#✒️writing tag✒️

[nyxthedragon225]

“Hey, Chip. You're dating Gill, right?”

Chip looked up in confusion and nodded. “You’ve seen me kiss her, Jay.”

“And we're dating, right?” Jay continued, unfazed by any actual logic.

“Pretty sure you’ve seen me kiss you too, so yeah.” Chip set his pen down fully from where he was writing logs to look at her fully.

“Okay. So does that make me and Gill, like, partners-in-law?” She set up her request with that line, holding her breath while Chip answered.

Chip hummed in thought and nodded. “I guess so.”

“What if I don't want that?” She was stalling. She was very definitely stalling and she was very very close to rambling but everytime she tried to actually say it, she felt her throat close up.

“Jay, honey, what are you saying?” Chip furrowed his brows. Jay took a deep breath.

“I think I’m in love with Gill,” she blurted.

[maenjiro]

cookiE and cream 𖦹 headcanons

ft. wakasa x afab!reader

synop + cw: wakasa and his oral fixation aka pussy drunk wakasa is the best wakasa. oral (reader receiving) and everything that may come with that

a/n: hmu if this is any good

old news but this man has THE oral fixation

so he dives in, he takes without asking. anywhere, anytime no matter what.

the gym, mostly the changing rooms otherwise he knows his friend would give him shit for it also he really is trying to be more mindful of other people but again, he has no shame when he's hungry

his house, your house, any place you can have some alone time

he makes you wet with all the shit he’s saying about eating you out

might not even be something extremely dirty but he’s so straight forward he can make you pretty flustered.

gets all frantic when he needs his mouth on you but you're wasting time talking

might pin you against the wall and just get on his knees

lift one of your legs on his shoulder to have more access, closes his eyes and the first moan he lets out is pure bliss

your legs shaking will never be enough for him to stop

or on the bed when he's on top of you, this bitch would lower his head down to kiss you and stop abruptly smirking “whoops, wrong lips”

next thing you know he has your legs on his shoulder and is worshipping your cunt

the rare times he's not in a frenzy to have his tongue make circular motion between your folds he will spread them with his fingers and smile at the sight

low breathy moan against your pussy

moves his tongue like he's starving, he is pussy drunk and he shows it

makes sure his tongue is keeping you all wet and hot

he's messy yet very precise, he knows where to lick and how much pressure will make you see stars

also will prod at your hole with his thumb and keep teasing you around your entrance with feathery touch that will make you clench around nothing (the bastard will smirk against you)

soo i bet he has some tooth rotting nicknames for you and i swear i know he would non ironically call you oreo... and you would tell him to stop calling you that

and he looks at you almost offended “not when i have your legs spread open for me and i’m about to lick your cr-” either you cover your face with the pillow or push his head against your core

endless cycle of him sucking on your clit and poking it with his tongue

overstimulates you and he doesn't even do that on purpose he just loses tracks of time (will make you cum at least three times i'm sorry but i don't make the rules, he does)

you can't even pull away cause his grip on your legs is tight, holding onto your thighs for dear life not to spiral

i wouldn't be surprised if he ended up falling asleep between your thighs

[chipsonthemenu]

i should GAAASP

okay so i'm working on an scu fic and if i said a driving plot point for it i'd spoil it but i think i may tie some genloss into it. like flashes of it, flashes of another timeline. just for mr charlie slimecicle :3

[first-blight]

i'm soooo normal about the mario movie, i'm so very normal, i prommy i'm normal. i haven't been listening to the barely 1-minute long mario brothers rap (from The Super Mario Bros. Movie (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack)) on loop for the past few days, i promise. please believe me, please please i'm so normal about the mario brothers, i'm not constantly thinking about The Super Mario Bros. Movie (2023), i promise, i'm very normal about it, actually. average, even. (lying, and biting and rattling the bars of my enclosure)

[foxytonics-quill]

“Dazzle the eyes, sparkle and shine, remain in small traces until the end of time!”

He’d learned it as a prank some months ago, a harmless trick to inflict infinite inconvenience upon an unsuspecting rival. That was all it was meant to be. Until, of course, he learned that he could actually aim it. Luca, being the chaotically meticulous young mage that he was, instantly became obsessed. Any and all free time he had after class was dedicated to testing the limits of the whimsical spell in a controlled environment and cleaning up the aftermath with a wave of his hand.

Should he have been studying for his final exam? Most assuredly! Could he be bothered to do so? Not a chance. He’d always been a good test taker, despite his lack of studying, and was confident that this one would be no more difficult to ace. All of his instructors and mentors warned him otherwise, as did many of his fellow students. Not friends. He didn’t really have any of those. Didn’t need them, either. Still, a few of his more outgoing classmates felt the need to nag him about ‘the biggest and most challenging exam of his entire career!’, like it was actually a big deal, or something. Nothing they said or did had an effect on him. Luca Rosepuff refused to be psyched out by some run-of-the-mill test.

He wasn’t nervous in the slightest.

Not until he finally had a run-in with his opponent the morning of the trial, who nonchalantly reminded him that they were to engage in a duel. A practical exam, not a written one. Actual spells being flung left, right, and center. In that instant, Luca finally understood why everyone had been harping on him to study instead of goofing off, mentally kicking himself for not remembering or listening to them earlier.

The hours leading up to the trial were agonizing; he was too much of an anxious wreck to pay attention to the previous duels, so caught up in worrying about what the fuck he was going to do that he nearly missed his name being called by the proctor. Everything seemed so overwhelming! The lights, bright and intense! The cacophony of cheers from the crowd and rebounding spells! Even his own panicked thoughts were too much to bear. He nearly jumped out of his skin when Axel’s heavy hand clamped down on his shoulder to shake him out of his stupor.

Time was up.

It was now or never, and if he couldn’t come up with a sound strategy, he’d just have to fly by the seat of his silky, audacious, purple pants.

He got up, squared his shoulders, and allowed himself to be led out of the audience and down to the stage at the center of the coliseum. The significance of that stuck in his mind. This wasn’t just a test of skill; it was also a performance, with himself and his opponent as the players, and Luca had always prided himself on being an entertainer. Even if he couldn’t win, why not at least put on a good show? Dodge and weave and misdirect, like he’d always done when showing off with parlor tricks? Perhaps he could even make use of the glitter spell somehow!

By the time he was escorted to his spot on the stage, Luca had regained some semblance of his cocky attitude, even bowing flamboyantly when he was introduced by the MC, which earned him uproarious applause. His opponent, Wren Pepperbutter, was not so amused. In contrast to Luca’s ostentatious jewel-toned getup, pink and black fluffy mohawk, striking eyeliner, and gaudy jewelry, she wore a simple crimson cloak with the hood up, concealing all but her intense expression. He appeared to have recovered from her earlier attempt at throwing him off his game, and that annoyed her greatly. Good. Let her be angry. It would likely make her sloppier and easier to trick.

“What’s with the long face, Wren?” he taunted, smirking in his classically infuriating fashion. “You didn’t think I’d back out, did you? With a chance to play before an audience of this size?” She growled in response and summoned her blackened wooden staff, whipping a blazing fireball at his head, which he just managed to duck out of the way of. “Surely, you had to have been dreaming!” That earned him another fireball, which he sidestepped, and his tittering laugh brought on an onslaught of hexes and curses that he had to dive to avoid. This duel was getting to be even dicier than he’d previously imagined! If he was going to make a move, he’d have to do it quickly, and make sure it counted. Still grinning like a fool, he finally summoned his own staff, a beautiful thing hand crafted from purpleheart amaranth and a large chunk of obsidian, and playfully declared, “You’re a crafty one indeed, but I’m willing to bet that I can fell you with a singular spell! What say you to that, fair songbird?”

Naturally, Wren only intensified her attacks, giving Luca the opening he’d been waiting for. He let a cry ring out from his mouth, feigning like he’d been hit by a particularly nasty hex that she’d unleashed, and crumpled to the ground in a heap. Wren was the vengeful sort, a dark sorceress with a reputation for showing nothing but cruelty to those who challenged her, and Luca hoped to whatever gods were watching that she hadn’t suddenly developed a conscience.

Judging by the the ominous clacking of her heels against the charred wooden stage growing closer and closer, she hadn’t. Perfect. Mentally, he counted down her steps, timing out exactly how long it would take her to get to him, then frantically began muttering out the incantation under his breath.

“Dazzle the eyes.”

Five. Four.

“Sparkle and shine.”

Three.

“Remain in small traces…”

Two.

“Until the end of time.”

One!

She was directly over him now, mouth open and snarling out a spell to finish him off, but was cut off when he suddenly unleashed a blast of glitter directly into her face. Initially, he’d merely intended to blind her, or to use it as a makeshift smokescreen, but her determination to end his life then and there had inspired his own brutal streak.

Luca rose to his feet as he watched her choke on the multitude of sparkling metal flecks. No doubt the glitter would ruin her lungs. The audience, which he’d admittedly forgotten about for a hot minute, was roaring with cheers and applause, which only got louder when he gracefully took a bow. The proctors for exam even gave him a high score for only having to use one spell, stating that duels were about more than sheer power. He went along with it, only allowing his confident persona to slip and shatter once he was alone, staring back at his horrified reflection in a bathroom mirror.

“Never…never again,” he swore to himself, shaking as he gripped the sink. “I never want to duel another mage. Ever! H-holy shit, that was…fuck! That was terrifying!” It went down in the university’s history as one of the most epic duels ever. Luca preferred to try and forget it.

As a mage, your last test is to battle with another student with your magic. The only spell you memorize (before the duel) correctly is to summon craft glitter!

[novanhistorian]

The Fundamentals

Finally, I get around to introing the blog. If you like this, there’s more: I posted two of five(?) parts of a summary of history today.

I am here to talk about the Imperium Novel, which I must immediately clarify is not a novel. What it actually is is a rather massive and intricate worldbuilding project. Now, I could tell you that its name is a relic of the earliest days of its development, when it was really to be one novel with an increasingly cartoonish amount of backstory, and that would be true enough; but the heart of the matter is that I am a painfully pretentious artiste in this specific way. I could have changed the name; I didn’t.

(As for why it is no longer a single novel: As I write this, the [pseudo]historical period I concern myself with covers almost fifteen centuries, most of them quite complicated. Any attempt to cover the whole in one novel would wind up a gargantuan, winding, likely quite boring mess possessing more pages than a medical textbook and less plot than a wet blanket.)

Anyhow, hard segue.

The other basics you need to know are the following:

We are not in our solar system. References to the sun are to the star Scientia (to us, Era Cassiopeiae A), and references to Forsuno or the Far Sun refer to, well, Forsuno (Eta Cassiopeiae B).

The main planet, Terranovo,* has twenty-six-hour days and slightly stronger gravity than Earth. Its days are the standard in most other regions; we are ignoring Ilajn for now because I haven’t formally named their planet. (It has 21.5-ish-hour days and markedly weaker gravity. Let’s hear it for large, fast-rotating terrestrial planets.)

All the planets we care about after 2300 orbit Scientia, and—at the risk of misrepresenting the gravitational dance—the orange dwarf Forsuno basically does too. Scientia’s stellar classification is G0 V, which is to say that it is more or less like our sun, though slightly brighter. Forsuno’s is K7 V, which makes it either an orange or a red dwarf, depending on which classification system one follows. Basically, it’s small, it’s dim (only 6% of the Sun’s luminosity, still far brighter than a full moon), and it will live a very long time after Scientia is dead. Although their orbit is very eccentric (that is to say very elliptical rather than circular), the closest approach between the stars is 36 AU, or just this side of the Kuiper Belt; this allows for stable, although compact, planetary systems around both stars safe from the worst of the gravitational interference of the other star.

Novanity (non-collective singular novan and plural novans) is the sapient species the Novel follows for most of its history. They are, as many of them will bitterly tell you, the products of genetic engineering and a whole lot of moral stupidity on the parts of various humans—but we shall get to that in the history.

* At other points in its history, Terranovo was also known as Terra Nova, Terranova, Tero Nova, and Nova Tero. By the current working date, 745, variation is only historical.

The gender trinary is probably the most relevant thing in here besides the location, but thanks to narrative flow I have to put it down here. The three novan genders occupy roughly the same position as the human two, which is to say that the majority of the population falls into one or another, but there are a large number of outliers besides.

Two of the dominant genders are descendants of our concepts of male and female, and they remain mostly similar and are called by their names. The third is called sendua (an adjective), and people who have it are called senduoj. Its name derives from a shortening of senduuma, a rather nonstandard way of saying “nonbinary;”* it somewhat evolved from the use of the word as an overcategory for a variety of genders,

* It literally means “without a binary;” the human standard, neduuma, is a calque from English.

If you encounter something like Ĉlr or Nŝx/n, that’s reference shorthand, a standardized system used in the Imperium (with War-Era predecessors); it tells you a person’s gender and pronouns, and sometimes their preferred grammatical gender and physical sex.

The capital letters stand for gender and are derived from the gendering suffixes in the Imperium’s dominant language: Ĉ stands for male, N for female, S for sendua, and X (from crossing out the category on a form) for anything else. The lowercase letters, of which there are often more than one, stands for pronouns: l for li, the equivalent of “he;” ŝ for ŝi, “she;” r for ri, “re;” and x for anything else (which is quite rare, but in practice means “ask”).

The lowercase letter after the slash, if it exists, describes grammatical gender—and boy do I wish English had a shorter way to say that. The Imperium’s dominant language is largely non-gendered, and for words which could be gendered���titles, professions, and so on—the default is to use the genderless base word rather than add on one of the gendered suffixes. But some titles are routinely declined by gender, and several minor languages gender their adjectives at a minimum and their verbs at a maximum. As a result, some portion of the population has a preference about which gender is used, and that’s usually denoted like this. (The letters themselves follow the same rule as the actual gender indicator, and good lord have I said “gender” a lot of times in this paragraph.)

Occasionally, an italicized x or y or a centered asterisk, placed after the pronouns, indicates physical sex. The x and y, mean roughly what one would expect—XX or XY chromosomes respectively, without any sort of intersex condition. The asterisk, which in some state governments has subcategories, indicates that the person is intersex. Sex is mostly irrelevant in social life, so its denotation is circumscribed to medical and governmental records.

As you may have guessed by now, the dominant language is Esperanto—or, well, a version of Esperanto that’s evolved like a (fairly regulated) natural language for a millennium and a half. Some people speak one or more of the so-called “minor languages,” usually regional dialects descended from natlangs.

There are two different calendars in use over the course of the Novel, one that continues roughly directly from the Gregorian calendar and is dated relative to the traditional year of birth of Jesus Christ and another dated relative to the Year of Fortifying the Peace (the official end of the War Era, covered in the last two sections of the Sketch of History).

The first or human calendar can be identified because it will almost always have a four-digit year, and in cases where it doesn’t it gets labeled (B.)C.E. The second or novan calendar can usually be identified by having a three-digit year, or else because it uses a minus sign to indicate its negatives. It may also be distinguished by the ᴊ (from jaro, “year”) that precedes single- and double-digit years, as well as any three-digit years that require disambiguation. The novan calendar has a year zero; this is, as can probably be predicted, the Year of Fortifying the Peace.

Technically there are four major dating systems (standard, human, Terranovan orbital, and Ilajnaplaneta orbital). The orbital calendars exist because neither of the inhabited planets have years particularly close to 365 days, so their seasons are wildly out of sync with the administrative calendars. I should probably also note that neither planet has 24-hour days, and that the administrative calendars are standardized on the 26-hour Terranovan day.

I think that’s about it. I’ll write up instructions on how to pronounce all the random Esperanto words soon; for now, the vowels are like Spanish and the J makes a Y sound.

[seashore-winds]

and i look at the beautiful men

and i sigh not with envy

but heavy tiredness

not because i don't see my own beauty

but as a dream to be so easily seen as such.

the wonders

a pair of those eyes do

in such a hostile world.

[kandi-store]

salutations!

i'm kandi! i write, ramble, and more. currently learning about stuff i want to do and try out. will edit this as i go!

-------- tag list --------

💛: waxing poetic = pretty words! generally writing and poetry

💛: yearning hours = exactly what it says on the cover. can be platonic or romantic.

✨: starry-eyed = space-related content, scientific or otherwise

🐚: ocean hearted = ocean-related content, scientific or otherwise

💛: brushstrokes = any artwork

💛: writing references = prompts, tips, and etc for writing

💕: tag me next time = getting called out by a post

💛: magical! = self explanatory

💗: fun stuff! = polls, q&a's, etc

🧡: pretty things = generally pretty or interesting things I don't have a category for

[winterrrnight]

soft!rafe cameron x scholar!fem!reader 🖇️📚🖊️📓📑💌🗂️✒️

library and coffee dates. resting your head in his lap while reading. hugging him when the current assignment feels like pressure. surprised with huge flower bouquets on academic achievements. standing at your doorway with your favorite foods for your break. instagram stories of you studying. coffee stains on your notes. his jackets being a necessity in your outfits. cheering out loud for you when you get the diploma. taking you to the park for your study breaks. sharing earphones while listening to music. late night drives to help you clear your head. <3 (og post)

(I am hyperfixated over this trope so if anyone wants to write something inspired by this, please do!!! 🥹🥹 and defo tag me 🥰)

[nyxthedragon225]

rolan was always so well put together, so handsome and disciplined. He had good manners and better grades, a perfect picture of the kind of guy you'd want to take home to your parents. Rand loved it when he was deep in his job, poring over some notes or textbooks, his face scrunching up in concentration and his glasses sliding down his nose. Rand loved it even more when he could get Rolan to relax and stop being so stuck up, loved seeing him lounging around the house in sweatpants and one of Rand's graphic tees, loved it when Rolan woke up late and shuffled into the kitchen mumbling something incoherent about his dreams. Rolan was gorgeous no matter what he did and Rand loved every bit of it.

Kian was always so effortlessly gorgeous, a certain kind of otherworldly beauty that made Rand lose his breath. He was smooth and seductive, always ready with a witty remark to sweep Rand off his feet and leave him red and gasping for air. Rand loved it when he took a hit of a blunt and the smoke framed his face, leaning back and eyes closed, a look of pure bliss on his face. Rand loved it even more when he was towering over Rand, backed him against a wall and tilted his chin up for a kiss. He loved it when Kian got lost in his music until he seemed to forget he had an audience, eyes focused on the guitar as deft fingers danced along the strings. Kian was a wonder, something incredible to behold, something so alien in his beauty that Rand could hardly believe he was allowed to exist near him.

And Rand was just that: Rand. Timothy Rand, a 30 year old homosexual stoner who lived in his parent's attic and didn't have a job. He was nothing, he was ungly and worthless next to them.

[riki-dazed]

welcome; ♡

masterlist · anon list

i want to highlight the fact that this blog is a safe space for everyone, be respectful, please keep any type of negativity and judgement off this acc

request guidelines

· i write smut with 18+ characters. please block if you're uncomfortable knowing that

· my main groups are in the tags. mostly writing about riki for now

· my prns are she/her, i feel most comfortable writing using those

· no member x member

what i won't write:

sa, abuse, underage, incest/stepcest, there will obviously be many other things. if i come across a request i do not want to write, i simply won't. don't worry about making me uncomfortable

-> pls read !!

✒️ to see short blurbs; #riki-dazed thoughts

📝 to see requests; #riki-dazed requests

💌 to see inbox replies; #riki-dazed chats

💕 to see my anons & their messages; #riki-dazed anons

please keep in mind that i may not get to writing everything that gets requested. i'm also a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to writing so it may take me a while, there will be times i post mutiple times a day, and sometimes nothing for a few days.. it all depends.

Please do not copy, translate or repost my work without permission.

[kairismess]

just let him adore you. — atsumu miya x reader

🎧 song inspo: adore you by harry styles.

🏐 genre: fluffiness with a good brew of coffee ~

✒️ word count: 1,006

💭 summary: atsumu could never move on from the one who made his heart skip a beat at first glance, he held you in his heart, even after six years, for him to grab this very opportunity to tell you how he really feels.

🍥 author's note: time to spread the harry styles agenda (i'm so late to the party)

it was one sunny morning at the local cafe atsumu frequented, there was nothing out of the ordinary that day–just the same, average routine for the pro volleyball player, when he wasn't being noticed in public, that is. he was surprisingly very good at being lowkey, especially at the one place he found the most relaxation at.

on that day, that day when the light, feathery clouds let the sun's warm rays seem through it–he was greeted by the voice of someone who sounded familiar by the counter. he turned his head to see his old classmate from high school, smiling up at him, wearing that usually mundane, boring uniform of the cafe, that looked a thousand times prettier now that you were wearing it.

he's cheeks went flushed without him realizing it, and his honey colored pupils dilated as his lips parted, his mouth hung a little open. he tried to compose himself after you called out to him again, smiling still, and he shook his head, coughing a bit. "ah, yeah, um... can i get a, uh..." he stammered, unsure now of what his usual even was anymore because: one, you didn't usually take his order–and two, it was you who was going to take his order.

you, the exchange student that ended up in his class and brightened his uneventful days up with the small hint of your smile–you, who sat next to him in class and beat him to greeting you first–you, whose pretty strawberry lipstick always made your lips shine and appear glossier, and always had a sort of colorful way of looking at and doing things.

with you, atsumu always felt like he was in a rainbow state of paradise. but today, unfortunately, it felt like today he was stuck at one end of the rainbow spectrum at a time, since... you probably didn't recognize him–and, even if you did, he wasn't sure if you'd even remember him.

well, no harm in starting over again, he thought to himself as he finally got his order out to you and you went right to work at punching his order in and making it. atsumu really felt like his usual today would be a lot more flavorful than his ordinary 'usual', because today, the first person to ever make his heart beat a tiny bit more was going to make it.

"so... ya been 'ere long?" he asked you with a partially confident smile as he watched you brew his drink. you chuckled and responded that, no, you hadn't been working here for long–you'd barely been here for a month, actually. atsumu nodded as he watched you pour in the rest of the contents of his drink, mixing them up into a beautiful slurry of shades and lights. "for a rookie, y'sure are great at this whole coffee makin' thing." you smiled at his compliment. "and... you sure are nice, mister." you complimented him back, making him blush and smile wider.

atsumu snickered as he leaned over on the counter as he watched you cover his drink and began to write his order down. "alright, um, your name, sir?" "you first." he teases, grinning sneakily, making you laugh a little at how smooth he was. you pointed to your name tag and giggled. "right here." "i know, but... there's somethin' real pretty about ya and yer name, i wanna hear what it's like for ya to introduce yerself ta me, if it ain't too much ta ask for." he admitted, blushing a little as his eyes shone even more staring up at you with a wide smile on his blushing face.

you gave in and introduced yourself to him, and atsumu repeated your name, as if to take in the fact that, indeed, you were the one that made his heart patter all those six years ago–with the same way you carried yourself and said your name, how your eyes gleamed with a darling innocence and brightness to them, and how you always seemed to catch his heartstrings and squeeze his heart in all the right places to make him love you so, so much more the more you two talked and casually spent time together.

"alright, well... tsum." "tsum?" you asked him, feeling as though you've heard that name before, somewhere in a chapter of your past that you could kind of but not wholly remember. atsumu nodded. "spell it however ya want, i ain't that uptight 'bout it." he spoke, trusting you that you'd remember him well enough, even just barely, to spell his name the way you always did–because you gave him that nickname, 'tsum', and he grew to love it ever since, because... you gave him that name when you two became friends.

"this may be strange, tsum, but... i feel like i know you from somewhere." you confessed, feeling a bit awkward and shy. atsumu chuckled and thanked you for the drink, his long, calloused fingers brushing against your own when he received the drink. "well... so do i, actually." "really?" "i think... i've seen ya in m'dreams before." he teased, which was semi-true, he had occasionally dreamt of you here and there after graduation, wondering if you two would ever meet again.

it surprised him how calm he was, seeing the first person he ever truly loved right before him–and though he was always confused about what exactly he felt about you back then since he was so young and unsure... he knows how he really feels now, and he couldn't be any happier to feel it again and see you, be with you in the very cafe he loved visiting.

he doesn't mind how long it takes, he doesn't need you to love him, you don't have to say anything to fill the silence with him or say you're his when you two are starting out again–he'd gladly walk through fire for you, he'd do any and everything for you... just let him adore you. it's all he'll ever do, and all he's ever done.

[lipglossanon]

This was so lovely!

— divine temptations.

᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌«things on your chest» ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌«you need to confess» ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ «i will deliver» ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ «you know i'm a forgiver»

summary: Leon Kennedy is a beautiful personification of the holy father — and you are a beautiful personification of his main weakness for sin. content: priest re6 leon kennedy x fem reader tags: fluff, comfort, maybe a bit of possesivness, nsfw, smut, vaginal fingering, unprotected p in v, marking, little communication, mentions of sin and sensitive topics for theists. author's note: well, hello there! i've seen couple of work's about priest leon but didn't actually think that someday i'll come with an writing about this topic too, but here i am, thanks to the one of the many best writing's that belong to @lipglossanon and that inspired me, hope you'll like this work! enjoy your reading) ⛪ (18+ warning)

Leon Kennedy was the epitome of an exemplary priest, with an aura of unwavering devotion and honesty.

Tall and majestic, he had a striking appearance that immediately aroused the respect of others, his dark hair was always neatly combed, framing a face that carried both the burden of responsibility and the kindness of a benevolent soul.

There was a depth in his cerulean eyes that seemed to reflect the vastness of heaven itself, as he spoke, whether from the pulpit or in private council, his words carried the weight of wisdom gained from years of unwavering dedication, his voice, rich and sonorous — had a reassuring effect, like the gentle reassurance that comes from knowing someone who has found their purpose and lived it to the fullest.

He wore his priestly robes with grace that spoke of his devotion to his calling, the white collar of his cassock was a symbol of his sacred duty, connection with the divine, which he wore with humility and pride, the dark fabric of his clothes absorbed the cares of those who sought his guidance, as if he willingly carried their burden on his shoulders.

Leon's actions were evidence of his unwavering commitment to his convictions, he tirelessly cared for the needs of his flock, providing both spiritual comfort and practical help to those in need, his days were often filled with visiting the sick, comforting the mourners and listening to those who sought advice, his hands, accustomed to to the weight of the Bible and the touch of the rosary, carried a gentle power that left an indelible mark on the lives he touched.

In the sacred walls of the church, his presence radiated a sense of holiness, as he led the faithful in prayer and delivered sermons that spoke of the human condition, his sincerity shone, he was a beacon of hope, a guiding star for those who overcome the difficulties of life's problems.

Respected and recognized by the community, Leon's reputation was built on a foundation of unwavering ethics, he never shied away from difficult conversations, addressing the complexities of faith and morality with a balanced approach that encouraged thoughtful introspection, his openness to discussion and willingness to meet people where they were. contributed to a sense of trust and inclusion within the congregation in their spiritual journey.

In a world that often seemed uncertain, Leon remained an unshakable pillar of faith, his life was a living embodiment of his convictions, an example of how to overcome the difficulties of the modern world while remaining true to eternal principles, he was more than a priest — he was a mentor, a confidant and source of inspiration for those who have searched for meaning in their lives.

The church has always exuded an air of eternal reverence and holiness, a quiet silence reigned in the air, as if the walls themselves held the echoes of centuries of whispered prayers and solemn vows, sunlight filtered through intricate stained glass windows, casting kaleidoscopic patterns of colored light on polished marble floors, the air was saturated with a delicate aroma aged wood, candle wax and a lingering scent of incense, creating a sensual symphony that transports visitors to the realm of devotion.

High vaulted ceilings rose overhead like evidence of the divine, adorned with intricate frescoes depicting biblical scenes in vivid detail, soft choral music played softly in the background, its soothing melodies floating in the air like a gentle embrace, rows of benches lined the nave, each was decorated with intricate designs, their austere beauty offering both comfort and a sense of the sacred.

Candles flickered on ornate candelabra, casting dancing shadows on the walls and creating a serene atmosphere contemplating, rows of prayer candles stood guard, their gentle flames representing the hopes, fears and aspirations of those who came in search of solace.

The altar, bathed in warm golden light, was the center of the church, its elaborate decorations and ornate crucifix a reminder of the sacrifice and grace at the heart of faith, and the scent of incense hung in the air, a fragrant offering that rose to the heavens with every slight rise and fall of the censer.

As you walked through the church you could almost feel the weight of history in the very stones under your feet, the atmosphere was filled with reverence and quiet introspection, a space where the burdens of the world could be cast aside and the connection with the divine felt palpably, it was a refuge where souls could find respite from the restless outside. a world where prayers whispered in the shadows met with a sense of understanding and acceptance.

In this sacred space of the church, the stories of generations were preserved, imprinted on every pew, stained glass windows and carved reliefs, it was a place where people sought guidance, redemption and the comfort that comes from knowing that they are not alone on their spiritual path, the atmosphere embraced all who entered , inviting them to find their connection to the divine and explore the depths of their faith in a haven of calm and serenity.

And just at the moment you entered Leon's field of vision, there seemed to be a change in the atmosphere, the very air was filled with an energy that was both inspiring and unsettling, but as you stood there, dressed in the sacred robe of a nun, a soft, unearthly fabric seemed to shimmer with its own light, casting an otherworldly glow around you.

Your presence was a mesmerizing contrast to the solemnity of the church, like an enchanting angel descending to Earth, your appearance evoked a sense of wonder that seemed to go beyond the ordinary, the pure white color of your clothes was a canvas on which innocence and faith were painted, a visual representation of devotion that you kept deep in your heart.

But it was your eyes that really caught his attention, wide and bright, they shone with a hint of childlike innocence, in their depths he could see the source of unshakable faith, faith in something more that radiated out like a beacon, those eyes carried wisdom that contradicted your youthful appearance, as if you were in touch with the divine, which was unique to you.

A soft smile played on your lips as you approached, and his thoughts seemed to scatter like leaves caught in a gust of wind, as if your presence had the power to silence the cacophony of his mind, leaving only a quiet, gentle resonance that echoed with your closeness, the weight of his duties and convictions suddenly seemed distant to him, replaced by a strange longing which he never allowed himself to acknowledge.

He devoted his whole life to his faith, unwaveringly adhering to his convictions, the idea of ​​crossing certain boundaries never visited him, he never allowed his thoughts to be distracted by the desires of the flesh, kisses, hugs or the warmth of soft touches.

But you, with your innocence and intimacy, broke down those carefully built walls.

Your soft smiles and innocent questions about how his day went shook his composure, your chirping voice is like a sweet melody, shattered the facade of restraint that he so diligently maintained, as if your very presence was an irresistible temptation testing the limits of his composure.

And then, in the moments when his patience wore thin, he found himself struggling to maintain his priestly detachment, your closeness became a magnet that drew him, his fingers yearning to touch, to hold, to feel the warmth of your presence — your skin next to his.

A struggle raged within him between vows he had taken and desires he had never allowed himself to acknowledge.

A dichotomy unfolded in your mere existence — the embodiment of purity and faith that you represented, and the turbulent whirlwind of emotion that your presence aroused within him.

The atmosphere has changed with you — the subtle dance of innocence and desire has left both his beliefs and his heart in a state of conflict he never expected.

 ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ━━━━✙━━━━

There was a palpable tension in the quiet solitude of the empty church, a palpable tension in the air, the blazing candlelight casting dancing shadows across the polished marble floors — creating an intimate atmosphere of breathless anticipation as you stood at the pulpit, the silence broken only by the soft rustle of cloth as Leon approached and gazed at you.

— «Forgive me» he began, his voice a low murmur that carried the weight of his inner struggle — «I must confess that my thoughts were occupied with the most undesirable distraction»

Your eyes met his, the innocence in your gaze contrasting sharply with the turmoil that simmered beneath his calm exterior — «Father Leon» you whispered, and here was both understanding and a bold hint of something more in your voice — «Do you believe that God has created desires in us?»

Vulnerability flickered in his azure eyes, a crack in his armor revealing the inner conflict he was fighting — «I believe that our desires can sometimes lead us astray from the path of righteousness» he replied, his tone laced with a mixture of restraint and anguish.

Your smile was both knowing and gentle, soothing enough to make his heart tremble — «But isn't it possible that God also created these desires so that we could experience the fullness of our humanity?»

He hesitated, caught between the teachings he held dear and the feelings you awakened in him — «My child» he muttered in a fragile thread of voice — «This is the fine line we walk between the sacred and the profane»

In the midst of this delicate conversation, his resolve crumbled right before your eyes, the distance between you evaporated and you were at the podium, your breath mixing in a tense atmosphere.

His fingers trembled slightly as he reached out and touched your cheek gently, his touch as fragile as a whispered prayer.

— «Maybe..» he admitted in a heavy from surrender voice — «There are times when the divine and the earthly intersect»

The air seemed to vibrate with tension pulsing between you, his gaze flickered between your eyes and your lips, the struggle within him was evident in every wrinkle of his brows, and then, as if driven by forces beyond his control, his lips met yours in a kiss that contained in himself a deep anguish, which he had denied himself for so long.

For a moment, time seemed to stop, as the boundaries separating him from the desires of the flesh blurred and became insignificant, his arms hugged you, pulling you closer, his touch was a paradox of tenderness and perseverance.

The sacred space of the church witnessed this intimate communion, the union of souls that transcends the physical world.

In that stolen moment when his lips met yours, Leon's attachment to God and his devotion to his vows faded into the background, the dichotomy between the sacred and the profane, the spiritual and the carnal dissolved in the face of a common passion that flared up like a flame, long contained, in a silent sanctuary in an empty church, he indulged in the depths of desire he had denied for so long and found a connection that seemed both forbidden and divine.

You feel a wave of desire coursing through your body, fueled by the forbidden nature of your connection, despite your shared devotion to your faith, you find yourself unable to resist the charm of each other's touch, and you return his kiss with the same fervor, your lips meeting his with a hunger that matches your own.

As his hands slide over your body, you feel a shiver of excitement run down your spine, even though you're still dressed in a modest nun's robe, his touch lights a fire in you, your body reacts instinctively, pressing closer to him, craving more of his intoxicating presence.

Your hands gliding over his broad shoulders, your fingers tracing the contours of his muscular body, the tension between you intensifies as you explore each other's bodies through the fabric of your clothes, the anticipation of what lies ahead intensifies with each passing moment.

Leon's hands, driven by his insatiable desire, penetrate the folds of your monastic robe, the touch of his fingertips on your skin is electrifying, his explorations are careful, but at the same time filled with the desire to explore every inch of your body.

As his hands move, he breaks the connection between your lips, his lips greedily rest on the soft skin of your neck, his breath passionately touches your skin and he leaves a trail of kisses and nibbles, marking you as his own in a fit of desire.

The combination of his hands caressing your body and his lips teasing your sensitive skin causes waves of pleasure to run through you, your breath hitching and a low moan escapes your lips as you succumb to the intoxicating sensation.

Leon continued to pay attention to your neck, his lips and teeth leaving a trail of teasing sensations, he enjoys the quiet moans and whimpers escaping from your lips, his desire is fueled by the sounds of your pleasure.

As his fingers find their way to your clothed cunt he feels warmth and wetness betraying your arousal, a mixture of anticipation and lust coursing through his veins as he gently presses at the cloth, teasingly exploring your most intimate area.

Your reaction is immediate — a sharp sigh escapes your lips as you bury your face in his shoulder, looking for comfort and a place to drown out your moans, the combination of his skillful manipulation on your neck and the teasing touch of his fingers on your clothed cunt threatens to undermine your self control.

Leon finds in himself the pleasure of the power he has over you, the control he has, pushing the boundaries of your desires, in this moment you are lost in a whirlwind of pleasure and sin, unable to resist the intoxicating charm of his touch.

— «P-please, father… m-more» your voice is a desperate plea among the quiet walls of the temple where only your sighs are heard.

He grins into your neck, his lips touch your skin and he listens to your plea for more, he enjoys the sound, enjoying his power over your desires, Leon lifts his head slightly and kisses your cheek gently, his breath passionately against your skin.

He takes your request as a signal to move on, to sink deeper into the sinful passion that consumes you both, with a deliberate and calculated movement, he bends down and pushes your panties aside, exposing your smooth folds.

His fingers, slippery with your arousal, slide over your wetness, teasingly probing your tender entrance, and with a slight pressure he slowly but firmly inserts one finger and bends it to find the point that makes you sigh of pleasure.

The feel of his finger inside you, combined with the constant attention he pays to your neck, sends waves of pleasure through your body, you find yourself indulging in sinful pleasure, your moans grow louder and desire reaches its climax.

Leon feels your body tremble at his touch, your grip on his shoulders tighter as you struggle to gain a foothold in the consuming pleasure, the feel of your nails scratching his shoulders through the fabric of his robe only heightens the tension of the moment.

As he inserts another finger, your walls instinctively tighten around his fingers, seeking to pull him even deeper into the depths of your cunt, the combination of his skillful movements and your heightened arousal brings you to the abyss of ecstasy.

A scream of pleasure escaped your lips as your orgasm engulfed you, your body trembling in his embrace, the intensity of your release engulfing you, leaving you breathless and completely lost in the sinful pleasure that none other than Leon awakened in you.

He enjoys the sight and sound of your pleasure, enjoying the control and dominance he holds over your desires in this moment, and in this moment of vulnerability and ecstasy you are both consumed by the depth of your sinful connection.

Leon's fingers on another hand is slide gently through your hair, a touch of tenderness amidst the tension surrounding both of you, his actions dramatically displaying a fleeting moment of complete softness.

But the respite is short lived as he leads you closer to the pulpit, forcing you to hold on to it for support, he moves behind you, his strong presence radiating as he takes control of the situation.

His hands slide along the edge of your monk's robe, slowly lifting it up, exposing the seductive curves of your body and grabbing your panties with his fingers, the fabric falling off, piling up around your legs, leaving you exposed and vulnerable.

With a deliberate and measured movement, he leans down and unbuckles the belt on his trousers, anticipation soars in the air, the sound of unbuckling the belt echoes through the quiet church, reminding you of the forbidden nature of your meeting.

As the belt falls to the ground, Leon's desire takes over again, his eyes filled with lustful hunger, the intensity of his gaze leaving no doubt about his intentions as he steps closer, ready to fully accept the sinful pleasure that awaits both of you.

His desires are at their peak as he steps behind you, his throbbing cock pressing against wet lips of your cunt, anticipation palpable in the air as he teases your clit, causing you to whimper in pleasure.

With a slow, deliberate push, he begins to penetrate, his powerful form filling you completely, the feeling of his cock's firmness stretching you, causing a mixture of pleasure and painful desire to flow through your body.

The sinful act when he entered you in the sacred walls of the church only increases the tension of the moment, the air is heavy from the weight of your desires, the echo of your whines is mixed with the quiet silence of the holy place.

Leon, driven by his primal urges, sets a relentless pace, his movements are firm and commanding, each push brings you closer to the edge of pleasure, your body reacts to his every touch, to every blow of his hardened cock.

In this moment of undisguised, forbidden passion, you surrender completely to the sinful pleasure that Leon delivers, getting lost in the overwhelming sensations that consume you.

As Leon continues to sink into you, your body arches towards him in search of deeper connection and pleasure, endless moans escaping your lips filling the air with your symphony of ecstasy, your walls clenching around him, squeezing him tight as you lose yourself in sensation.

Your nails scratch at the pulpit, a desperate attempt to gain a foothold amid the all consuming pleasure, and sensing your need for restraint, Leon gently intertwines the fingers of his hand with yours, providing a tether to prevent any unintentional harm.

He gently slows down, his movements become more controlled and gentle, he treasures the vulnerability that you have entrusted to him, making sure that every touch and stroke is filled with care and attention.

The intensity of your connection remains, but Leon adjusts his rhythm according to your desires, he seeks to prolong the pleasure, to enjoy the moments of intimacy shared between you, in this moment you both find comfort and release, embracing passion.

Leon feels a tremble in your body as your knees buckle slightly, all consuming pleasure threatening to consume you completely, light sobs escape your lips — a mixture of pleasure and the impending release that awaits you.

He leans in and kisses your cheek gently, his lips giving a brief respite from the intensity of the moment, his touch soft and soothing, a reminder that even in this sinful act there is a moment of comfort.

He understands the power of your impending orgasm, the power that will soon overwhelm you, he enjoys the knowledge that he has led you to this abyss, that he has kindled a fire of pleasure within you.

As your walls clench around him, the stranglehold of your orgasm grows, Leon remains steadfast, his movements become more measured and precise, he wants to witness your orgasm, to feel your body convulsing as you surrender to an consuming ecstasy.

At that moment, you are both teetering on the edge, your desires intertwined in an intricate dance, and Leon is here, ready to take you through the waves of pleasure, to catch you as you fall into the abyss of your orgasmic release.

And then your body reaches its peak, the tension inside you subsides and you emit a final whine of pleasure, your legs trembling, threatening to give way as the waves of orgasm hit you, leaving you feeling sluggish and empty for a moment.

Feeling your orgasm, Leon continues his powerful thrusts, rapidly approaching his climax, the combination of your walls squeezing him tightly and the abrupt intensity of the moment pushing him over the edge.

With a guttural moan, he finds his way out inside you, his hot cum spilling deep into your cunt, the intimate connection as he fills you only enhances the sinful pleasure that runs through your bodies.

Both of you remain trapped in this moment of shared bliss, bodies trembling and hearts pounding, your joint orgasms echoing through the empty church, the air scented with the passion and consequences of your union.

At this moment, you gain a temporary respite from the chaos and darkness that often surrounds you, holding your breath, tangled in each other's arms, you both understand that this forbidden meeting has left an indelible mark on your souls.

As Leon's feelings return to him, his attention shifts to the aftermath of your passionate encounter, he zips up his pants with his usual neatness, regaining his composure and with a gentle touch he straightens your disheveled clothes to make you look as collected as possible.

Gently he lifts you up in his arms, carrying you to his office with purposeful but soft steps, walking, he steps over drops of cum on the floor, acknowledging the evidence of your mutual intimacy, and showing attention, he picks up your discarded panties from the floor and discreetly puts them in his pocket not to be left behind.

A thought crosses his mind, reminding him that he must mop the floor to erase all traces of your meeting, he makes a mental note to do this task later, making sure no trace of your forbidden connection remains.

Before entering his office Leon pauses, and his eyes reflect a mixture of desire and affection as he leans down and kisses the top of your head gently, a quiet gesture of comfort and connection, at which point he acknowledges the complexity of your relationship and the importance of the choices you both made.

With confident yet gentle determination, he carries you into his office, ready to face the consequences and walk the uncertain path that may lie ahead, while he enjoys the weight of your warm body in his arms.

Now he has his own angel.

[ taglist: @roseglazedlens, @sporeghost, @daydreamrot, @scar-crossedlvrs ] dm me if you want to be tagged in my works or open my taglist.

© dmitriene - my masterlist or ao3 please, don't copy my works as your own, and if you want to post them somewhere else - contact me. reblogs, likes and comments are very much appreciated, thank you for reading! ♡

[snakebites-and-ink]

🐍 Snakebites-and-Ink Master Masterlist 🖋️

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⚡ Technically Not Human (working title) Nolan signs away his freedom and goes to an institution that trains superhumans to serve the highest bidder.

🖱️ Asher the IT Pet What if someone who was legally a pet were allowed to have a life like a free person?

🤕 Whumper-turned-Caretaker CYOA What it says on the tin.

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♒ Living Weapon Aquarius

🔊 Hero Brainwashed to Villain's Living Weapon

🪶 Sky's the Limit

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❄️ Whumpuary 2024

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[coff33andb00ks]

🔥Viv 1K Followers Bonfire🔥

firstly I'm so thankful for all of you!! the f1 community has been nothing but amazing to me from day 1 and to show my appreciation to you all I'm throwing a small bonfire as a thank you. 🫶🏻 it's a bonfire because I'm craving fall

please send an emoji

📸 + driver = random song from my Spotify and a moodboard

🌈 + driver + color = drabble (100-200 words)

🎙️+ driver + lyric/song = fic banner graphic doohickey??

❓+ ask me anything about series/previous works! (what gave me the idea, who do I picture when I'm writing that reader etc - let's yap about my writing!!)

📝 + driver concept = I'll expand! Fluff, smut, angst, all welcome

Bonfire going until 22 September - two weeks! (also the first day of autumn so how apropos)

Fulfilled so far

Tagging my lovely moots who've made my experience here simply lovely:

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Looking for my masterlist??

[luvwich]

✒️ writer interview tag

tagged by @dustdeepsea — tysm, this was great fun! read their answers here and mine, if you like, beneath the cut ✨

When did you start writing?

early 2023 was my first foray into writing actual fiction. prior to that i'd done an embarrassing amount of roleplaying many years ago, which i shall speak on no further, but it did form the basis for a lot of my writing now!

once upon a time, i seriously entertained the idea of an MFA in screenwriting, but went on to pursue something even stupider for grad school 👍

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

honestly everything i enjoy reading gets smuggled into my writing in some form or another!

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

there are like 26 different writers where i wish to take bits and pieces of their style, send it all into a meat grinder, and press the gunk into sausage casings to be dipped in batter and deep fried. ideally i want my writing to hit like wagyu beef that's been corrupted into a county fair corn dog. but no i'm not sure i've ever been compared to another writer! that would fuck my shit up truly (in a good way)

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

typically curled up on my couch, because the ergonomic status of my home office setup is terrible — potentially lethal. sometimes i stay late at my not-home office, hidden away in a dark conference room, but that's usually only if i'm on a self-imposed deadline (i.e. i've started posting a WIP)

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

the spark that gets me to write is usually some kind of Dynamic that i want to explore so i do a lot of noodling upon situations and then figuring out how to get there. and by situations i mean smut

also, writing bits of dialogue, even if i don't know the context yet. it gets a character's voice and mannerisms in my head, and gives me a little grain to start building on

sadly, going on a hike and/or reading a really good book are both very effective and by far the most time consuming

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

longing, isolation, identity, the difference between the person you'd like to be and the person you are, strained/dysfunctional family relationships, wrong person right time, hope, blowjobs, self-deception, california, fucking your way through it, guilt, social class, mommy issues, mono no aware, oral fingering, etc; they don't surprise me anymore but the first time i finished a long fic and took a step back i was like "ohh haha Damn"

What is your reason for writing?

i am horny, sad n silly

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

all forms of feedback are so touching! i think much of what i write is pretty niche, so simply knowing someone has read my stuff gets me pumped. a big essay of a comment is like receiving a love letter, and comments that are just an emoji are like someone's tucked a little note in my lunchbox, and both are incredibly nourishing to me. as far as motivation, though, anything that implies someone is looking forward to reading more is the surest way to light a fire under my people-pleasing ass

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

affable wretch, trickster, wine aunt

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

i'm not sure any one thing stands out: i believe i'm pretty good in a few areas (dialogue, sensory detail, characterization) and notably lacking in others (action, "plot," pacing, not getting high on my own supply)… okay i'll stop being an asshole though and say my strength is in "delivering on a mood," if that is a thing

How do you feel about your own writing?

generally good. for one, i'm proud of myself for ever finishing and posting anything, because following through on shit isn't something i'm renown for. i tend to hate everything i write after i've gotten some distance from it, but i think that's normal? right? i'm new at it and it's all for fun so i try to be gracious with myself, with mixed success, because beneath my goofy exterior i do take everything too seriously

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

mostly for myself; i do abstractly ask "would someone who isn't me enjoy this?" and never quite know the answer. like most humans i crave external validation and connection, but like a cactus i can survive on just a lil rainfall 🌵

tagging w/no pressure (but with my best barbara walters impression) @corpocyborg @ghostoffuturespast @merge-conflict @streetkid-named-desire @writing-for-soup