 'why?' but she couldn't complete the thought. Suddenly, the notion of the car being stuck in traffic wasn't so far-fetched. "You haven’t—"

"Fucked anything but my hand? Why no, kitten, and trust me, I thought those days were long over.” She recoiled slightly from him uncertain what he was about to say, but what was remaining unsaid was giving her pause, she didn’t think he was that kind of man... “Oh, kitten, relax, I don't force anyone into anything, not my style, but I've got an appetite, and we've got a few minutes before the station. It seems my skills are in question," he smoothly removed his jacket and began rolling up his sleeves. The certainty in his movements left no room for doubt—something was about to unfold in the confines of the car. "And while having my dick sucked is lovely, it’s not hte only thing that gets me off." His actions conveyed a sense of inevitability. “You wanna know what gets me off? Control.”

His arm coiled around her waist, pulling her onto his lap, a position she found both thrilling and unnerving. “Fact is, you do owe me something—fifteen somethings, to be exact, His breath, warm on her neck, sent shivers down her spine as his hands rested on her back, drawing her body against his, a familiar position from the previous day in his car.

“Fifteen what?”

"Orgasms. Let's start with one."

~~~

Chapter Twelve

I swear I will be working on my Star Wars stuff next! When you get into a writing groove, you just gotta ride that wave! If you'd like to be tagged in future chapters give me a reblog and a unique tag! Thanks for reading!

#fanfiction is life #i have too many stories #original character #alternate universe #roman sionis smut #roman sionis imagine #roman sionis x original female character #roman sionis fan fiction #roman sions #roman sionis is a tease #roman sionis #belladonna fucking black #belladonna black #shadows of deception #i now have a hair pulling kink

[myymi]

Hello, sorry this is a kind of random question haha!

I saw that you mentioned on a post you and @passionartx co made oc’s together (which I am intrigued to learn more about!!! :000) I always wonder this and with this being an example of it I thought nows the time to ask someone:

How do you both go about that and do you have any tips?

Me and a friend tried to co create characters and a story once but it was really hard to get anything flowing. It always impresses me when people can! It seems like it would be fun and I wish I had somebody I could do it with!

I wonder maybe it was just me and my friend weren’t close enough or just didn’t have similar enough ideas?? Would love to hear your process :)))

(Thank you and sorry if anything doesn’t make sense, I am getting better but English isn’t my first language)

ahhh hi!!

honestly, the ocs @passionartx and i made are entirely accidental. every last detail was made by accident

originally, we had just wanted a group of 4-6 people who were, like, really bad kidnappers just as an excuse for tails to be sassy but uhm. we kinda got carried away

i will admit, it's not easy to co-create a character/story with someone. you have to come to an end point you both agree with, or you're just not gonna be happy

i've found that a good way to start co-creating is to come up with the reason for your characters first. why do you want to make them? what purpose will they serve?

when you get an idea for their existence, it's easier to build up their personalities, style, design, etc.

i definitely don't recommend making the character first, because it's trickier to find a place for them that both you and your friend agree with. you may have a vivid idea for the character while your friend has one too that is the complete opposite. if you get into the swing of things with your friend then maybe try it out, but don't do it for the first handful of characters

i also would advise against immediately building a character together.

start with two characters that just simply co-exist in the same universe (not necessarily acquainted or anything) and look for any similarities between the two

when you use traits that you both gave your separate characters it's easier to build up one together

and if you or your friend have some ideas for a character you decide to not use, do not scrap it. save it for another character, never discard anything.

but, honestly, the most important thing is communication. and you may think that's just common sense, but i don't mean just talking to each other;

voice. your. opinions.

if your friend is pushing an idea for a character that you don't want to do, tell them. even if they seem really excited about it.

the character belongs to both of you, not one or the other. find common ground that you both are happy with. (like i said earlier, don't scrap that idea-save it for a future character.)

any decision, especially major ones, for any character you two create needs to be okayed by both of you.

do not keep quiet just because you want your friend to be happy. you both need to be happy or it'll fall apart. (and finding common ground is a lot easier then you think it would be)

of course, that^ works both ways.

if you're talking about an idea and your friend says they don't want to do it, back down and find something in the middle.

and if your friend pitches an idea for an oc at you, give suggestions!! don't just go "yeah, that works!" give additional personality traits or bits of backstory to implement into the character

if you pitch an idea for an oc, make sure to ask your friend if they have anything they want to add on if they don't offer suggestions. talk!!! it gives you SO many more ideas then you can imagine

co-creating isn't so much as having similar ideas, it's more so finding common ground. you take two ideas and meet in the middle, regardless of how insanely different they are

and don't be afraid to put something on hold because you can't think of a way to finish it yet. as you create more things together, it'll eventually complete itself. trust me, it happens way more often then you'd think. just, y'know, don't forget about it

i would also advise you to write down everything about your characters, even the little stuff. even if you're sure you'll remember it, write it. things happen, it's just easier to have it somewhere you can easily locate it in case you do forget

also, get attached to your characters. i don't care how 'cringe' it is, do it. you'll enjoy talking about them a lot more

now, this isn't me saying you can't create your own characters without your friend and add them in, but just make sure your friend is okay with that (and keep in mind that your character is going into a shared world. they are yours, but just check in with your friend before doing anything major with them. they may be your character, but their impact on the story still needs to be ran by your friend)

uhhh that is all of the advice i can think to give you

and hey, it's okay if it doesn't work out.

short message from passion;

Heyo! Just adding a lil bit on cause Myla asked if I wanted to drop my thoughts too! They pretty much covered it all so I’ll keep this as short as I can! (Given how much I ramble tho I make no promises)✨ The main thing I’d say is, everyone’s different!

Like they mentioned our silly spiral into ideas happened entirely by accident and honestly… I think that’s the best way for things to happen! Makes things so much more natural and fun!

How this may go with someone else might entirely depend on what ideas you have, shared interests, story ideas, tropes you enjoy etc. Every friendships different! What matters most is having fun. It’s like a constant stream of creating content with eachother and for eachother! For example Myla making designs on the oc generator, me making art, random ideas or things that crop up from the other and it’s like “OOO YOU GENIUS”. Sometimes things from months ago you’d least expect can make a comeback and it’s like things you didn’t even think about suddenly click!

Anyway like I said I’ll try and keep this short but yep I second everything they said and above all, just have fun!! 💛

p.s: if ever in doubt about any ideas or you’re like us and are too indecisive…. spin a wheel. ✨

#anonymous #anon ask #anon #ocs #co creation #if an oc doesn't work out just scrap it and try again #it could take a few attempts to get it to work #just be patient!

[lottiecrabie]

i really wanna get into writing but idk how.. any advice?

okay if you mean actually just Writing, i fear the best advice i could give you is Just Start. i know i’ve said it often and i know i’ve warned how annoying it is to hear, but the truth is that you won’t get better at writing if you don’t do it. practice is absolutely necessary and needed. i’ve posted the first english fic i’ve ever written a little while ago and if you haven’t seen it, Trust me it was atrocious. i had to start there before i could get to where i am now.

the best way to start writing is to have a story you want to tell. i think that’s what will motivate you the most. if there’s any idea that is really inspiring, that’s been trotting your head, that interests you, throw yourself into it! that’ll make you want to write a lot more.

i cannot even begin to tell you the number of times i’ve started a story and haven’t finished it. i think that’s just part of writing, or at least Practicing writing: you’ve got some idea, write two chapters of it, one, a flashforward moment, then let it rest in your drafts if you get more invested in some other fleeting thing. at least you’ll have scratched that itch and gotten in some practice.

if you don’t have The Great Idea yet, there’s tons of small blurbs on the internet that could get you out of that initial rust. writing short scenes or concepts is a great way to practice without the Brainy part of writing, which is, at least to me, Plotting.

honestly writing fanfiction has definitely made me improve and helped me develop my style. it’s a way to keep me accountable and practice writing a lot more; you see how slow i can be to write, and that’s With the motivation of readership! imagine how hell it is when it’s just me and the google doc. having constant validation, feedback and readers was personally been an excellent way to get me to Do the actual writing. my yearly word count has increased exponentially since i’ve joined the ff community a few years ago. so posting your work, even if you’re a little insecure, even if you’re not fully proud, might at least motivate you to Continue doing it!

in terms of actual content, i’ve always been a pretty raw and intuitive writer, so i can’t give much advice on how to figure it out. plus, i have a very distinct style — imageries, vibes over plot, flowery prose, running sentences, personification, em dashes — which doesn’t mean it will be yours, and doesn’t mean yours will be in any way wrong or bad. there’s very clinical and technical writing that can be genius, it’s just not what i do. follow what feels right.

but still here’s a few advices i could give:

if you’re trying to get more prose-esque, i’d say a good way is to work with Images. try tying feelings and thoughts to something extremely concrete and vivid. it’s a good way to create an interesting dichotomy between those two opposites.

i think dialogues are essential to a story, but that’s probably because it’s what i like reading the most. dont lose yourself in the boring, normal conversations; i don’t need to hear every hey hi how are you doing. try jumping directly into the action.

i usually start a scene with a dialogue, throwing people directly into the scene, or with some sort of establishing shot. painting the scene of where and how the characters stand, what the decor looks like, perhaps offering the reader with necessary information.

try ending a scene with a high. again, to me that’s usually a dialogue — still none of that nice to see you bye goodbye stuff. the last line, to me, is usually a quip of some sort. if not a dialogue, there’s some sort of Punch to the end of scene in the action. a realization, a feeling, a moment. if you can’t find a way to end it with a bang, then maybe the scene isn’t necessary and shouldn’t be there at all. you’re building literary tension throughout each scene: i need to feel like there’s some climax even in small capsules.

very important!!! write paragraphs! to me it’s extremely arduous to read a story that has these long paragraphs i have to scroll through for ages to get to the bottom. i lose focus and motivation pretty quickly. one paragraph, one idea. follow that religiously. if you think it’s getting a bit too long, hack it. remember most people read on their phone now, too. one single paragraph shouldn’t take the entire scene.

you don’t have to write Heavy plots. i personally focus on the characters and their journey, which is just as valid! if you can’t seem to find these complex twisting ideas, maybe you can just tell the story of two people falling in love and developing together. that’s just as nice.

wow i actually had more advices than i thought. well, i think that’s it:) good luck:) i believe in you<3

#you’ll never get better if you don’t write always remember that #writing advice #ask

[5283]

hear me out hear me out (hanji's lyricism appreciation rant incoming)

why do jisung's lyrics hit me in the weakest spots ...... the wordings he uses.... it's definitely that, but it's also how vivid the imagery that he creates is..?

his imagery has a similar aftertaste as one of my favorite korean indie bands has (achime is the name of the band btw) – they have this particular kind of rawness and this childlike innocence to how they word things in lyrics. yet what really pulls at my heartstrings is that what they sing about aren't child-level topics at all – they're very much adult worries – meaning they're complex and multifaceted YET they're being conveyed through rather simplistic and very familiar everyday imagery. there's this song about a little boy losing his shoes at the beach, his mom shrugging her shoulders saying "the sea must've taken them away" and the boy just crying. i've lost count how many times i've cried to that song, but like the storyline is such a simple everyday happening, you know? what jisung's lyrics do to my heart is very similar to what achime's sound + lyrics do to me.

han's lyrics are spectator-like and extensively descriptive. they give off an impression like he's describing events from 3rd person's pov. that it's the observer in him just laying out what they observe rather than being the main character who experiences and then relays what they experience first hand. han's lyrics feel like the narration of a movie rather than the actual action of it; there's this certain detachment to feelings/situation that's present. although his lyrics usually talk about inner experiences/feelings, at the same time they're not necessarily emotional in a dramatic sense (which expressing emotions naturally IS dramatic because it's emotions, something not governed by any sort of rationality, right) but no matter the intensity of emotion, he doesn't get caught up in it and simply narrates what's happening to the subject of the lyrics.

compared to changbin's lyrics, for example, where he more so uses dramatical expressions to convey the intensity of his feeling states. changbin speaks feelings through feelings straightforwardly like "i am sorry for liking you, i'm sorry if that's a sin", han speaks feelings through ideas, images and tries to describe the feeling accurately as in "snow is falling, erasing everything that's left in me, i loved you, snow is falling and we are falling apart".. changbin writes like he's the main character and he's speaking about what he feels and thinks yet han's writing is a narration of what the main character of his story does/feels, as if recording everything and almost like it doesn't have a say or any power to decide what happens to the person of the lyrics although it's their own feelings we're talking about here.

in ex where the lyrics go "i'd like it even if you cursed at me" and "curse me to your will" - the way i see it, han could never write a sentence like that, you see. because of how directly dramatic and directly emotionally-charged it is compared to his more detached description-like style of writing, where the lyrics are no less emotional but the emotion you get from them is second-hand, not direct, the feeling comes at you when you parse the image hanji's expressing through the lyrics first.

han's writing is fairytale-like (pun intented..?) and each of his songs draws you into a story, into a whole other world, make you a silent observer of a situation as if you were there.. even if you didn't ever experience the feeling that's being conveyed through the lyrics, han writes them using allegories and such particular imagery that even without experiencing the feelings yourself you can very well relate to it.

am i the only one who feels this way?? every single of his songs is so special to me, i just kept thinking why they are like that to me.

#i had this sitting in my drafts with an intention to come back to it sometime to make my word spill sound more comprehensible #but i'm just gonna let this out #this post should be called 'my love language is analyzing you' #han jisung #seo changbin #3racha #stray kids #skz

[desertleviathan]

Ok, after dropping the outline post about character design for my Final Fantasy 8 inspired TTRPG setting here, I think the next step to keep my focus up is to finish one detailed write-up of a Regiment (minus mechanics, which are still being tested) and post it each day.

First up is the Adept Regiment, for dreamers and artists who have a greater intuitive aptitude for magic than other students, but who sometimes lag behind in the acquisition of mundane skills.

THE ADEPT

Magus (Archaic), Dreamer (Informal), Hag (Derogatory)

You were always creatively gifted, whether this manifest through art, music, poetry, or simply a penchant for vivid daydreaming. Now that you are awakened to the potential of magic, you have found that its flow through your conscious mind is both familiar and comfortable, as if by cultivating your imagination you have already shaped your spirit into an apt vessel for supernatural power. Many who develop the potential to become Adepts manifest their Personal Aeon at an earlier age than is typical for other Regiments, and advance even further with their magic due to this head-start in growing accustomed to its presence in their lives.

   You lean on instinct to control magic just as much as learned technique, and probably favor your supernatural gifts more than your weapon training in combat. You master complex enchantments with a casual ease that makes you the envy of your peers, but you may sometimes have difficulty drawing your thoughts down from the abstract and giving attention to practical concerns. In other words, your head is often lost in the clouds, and your leaders know to pair you with someone more grounded who can help you maintain focus.

   The Aeons of Adepts often look as though they were drawn or painted in a style favored by the Adept’s creative works, or their manifestation is accompanied by the presence of the Adept’s current passion in music or spoken verse. More than any other Regiment, the Aeons of Adepts tend to change over time to reflect the development of their host’s aesthetic preferences, both in terms of appearance and personality. Adepts are the Regiment most likely to see their Aeon as a discrete entity from themselves, a boon companion rather than a quasi-autonomous aspect of their soul, and to take the arduous steps necessary to anchor their Aeon permanently to the world so that it won't fade as they age. This practice is officially discouraged by the Regiment because doing so severs the Adept's ability to use magic directly, but unofficially an Adept who decides to do so will find only token opposition from their peers, and a great deal of back-channel support in arranging for the proper spells and ritual components to fall into their hands.

   The Adept Regiment as a whole describes itself as a meritocracy, but has idiosyncratic ideas about what constitutes 'merit'. Broadly speaking the more magical power an individual has accumulated, the more weight their opinions are given. However, magical power is a difficult thing to precisely quantify, so Regiment gatherings are often punctuated by non-violent but no less intense ritual contests to establish the current pecking order... and a handful of outright Duels that are usually more about settling personal grudges than anything else. Even these rarely lead to serious injury though, since Adepts prefer to clash their Aeons against one another rather than brawl things out with their own flesh the way more physically inclined regiments like the Stalwarts and Errants so often do. Additionally, since creative achievement is also so valued by this Regiment, an Adept who lacks standing as an experienced enchanter may be able to disseminate their opinions by presenting them skillfully through their chosen medium. Adept gatherings tend to be just as much about exhibiting one's latest works as they are about discussing whatever larger matter concerns the Regiment as a whole.

REGIMENTAL AEON: The Cygnet Sorceress plummets from above like a shooting star, spreading her wings at the last moment to arrest her fall and gliding gracefully to alight in a field of wildflowers that blooms just in time to meet her footsteps. She is a beautiful woman with dark hair and joyful eyes wearing cerulean robes, with the angelic white wings of a swan. Beneath her robes her ribcage is open, and her beating heart is exposed. It is said that in life a Witch took her body from her, and though she reclaimed it with the help of her friends the emotional trauma never fully healed. Many believe that this wound is symbolic of that, and that the ring shaped like a lion’s head that hangs from a chain around her neck to rest against her heart is a token of the particularly beloved individual who lead the charge to save her. A loyal hound made of darkness and starlight follows at her heels, and sometimes he becomes a razor-edged wheel that she throws, that always returns to her. But she rarely uses this weapon, and prefers to cast the most puissant of magics instead.

BLESSING - MUSE’S INSIGHT: On some level all creative works are about shaping emotion, and the first gift of the Cygnet Sorceress allows Adepts to sense the emotional state in others to a heightened degree. Of course, they may not know what to do with that awareness once they have it. An especially sensitive Adept may even use this ability to detect incorporeal spirits, provided the spirit can first be provoked into feeling an emotion strong enough to pierce the veil.

BLESSING - FAMILIAR FRIEND: The Adept can manifest a spirit in the form of a mundane animal, typically no larger than a dog, although undersize or immature versions of larger creatures are possible. The Familiar will be extraordinarily intelligent, unfailingly loyal, and capable of understanding the Adept’s speech, as well as the speech of anyone else who speaks a language known by the Adept. Other than those differences, it will still only have the physical capabilities of a mundane animal of its species. For some Adepts this is the soul of a beloved pet that they’ve bound to themselves past its mortal lifespan, for others this is a construct of pure imagination, and for a rare few the Familiar is an alternate form that their Personal Aeon takes rather than retreating inside of their soul when out of use.

CURSE: Every Adept wants to be admired and respected for their gifts, and nothing stings them more than seeing someone else demonstrate an aptitude the Adept wishes they possessed, but do not. Being confronted by such a personal shortcoming may cause the Adept to retreat into a fantasy scenario where they imagine a world where they are a virtuoso at the desired skill.

ATTRIBUTES: Analysis, Resolve

FAVORED ARTS: Restoration - the Art of Healing, Rhapsody - the Art of Inspiration (Regiment Exclusive), Rituals - the Art of Sorcery

[silvaswiftcast]

FFxivWrite2023 Prompt #22: Fulsome

Characters: Silva Cataracta, Ricmorn Cataracta, and Hien Rijin

Rating: General

Notes: This takes place sometime between Stormblood Patch 4.1 and Patch 4.2. Silva and Hien are not together yet, but they are slowly testing the waters of where their feelings could potentially lead. Or as I like to call it, Silva is in complete denial that he wants to be romantically involved, while Hien knows she returns his feelings but is too stubborn to say it out loud.

Content Warnings/Additional Tags: Food, Pre-Polyamory Relationship (V Relationship), M/F/M relationship, Messy Feelings, Playful Teasing/Banter.

“That’s… a generous amount of vegetables you have there, my dear,” Ricmorn said after a pause, his eyes unable to look away from their island countertop covered in food.

Silva snorted. “It’s an absurd amount more like it. I still can’t believe I picked all of this.”

And yet the evidence of her endeavor lay before her in vivid shades of green, orange, yellow, purple, and red.

The Auri man turned toward her, raising an eyebrow. “You harvested all of this? Today?”

“Where in the seven hells do you think I’ve been all morning and part of the afternoon?” she laughed, resting her hands on her hips. “Not relaxing, that’s for sure. I guess the gods and kami saw it fit that my garden would be bountiful this year.”

Perhaps too bountiful. Gods— her back and arms were killing her, but it was worth it.

A few rumbling chuckles shook Ricmorn’s chest, his beige-scaled tail twitching. “You can say that again, Silv.” 

He walked over to the counter, mentally making a list of everything he saw. Cucumbers, eggplants, plump tomatoes, sweet and spicy peppers, beets, carrots. Those were only a few different crops scattered about. Things he could easily find in their personal food storage and the shared kitchens here in the apartment in Kugane and their home in Ul’dah.

And the last time he checked, they had plenty of food to get them through for a few months without worrying about it.

“What are you going to do with all of it?” he asked when he turned around to face her again, curious.

She hummed thoughtfully, crossing her arms against her chest. “I have no idea, to be honest,” was her answer. “I’ve restocked what I could here and set aside a small box to take to our other home. Then I went around the compound and spoke with many of the families to see if they needed anything and gave what I could. But as you can see, there’s still a lot left.”

“I see…”

He thought about what they could do with the produce. The last thing he knew either of them wanted was for all of it to go to waste. It would be a shame if they did. Silva took a lot of pride in her rooftop garden and in providing for those in need — the peace and solace it offered her between their Warrior of Light duties or when she needed a break from life.

But if his wife already did what she could by giving some of it away, there weren’t many options left.

They could sell what was life either in their stall in the markets in the city or to one of the other food stalls. It wouldn’t give them a huge profit, but neither was hurting for gil. Between the two of them, they had enough to get by for several lifetimes.

And then an idea struck him.

“What if we took and donated all of this to the Doman Enclave?” he suggested. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips when her sea-green eyes lit up. “I’m sure if the food stalls and open kitchens there don’t take everything, we’ll find families who will. We could even go to Namai or the House of the Fierce and see if they need fresh food.”

“That’s an idea,” she agreed.

Silva was a little annoyed she didn’t think about that first. Why didn’t she?

“We could even say hello to Hien if he happens to be out and about,” Ricmorn added playfully. His smile turned into a teasing smirk when the Auri woman’s face flushed, turning a pretty shade of lilac. “I’m sure he would like that. It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other.”

Ah— That was why. A very, very poor excuse, but an excuse nonetheless.

She looked away from him, her long ivory tail swishing. “A-as lovely as it would be to see and speak with him, I-I’m sure he’ll be busy with his duties,” she mumbled. Curse her sudden stuttering and how the sound of the young lord’s name made her heart flutter.

The black mage didn’t know what was worse, letting the food go to waste or shoving the romantic feelings she felt for Hien down further and pretending they weren’t there.

“Oh, don’t be like that, sweetheart,” he soothed, crossing the small distance between them. He gently cupped her warm cheeks, brushing his thumbs against the plum-colored freckles decorating them. “I’m sure your boyfriend would be more than happy to—”

Silva gasped, the flush staining her face growing darker. “Ricmorn! I— Wha—” She growled at him when he laughed, hearty and deep, swatting his hands away from her. “He is not my boyfriend!”

“He will be soon enough!” he promised. “If you both would just stop tiptoeing around this intense connection between the two of you and—”

“Ugh, stop it!” she huffed, her tail whipping around behind her. “As much as I know that something is there — something I’m still trying to figure out for myself — I highly doubt… I highly doubt he feels the same way.”

There was no way he did — not the Lord of Doma.

And yet her heart told her otherwise. 

How every time they met after liberating Ala Mhigo, she always caught a magical glint in his pretty hazel orbs that made her pause. The way he grinned at her, always a bright smile full of teeth and joy, sent her heart racing a hundred malms a second. Or when they touched — muted sparks of levin dancing along her nerves. Whether it was hands resting on arms and shoulders in a show of comfort and understanding or gentle and careful grazes against warm skin and blushing cheeks, it took her breath away.

It felt like the world around them faded, leaving only the two of them behind. A resounding connection Silva could not put into words.

Gods… she was really deep into this, wasn’t she?

She felt Ricmorn tuck two fingers under her chin and tilt her head to meet his gaze, breaking her from her thoughts. Sympathy and love shimmered in his sky-blue eyes, a soft smile gracing his lips.

“I know you— the two of you will eventually figure it out,” he murmured. “But please tell me you are not so blind to the point you cannot see how deep the care he feels for you goes, Silva.”

A quiet sigh escaped her as she took in his words. She hated how right he was. Not that she would admit it.

“Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not,” she said, shrugging. “As you said, this will get figured out in time.”

And today was not that day.

※

A half-bell later, after they stored all the extra produce in spare bags and boxes, the Auri couple arrived at the Doman Enclave. And now Ricmorn was watching Hien and Silva speak and flirt from a short distance away, grinning like a fool and shaking his head as he listened. Even if he was being ignored by his friend.

“Silva!? I— Hello, it’s so lovely to see you!”

The Au Ra bit his tongue to hold his chuckles in when elation rushed across the soulbond he shared with the smaller Raen.

“H-hi, Hien. It sure has been a while.”

“Your duties keep you busy, no doubt, as have mine. Pray know it is always a treat to see you when you have the time to spare.”

The way Silva’s face blushed at his empathetic words and her tail swished was adorable to the white mage.

“You are far too kind, my friend.”

Ricmorn thought she would swoon from the softness in Hien’s gaze and the warmth radiating from his wide smile.

“How could I not be? We all deserve a little more kindness in these times — especially you.”

It was then the young lord noticed how full Silva’s hands were.

“Oh? What’s all this?”

Ricmorn cleared his throat, gaining the attention of the two Domans. The last time he recalled the way Hien’s face turned so red as the night he told him he could pursue a relationship with Silva.

“Ah— Apologies, Ricmorn, I didn’t see you there.”

He dismissed his friend’s apology with a shrug. It wasn’t the first time this happened, and knew it wouldn’t be the last. “It’s nice to see you, Hien. My dear wife spent most of the day tending to her garden and picking everything ripe,” he explained. “She already gave away what she could to the families living at the compound, and this is what’s left over. I suggested we bring it to the Enclave to see if it could be better served here instead of going to waste.”

Surprise colored the Hyur’s features, counting the two bags slung over Ricmorn’s shoulders, one over hers and a box in her hands, before turning back to Silva. “Busy day then, I see,” he teased, amusement shining in his eyes.

“Something like that, yeah,” she lightly laughed.

“Thank you for this, truly. I’m sure the kitchens here would be happy to put all this fresh food to good use.”

“Of course, my friend. We’re happy to help wherever and whenever we can.”

Hien saw how she adjusted the grip on the heavy box, realizing her arms must be growing tired. “Here—” he said, stepping forward and offering his hands. “Let me take that off your hands, Silva.”

“O-oh! You don’t have to—”

He shook his head, grinning from ear to ear. “Please, it’s the least I can do.”

Silva returned his smile with a shy one, carefully handing the box full of vegetables to him. “Thank you.”

Ricmorn watched as the two Domans walked towards the open kitchens and food stalls on the other side of the Enclave, switching the conversation to something else, laughing and blushing the entire way. After a moment, he couldn’t help but shake his head at their antics.

“One of these days, you will not be in so much denial, my dear,” he mumbled to himself. “And when it comes, I hope you know it will all be worth it.”

And then he followed them, catching up in long strides to join in on whatever they were talking about.

#FFxivWrite2023 #FFxivWrite #FFxivWrite Challenge #ffxiv writing #ffxiv fanfiction #ffxiv #silva writes

[simuran]

Fic rec tag game

@illegalcerebral had a great idea of making fic recs into a tag game! Thanks for tagging me 😘

1) An ongoing multi chapter fic you are excited to get updates for right now

The Secret in the Heart of the Forest by @myrskytuuli - Harry Potter AU, a survival horror set in Maradeurs’ era, with each of the PoVs having a very distinctive voice and mindset. The worldbuilding is incredible both in terms of creepy magic and creepier family secrets, but even more then the concepts themselves I love their execution. Like a lot of people can say “Harry Potter is part desi” or “the Blacks are abusive”, these are fairly popular headcanons. But this author breathes life into them - vivid and horrifying. The chapter about Euphemia Potter’s story is one of my favourites.

2) A completed multichapter fic that you can binge read

American Pie by @micamicster - We Are Lady Parts, but being familiar with the canon is not strictly necessary - a long story about opening up to love (both romantic and familial) and how terrifying and hard it is (slow burn with lots of pining, obviously). It manages to be both hilarious and heartbreaking, sometimes in the same sentence, but all’s well that ends well.

3) A oneshot you think everyone should read

Of bark and bloom by @dapandapod - an adorable original story about autumn and a tiny dragon. It’s less than 500 words, and I love it dearly.

4) A fic you have re-read more than once

Infinite Coffee and Protection Detail by @vmohlere - MCU, stucky - I’ve read the whole series like four times at least, the first two - in Russian translation by the magnificent Sangrill. Plus the occasional reread of a single installment! I would say it feels like a cozy blanket, if blankets could make you laugh for hours.

But be aware! I did not even like coffee that much before reading this, and now I can’t imagine my life without it! Very insidious product placement, I feel like the author should get paid by Starbucks.

5) A fic you first read over a year ago that you want to spotlight

I’m coming up blank. Golfish memory!

6) A fic that introduced you to a new ship/character/fandom

like a prayer by @earlsgrey introduced me to Alinej (from Shadow and Bone), and I’ve been shipping it ever since.

7) A fic you'd recommend to someone new to your fandom

If you’re new to Leverage: Redemption, go read If she won’t accept gifts, soon she’ll give them by @neverfeedthesarlacc ​ right now!!! I read this fic and it changed my view of Breanna forever, like it helped me to finally get her.

8) A fic you would recommend to the person who tagged you in this game.

Hmmmmmmm, how about Just Go Kill Palpatine by @nevertheless-moving? It’s short and extremely funny

Optional: one more wildcard choice of fic.

Complicated Feelings About Snow by @illegalcerebral - I actually went to your fics to see if Aliens Skies was old enough to fit the criteria of #5, but found this little gem instead! A very lovely piece of Loki's angst over snow, I love it

Tags (no pressure!): @arretoskore, @the-maidofmischief, @abstract-moth, @onedragontorulethemall and everyone tagged above!

#Posts by me #tag game #illegalcerebral #fandom stuff #q

[cafeinthemoon]

More Myself Than I Am - Chapter II

Chapter 2/?

Wordcount 3,5k

Title A Good Guy

Fandom Bungo Stray Dogs

Pairing Ryuunosuke Akutagawa X reader

Previous chapter

1

Symbols ⭕ . ➕ . 💛

Warning (s): brief mention of panic attack in a public space

Tagging @lasidollily @darling-imobsessed (if you want to be tagged in any of my stories, just send an ask or a message 😉)

N. A.: So he's finally among us! Yay! I hope I haven't failed in giving Akutagawa a proper introduction, though this story is simple, direct if compared to other stuff I've wrote before. In this one I want to concentrate in the facts above everything, without leaving the passionate trait of my personal style aside though. Since there's some mystery included, things and people will be introduced little by little, maybe not with the same richness of details from other stories of mine, but just enough to make them important to the whole.

Also, about their names: I know, I KNOW the BSD Japanese characters have the names of Japanese writers, but there's a reason why I chose non Japanese names for my original characters, as you will see.

Anyways I hope you enjoy this new chapter :)

While you cleaned the tables, you were silently thanking the calmness inside the bakery at the last hours of that day: most of the costumers already left, and the few ones still there were preparing to go.

Your boss and your team mates didn’t make any comments, but they sensed you weren’t in the mood for conversations. Two days passed since Virginia’s last crisis and you were still embarrassed for suddenly requesting a day off in order to stay with her. Since things were complicated those days because of the employee on vacation, you knew you were granted with a big favor – but you didn’t like how it felt: most of your colleagues were familiar with your situation and even understood it, but it was always a reason for tension, at least on your side. When those episodes happened, you would always try to compensate working twice as hard and not causing any problems, but that didn’t contribute much to your relief.

On the other side of the street, the sun was almost gone behind the buildings; as you saw it through the glass wall, the redness of its last rays would spread as a vivid background to the rosy, thick clouds above. People were now going back to their homes, some of them entering to buy treats for their children or for themselves, then leaving quickly.

That day left a strange feeling in you, not only for the already mentioned reasons, but for something else. Everything was the same, of course, but you couldn’t shake the idea that something was missing. Were you forgetting to do some tasks or anything?

You were finishing the cleaning session before the end of the shift now, and were back to the thoughts about your sister. While you stood with her the other day, you noticed some strange marks on her skin, like the ones one gain when they bump into the furniture or such. You were going to ask her about it, but other matters kept you occupied and you forgot the fact, only recalling it now. Did she talk about it to the doctor at some point? This could explain why he prescribed a medicine that worked for physical pain… You sighed. Your head has been so noisy those days that from time to time you had to stop it before you got paranoid.

The sound of the front door being opened pulled you out of these thoughts. When you turned to it and saw who was coming in, a silence took over your mind and your surroundings as well, for you understood where that sensation of lacking something was coming from.

You still haven’t seen him today.

Through the door passed a young man dressed in a black coat with high collar, having a white jabot around his neck and frills of the same color covering his wrists, setting off the natural paleness of his skin, only visible on his hands and face, this latter framed by his short, dark hair that ended in thin, greyish locks on each side. Grey was also the color of his eyes, above which he had a pair of light eyebrows, almost absent; his thin lips, as pale as the rest of the skin, only emphasized the serene dignity in his posture.

In fact, it was a curious appearance: one could say he was a hero who escaped from the pages of a gothic novel, but his modern hairstyle would leave no doubts about his true place and time. When he entered the bakery, some people glanced toward him, but the not so friendly look with which they were received was a quiet sign for them to go back to their own business.

When he closed the door behind his back, his gaze passed through the place and stopped on you; your cheeks burned and you were forced to look down to the table.

You continued to work while hearing his slow steps toward it, only raising your face when he spoke to you.

– Evening, y/n-san – he nodded.

You replied accordingly.

– Evening, Akutagawa-kun.

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke was his name. He used to come earlier and spend some time on the same table – that one you were cleaning right now – enjoying his own company with a cup of tea and a treat while observing the people outside.

You still remember, it took weeks of frequent visits until you discovered your respective names. You also found out he was one year younger than you and had a sister; you even suggested him to bring the girl one day, but until that moment he only appeared alone.

Despite his reserved manners, he was the one who first introduced himself. It was funny, now that you thought of it: since his first day there, he took the initiative in every interaction between you, from asking to be served by you to engaging in conversations that would only last until the second or third question and answer. However, months have passed and he still maintained the formalities of the beginning. If you were asked about the reason behind his preference for your services, you would say you hadn’t the slightest idea, but since no harm came from this strange friendship you just followed the etiquette and gave him the good treatment a loyal costumer deserved.

You asked what he was going to have this time and he replied he wanted the same, except for a bottle of water instead of the usual tea. You were about to offer him the table, but he explained he wouldn’t stay that time and asked for a plastic bag to keep the order. You arranged everything and gave it to him.

After thanking you for this small gentleness, he found appropriate to exchange a few words with you before heading to the exit...

But the way he did it made your eyes widen a bit.

– You didn’t show up yesterday.

Though there was politeness in his tone, you couldn’t help sensing a demanding trait in it. What an uncommon way to express preoccupation, you thought to yourself.

Still, you told him the truth.

– My sister had a crisis, so I took the day off to take care of her.

– I see – he replied – I hope she’s feeling better now.

You smiled.

– She does. Thank you.

– Did you call the doctor?

– Yes – your fingers clenched around the cloth you were using to clean the table – He prescribed some medicine, which she’s going to take for this entire week.

Akutagawa was the person who gave you the doctor’s number. There was this day when you came to work moments after helping Virginia with a crisis and tried to concentrate on your tasks as best as possible, but your uneasiness didn’t go unnoticed by him. When you told him what happened, he gave you a small card with the doctor’s name and phone and told you to introduce yourself mentioning his name in case you needed his services.

When Virginia panicked again, you were in the middle of a street, with no apparent source of stress or triggering elements around. The first thing you remembered was the card.

This was the conversation you had on the phone:

– Hello?

– Hello? Is this Dr. Ougai’s number?

– Yes. Who is it?

– I’m y/n s/n. Akutagawa Ryuunosuke gave me your number. He’s a client of mine. I have my sister with me and she’s having a panic crisis. We’re far from home now… can you please come and help us?

– Of course. Tell me the address and how she’s feeling now.

You gave him the requested information and stood with Virginia until he arrived.

You always thought you haven’t appropriately thanked your costumer for such favor, so you took the opportunity now.

– It was too gentle from your part to indicate him – you commented – He’s been helping us a lot these months.

Akutagawa didn’t give you a verbal response, but nodded in acknowledgment. He was about to leave, but still had a request.

– May I ask how long you will stay before your shift ends?

You were a bit surprised, but didn’t refuse to answer.

– A few minutes. We're already finishing here.

– Would you mind if I walk you home? – and, as if justifying his request in face of your surprise, – I've heard that some delinquents have been seen around lately. It is already getting dark. It might be dangerous to walk alone.

You didn’t make any effort to disguise your feelings when you sensed the warmth raising to your cheeks: that was the first time he suggested anything outside the bakery. It was curious, even funny, how things worked with him: his quietness could be taken for shyness by someone who is not familiar with him, but once you established some bond, his honest, direct manners would show, and you would end up understanding that he was far from shy. Akutagawa’s line of action was a counterpoint to your own hesitating nature, and despite not having him as an intimate friend, you found some sort of comfort whenever you interacted with him, as if the daily stress, the countless minutiae around which you were often trapped had no importance when you spoke to each other.

And as a sign of respect for this feeling, you could only give him a positive answer.

– It would be good to have company.

It was then decided that you would organize your things while he waited for you in the bookstore on the same street.

***

When you entered the store, you went through the shelves looking for him, but he was nowhere at sight.

You passed by a shelve with classics, still looking around, until a book caught your attention and you stopped to take a look at it. It was indeed a beautiful work: a reddish-brown hard cover decorated with a delicate floral pattern on the edges and the spine; the title, carved in golden lettering, shared the front with an oval illustration of a countryside landscape, with the silhouettes of a young couple under a tree and a mansion on the top of a hill in the background.

You were so fascinated with the volume that you almost forgot why you were there…

But you were soon reminded.

– Wuthering Heights. Hm.

You startled a bit when you heard him mumbling over your shoulder, but smiled at the fact that he was familiar with the title.

– It is the best and the worst book I’ve ever read in my life – you commented without taking your eyes off the cover – It’s a beautiful story about terrible people. But can we say we’re better than them?

Akutagawa seemed to think of this.

– Sometimes I’m tempted to think we’re worse.

Despite being familiarized to his steady speech, you weren’t expecting such comeback: that was the tone of someone who knew what they were talking about. Was he referring to himself, or to some people he met? If you were a closer friend to him, you’d certainly ask, but you had to keep silence about it out of respect for the circumstances.

You spent a moment looking at the cover, then turned to see the back. You found the price tag... and swallowed.

– I really wanted to buy this edition, but I guess I’ll leave it to another day – you put it back on its place on the shelve – Shall we?

He nodded, not without a last look at the book, and followed you outside.

***

There was less movement on the sidewalks now. The sky was yet to be covered by the blackness of night, but the streetlights were already working: under them, some workers were still heading home, and the sellers were saying goodbye to their last clients before pinning the closed signs on their doors. The streets would be darker and quieter if it wasn’t for the traffic; at some point, a horn was heard, followed by loud swearing: an accident almost happened, but soon the cars moved away from each other and the case was forgotten. You were still looking at the street when a cat appeared out of nowhere and crossed your way, disappearing into an alley; you stopped right before stumbling in the animal, then chuckled at your own distraction.

None of this were new to you. That was what you would find in all the evenings after leaving the bakery. Your eyes were so used to those things that they were no longer seen by them. That time was different only because you were not alone: the quiet presence of Akutagawa somehow changed your impression of everything, as someone who introduces a stranger to their personal space, allowing him to discover a part of their daily life that though had moderate importance, would help to understand who they were outside their usual meeting point.

You didn’t talk much, yet there was no embarrassment between you. Instead of the expected strangeness of a first encounter in a new environment, there was curiosity: why did he choose to walk you home that day and not before? Was he expecting something? Should you ask him about it? Well, truth is that a conversation that starts with such questions would be rather annoying, so you soon left them aside.

At first, you limited your sentences to indicate the directions you should take, while he would make simple, brief questions about the places you were passing by.

– So… you always take this very path to come and go?

– Most of the times, yes. I change it once or twice a week, when I need to go to a store or have other appointments.

– It’s quite a walk.

– I agree. But I don’t have many opportunities to work out, so I walk as much as I can – and after a moment in silence, – Sometimes, when I am too tired, I take the bus and reach home in five minutes or less. But, if I’m being honest, walking alone through these streets is my way to rest.

Akutagawa didn’t reply to that, less because he didn’t know what to say than because there was nothing to add. You didn’t mind it: part of the comfort you felt in his company came from the fact that you both recognized your inability in making small talk, even if you’ve never said a word to each other about it.

At some moment, you heard him cough. He reached for the water bottle right after. You waited until he put it back in the bag to say something.

– Your health seemed okay in the previous days.

Contrary to the expectations, he showed no irritation towards the subject.

– These good periods happen from time to time, but my condition is chronic. It is a consequence from the environment in which I spent part of my childhood.

You didn’t ask for details nor questioned where he used to live. Wherever this place was or how long he had to live in it, it didn’t matter now; all he could do was to take care of what remained form his health now, even if it was little. That was something you sort of respected in him, too: the practical treatment he would give to most of the things. In one of his first visits to the bakery, he had a coughing crisis while you were serving him; the first thing you did was to offer him a glass of water, which he accepted, and since then you would bring water alongside his orders, unless when he said it wasn’t necessary.

You crossed a street and recognized the top of your building ahead.

– We’re almost reaching my home – you indicated the building – It’s in the next corner.

You were approaching the entry when you saw a group standing on the sidewalk, engaged in a cheerful conversation: the first, a girl with curly, brown hair, wearing an elegant dress with flowing skirt, had her arm entwined with a young man’s, a bit older than her; the man, a blonde, tall individual with a large smile and a high pitch tone, was now occupied in telling some funny story to her and to the second girl, a brunette creature with her hair tied in a high bun and dark blue clothing.

You recognized your sisters and Virginia’s boyfriend, Arthur.

The three interrupted the chatting and greeted you with gentleness, but were a bit surprised to see you had company.

You made the introductions.

– Guys, this is Akutagawa Ryunosuke. He’s a client at the bakery. Today he offered himself to make me company on my way home.

Arthur said a low “Evening” to the other man and the girls gave him modest smiles. Akutagawa nodded at them.

You turned to him.

– Akutagawa-kun, these are my sisters, Virginia and Frances, and this is Arthur, Virginia’s boyfriend.

Arthur opened his largest smile and was the first to speak after the formalities.

– Hey, y/n-chan! Virginia-chan needs to cheer up a bit, so we’re heading to that new restaurant at … Street. Wanna join us? – and turning to your partner – The gentleman can come if he wishes, too!

Akutagawa’s gaze turned to you, waiting for you to reply first, which you did.

– I’m sorry, Arthur, but I’m tired. We had one less member in our team today so I had to work twice as hard – and adding a smile to compensate the group’s frustration, – You three, go and have fun!

As you imagined he would do, Akutagawa made his decision according to your own.

– Thank you for the invitation, but I have my own appointments as well. Goodnight – and turning to you – See you, y/n-san.

You smiled in response.

– See you. Get better.

He mumbled a “Thank you” and left with steady steps. There was a second of silence after that and, before you could find an excuse to enter the building, the conversation continued.

– You have such a lovely clientele, my sister-in-law – Arthur commented, raising his eyebrow in a manner that didn’t please you at all – But I bet he’s a good guy. There are a few who do small favors like this to a girl they barely know nowadays.

You wouldn’t describe your own connection with Akutagawa that way. It was true that you weren’t the closest friends, but you weren’t strangers to each other as Arthur suggested. In any case, you sensed it would be useless to try and explain this to him or to your sisters, so you decided to not reply to that.

You were about to pass to the front door and end the talking, but you couldn’t ignore when Frances added a comment that was certainly lingering in her tongue since your client turned his back on the group.

– Maybe he enjoys acting like he’s in the wrong century, Arthur. Didn’t you see those clothes? – she chuckled – Who are you to judge?

Arthur shrugged, oblivious to her cunning tone.

– And who said I’m being judgmental? I’m just pointing a fact!

Sometimes Arthur’s lack of perception – or the purposeful cluelessness in his attitude – used to irritate Frances to the point she would stop speaking to him as if he wasn’t even there, then find someone else to continue her train of thought. That time, she chose you.

– By the way, why did you wish him to get better, y/n-chan? Is he sick?

You gave her a brief reply.

– His health is fragile, that’s all.

The girl frowned, not satisfied.

– I see. He indeed looks like someone with consumption.

That comment, though the seriousness in which it was made, provoked in you an angry that scared even yourself, for it was a feeling that you only thought to be possible in case Frances has insulted an intimate friend or a lover of yours.

Now, you really had to end that conversation.

– Well, whatever it is, his condition is none of our business, since he doesn’t talk about it even to me. But you don’t need to worry, because he’s not helpless in this sense – you turned to Virginia – Dr. Ougai, who treats you, is his friend. He was the one who indicated his services.

Virginia’s eyes widened a bit in genuine surprise, since you haven’t share this fact with her until that moment, but she didn’t say anything; she wanted that chatting to end as much as you. Frances opened her mouth and closed it again, only managing to mumble a “Well...”

Arthur, though he swallowed when Dr. Ougai’s name was heard, was the one who had the most decent reaction among the three.

– So, it seems that he has been a great help for you, girls – and with a cheerful laugh – A gentleman, really!

You passed by them and headed to the door, again wishing them to have fun.

When they moved away on the sidewalk, you glanced to the direction took by Akutagawa to see if he was still under your sight. And for some seconds, he was: you saw when a black car stopped beside him; he opened the right door, on the back seat, and entered.

The car moved and disappeared after turning a corner.

#bsd akutagawa #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #akutagawa x reader #akutagawa ryunosuke x reader

[revui]

question! i didn't finish listening to the entirety of your foreverlands playlist (it's huge and i have little to no context for most of the songs. bc i know like. 4 characters and a half, not counting the memes. so it mostly feels like trying to decrypt what's written in ancient scripts or something. which is fun!) but i was wondering. what's your favorite song on the playlist and why? (favorite as in. relevant to plot i guess. like one that gives you a very vivid image of something you want to write into the story. or that describes a character so well they might as well have written the song themselves). Or like, maybe you have multiple songs that tie for first place, so feel free to give more if one is not enough. there's no limit. i mean honestly. if you manage to choose only one song. that's incredible. i have character playlists with like 10 songs and i still can't choose less than 3 songs to call my favorites (for the reasons listed above).

FOLKS

FISH IN A BIRDCAGE

First, I am very biased because it's also just my favorite song in general. I found it over the summer and I think it altered my brain chemistry. I added it to the playlist immediately without even waiting for the FL thoughts to kick in.

Second, it's just a crystallized version of the entire story. Every character. No matter who I'm writing, if I put this song on, it immediately becomes their song. Because it's the whole point of the story. Everyone is weird, everyone is "wrong," everyone is stuck. Even if they don't know it.

For example, Perseus Finch, a character I don't believe I've mentioned before. There are eight schools of magic in the Foreverlands, each with a head, considered the very best at that school. Percy is the head of Illusion magic. And he's 12.

That position comes with a lot of responsibilities, so putting a complete child there was beyond controversial, especially since he was 11 when he first got the title, ESPECIALLY since the woman who was the last head of Illusion had died not even a few hours beforehand, ESPECIALLY because that woman was PERCY'S DEAD MOM.

So. Y'know. Objectionable.

And he's already got to worry about, like, puberty. He doesn't have time to teach Illusion or serve the Seraph. And he at least vaguely understands how much this fucking sucks, but he also doesn't have enough time to stew in that since he's too busy being responsible for an entire division of sorcerery. I put this song on while I'm writing Percy, and it's Percy's song.

For a briefer example, Hyacinth. She showed up for a bit as Quin's friend in his chapter. She's a deeply independent person and has all kinds of different ideas for what she could do and who she could be, but she's tied down by her massive family, being the only one consistently able to look after all the younger kids, while also handling a lot of responsibilities at school, and needing to help run her family's casino, the Vermillion Garden. She has barely a second for herself but would feel guilty abandoning any of her duties for her own interests even though her soul is furiously ablaze and screaming of all the things Hyacinth wants to do. I put this song on while I'm writing Hyacinth, and it's Hyacinth's song.

I could keep going through all 14 other examples but for the sake of both our time, I'll leave it at two. You get the point. Song good.

#blorboposting