In which I ramble about a fictional character, her fictional boyfriend, and her fictional ex girl.
I'm scared of Eva.
I'm terrified of her because she's my dark side, and writing her makes me face all those things I'm ashamed of, all those things I've been taught aren't normal and well-to-do and proper for a lady. Writing her is like taking a look into a mirror and recognizing that she's not only my character, but me, on a very basic level.
Eva is willing to do things, and has done things, because she's had situations and people who enabled her.
In their shared past, Blythe had been willing to do everything they've ever done, from getting in trouble at school to getting in trouble at home to tumbling naked in bed because, oh god, horny as hell and in lust with each other.
Wolf is willing to take everything she can give him and then more, and then some, and then do it all over again not only because he craves it, but because he loves her. She is willing to go to that lenght, and more, and then some, and then do it all over again not only because she wants it, but because she's in love with him.
Yesterday I was swimming and I thought that she could just be crazy enough to chain him underwater and then breathe for him. Once I got that idea I couldn't put it out of my mind, and spent five minutes doing flipturns, pushing myself off from the border and then going back against it and repeating the whole process again, just so that I could play with it undisturbed.
She wouldn't chain him, I decided. She loves him too much to even consider the idea of playing with his life that way; there's thrill and then there's stupid risk-taking, and both of them know exactly what they want and what they won't even go near to. She would have him with his back to the wall, feet on the bottom of the pool and head underwater, though. She would hold him there with her hands on his shoulders and her legs on either side of him. She would breathe for him, passing him her air, emerging and submerging again and again. It would be sensual and sexy as hell, with the added thrill that at this particular moment his mind would be tricking him into thinking that his life depends on hers. And it would be safe, because he'd be able to come up for air himself if he needed it; sane, because they'd have everything laid out and well defined; consensual, because the whole point of this is an exercise on trust first, submission second.
I'm terrified of her because she's my dark side, and writing her makes me face all those things I'm ashamed of, all those things I've been taught aren't normal and well-to-do and proper for a lady. Writing her is like taking a look into a mirror and recognizing that she's not only my character, but me, on a very basic level.
Eva is willing to do things, and has done things, because she's had situations and people who enabled her.
In their shared past, Blythe had been willing to do everything they've ever done, from getting in trouble at school to getting in trouble at home to tumbling naked in bed because, oh god, horny as hell and in lust with each other.
Wolf is willing to take everything she can give him and then more, and then some, and then do it all over again not only because he craves it, but because he loves her. She is willing to go to that lenght, and more, and then some, and then do it all over again not only because she wants it, but because she's in love with him.
Yesterday I was swimming and I thought that she could just be crazy enough to chain him underwater and then breathe for him. Once I got that idea I couldn't put it out of my mind, and spent five minutes doing flipturns, pushing myself off from the border and then going back against it and repeating the whole process again, just so that I could play with it undisturbed.
She wouldn't chain him, I decided. She loves him too much to even consider the idea of playing with his life that way; there's thrill and then there's stupid risk-taking, and both of them know exactly what they want and what they won't even go near to. She would have him with his back to the wall, feet on the bottom of the pool and head underwater, though. She would hold him there with her hands on his shoulders and her legs on either side of him. She would breathe for him, passing him her air, emerging and submerging again and again. It would be sensual and sexy as hell, with the added thrill that at this particular moment his mind would be tricking him into thinking that his life depends on hers. And it would be safe, because he'd be able to come up for air himself if he needed it; sane, because they'd have everything laid out and well defined; consensual, because the whole point of this is an exercise on trust first, submission second.