#one of the few characters i would honest to god. from the bottom of my heart. just hug for a bit | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wandasgf · 2 years ago

Note

Okay but what about g!p Nat getting r pregnant at a one night stand. R actually being yelenas best friend who always said her sister is off limits and told nat her friends are off limits. Nat being a player. But like a happy ending

KISS ME UNTIL MY LIPS FALL OFF mdni. 18+

pairings ; natasha romanoff + f ! reader (romantic), yelena belova + f ! reader (platonic), wanda maximoff + f ! reader (platonic)

summary ; you know you shouldn't, really you do, but there's just something about natasha that pulls you in and wraps an iron chain around your heart

warnings ; fade to black smut (i'm the worst, i know), natasha has a penis, unprotected sex, pregnancy, top ! natasha, bottom ! reader, tiny bit of angst, intoxication, morning sickness

wc ; 2.5k~

a/n ; i hope this is what you were looking for !! i got a liiiitle carried away with this i think. also this is not proofread ! (also, please do not use the term 'g!p', just say 'character with penis' please !)

“She is off limits, Natalia. I can see that look in your eyes, she’s too nice for you.”

“She is no good for you, Y/N. Don’t fall for her annoying charms.”

That is what Yelena had said to both of you, separately, of course, the first time you met her sister. For Natasha it was a thinly veiled threat and for you it was a warning– Natasha was no good, she would break your heart.

That was about four years ago and while the two of you tried your best to respect Yelena’s wishes, you more so than Natasha, it was getting increasingly harder to deny the attraction you felt towards each other. You never wanted to cross Yelena’s boundaries, she was your best friend since you two were old enough to walk. A betrayal like that would shake your friendship in ways you didn’t want to think about.

You understand that Yelena just wants the best for you, knowing of her sister’s habit of sleeping with girls only to leave them in the middle of the night and suddenly forget they exist, but there was just something that wouldn't stop tugging you towards Natasha. There was no denying her attractiveness, anyone with eyes could tell that the redhead was attractive, but it was the way she treated you that really had you weak in the knees. She was frustratingly charming and stupidly sweet. When Yelena was around to shoot daggers at her for her flirting, she claimed that she was just being friendly.

“What’s wrong with being nice to a pretty girl, Lena?”

You two had shared more than a few tender moments alone, but nothing past a soft kiss and a quietly whispered ‘You know we can’t’ that always left Natasha wanting more of you. She knew you wanted to respect Yelena, she did, and she lov– liked you for how much you cared for her sister, but God, she wished you cared a little less. She wished you were a little more selfish, a little more willing to let her have you.

Natasha doesn’t know when she developed actual feelings for you past physical attraction, and she’d rather not think about it, if she were being honest. It didn’t matter what she felt for you if she could never act on it, if it would make her feel rotten for acting on it, for crossing a boundary Yelena had set and you were trying your hardest to set yourself. So, she did what she’d been doing best for the past three years: slept with almost every girl that the only gay bar in Ohio had to offer.

It’s not like the both of you hadn’t tried to move on, but nothing ever seemed to stick. None of the girls Natasha slept with made the burning hole in her chest ease its aching, and no one you ever tried to date could ever compare to Natasha. Even that pretty blonde pilot with the same type of dominating presence couldn’t tear your heart away from the Russian. You think you might have to try and erase Natasha from your memory, but even then you don’t think it would work. Your heart would still remember her.

Too many drinks and Yelena’s birthday party is how you ended up here, in the one place you shouldn’t be. Natasha just looked so pretty tonight, even wearing something so simple as her usual leather jacket and black jeans, you finally just couldn’t contain yourself. You two are in the guest bedroom of Yelena’s apartment, Natasha’s hands gripping your waist as you grind against her lap, your hands tangled in her hair.

This is the first time the two of you had gone past a soft kiss or a gentle hand brushing against each other. It’s been four years of torture, trying to deny each other of what you both wanted, and now that you have it, it doesn’t seem like either of you want to let go. Natasha had been a little shocked when you barged into the room she was occupying for the night, but who is she to deny you when you were all red cheeked and asking for her to please kiss you?

“Okay, okay. Slow down, sweetheart.” Natasha laughs, breathless as she pulls away from your lips, her hands stilling your hips. God, she wants to keep going, but she could taste the liquor on your lips, and the last thing she wanted to do was let you do something you’d regret. You try to chase her lips, a pout making its way onto your features, but she holds you back.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Just looking at you, Tasha.” You grumble, trying to press your lips to hers again.

“Hey, hey, come on. Listen to me for a minute, okay?” She reaches up to tuck your hair behind your ear and brushes her thumb across your cheek. The touch feels like electricity shooting through your body and you wish she would just stop trying to talk to you. Does she not want you like you want her?

“You know, once we do this there’s no going back, Y/N. You have to be sure, okay? Do you want this?”

“Yes. Please, Tasha, I want you. Don’t make me wait any longer, please.”

And, well, who is Natasha to say no to that?

It isn’t until Natasha sneaks out of the room at 4am to get a drink and she’s confronted with Yelena in the kitchen that she realizes what she’s done. Yelena has never told her that anyone is off limits besides you, and she can’t even keep it in her pants for one night? (She knows it’s been four years, but you’ve only approached her like this the one time.)

She tries to act like nothing is different, like she’s just grabbing some water, but Yelena raises an eyebrow at the difference in the air around her sister. She’s not as stupid as the two of you seem to think she is, she’s noticed the downright disgusting tension between the two of you and the horrible lovey dovey eyes her sister makes towards you.

“You break her heart and I break your ribs. Got it?”

Natasha chokes on her water, she would’ve thought she’d be a little more concerned for her heart, but this is fine, “Got it.”

And then Yelena is walking out of the kitchen to go to her own room. On her birthday? You two just had to do it on her birthday? Unbelievable.

Since that night, you and Natasha had gone on a couple of dates and you’ve been trying to spend as much time with each other as possible. You hadn’t slept with each other since, it was hard to find the right opportunity while she was staying with Yelena for the next month while her house was being renovated and your roommate Wanda always seemed to be at your apartment lately.

About a week later you woke up feeling like something was off. You didn’t know what it was until your body was moving on its own accord and you found yourself rushing to the bathroom to empty the contents of your stomach. God, you hoped you weren’t getting sick. As you sat with your back leaning against the cool glass of the shower, you closed your eyes for a second before it hit you.

Natasha didn’t wear a condom.

Oh God, Natasha didn’t wear a condom. You scramble to get yourself up and brush your teeth before rushing out of the bathroom and tugging on a pair of sweatpants and an old college sweater of Natasha’s that she left a couple of nights ago. What time is it? You pat your pockets and then fish out your phone, 7:56am. Okay, the pharmacy should be open by the time you get there.

This is fine, it’s probably nothing. You’re probably just sick, maybe you shouldn’t have eaten as much candy as you did, but Natasha was so happy to get you something you liked and you were really craving it. You tug on your shoes and you’re out the door and walking down the street in less than two minutes.

The walk to the pharmacy is relatively short, you chose an apartment in the city, so nothing is more than a 15 minute walk. Your fingers tap against your thigh as you pick out one of the many options and you walk to the checkouts, but not before grabbing a chocolate bar. You’ve been really wanting one for days now, but that has nothing to do with this, you just like chocolate, that’s all. You groan, what are you even trying to do right now? Convince your subconscious that you’re not pregnant?

The walk back to your apartment seems like it takes forever and you don’t even need to drink a bunch of water because your nerves are making you feel like you’re going to piss your pants anyway.

Wanda chooses the exact moment you start pacing in the bathroom to come out of her room, concealing a yawn behind her hand. “Y/N, why are you doing laps in the bathroom? If there’s a bug somewhere just kill it.”

“No, I’m not– there’s not a bug, Wands. I’m just…” You pause, fidgeting with the hem of your, well, Natasha’s sweatshirt, “I think I might be pregnant.”

A pause.

“You think what?!”

“Don’t say that like that! It’s not a bad thing I think. I just– I just don’t know how Natasha will react.” You wrap your arms around yourself and deflate a little bit, just the idea of Natasha being upset has you acting like a kicked puppy.

Wanda softens and walks towards you, wrapping her arms around you in a hug, “I’m sure Natasha will react just fine. And if she doesn’t then that’s her problem, not yours.” You lean into her and let yourself relax for a minute. You hadn’t known Wanda for as long as Yelena, you only met in your freshman year of college, but you consider her one of your best friends.

“Y/N… I think you should take a look.” Wanda had taken a quick peek at the test over your shoulder, and she squeezes you softly before pulling away.

You turn around and try your hardest not to feel too scared. Either outcome is fine, right?

Two lines.

You were pregnant.

Tears start to prick at your eyes and you’re not sure why, but you find yourself turning and hiding yourself in Wanda’s arms, not able to stop yourself from crying. You only just started properly seeing Natasha, what if she hates you? What if she never wants to see you again? What if–

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. Everything’s okay. She won’t hate you.”

Wanda’s soothing voice reaches your ears and you realize you must have been saying those things out loud. You nod against her chest and sniffle, trying to get yourself to stop crying. You had to tell Natasha, you have to get yourself ready and make yourself look presentable.

Wanda helps you get ready, telling you soothing things every once in a while when you start to worry again, trying to reassure you that Natasha isn’t going to hate you. And, if anything, this is Natasha’s fault anyway, but she doesn’t say that part. She drives you to Yelena’s apartment where Natasha is staying for the time being and gives you a reassuring smile, saying she’ll be waiting right outside if you need her. But if you don’t come out in 15 minutes she’s leaving because she has to go open the bookstore for Darcy.

You give her a weak nod and walk the now intimidating path up to Yelena’s apartment. You stand outside for a whole two minutes before getting the courage to knock. You knew Yelena wasn’t home and that it would be Natasha to answer the door. The blonde went to kickboxing every Saturday morning and wouldn’t be back for at least another hour.

Natasha is a little surprised to see you standing outside her door at 8:30 in the morning, but then she takes in your slightly red eyes and still tear stained cheeks and she’s ushering you inside with an arm around your waist and a concerned look on her face.

“What’s the matter, baby? Are you hurt? What happened? Do you need me to call Yelena? What’s going on?” The words tumble from Natasha’s lips before she can stop them, the need to protect you and make sure you’re safe overpowering anything else she might have wanted to say. Like how cute you look in her sweater.

You shake your head and suddenly there are tears in your eyes again and your bottom lip starts to wobble. “No, p–please don’t call Yelena. I just– I need to talk to you.” You’re trying not to cry again, but you don’t know how to say it. You don’t know how to break the news in a way that won’t destroy the only thing you’ve wanted for the last four years.

The concern in Natasha’s eyes isn’t making this any easier as she takes you over to sit on the couch, sitting next to you and taking your hand in hers, rubbing her thumb over your knuckles. “Alright, we can talk. You can talk to me. What’s going on, sweetheart?”

“I-I…” Your fingers twitch nervously in her hands, “Natasha, I’m pregnant.” And the confession ruins any chance you had of stopping yourself from crying, afraid she’s going to push you away or yell at you or tell you to get out or–

Natasha’s eyes widen and her breathing stops for a moment, you’re pregnant? But you hadn’t slept together since– Oh. Oh.

And then she snaps back to the present where you’re crying and she’s frozen like an idiot. And she’s gotta do something before you come to the wrong conclusion. This should be fine, though, right? She loves you, she can do this. She can do this, can’t she?

“Hey, hey, hey. Look at me.” She speaks softly, cupping your cheeks and wiping your tears with her thumbs. She takes one look at your face and now she’s trying to keep the tears out of her own eyes. “Everything’s gonna be okay, yeah, baby? Everything’s gonna be fine. We’re gonna figure it out.” She brings your head towards her chest and wraps one arm around you while the other strokes your hair. You’re crying harder now, but you think maybe they might be relieved tears, happy ones, even?

“We’re gonna figure it out.” She murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

Yeah, she can do this.

#alice's fics !#natasha romanov x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanov imagine #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x fem reader #natasha romanov x you #natasha romanov smut

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leclercss · 2 years ago

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Tainted Love, Part 1 (Charles Leclerc)

Masterlist

plot: in an attempt to fix your marriage, you've reluctantly agreed into being in an open relationship with your husband. so far, it's only been your husband that has taken advantage of your recent arrangement until one night out you meet a man who makes you begin to question your marriage.

pairings: charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings: (+18) mentions of smut, cheating and some swearing

authors note: this is based on a story that i was writing in my spare time but thought it would be interesting to use Charles and a couple of other drivers as characters instead. so Charles is used as a character inspo rather than it including his life as an f1 driver. would love to hear your thoughts and if you'd be open for a part 2. i'm thinking of making this a longer fic.

word count: 4.8k

"[Y/N!]”

You don't really hear your name being called at first. You've been stuck in your own thoughts for the last five minutes, staring at nothing in particular.

"[Y/N]!" It's a little louder this time but still not enough to knock you out of the deep trance you've found yourself in. It's only when you get an elbow into your side and the champagne that's in your hand falls onto your lap that you finally snap out of it.

"Shit!' you squeal as you look down at the champagne that now soaks the bottom of your dress.

"Oh my God! I'm so sorry," the girl beside you laughs, "We've been trying to your attention for the last minute."

You look up at her, eyebrows furrowed. You can't remember her name. Was it Bethany? Stephanie? You didn't care, to be honest. It didn't really matter anyway; she wasn't your friend. You were only here as you were roped into pre-drinks before a girls' night out by your best friend, who was the only person you know here.

"It's fine, I was totally out of it," you mumble as you reach out for a napkin to dry the bottom of your dress.

"No shit," you hear a familiar voice say with a hint of smugness. You look across the table and see your best friend Whitney holding back a smirk. "You're on your fourth glass of champagne. I'd be out of it too if I was drinking as quickly as you've been".

You chuckle half-heartedly. Laughing it off as if it was the bottle of Moet that you mostly managed to get through on your own which caused you to be zoned out for so long. Not the fact that you’ve been replaying the arguments that you’ve been having with your husband over the last few weeks in your head. Nor the fact that you’ve been thinking about your shambles of a marriage.

As Whitney takes her attention off you to start cleaning up the mess, you let out a little sigh to yourself and go back to your previous thoughts.

How had your marriage gotten to this point?

You had been so in love with your husband when you first met. In fact, he’d been the only person you had ever been in love with. There was a ten-year age gap between the two of you but that hadn’t stopped you both falling for each other so quickly. He was one of the first people you had gotten to know when you first moved to London six years ago. You’d met on a night out about three months after moving to the city. The physical attraction was instant but that blossomed into something much deeper and within two years you had gotten married. He was your rock, your entire world. And maybe that was a bit of a risk for a girl, who at that point was in her early twenties, to depend on somebody so much and so quickly.

You had a few sceptics when it came to your relationship back in the early days. A few friends from back home had told you it was just a whirlwind romance with a hot older guy. Your mother had been unsure about the age gap. What would a girl in her early twenties need from a man in his early thirties? And what would a man in his early thirties need from a woman in her early twenties?

Your brother had joked that it was probably daddy issues.

You married him anyway. And the first two years of marriage had been bliss. Until about eighteen months ago when things had started to change. Your husband spent more time away from home (he said it was work related), the sex had become less regular (not by a lack of trying on your part) and you slowly started to feel like a spare part in your marriage.

You started to have a feeling that someone else was now involved in your marriage. And that feeling was unofficially confirmed to you when your husband had brought up the possibility of having an open relationship - basically, he could fuck whoever he wanted, and you couldn’t (and wouldn’t) complain about it. You reluctantly agreed. You loved your husband, and you were willing to make this sacrifice if it means that you could start to repair your marriage. But you were so wrong.

Deep down you knew that you were never going to leave him. And your husband knew that too. Six months into your “open relationship” and your husband had been taking full advantage of the arrangement. Meanwhile, you took the opposite approach and hadn’t slept with anyone outside of your marriage. Despite that, your jealousy grew towards your husbands’ new partners and your loyalty was wearing thin. You had initially been quiet about your doubts when it came to your arrangement. But lately you had been more vocal to your husband about your feelings. Of course, he dismissed those feelings. That’s why you were arguing lately. He had told you that it was something you both needed in your marriage, you guys were too dependent on one other. You told him that you should be enough for him, you didn’t need other people to fill whatever void he was feeling. But you were beginning to realise that maybe you weren’t enough for him.

“Oi! Snap out of it. I’ve poured you another glass. But you better drink it quickly. And fix your dress because the Uber is getting here in ten minutes,” Whitney scolds as she shoves the champagne glass back into your hand.

“Thanks, Whit.” You can’t help but smile at her. Apart from your husband, Whitney had been your only other source of love and stability during your years in London. And that was why she had dragged you out tonight to pull you out of your recent misery.

“You know what you need? A girl’s night out! And before you roll your eyes and tell me how you’re officially too old for clubbing, we’re going out. You need to spend time with someone else other than him. And it’s been so long since you’ve been shitfaced,” is what Whitney had said when you had told her that you and your husband had been arguing more and more these days. You still hadn’t told her about the open marriage thing. She’d never forgive you for agreeing to it.

You flash her a smile before downing your last glass of champagne. Despite your hesitation, maybe a girls’ night out was what you needed.

“To getting shitfaced!” you yell before throwing the hard liquor down your throat. You try not to gag as you slam the empty shot glass down on the bar. Despite your previous doubts of this girl’s night out, you had been having a good time. It wasn’t your usual scene, but you had made an effort to join in and found yourself in a tipsy but playful mood.

“Come on, Stephanie has found a group of hot guys who’ve got a table,” Whitney shouts in your ear. You look at her and giggle, “Seriously?”

“Seriously! Now come on, I think they’re French.”

You allow yourself to be dragged over to the table where the other girls were mingling and flirting with a group of guys. You take a quick glance; they look about two or three years younger than you. Not your type (there was no harm in looking) but they were definitely good-looking.

“This is my friend Whitney, she’s single by the way. And this is her friend, [Y/N},” you hear Stephanie tell them. “But she’s married”.

One of the guys looks at you and lets out a laugh, “What a shame. Lucky guy”. You try to fake a smile at his remark, but your mind momentarily flashes back to your husband.

Rather than trying to come up with a response, you look around the table for something to drink. “Who’s up for some shots?” you ask before grabbing whatever alcohol you can find on the table. God, the hangover is going to be deadly tomorrow.

Just as you’re about to pour yourself something, you feel someone lean over to place a tray of Jager bombs on the table in front of you. “Did someone say shots?” he shouts before being met with a round of cheers. Before you have a chance to look up, the guy has sat down beside you. He leans over and whispers in your ear, “Weren’t you just doing tequila at the bar?” His breath is hot in your ear, his accent even hotter.

“Didn’t know there was a limit to how many shots a girl could have,” you tease, your playful mood apparent.

As you turn to face him, you’re met with a pair of piercing green eyes staring back at you. Fuck, they’re gorgeous. He’s said something to you but you’re too busy staring into his eyes that’s you have no idea what he’s said to you. “Huh?”

You only break eye contact with him as you notice his eyes start to scan your face, most notably he’s looking at your lips before lowering his eyes towards your cleavage. His eyes stay there for a moment before he’s looking into your eyes again. A knot begins to tie in your stomach.

You feel yourself starting to blush at the intense eye contact when you see his mouth start to move again. You really have no clue what he’s said this time.

“I’m sorry, what?”

He chuckles. He quickly scans your face again, smirk still intact, before leaning over to your ear once more. “I said, there’s no limit as long as it doesn’t stop me dancing with you later.”

As he leans back, you can’t help but admire his face. He has a light amount of facial hair, making his somewhat boyish face slightly more mature and handsome. You notice his dimples as he continues to smirk at you before taking a not-so-subtle glance at his lips. As you look back up at his eyes, you realised your staring is painfully obvious.

He leans over you and grabs two glasses from the tray of shots, handing you one. His eyes are back on yours again as he clinks his glass against yours, “Cheers!” You down the shot, wincing in the process before slamming the glass back on the table. “That was disgusting,” you groan before letting out a giggle.

You look back at the Frenchman who’s smiling at you. “Now I’ve gotten you a drink, are you going to tell me your name?” he asks. As he does so, he leans in slightly, so his face is a little closer to yours.

“It’s [Y/N],” you reply. “And yours?”

But before he has a chance to respond, the guy sitting behind your drinking companion leans over and chuckles, “Leave the girl alone, Charles. She’s married,” before turning back to his previous conversation. The beautiful man in front of you, who you’re assuming is Charles, looks back at you. “Married, huh?” He doesn’t look phased.

You nod. “And he’s not with you tonight?”

“No, it’s girls’ night. No husbands or boyfriends allowed,” you reply.

“And what other rules do you have on these girls’ nights?”

“Get as drunk as humanly possible with a group of hot guys.”

You’ve spent quite a while talking to Charles. He’s still flirting with you, lightly pushing the boundaries of “I know you’re married”. You’ve learned he’s from Monaco, not France. And he’s been living in London for about a year with a group of his friends from back home. He’s single (you’re not entirely sure how when he looks like that) and he’s better at handling his alcohol than you are.

You’ve spent a short amount of time getting to know some of his friends. His best friend Joris has been getting cosy with Whitney. You didn’t even get a chance to learn one guy’s name before he had started making out with Stephanie. The others you’re too drunk to remember they’re even here. However, your attention always falls back on Charles. And his attention always falls back on you.

You hadn’t even spared a thought about your husband until you saw your phone light up. First you notice your phone background, a picture of you and your husband kissing in front of the Eiffel Tower (and you’re aware that Charles is looking at your phone too). Then his name pops up on your screen. You glance at the message through your alcohol-blurred vision. It says something along the lines of how your night was going and if you were coming back home tonight. You roll eyes before swiping away the message.

“Husband?” Charles asks you. His finger has been tracing your knee for the last few minutes. You nod, trying to push the face of your husband to the back of your mind.

“Yeah, nothing important.”

Charles smiles at you. “How long have you two been married?”

“Four years, together for six.”

“Six years, you must have been late teens when you got together right?” you think it’s his attempt of saying you look good for your late twenties (as if that’s old). But it works on you momentarily, or it’s the fact that the finger tracing your leg has now turned into a hand.

“Well, I was twenty-one. He’s ten years older,” you tell him.

“And how’s that going? Is he okay with these girls’ nights out?”

You’re not sure why he’s quizzing you. It’s probably because of the face you pulled when you saw your husband’s name pop up on your screen. Or the fact that you haven’t mentioned him once all night. Most girls Charles has come across quickly name-drop their partner into conversations quite quickly if they aren’t interested but not you. Your body language has changed since the mention of your husband. And you’ve only been giving short answers when being questioned about him which tells Charles that your husband may be the reason you’re here tonight.

“He has his nights out, I have mine,” you lie before having a quick look around the table. “I’m not here to talk about married life.”

You momentarily look back to Charles who seems a bit taken back by your bluntness before looking back across at Whitney who’s no longer being occupied by Joris. “Whitney, can we go dancing?”

“Let’s do it!”

You stand up from your seat and look down at Charles. “I’m going to go dance. Whenever you want to do another shot come grab me,” you tell him before Whitney takes your arm and leads you to the dance floor. You feel a bit rude for ending your conversation with Charles so abruptly. But you weren’t here to spend the night talking about a man you’re trying to avoid.

Swaying your hips to the music and dancing with your best friend was exactly what you needed. The alcohol was well and truly coursing through your body at this point and it gave you the confidence you needed to feel sexy on the dancefloor. You weren’t a bad dancer by any means, but the numerous shots and glasses of champagne were a big help.

Whitney had reunited with Joris on the dancefloor, grinding and making out with one another. You didn’t mind dancing on your own. You were lost in the rhythm of the music, attracting some bystanders who you subtly moved away from when they got too close.

That was until you felt someone place their arm around your waist from behind. The hand felt familiar, but you couldn’t quite place it until you felt a mouth press against your ear. “You were looking a little lonely, thought I’d come and join you.”

You could get used to that voice whispering in your ear.

You look up at him and smile, “How thoughtful of you, Charles.” You were a little too drunk to care about the fact that his other hand found itself around your waist, pulling your body towards gently towards him. Mostly because you were enjoying it.

You felt his torso press against your back, and you leaned against his body as his hips joined yours in swaying to the music. As the both of you found your rhythm, you pressed your ass against his crotch and grinded a little harder on him. Truly letting yourself get lost in the moment with him. You think you hear Whitney cheer at the sight in front of her, but your only focus is on your movements against Charles. You feel one of his hands slide from your waist towards your ass, squeezing it a little before running it back up your waist to just below your breasts.

Fuck, that felt good.

You lean the back of your head against Charles’ chest and peer up at him through your lashes. He’s looking down at you and slowly moves his face towards yours, hips still moving in synchronisation. You look into his eyes, his attention fully on you before you take a quick glance at his lips. They’re slightly parted and if you didn’t have a slight nagging voice in the back of your head you totally would have kissed him. You’re suddenly nervous, you haven’t felt like this with a guy since you first met your husband. It’s new territory but it excites you. Is this why your husband wanted an open relationship? For the thrill and excitement of being so close and almost intimate with someone that wasn’t you?

Charles notices that you’ve gotten lost in your thoughts but wants your attention back on him. He lifts your chin with his thumb, so your face is closer to his and mimics your actions from a few moments ago – looking into your eyes before looking at your lips. You can feel his breath hitting your face and so you lick your lips. If he wants to kiss you, he’s going to have to make the first move.

He senses this and leans in; your parted lips meet his. You’re not sure if it’s nerves but it’s almost like you’ve forgotten how to kiss. The feeling of Charles’ lips against yours has caused all thoughts and logic to leave your body. You’re thankful that he takes the initiative once again and starts to move his lips against yours. You find your momentum again as your place one of your arms behind your head and place your hands on Charles’ cheek, your back still firmly pressed against his torso. As you continue to kiss, you notice that his crotch is still placed firmly against your ass, the bulge in his pants is slightly harder this time and it causes you to feel a slight tingle in your underwear.

As your kiss becomes more passionate, Charles turns you around so you’re face to face. He cups your cheeks with one of his hands, his thumb firmly under your chin and he reconnects your lips together. This time he slips his tongue into your mouth, and it begins to move against yours. The tingly sensation in your underwear is back again and it causes you to moan against Charles mouth. You can feel him smile against your lips, but it doesn’t stop him, it only encourages him to deepen this kiss even further. It’s like you’re the only two people in the room. Your body is tightly pressed against his, slowly tracing his chest with your fingers while Charles’ hands are covering as much body surface as possible. The hand that was cupping your cheek is now on your breast, his thumb grazing over the area where your nipple is. You’re not wearing a bra, so your nipple hardens at his touch, causing him to smile into your kiss once again. His other hand is very low on your back, his fingers spread across the top of your bum.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been kissing for, it could be thirty seconds or thirty minutes but you don’t want to stop. One of your hands finds its way into his silky brown hair and you tug on it lightly. In retaliation, he squeezes one your bum cheeks. This time you’re the one smiling against his lips.

After what feels like an eternity, you both part from the kiss. Your eyes meet his and it feels like you’re in a trance with him. All you can do is just look at him, only him. You’re not sure how long you’ve been standing like this, your hands on his chests, his on your waist. Once again, it’s Charles that takes the initiative but this time in conversation.

He leans down to your ear, your body lightly pressed against his. “Do you want to come back with me tonight?” He leans his head back slightly to gage your reaction. You quickly lick your lips. Your body is telling you to say yes – the tingle in your underwear is only getting bigger. But your head is pounding and you’re not able to open your mouth. The only thing you can do is move and so you move one of your hands from his chest up to Charles’ cheek, your thumb slow soothing the soft skin beneath you.

He's still waiting for an answer. His green eyes staring into yours.

As you finally muster up the courage to speak you feel you feel a strange hand placed on your shoulder. You jump slightly at the sudden touch of contact which clearly isn’t from Charles and turn your head into the direction it came from. Stephanie, the queen of impeccable timing, is smiling at you. She’s saying something to you but you’re not really paying attention.

Only until she starts waving your phone in front of your face do you realise what she’s saying. You thank her before taking your phone and looking at the screen.

It’s your husband. Out of all the nights he could have given you attention, it had to be tonight. You quickly look at your phone and see a missed call accompanied by three or four more unread texts. From a quick glance, you see he’s a bit concerned that you hadn’t responded to his previous message telling him what time you’d been home. He’d never usually ask so it’s a bit baffling to you why he’d suddenly care now. Then again, it’s the first “girls’ night” you’d gone out to in about two years. And you remembered the arguments you guys had been having for the past few weeks and the way you stormed out of the flat this morning.

And what you didn’t realise is that he had seen you pack one of your more revealing dresses in anger when you told him you were going out with Whitney and a few of her girlfriends tonight.

He was worried. Not about you. But about what you might be doing.

“Is everything okay?” Charles voice brings you back to reality and you look up at him for the first time since Stephanie had given you your phone. You hope he hasn’t seen you gulp but he has. He notices a flicker of hesitation in your eyes.

You nod and smile at him, but he’s not convinced. Your husband’s messages have brought you back to reality and your body language has become closed off. You’re no longer touching Charles. He removes his hands from your waist and you’re both left standing there awkwardly on the dancefloor.

You open your mouth to say something but at first nothing comes out. You let out a deep breath before you finally allow yourself to speak, “I can’t. I’m… I’m married, Charles.” He breaks eye contact with you and place his hands into his jean pockets. He’s nodding but doesn’t really say anything.

You both stand there awkwardly for a few moments before you speak again, “I think I need to go. I’m sorry, Charles”. You lean up to place a soft kiss on his cheek. His posture softens a little bit, but he’s disappointed.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. It sounds a little deflated and you can’t help but feel guilty. Moments before Stephanie had handed you your phone, you would have easily said yes to anything Charles would have asked you but now you find yourself in a weird mindset. You’re curious and you want to know what going home with him feels like, but your husbands’ messages are now imprinted in your brain. And so, you take the easier option which is to go home to your husband and be the loyal wife you’ve talked yourself into being for the last eighteen months.

“Have a good night, Charles,” you say softly before flashing a sympathetic smile. You turn away to leave the dancefloor when you feel Charles’ hand wrap around your arm. He tugs you back towards him and grabs your phone out of your hand. He gestures for you to put in your pin, and you oblige. He takes your phone once again and taps away on the keyboard before handing your phone back to you. You look at your screen to see he’s put his number into your phone.

“For whenever you need another “girls’ night”,” he whispers into your ear before letting you leave.

You quickly search for Whitney to let her know that you’re leaving before ordering an Uber home. As you hug Whitney goodbye, she leans in and whispers, “I hope you had fun tonight. I won’t say anything”. And you know she’s referring to the kiss that you’ve shared with Charles not so long ago. You thank her before making your way out of the club and getting into the Uber which arrives a few minutes later.

You rest your head against the window as you the Uber takes you through the busy London streets. You can’t help but feel disappointed with how your night ended and your mind flashes back to the look on Charles’ face when you told him you were leaving. A part of you wishing you had stayed.

You let out a little sigh and shut your eyes, pushing the image of Charles and the feeling of his lips against yours to the back of your head before opening your eyes again. Your phone lights up, catching your attention and you see a text from Whitney asking if you had made it home yet. You scroll down a little further on your notifications to see the unread text messages and missed calls from your husband.

You unlock your phone and start to type up your replies.

The first text.

Whitney: Just in the Uber now, be home in 20 x

The second text.

Lewis ♥: Staying at Whitney’s tonight. I’ll be home before noon tomorrow. Love you xx

You close your conversation with your husband and click on the + icon to open a new message. You let out another sigh before you begin typing the message.

To Charles: Hey, it’s [Y/N]. We didn’t get to finish our dance, mind if I come to yours? X

Your thumb hovers over the send button. You’ve typed your message, now all you have to do is send the it. Shit! You’re such a coward. You tell yourself that if you count to five you’ll send the message. Okay…

5…

4…

3…

2…

1…

Sent.

You quickly lock your phone out of embarrassment and throw it onto the seat beside you. Shit, why did you just do that? You refuse to look at your phone and tell yourself it was a dumb idea to message Charles. You just need to get home, get to bed and pretend like it never happened.

It’s about fifteen or so minutes later and you’re only a few streets away from your apartment. You’ve told yourself not to look at your phone but at the same time you’re curious to see if Charles has responded.

You pick up your phone quickly and see a couple of texts.

First from Whitney:

Text me when you’re in. Love you! Thanks so much for a great night xxx

Then from your husband:

Okay, text me if you need me to pick you up in the morning. Night, love you x

But it’s the third message that piques your interest the most. From Charles:

You changed your mind? We’re on the way home now. Here’s my address if you’re still up for it? X

You can’t help but smile to yourself. As the Uber driver pulls up outside of your apartment building, you look up towards your apartment window, the curtains are closed but a flicker of light is breaking out from the lamp on inside. Knowing Lewis is awake prompts you to make your next decision and you hand your phone to the Uber driver.

“Sorry, I need to go to this address instead”.

The Uber drive grunts at you but he begrudgingly types in the new address before pulling off. You can’t help but smile to yourself as he drives away from your building , and you let out a little giggle as excitement starts to course through your body. That tingly sensation is back as you type your next text:

Charles: I’m on my way x

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #charles leclerc x you #f1 x you

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lemon-slushie · 2 months ago

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A random post/rant of me talking about my art and early crk fandom weirdos if u would like to hear it lol

No one has ever directly asked me why I draw madeleine so feminine but the reason has been sitting in my head since I got back into cookie run around 2020 (good god) so I’m just gonna ramble here to get it out

Madeleine has been my fav since I got back into cookie run and when I would try to look for fanart of him in 2021 it was almost completely full of fetishy and hyper masculine depictions of Madeleine, usually paired with a hyper fem and crazy sexualized version of espresso, which always made me super uncomfortable and disappointed because they were completely twisted versions of the characters

Now obviously I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with drawing a character hyper fem or hyper masc (I do it lol) but when it’s done to fit a fetishized version of the characters is when it becomes really uncomfortable and gross to me, and back in early crk fandom this version of madeleine was EVERYWHERE and it killed me I hated seeing him watered down to masc dom top it was so gross and so far removed from his actual character. I’ll be honest the espresso side was much worse I’m very sorry for the espresso fans that had to go through watered down fem boy bottom espresso 😭

So when I started making and posting cookie run art I decided to lean towards madeleines more feminine traits, kinda as my own little retaliation in a way because I was sick of seeing him fetishized and sexualized all the time. Luckily now that the popularity has died down a bit I don’t see nearly as much fetishy stuff for him. And now I’ve seen a few more people also focusing on madeleines fem traits which makes me happy!

Though i am aware madeleine canonically isn’t super fem, despite how i draw him i personally think he’s pretty gender neutral with a fair share of masc and fem traits lol. I try to display this with giving him both fem and masc features though I’m not great at drawing men so sometimes it doesn’t read well haha

But all this to say being a TRUE madeleine fan in 2021 was a struggle and I draw him fem because of it lol

#crk #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #crk fanart #cookierun kingdom #madeleine cookie #my art #art #talking #yapping

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porcelainseashore · 9 months ago

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Into the Ether (11)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Vampire! Toreador! Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

Summary: At the all-night events cafe you run, you’ve become acquainted with an elusive patron, Leon, though you can never remember the last moments of your interactions together. After a harrowing encounter, a love-hate relationship develops between the two of you as you grapple with your newfound status in a world of darkness and investigate the reasons behind the untimely attacks.

Content & Warnings: 18+ Resident Evil x Vampire: The Masquerade crossover, horror, mystery, romance, slow burn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, eventual smut, swearing, smoking, alcohol, drug references, non consensual blood drinking, blood bond, vampire turning, violence, injury, mild gore, torture, religious themes, minor character death, RE ensemble, VtM concepts.

Author's Note: Brief mentions of homophobia, bullying, and attempted suicide, as well as suggestive themes ahead. Finally, I wanted to do a shout-out to these underrated RE characters appearing in my fic: let’s hear it for my boys, Patrick (Infinite Darkness) and Kevin Ryman (Outbreak)! 🥰

Taglist: @admirxation @angelstargel @miss-oranje-disco-dancer ❤️‍🔥

AO3 Link

Chapter 11: Hideous

Given how things had blown up between you and Leon in public, it was only natural that word of your outburst had gotten around. Within a few minutes, you had been accosted by an irate-looking man and his entourage kindly informing the both of you, “If you can’t control yourself on these grounds, then perhaps Elysium is not the place for you.”

Were you always meant to suffer in silence? Why was it so highly lauded? Would you win some sort of prize for not running around, kicking and screaming your lungs out? The one thing you knew, though, was that at least for tonight, you had been humiliated and ungraciously banished from Elysium.

Having to make the journey back home with Leon made your skin crawl, but you survived it, like you always do. It seemed as if every time you took a step forward, something would come around and set you two steps back. Like a Russian doll, opening the closet revealed not just a single skeleton, but countless piles hidden within layers upon layers of boxes. You were tired of this charade, tired of what else might lie beneath the earth, if you dug a little deeper.

You were so absorbed in your thoughts that you almost didn’t hear him say, “I gave the documents to the Tremere Primogen.” It was quiet and unassuming, without any fanfare. He didn’t expect it to absolve him of his sins, but he just wanted you to know that he hadn’t played God and condemned another this time.

Was it too late? You never liked things being so finite, but you were tempted to end it there and then. However, a question lingered on your mind. “Who is Sherry?”

You were back at his apartment and he had busied himself cleaning the glasses you had drunken out from earlier to avoid addressing the elephant in the room. One of them slipped out of his hands, landing with a thunk at the bottom of the sink as the water continued running from the tap.

His time with you was up; judgment had finally come for him. He had made a promise to you a few nights ago to always be honest with you, and he was going to keep it, regardless of the consequences. Shutting off the tap, he gripped the sides of the metallic basin. A knot in his chest tightened and he felt like he was suffocating.

“She was one of the vessels,” he admitted, and without further prompting, he revealed the detail that would damn him the most, “I found her when she was eight years old.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, he heard your loud gasp as fat tears streaked down his face. Everything he had was lost in a matter of seconds. If by some miracle you hadn’t already hated him before, you would hate him for the rest of his unlife now. Blood pooled in his mouth as he bit down hard on his tongue.

“You’re—”

He turned around, facing you for the first time since you’d gotten back. “A monster? Yes, that’s what I am.”

“Why?” You felt the air escape your lungs with a hiss, as if through a puncture wound.

He didn’t want to make any more excuses. You knew what was implying when he simply replied, “For Ada.”

There was nothing else left to hide. He had laid everything bare before you. You saw him as who he was now, in all his vulnerability. Just a man who had chipped away at his soul to be loved and, along the way, convinced himself that this was all there was to it.

The expression on your face hardened, eyeing him like he would never be redeemed. It was the final straw and whatever shred of empathy you had for him was gone. He would do anything to win you back, going down on his knees, begging and groveling, but you had already made up your mind. He just didn’t want to see you say it.

So, he was back at the sink again, holding the glass that had fallen in earlier with a shaky hand. He mouthed the words as you uttered them, as though he knew it by heart.

“When all of this is over, I’m leaving you for good.”

Minutes ticked away into hours. You had already gone to bed, while he stared down the basin, like a bottomless pit reflecting back into him. He didn’t even wince when the glass crushed in his hand, its shards piercing and embedding into his skins as thick, dark red blood ran in rivulets to his fingertips. He watched as it dripped like black tar heroin into the drain, at the same time, wondering, Is that all there is?

━━━━━━━━━━━

Your mind was all over the place at the cafe. It wasn’t like you to forget the program lineup, as well as the logistics of what needed to go where. You even ended up creating a mess when it came to sorting out the lighting and sound tech for the cabaret show that evening. Your colleagues shot you concerned looks as you walked around in a daze like a zombie.

“Do you think she’s burnt out?”

“Probably having an off night.”

“She’s always been a bit of a workaholic.”

Funny how Auspex just kicked in for you naturally now, and you could hear snippets of conversation from people who thought they were being so secretive.

Feeling a hand on the back of your shoulder and you spun around, coming face-to-face with Patrick. “Hey, why don’t you take it easy tonight?” he suggested. “I could cover for you. Besides, you’re the boss here.”

“One of them,” you corrected, as you stubbornly continued to unwind the equipment cords, plugging them in along the marked out areas on stage.

“Yeah, but er, the rest aren’t as active,” he reasoned.

“So?” You shrugged, heading off to the other end of the stage to check on the mic stands.

Like an obedient puppy, he continued tailing you, following closely behind. “Something’s off with you…” He wrinkled his nose. “Is it Leon?”

Upon hearing his name, you fumbled with the mic, nearly dropping it if not for your Celerity-induced reflexes. “Fuck, shit!” You held onto the stand, stabilizing yourself as you pressed your lips into a thin line.

“Alright, that’s it,” he stated sternly, prying the mic and stand away from your grip. “Head out back and I’ll join you — the usual spot.”

Before you could open your mouth to protest, he already signaled for another employee to take over. “I mean it,” he scolded. “You’re not lifting another finger.”

Sighing, you ran a hand through your hair which had begun to stick along the sides of your face in the humidity. Was the ventilation system broken again?

"I can still see you thinking about work," he said, narrowing his eyes and using both hands to shoo you away from the stage.

You made a fuss and grumbled, but did as you were told and went out into the cold alleyway. Sitting alongside a curb, you stretched out your legs and waited for Patrick to arrive.

“Hm, Gauloises,” you heard his voice coming from behind as you fiddled with the cigarette pack. “Fancy.” He plopped down beside you.

There were only two sticks left now, as you’d chain-smoked the rest in the last nights. In fact, you’d gone through a bunch of them on the way to work. You couldn’t get any nicotine high out of it, but the feel and taste of them against your lips comforted you.

“Wanna split the last two?” You extended the pack towards him.

“Sure.” He fished one out, lighting it straight away before helping you with yours. You tried to hold back your flinching. “Where’d ya get them from anyway?”

“Leon’s ex.”

“Oh,” he coughed out, choking on the smoke. “Well, that must’ve been awkward.” Cocking an eyebrow at you, he suggested, “Is this what it’s about then? He’s got his panties in a twist after seeing her?”

Sort of, but not really. “More like, skeletons in the closet, y’know?” You exhaled a long train of smoke, which coiled and entwined like tendrils in the air.

“Right.” He paused, growing unusually silent as if contemplating on something. “And you’re wondering if he’s a good guy.”

You locked eyes with him, probing for answers. How the fuck did you know? you wanted to ask.

“What if I told you that I wasn’t always like this,” he offered.

“You mean, this annoying?” you jested, snickering as he smacked your arm with the back of his hand.

“Hey, fuck you.” He wagged his finger in your face. “And I meant being comfortable with who I am, liking both men and women — that sort of thing.”

Patrick had moved to Raccoon City from a small town in the middle-of-nowhere, and you could only imagine how it must’ve been like living in a place where the community encroached upon everything that you did. Stifling, was the word.

“I’ve done some stuff in the past I’m not proud of,” he continued. “People can really make some fucked up decisions when put in a situation.”

“You don’t say…” you trailed off as your lips curled into a cynical half-smile.

He glanced over at you skeptically and huffed, “What if I told you that I outed a guy I was in love with, because I didn’t want to get caught?”

You frowned, considering his words as you stared at your smoldering cigarette which had disintegrated into a stub.

“That I bullied and ostracized him after we kissed, just so I could cover my tracks?” he added. “It got so bad that he had to move away. And the last I heard, he tried to—”

You saw him clench his jaw as he cleared his throat, wringing his hands uneasily. He didn’t need to complete his sentence for you to know what he was alluding to.

“Am I a good guy, then?” he forced out, his voice tense and paper-thin, like a razor blade slicing through flesh.

You mulled over what he had shared with you as the crisp, icy wind nipped at your cheeks and your breath came out in misty puffs. “You’re a good friend,” you finally determined.

He draped his arm around your shoulders, jostling you a little as you smiled at each other in understanding. “I can’t change what I did back then,” he conceded. “But what matters is what I do next. At least, that’s what I tell myself.”

Bumping his head playfully against yours, he posed a final question, “So, what’s Leon like now?”

━━━━━━━━━━━

“Feign to the right!”

“There you go.”

“Hold your guard up!”

A string of commands were barked out by the beefy brunette man in front of you, while you worked up a sweat, throwing quick jabs at him as he countered them with ease. You kept your feet light and springy, deftly ducking and sidestepping as he aimed a roundhouse kick at your ribs.

“Nice one!” his sister yelled through her cupped hands at the sidelines.

For a brief moment, you got distracted and found Chris’ fist landing squarely on your jaw in a brutal left hook which sent you sprawling to the ground.

“Ow…” you groaned, rubbing the side of your face sorely as you scrambled to your feet.

Your mentor folded his arms, throwing you a harsh look as he admonished, “What did I say about blind spots?”

“Never have your back to the enemy,” you recited monotonously. “Always be aware of your surroundings.”

“Hey, Chris, lighten up will ya?” the redhead called out. “She’s doing just fine for a start.”

He sucked his teeth in response before spitting sharply at his side onto the dusty ground. “Fine, take five,” he relented. “We’ll work on some drills next.”

“Well, he wasn’t lying when he said he doesn’t go easy,” you muttered as Claire jogged up towards you.

“Yeah, he’s a bit of a pusher,” she explained, shrugging apologetically. “Used to be in the military.”

“Not surprised.”

You peered around the vast, minimalistic space you were in. It was an industrial warehouse at the west end of Euston Street that had been converted into a makeshift gym. The bare, unpainted walls and stripped back decor gave it an illicit vibe akin to an underground fight club. Aggressive, punk rock music blared from the stereos, accompanied by the rhythmic clunks of metal hitting the ground as the weightlifters in their muscle tanks did their reps.

From what you could see, it appeared to be a popular Anarch hangout, with the majority of them likely coming from the Brujah clan. The other Kindred at the corners of the room eyed you suspiciously as they wrapped their hands in strips of cloth for sparring practice. There were talks of you being a Cammy spy, fears that the Redfields tried to allay.

“Don’t worry about her, she’s with us,” they said, pulling you along behind them as they got bombarded with questions, which they took in their stride.

“Yeah, Leon’s childe.”

“Yes, that Leon. The one and only, you idiot.”

“So? He got to her first. Sucks to be you.”

It seemed like Leon’s name carried a certain weight to it. He must’ve been relatively respected within their social circles. You still couldn’t imagine him hanging around areas like this. It seemed too ‘unrefined’ for someone of his standing.

“I showed Leon a few tricks back in the day,” Chris boasted, his eyes twinkling with a faraway look as he recalled fond memories.

“The same tricks you’re gonna teach me, right?” you prompted, trying your luck.

He threw back his head and laughed. “Gotta say, I like your spunk, kid. But you don’t have any basic training,” he pointed out. “So, learn to walk before you run.”

And that’s how you ended up here, being pushed to your limits as Chris dumped exercise after exercise onto you, and gave you an ass whooping during one of the practice fights. You were exhausted by the end of it, collapsing in a heap on the dirt floor, as you wiped the sweat and grime off your brow.

In fact, you found out that you actually weren’t as strong as you thought you were. The time you ripped off Leon’s bedpost was an anomaly. You’d probably triggered a Blood Surge without knowing, which temporarily buffed your physical strength. Another way was to learn the Potence Discipline, which came naturally to Brujahs and some other clans, but not yours. However, in order to do that, you would need to find the right teacher who possessed those Disciplines and drink from them before your lessons could begin. That was not something you were prepared to do, though Chris had mentioned a third way, and that was by training with the blood to enhance your physical capabilities.

“Rough night, huh?” One of the Kindred who’d been watching you from the start approached, uncapping what looked like a plastic water bottle, but topped up with blood instead.

“Yeah, I’m kinda new to all of this actually,” you replied modestly.

“Well, you got a tough trainer.” She squatted next to you, gulping down the liquid in satisfaction. “But it’ll be good for you in the long run.”

You jerked your chin towards her bottle. “How’d you get one of those?”

It was an innocent question, but the bewilderment on her face told you that you knew close to nothing about their world, having been sheltered all this while by Leon. Your cheeks grew warm.

“Is that a trick question, or—?” she snorted, only to realize you’d been genuine. “Oh, um, I hunted and drained the victim?”

She followed up with another query, “Didn’t you already have your first kill?”

“What?!” you blurted out, not quite sure if you misunderstood her words.

“Like, the first person you drank from when you turned.” She moved her hands around wildly, as though it would aid in her explanation. “’Cause there’s no way they didn’t end up dead with that kind of hunger frenzy.”

“No, no… it wasn’t like that,” you sputtered, still shocked at what she had divulged. “Le— My sire helped me.”

“Wow, you’re lucky,” she huffed, clearly astounded and simultaneously jealous by the revelation you’d shared. “Some of us didn’t even get anything left for us to eat.”

“You mean, your sires just abandoned you?” you quizzed, baffled by how cruel some Kindred could be. Then again, it shouldn’t have surprised you, seeing as how you’d been treated by the rest of the Camarilla.

She nodded solemnly in response. “Yeah, pretty common among our lot, actually.”

Waving to another group that had entered into the building, she mentioned, “Caitiffs, over there.”

Caitiff was a catch-all term used for Kindred who didn’t belong to any clan, either because they didn’t know who their sire was, or they had been rejected by their clan as the blood didn’t take. The latter meant that they had no real lineage, including the clane bane and its noticeable features. They were considered to be at the bottom of the social hierarchy, just above the Thin-Bloods.

“Why do you think we’re part of the Anarchs?” she asked rhetorically. “’Cause there was nowhere else for us to go.”

The more you talked with the rest of the group, the more you realized that Leon had been shouldering most of the burdens that should’ve been yours to carry. While other fledglings scrounged around doing someone else’s dirty deeds to be able to survive the next night, you didn’t have to move a muscle. Simply because Leon had taken it upon himself to do it for you.

What’s Leon like now? Patrick’s question from the previous night echoed in your ears.

Kind, caring, protective — were the words that came up spontaneously. It astonished you that insults like disgusting, vile, revolting didn’t. But he had also been incredibly dense and obtuse at times. You facepalmed and stifled a laugh at the recollection of him dressing you in Ada’s raunchy lingerie set after the night of your Embrace. You’d been outraged at everything then, and when you’d asked him why he had done that, he blushed furiously and stammered, “I-I thought you would feel more comfortable in, uh, um… women’s clothes?”

“What’s so funny?” one of the Anarchs asked, bringing you back to reality.

“Nothing,” you mumbled, shaking your head and shrugging off the residual thoughts that lingered. But like a parasite lodged deep within the crevices of your skull, you couldn’t scrub the image of him abducting a child from your mind.

That was why you were here, you reminded yourself severely. Not to think about the small pockets of good times with Leon that brought you much-needed joy. Not to make excuses for how he could be redeemed. He wasn’t your little project to work on. You wanted to be free and rid of this man once and for all. You were here to learn how to be independent and self-sufficient, so you would never have to rely on him again.

“How do you usually feed, Claire?” you popped the question out of the blue, so much so that she thought you were joking, just like the younger Anarch.

“What has Leon been weaning you off? Blood bags?” she giggled until she saw the look on your face. “Wait, you’re actually serious?”

An exasperated groan escaped her throat. “He really needs to stop babying you.”

“Tell me about it.” You leaned back against your elbows as you idly watched the others train.

“Well, I shouldn’t be laughing ’cause I’m actually a Bagger myself,” she disclosed. “Working at the charity blood drive at the hospital gives me a couple of privileges when it comes to siphoning off some supplies.”

Raising a finger in front of your face, she preempted your next question, “And no, sorry, I got dibs on that first. You’ll have to find your own way.”

“What other ways are there?” you pondered out loud.

“I dunno, be creative,” she suggested unhelpfully. “My brother’s more the stalk and knock ’em out kind. The Anarch you spoke with earlier prefers sleeping victims…”

She shuffled from her stretched-out position back to sitting on her bum. “Whatever you choose, remember that we’re predators, so think like one. That said, these are just our feeding preferences. In a pinch, you’ll do anything it takes to survive.”

You hummed, contemplating her lengthy exposition on the topic. If there was one thing you’d been good at in life, it was talking with people, getting them excited about an idea, making them feel heard and leaving them wanting more. There were two ways to go about this: either you became a charismatic cult leader or you resorted to the cheesy but tried-and-tested method of picking people up at parties. Naturally, you opted for the latter.

When you told Claire about your plan, she grinned cheekily. “Never took you as the seductive Siren type.”

“I’m not having sex with anyone,” you protested. “Just gonna ask if they’d let me do some weird shit to them.”

“Ooh, like a blood kink sorta thing?” Placing her chin between her fingers, she rubbed her bottom lip in anticipation. “That’s pretty smart, but also on the borderline of a Masquerade breach. You should be careful.”

“It’s kinda what I thought Leon had at first to be honest,” you admitted.

Her hand flew up to her mouth, covering it as she erupted in a burst of raucous cackles. Tears fell from her eyes and her shoulders heaved up and down. Her whole body shook uncontrollably.

“Hah— oh god— jeez,” she wheezed, grabbing onto your shoulder for support. “You’re killin’ me!”

Apparently, it spread like wildfire, since the rest of the crowd reacted similarly, except Chris, whose cheeks were dusted in light pink as he looked away in embarrassment. You never thought you’d be gossiping behind your sire’s back, but it was too late to retract that statement now.

You tried to spend most of these nights away from Leon’s apartment, hoping to get back each time when he had already nodded off to sleep, but you had no such luck. He’d be sitting there either in front of his desk or at the TV waiting for you like a strict parent. Once you got in, he’d glance over at you briefly, his eyes laden with grief, before quietly switching off the lights for bed.

The change in atmosphere was jarring; you much preferred the liveliness of the cafe and the Anarch hangout, compared to the oppressive heaviness you felt at the apartment. You tossed and turned in bed, unable to find sleep, only to hear the rustling of sheets coming from downstairs, confirming that your companion suffered from the same fate. It was only in the very last moments before sunrise that your body automatically switched off like a clock.

No matter how well you tried to hide the cuts and bruises you returned with from your training sessions with Chris, nothing could elude Leon’s hawk-like scrutiny. He didn’t call you out on it initially, merely giving you perturbed looks, a raised eyebrow here and there, accompanied by a frown. It wasn't until one night, when you returned home with broken knuckles after getting a little over-enthusiastic during a combat fighting session, that he spoke up.

“Are you thrill-seeking, or are you purposely picking fights I don’t know about?” his sharp voice rang out across the room.

You ignored him, heading straight into the bathroom as you loaded a pail with cold water and ice. Plunging your fist into it, you stuffed a towel into your mouth to muffle your whimpers. Then, you roused the blood, focusing your concentration on mending the wound. Within seconds, your mangled hand fixed itself like machine parts slotting into place, becoming brand new again. A pang of hunger arose deep within the bowels of your stomach and you growled reflexively.

Shit, you needed blood. But you refused to touch the blood bags that Leon had been procuring for you night after night.

At that point, Leon stormed in. “Hey, answer me!” he demanded, his eyes flashing dangerously.

You stood up, facing him as you scoffed, “What’re you, my dad or something?”

“Now, if you’ll excuse me.” With a brazen look on your face, you stripped off in front of him. He stared at you in shock before averting his gaze out of respect for your modesty.

Stepping into the shower, you ran the tap, allowing the spray of water to wash away the dirt and crustied blood from your body. “Feel free to enjoy the show,” you jeered. There was a long pause before you heard his footsteps exit the room in a hurry.

You took your time getting ready, ensuring that not a single strand of hair was out of place and that your makeup was on point. For good measure, you applied a flirty cat eyeliner and chose a brighter, more youthful cherry red for your lips, blotting and smudging it along the edges to create a softer look.

Pulling out a strappy, ribbed cotton dress from the clothes you’d hung in Leon’s wardrobe, you threw it on. The material accentuated your curves but had a semi-relaxed fit, giving off a casual, sporty vibe — perfect for what you were about to get up to. You favored the warm, earthy tones of its burnt orange hue against your complexion in the mirror. It reminded you of saffron spice and the ember glow of charcoal as the floral taste of shisha filled your mouth in some distant land. Adorning yourself with gold dangle earrings, you completed the look by slipping on a pair of black heeled sandals before making your way out.

However, a hand grabbed your wrist, spinning you around as you landed with your back against the door. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

Leon gave you a once over as his smoldering eyes swept over your outfit from head to toe. A multitude of conflicting emotions crossed his face, ranging from disapproval to admiration. He seemed to be leaning hard into the overprotective parent role and it was getting on your nerves.

“The night’s still young,” you argued, tempted to provoke his temper even further. Oh, well, YOLO. Giving him a devilish smirk, you added, “I’m heading out to have some fun. So, don’t bother waiting up for me.”

Wresting your wrist free from his grasp, you flipped your hair, turning towards the door as you strutted out of the apartment without looking back.

━━━━━━━━━━━

It was drizzling when you arrived at the front of the queue at one of the more commercial clubs popular with the younger crowd in downtown Raccoon City. The rain had moistened your skin, giving it wet, glistening sheen as the bouncer ushered you into the space.

Kaleidoscopic strobe lights flashed across the dance floor while a tired playlist of the current top chart hits reverberated through the state-of-the-art sound system. You wouldn’t call this place your usual haunt for a party, but it was your best bet at finding people who’d be willing to hook up and more. The latter part being the crucial factor here.

Scanning the room, you picked out a couple of potential targets — mostly singles who were either halfheartedly bobbing along to the music or restlessly standing at the sides, on the lookout for fresh meat, like yourself.

A buzz of eagerness and exhilaration coursed through your body. The Beast in you egged you on, smiling wickedly as you approached a lone man in the middle of the dancefloor. A well-loved banger came on just in time for you to conduct what you and your friends openly ridiculed and coined as the ‘mating call’.

Sashaying over, you made eye contact with the guy and winked, making sure he knew you had his full attention. He smirked, looking as though he had just hit the jackpot. Maybe he’d been here for a while with no luck. Taking a leisurely sip of his drink, he made no attempt to conceal his blatant ogling of your figure. He wasn’t bad looking himself, but something told you that he was a little rough around the edges and probably had a foul mouth.

As you drew closer, you noticed the way his medium-length, dark brown hair fell against his face in a tousled, layered style, complementing his rugged and laid-back appearance. His square jawline was clean-shaven and he had a broader, sturdier frame than Leon. Wait, why were you comparing him to your sire again?

“Aren’t you a pretty little thing?” He gulped down the rest of his drink for liquid courage before dumping the emptied bottle on the floor. Placing his hands on your hips, the corners of his mouth ticked up into a cocky grin.

Hm, forward, you thought. But at least you could get straight to it then.

You let him twirl you around as you gyrated your hips against his sensually, his chest hugging your back as you made small talk. “What’s your name, handsome?”

He chuckled, his breath tickling the shell of your ear as his gravelly voice dropped an octave lower. “For you, sweetheart, it’s Kevin.”

“Kevin,” you repeated coyly, allowing him to grind even harder against your ass.

“Mmm, that sounds so good on your lips,” he murmured, peppering the side of your neck with kisses. “I’d like to take this someplace else, if y’know what I mean?”

“Thought you’d never ask.” You emitted a breathy giggle, trying to play the part of a ‘seductive siren’ that Claire had mentioned. “Lead the way, Kevin.”

It turned out that his idea of ‘someplace else’ was rather uncreative, but you weren’t here to judge the man, you needed to satiate your hunger. He kissed you roughly against the door of a toilet stall you’d locked yourself into, ignoring the other patrons who were either drunk or high out of their minds. When you heard the metallic clink of his belt unbuckling, you knew it was time.

Pressing your index finger to his lips to stop him momentarily, you asked, “Would you let me do anything to you?” It wasn’t perfect, but it was close enough.

The confusion on his face shifted into a saucy smile, as his imagination began to run wild with interpreting what you wanted. “Didn’t realize I had such a dirty, naughty girl in my hands.”

Kneading your ass, he leered, “Come home with me, baby. I’ll show you a good time.” His hands continued to grope the sides of your body. “Got handcuffs, batons, you name it. Courtesy of the RPD.”

Huh, another police officer. Looks like you had a type apparently, you grimaced internally.

You ran your hands along his muscular chest, grazing your fingertips against his neck, causing him to shiver. “I will, but first, I wanna take a bite.”

“Fuck me, that’s hot,” he gritted. “You can do whatever you want, baby.”

Bingo. Pushing him back onto the toilet seat, you straddled his lap, feeling his hardened erection against your crotch. He let out a hiss at the friction building up between your clothes. Combing his hair away from his neck, you licked a thick stripe along the prominent vein you spotted at its side.

“Fuck,” he rasped, his eyes rolling back in pleasure and you took your chance, plunging your teeth into the vein as you drank from him.

Warm, sweet blood filled your mouth to the brim like a midnight dessert, and you could taste the alcohol and nicotine in it, giving you a double dose of wooziness. So, this was what it was like to get tipsy, you laughed to yourself. All at once, your Beast quietened down, the gnawing feeling at the bottom of your stomach numbed to a point where it was just a tepid throb.

This was where you should end it right? You hoped the man beneath you was still alive. Licking the wound close, you withdrew, quickly grabbing some toilet paper to wipe away the streaks of blood from his neck before chucking it into the bin. Messy drinker. You still needed to get used to feeding.

He was out cold, though his expression was one of pure bliss. I really should get paid for this, you thought, shaking your head as you checked his pulse. Yup, he’ll be fine.

Tugging down the hem of your dress, you smoothed out the creases and stumbled out of the stall. Whoops, you forgot you weren’t entirely sober now, especially in your heels. At the sinks, you peered at yourself in the mirror. Your lipstick was smudged and splotches of bright red decorated your mouth and chin. It was on the borderline — you could’ve just had a lot of makeup on that got ruined in the process.

A partially intoxicated woman at the next sink bumped shoulders with you merrily. “Had fun?”

Trailing a line across your bloodied chin with your finger, you sucked the remnants of Kevin into your mouth, before pulling it out with a ‘pop’. Smiling widely at your reflection, you declared, “Yes.”

Back at the main area of the club, a pair of vivid, crystal-clear blue eyes illuminated in the darkness, stalking your every move. His lips contorted into a vicious snarl, and his fingers wrapped around his sweating glass, gripping it in a chokehold. He looked hideous like this, but he didn’t care. It was only feeding, yet jealousy coiled and wound its way like a rose stem around his heart, its thorns lacerating through flesh and bone, nestling itself deep within its confines.

That guy? Keith— Kevin? Whatever. He was an acquaintance through his brief dalliances with the RPD. As far as Leon was concerned, that sleazeball didn’t deserve you. And neither did he, but he should’ve been the cop you went off with instead.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil #vampire au #vampire the masquerade #vtm #crossover #fic: into the ether #porcelainscribbles

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wings-of-ink · 6 months ago

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Looking for your Input for IF Patreon

Hello my friends and neighbors! I hope you are all safe and well. I had some things to share with you and I am once again fishing for thoughts and opinions.

Like many of us who create these IFs, I am strongly considering a Patreon. I have no plans to go exclusively to Patreon, so don't fret. I want to make extra content to go along with any IF I work on, and I'd like to be able to put more things into these projects such as real art (including character portraits), and not just the stuff I flounder through on Canva. I'd like to pay my artist a fair wage and devote more of my time to this. Getting some support would help me allocate even more to these projects and extras. I'm testing the waters here to see if it's sustainable for both myself and subscribers as well. I do not know what timeframe I'm looking at to start this either.

I only want to do this if it's worth the while for everybody, so I'm putting out feelers and asking for your input.

Most of all - I want to know what you want in a Patreon sub. I also want to know what you feel to be a fair sub price for different tiers. Over the years, when I have been able, I have subbed to help support my favorite creators at all different levels. So, I have some ideas on what I am looking for in a subscription, what keeps me coming back, and what prices are both fair for the effort of the creator as well as for my pocket. But, what suits me may not be what you want, so that's why I need some feedback.

Below, I have compiled my ideas, so far, for possible tiers. None of these are set in stone, just a framework to build on to see if I'm on the right track. At the bottom is a poll (of course, it's like my favorite thing), and is probably the first of a few about this topic I will use. I welcome comments and suggestions on this topic. Tell me what you are looking for in a Patreon. What do you want from one each month? What keeps you subscribed? Please feel free to comment below or to send comments and suggestions via the Ask inbox, especially if you prefer to be anon (do let me know if you do not want your response posted - I may post some that either have questions or that I find relevant to the conversation).

I still do not know for certain what the ultimate future of God-Cursed will look like (meaning when it is all finished). I've played with the idea of eventually refining it to sell on itch and/or Steam. I have to admit that being able to do so would really feel like a huge accomplishment to me. I've always had dreams of being published and such, and it feels like a part of that dream. I, personally, prefer to buy IFs through either platform whenever I can. It supports my favorite authors, shows my appreciation, it compiles my favorite stories into an easy-to-find library, and I can relive my favorite stories over and over easily. So, needless to say, this is calling to me more and more.

Anyway, what I have come up with so far for possible offerings are these. Please let me know if something like this would work for you or if you have any suggestions for improvement:

An appreciation/tip jar - if the other tiers aren't for you or you just want to give a little love. Subscribers could get updates and public posts, and participation in polls.

A "Supporter" level - all the other stuff plus GC demo releases 1 month (30 days) in advance. I debated about the time, but I want to really make the early access feel worth it. This level would also be privy to some "insider" info (things cut, character development, the egregious typos, etc…). Of course there would be some sort of dev-log to go with this as well.

A "Plus" tier - all the above plus early release of demos for other IFs, more "behind the scenes" type things, and I'm thinking some POVs and other extra content (some interactive) such as short stories. These extras need not be exclusive to IFs either if anyone is interested in other things I write.

"SMUT" or "Spicy" tier - (being very honest, I'd be the most excited for this tier, lol) all the above including all things smut for each IF. This will include interactive extras, short stories, and any other horny content we want. Likely will run some polls and take suggestions for the spice you desire each month.

"Smut plus" (lol) - all the above, PLUS a patreon-only IF that I will have in the works (so, access to 3 projects in total). I have an idea for an IF that will focus on 1 RO at a time (each with their own complete and unique story within the same world), and I am itching to write it even if updates for it will be a bit slow. It will be more like a traditional dating sim type thing and may comprise all sorts of genres. This may be one that would be good for just subscribing on months that will have updates, and that's something I would probably post about publicly so if you're just interested in getting access, you don't have to worry about staying subbed.

And finally a sort of "Power Supporter" tier - this may be like a limited number sort of thing and be a bit pricey (not sure yet how much). You'd get a custom interactive story set in whatever world of mine you want that can be spicey or not. You'd give me all your MC's details (mostly cannon things but some liberties could be taken), physical traits and personality, and pick your RO and/or other desired characters. I'd take prompts or ideas from you as well concerning what you'd like in the story. You want a sexcapade - you can have that. You want to have tea with Oswin and his weird twin sisters - you got it. The main limitations are spoilers, of course, especially for any mystery ROs depending on when and if this all comes to pass. There may be some subject-matter that I will not write about, but I'd let you know what is out of bounds for me.

Naturally, I would also pop your name in the credits, I just don't know which tier that should go on.

So, there you have it. This has been on my mind for a while and I've gotten some questions and messages asking about if I will do something like this, so I'd like to give it a go at least.

Looking forward to hearing your ideas and desires! ^_^

~Lunan

#god cursed if #twine if #if wip #twine wip #interactive novel #if game #interactive fiction #patreon

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tech-deck · 2 months ago

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Tech-Deck 2.0!!...sorta

This is a long one folks, so I'll add a TLDR at the bottom. But for those who wish to read on, grab some popcorn :3

Hello friends! It's been a while. like, a year or so I guess? There may be some who remember me, and there may be some who are like "never heard of ya!" and that's quite alright!

My name is Tech-Deck, or Techie, or Amber (by person to person mostly, but anyone is welcome to call me by that name too) I used to be someone who posted an re-blogged a lot back during the heydays of a show called "The Bad Batch"

A year ago I made the ulimate decision of destroying my tumblr account of, geez 11 years? I had it since 2012, but really didn't do much on it for a long time. That was until I got hooked into the Star Wars fandom. And suddenly it was like an entirely new wave of socializing had swept me under my own two feet!

I fell in love with a show called "The Mandalorian" during lockdown and had such a blast that I wanted more SW content, but didn't really know what else to watch that I found interesting.

And then my brother told me about this Clone Wars spinoff called "The Bad Batch" and I watched the first hour long premiere and I was instantly hooked.

But at the time I had not seen much of The Clone Wars TV show outside of a few stray episodes on cable TV. so I knew I had to dig my heels and go back to watch the entire 7 season run of the show and...My God what a show it was! (This is why I'm an avid cartoon = for everyone ambassador because holy hell!) So much drama, and action and political espionage and sabotage and all the "tages" lol.

From there I got back to the new show that seemed to be an interesting spin-off of TCW and it was something in that show that really sparked my shift into more social and creative avenues.

I joined Discord for the first time, I started to connect to a lot of other fans of the show, and then....I got the inspiration to write!

and my God, did I have a lot to write about, or moreso I had a lot to write about a certain character. But the bottom line in the moment was I had jumped into a new creative avenue that I never thought I would ever do. And, not to toot my own horn, but I felt like I did pretty well with my works. At least the ones important to me were.

I enjoyed the love and even the constructive criticism I got, I went through the same fun of watching each episode and wanting to write my own characters, or ideas into each one, but alas my time management and slow writing speeds didn't quite match up all the time.

And lets just say, that in all my years of living, I have met friends for a season, a reason, and a lifetime thanks to this fandom. I get to work with an amazingly talented, awesome, and wonderful individual who has been nothing but supportive of my endeavors and I am so very thankful to have them in my life! so yes, thank you @tech-aficionado!!

And of course, there are too many to list here, but I have made some incredible friends that have pushed me, and inspired me to not only write, but to be more open about my experiences and challenges, and dare I say, my strangeness in such a strange world.

...With all that said...why did I leave tumblr then if I was doing great?

To be honest...on the inside I let my own self doubts and criticisms get the best of me.

Many days i would struggle to even open up my discord or chat with people, or even be honest in how i was feeling. I could tell that a lot of external pressure I thought I felt was really my own self-hate and guilt seeping through the smiles and bright eyes. I wanted to be open, but something was holding me back from explaining my sorrows, and ultimately I also could tell my main struggle was hoping for absolute recognition.

I realize it's a silly thing now, but back then I would be disheartened at the lack of response or comments and such to my works or to my replies. I felt like there was still this invisible wall that I couldn't get past to be part of this greater collective of individuals. I let my idea of perfectionism and need for approval get the best of me, and I finally had a moment of clarity driving out to a hike one day.

There were many times I wanted to delete everything social media wise and just forego the entirety of it. To finally be like me in my youth where all I really needed was the open air and a good book and some irl friends to hang with.

So I finally deleted my tumblr account and oddly enough, it did feel like a giant weight came off of my shoulders. Like I no longer had to feel like I needed to prove myself by writing all the time, or trying to engage in fandom chats with everyone at all times. I finally felt free to let my real personality and introverted needs to take over.

I was still pretty active on Discord with friends, but even then soon I started to dwindle in my comments and posts. Gone were the days where I would have the app open on my laptop or phone, ready to jump into a conversation about the latest episode or the latest spicy fic one of us wrote!

Now I barely keep check, I'm on a few times during the week, but it's mostly DM's to my boss, who is currently sitting next o me as I type like my keyboard is on fire, about how annoying our co-workers can be, or planned trips to places together. But I can tell that this is exactly where I am the happiest.

I love all my friends that I have made on here and on Discord or other media, and I want you all to know that I will never not love you all so much, but I also know that my own sanity rests with more quiet time than probably most people.

I'm a loner at heart, always have been and I probably will most likely be for the rest of my life. Do I have my days where I need social contact, yes. But even then there are moments where my battery just dips so drastically that I need a breather for a week or 2 before I come back online, or chat again.

So now the real question...why am I back on Tumblr, where it all began?

Well, I guess I never really left this place. I had this new account for a while, mostly to make sure my friends were doing okay that I didn't chat to much, but also, there's just something I enjoy about seeing everyone's passions and love to share their creativity and liveliness on one of the last genuine social sites left. I can't bear the idea of not having something great to read or share with others and this is that one place that sparks creativity in others...it definitely did for me :3

So now you all know, at least whoever read all the way through! (I commend you, it was definitely a lot to process myself) and I want you all to know that I'm not fully back and running a blog like I used to. I don't write much at all anymore, and I probably won't pick it up much again unless I really feel the urge, but even those urges are just small WIP's that hang out in my docs for years collecting dust and growing new mold spores!

I'm just here, vibing to my own tunes and at my own pace, and I have made peace with that. And I want to encourage you all to also take a breather from time to time, you don't have to delete anything if you're not as insane to jump the gun like I did.

But take some time to consider your own health and well-being. Find that lost spirit if you feel like you're in the dark, and if this is where you feel your best and your most "you" than keep at it!

I will be here, vibing and lurking, just being me. And that's all that I need to be! PEACE!

TLDR: Tech-Deck is back, but at my own pace and my own vibe!

#psa #im back in the houuuuuse #but like quite and here for the snacks #adding my sw tags because it's best for my input #but i can delete if it's too spammy #star wars #star wars fandom #bad batch #the bad batch #clone force 99 #tbb

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thygoddessouijathicc · 1 year ago

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Bishop Edibility Tierlist; A very deeply serious essay about which bishop would taste the best if you had to eat one of them for any reason

Aight, 88% of you voted in favour of this being released, so this is on you. This blood is on YOUR hands. Just remember that as you read this.

So you all remember that essay I did about how the bishops all had some kinda trauma or different reactions to purgatory and shit and how that was such a serious thing analyzing dialogue and reactions and stuff-?

Well there are TWO wolves inside of me, and one of them writes serious researched essays, it’s time you meet the other.

To preface this, this essay is entirely a joke please don’t take any word of this seriously.

To start with, technically anything is edible if you try hard enough, sometimes only once but I digress, however some things are more appetizing than others.

For this essay we will be taking evidence from canon in some cases on things you can eat, but assuming that this only means these things are more appetizing in this world, not that anything you can’t feast upon very specifically in the game is somehow inedible. Meat is meat.

Also Narinder will be referred to as a bishop because he was one.

Ok let’s start our list.

At the absolute bottom of the edibility tierlist is Narinder. Narinder is a cat. While technically cats are indeed edible by the laws of meat is meat, cats hold a special place in the hearts of many including myself.

But to be honest the real reason that Narinder holds this spot is meat quantity and quality of him specifically. Narinder, holds very little meat. Sure he has a head, but his arms are skeletal and it’s safe to assume possibly a lot of the rest of his body tis also but frail bone. Possibly what is not could also be rotten if he’s that kind of god of death that qualifies as a corpse. And while meat is meat, Narinder not only has very little, but what he does have may be poor quality. This cements him in the shameful bottom spot.

He’s also a-

Moving on, next, quite regrettably, is Leshy. Leshy is a major jump in quality from Narinder.

We don’t know much about bushworms or their anatomy but what we do know, is Leshy is dummy thicc, this means he has a large quantity of meat.

Unfortunately Leshy is also a worm which isn’t exactly the most appetizing creature to put in your gaping maw so that docks him a few points.

However the true reason he cannot be higher is that depending on your read of his anatomy, Leshy could qualify as a salad, and EWWWWW VEGITALS!!! 🤢🤮🤮

Moving on to the “would eat again category” we start with Heket.

Now it should not be news to anyone that frogs are edible, especially to French people. But I don’t believe in French people, they aren’t real. Anyway as I’m saying, you can eat frogs to your hearts content!

There are sanitation issues with Anura apparently being super gross which docks some points but overall, Heket is a solid option.

Now we’ve reached “ok hear me out” territory with Shamura.

Spiders are a major food source in cult of the lamb. Which is a bit questionable for a few reasons, including that there are multiple spider characters and Webber exists but also small spiders on the ground which seem to be a separate species which raises a lot of questions possibly best gone unanswered.

What really matters is what you can do with the small spiders you find around, you can chase them down and when you catch them, they drop meat. My friends have told me that this means I’m just taking meat they are holding, after all you can get berries if the spider has taken them.

What I say to this is: but the idea of lamb running around at night and picking up whole large spiders off the ground and feeding them to their followers is fucking hilarious, and also they always drop the same meat and never berries unless they have picked them up. You’d think if I’m just taking what they have and they will eat berries as well as meat, that I’d get berries more often. Nay, only when picked up from my farms.

This leads to the only possible conclusion being that people in the cult of the lamb universe feed often on spiders, that’s right, Helob eating followers is VENGEANCE.

So, we have established spiders are very edible in cult of the lamb, and you know what Shamura is? A giant fucking spider. They are edible, I rest my case.

Now let’s move on to first place oh boy who is it, probably who you should have expected, Kallamar.

His name sounds like Calamari to start with and not only can you eat squids in real life, you can in the game (similar weird separate species thing with spiders only in this case it’s more definitive that you can very much eat the squids themselves.)

Kallamar would also likely cry if you proclaimed your desire to consume him, misery not only makes meat better but his tears could be seasoning!

Not even to mention the fact that after beating him, it would be a moment of victoriousness and pure vindictive nature, to proceed to eat Kallamar, and vindictive nature is something I most definitely do not lack as I cuss out bishops every time I see the statues after I beat them.

Squids also don’t have many bones so unlike the others who you’d have to spend an extensive time processing before eating, Kallamar would be easy and his bones make up very little of his composition.

In conclusion, why did you read this whole essay it’s not even that funny.

And those of you who voted to have this released. Are you happy?

Are you not entertained!?

#cult of the lamb shamura #cult of the lamb kallamar #cult of the lamb heket #cult of the lamb narinder #cult of the lamb leshy #cult of the lamb #COTL #cotl heket #cotl narinder #cotl leshy #cotl shamura #cotl kallamar #bishop shamura #bishop heket #bishop leshy #bishop kallamar #bishop narinder

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elacular-kink · 5 months ago

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Poly-techhic -4: A Little Lunch and Seltzer AU

So, when I wrote Chapter 4.5, I saw how Olivia teased Susanna and thought "Hey, good idea, character that I write! Let's write that!" So, in this alternate universe version of chapter 4, Susanna is the one who gets the hiccups during their date instead of Kiran. I've also written it twice, once from Kiran's perspective and once from Susanna's. I'll see if I can sorta get both on one post via reblog, but if not I'll double up like I did with the shower story.

The Kiran chapter's first few paragraphs are retreads of part of Chapter 4 to set the scene, so I'll put those in a different color if anyone wants to skip to the new stuff.

Last ramble: This is the last bit of Poly-Techhic I've written so far. That doesn't necessarily mean there won't be more, and it certainly doesn't mean there won't be more hiccup stuff in the future, but my muse is on its contractual lunch break, so I can't say when.

Character Sheet

TW: Anxiety, Painful hiccups, menstruation (mentioned) Kinks: Hiccups, Embarrassment

Susanna and I had just arrived for our date at the French restaurant whose name neither of us could pronounce. The man in the tuxedo looked past me at Susanna as she entered. "We don't wear hoods in this establishment, sir."

"M-ma'am!" I corrected him, blushing.

"It's cool, Kiran," Susanna pulled her hood down and I saw that, rather than laying flat or being mussed like it usually was, her hair looked like it had been styled with gel or spray, a perfect gently punkish messy spikiness to it. As Susanna unzipped her hoodie, I saw that she was wearing a white button-up shirt underneath, the arms cuffed past her elbows in an imitation of short sleeves, and the bottom tucked into her khakis and strapped down with a leather belt. Oh god, she looked so dapper. How was I supposed to cope? "I don't mind what people call me, and I figu—uh..." She'd started tying her hoodie around her waist when the maître d' took it from her and hung it up on a coat rack instead alongside mostly suit jackets. "Uh...yeah. Okay. That works."

The tuxedoed man sniffed and turned. "This way, ma'am and ma'am." He showed us to a small table and placed a set of black leather-bound menus in front of us. "I'll need to see ID if you intend to drink."

"Nah, I'm good. I'll just take water."

"Hmph." He took a note.

The idea of asking for soda in an establishment like this made my stomach ache. I was glad that I had at least managed to eat a little lunch; the idea of that ache making any noise made me feel even more ill. "I-I'll take water as well, please!" The maître d' made a noise I didn't know how to interpret and walked away. Susanna rolled her eyes as he left, and that helped me calm down a little.

For a while, the two of us chatted about the restaurant's (stuffy) atmosphere and its (expensive) appetizers, but it wasn't long before we were interrupted by someone who was, thankfully, not the maître d', and who placed a wine glass of water in front of each of us. "Uh, thanks man," Susanna said. He nodded without saying anything and walked off quickly. "Is this...classy?" She picked up her glass and tilted it around.

"I...suppose? I'll be honest, rules of etiquette were never something I was able to keep track of very well."

"Pff. My god, poor etiquette? You bad girl, you." I could feel myself blushing under her smile. "Well, whether it's classy or not, it'd be weird not to clink these." She held her glass out and I picked up my own and tapped it against hers before I took a sip. I was a bit surprised to realize that it was seltzer, but I supposed that would explain why even the water on the menu had a price.

When I looked back at Susanna, she was swirling the water in her glass and sniffing at it. "Ahh, essence of tap. Hydrogen and...notes of oxygen I presume?"

I stifled a small giggle as she took a sip. "Why yes, with a surprising hint of carbon di—" Before I could finish speaking, Susanna choked and started coughing, putting the glass down as quickly as she could. "—o-oxide? Susanna, are you okay?"

"Yeah—k-kuh, yeah Kiran, I'm fi–*eek!*" A tiny, high-pitched noise forced itself out of her and her eyes went wide. Her face was unbelievably red and she slapped both hands over her mouth. After a split second, she sucked in a breath of air and held it, shutting her eyes tight.

"Susanna?" She opened her eyes and nodded at me, then rocked back silently and shut them again, another tiny noise audible in her throat. She held up one finger and I nodded back, even though she couldn't see me. I couldn't take my eyes off of her though. Every few seconds she kept jolting, and it seemed like they were getting faster and harder. She held her breath for a worryingly long time. I half wished I'd taken out a stopwatch, because it had to be over a minute, probably over two.

Eventually, she let out her breath all in one massive huff, though she kept both hands over her mouth, just barely containing a high-pitched little "*mmp!* S-sorry." Without her bangs or her hoodie on, her cute, flushed face was a little hard to ignore. I kept accidentally meeting her eyes, and they looked almost...scared. "Be right b---back." Without elaborating, she got up and rushed off deeper into the building.

"...okay," I said, long after she had gone. I was barely able to wait five minutes before I felt compelled to pull out my phone. Texting on dates was horribly rude as far as I was aware, but if she wasn't at the table, it seemed like it would be okay? And honestly, I was worried.

Queen of Illusion: YOU BETTER TELL ME HOW THIS SHIT WENT WHEN YOU GET BACK PLEASE TELL ME YOU FUCKIN KISSED HER AND THEN KISS ME (IF YOU WANNA)

Kiran (Kiki): Maya?

Queen of Illusion: WTF are you doing texting me And yeah

Kiran (Kiki): I'm sorry! I didn't know what else to do!

Queen of Illusion: Hold up What stupid shit is Susie doing?

Kiran (Kiki): I don't know! She disappeared deeper into the building!

Queen of Illusion: wait Where the bathrooms are?

Kiran (Kiki): I don't know, maybe?

Queen of Illusion: That mother fucker Gimme 2 seconds ill fix this shit.

Kiran (Kiki): Is she okay? Does she need a pad or a tampon? I carry those.

Queen of Illusion: oh shit thats super helpful tell the whole team that But yea shes fine Just really fuckin stupid I told her to get her ass back to the table or Id throw her switch in a blender And she knows im crazy enough to do it

Maya was still typing, but when I looked up, I saw Susanna coming back over. She looked very small, shoulders pulled in and her head bowed down, and she speed walked over to our table and sat down in her chair with a hyperefficient stiffness. Also stiff was the way she kept jolting backward, her shoulders jumping, her head snapping back, and her whole body rocking. "S---sorry Kiran. *mmk!*"

"It's...fine?" I wasn't sure quite what she was apologizing for. Her face was still unbelievably red. "Are you...are you alright?"

She nodded before her head was abruptly jerked back again. "Got th---the h-hic---cups. Sor---ry."

"...oh!" Oh, that made sense. Susanna must have been sensitive to carbonation like Maya was. Did she not know that about herself? I'd never seen her drink or order soda, so why didn't she say as much when we talked about it?

...actually, considering that Maya was the one who had brought up hiccup triggers, I could see why she would want to keep that to herself right then.

"Oh, okay. N-nothing you need to be sorry for, Susanna. D-do you want me to try and get you some regular water?" She looked up at me and nodded slightly. "Alright...alright." I looked around for a waiter who didn't look busy. The restaurant wasn't crowded, and the maître d' had left his post to wander among the tables doing...honestly, it wasn't clear to me at all what he was doing besides occasionally staring at us in an intimidating manner. But I couldn't see any other employees who weren't occupied, and Susanna looked so uncomfortable and was jolting so hard. So I steeled myself as best I could, straightened up, rolled my shoulders back, and then walked over to the man in the tuxedo. "Excuse me, sir." He sniffed at me. I wanted to shrivel up and disappear, but I forced my back to stay straight. "My—" Wait, shit, what was I supposed to call her? Fuck fuck fuck—

No! No panicking right now. She needs you.

"My date would like some still water, and I'd prefer to get it sooner rather than later."

He stared at me. I was glad I'd straightened up. It gave me an inch or two on him, and he clearly didn't like that. "...off-menu requests cost extra."

Susanna better not have heard that. "That's fine. And I'll tip for a prompt delivery." He sniffed, then walked back towards the kitchen, and I walked back over to our table and sat back down. As soon as I was in the chair, I slumped again, and I felt Susanna's hand land on mine. I smiled at her, or at least tried to. "I'm alright, Susanna. Hopefully, we'll get you some water soon."

She exhaled softly and nodded. "Th---thanks." There was an audible thump in her chest and she rubbed her sternum, looking pained. Her little body was being so violently rocked...I really did wonder if she was going to hurt herself. And her face still looked so red and feverish.

The not-exactly-silence that fell between us felt horribly awkward. "Well, I...suppose that you'll need some of Olivia's hair now." She stared at me, and at least her looking confused was better than her looking scared and in pain. "F-for your voodoo doll. It stopped working. It's not transferring your hiccups right now." After a moment, she smiled. Susanna smiled and she shook with quiet, soft laughter and it made me feel like I was glowing.

Then she "*HNK!*—nnf!" jerked back harder and shut her eyes tight, rubbing her throat.

"Susanna, are you in pain?" She looked at me and shrunk in on herself before she nodded. "Is holding your hiccups back causing that? Would letting them out help?" She cringed, then motioned for me to come over. I joined her on her side of the table and saw that her spasms were throwing her hard into the uncomfortable-looking back of her chair. I couldn't think of anything else to do, so I put both of my hands on her shoulders and gripped them. With her next hiccup, I just barely managed to keep her from hitting the back of the chair again. God, she was so strong. Her whole body was so unbelievably strong. And she was looking back and up at me. "I—um, sorry, is this okay?" She nodded again, and my heart rate slowed at least a little. "You're being shaken so hard, I just...thought this could help."

She turned away and shook with almost silent laughs again. "S---sweet." Before I could stammer out a request to elaborate on that, she took out her phone and started typing on it, holding it awkwardly high so I could easily read from behind her.

Susie Q(eer): That'd help, yeah, but I don't think the people around here would appreciate it. Especially not tuxedo douche.

"I-I don't care about that!" That came out of me louder than I meant it to, but I ignored my blush, just lowering my voice as best I could. "Certainly not more than I care about your well-being." After a moment, she put a hand on one of mine and gently nuzzled into one of my arms. I may not have trusted my ability to comprehend body language, but I felt safe assuming that whatever this was was very affectionate. My heart clearly felt safe assuming that, considering how it was bursting and melting all at once.

"Erm, your still water, ma'ams." Our waiter came over and placed a glass of water in front of Susanna, who quickly grabbed it and took a large swig. Unfortunately, barely a half-second later, she jerked back into my hands again. "Also," the waiter was cringing. "Um, other patrons have requested that you please take your seat, ma'am."

"I—" I wasn't sure what to do, but before I could worry too much about it, Susanna gently patted my arm and gestured for me to go back to my seat. She jerked back into me again before I could, though. Her hiccups were so strong..."No, I don't believe so." The waiter blinked at me, and Susanna was looking up, shocked. I gently pulled her to her feet, keeping a hand on her back. "This restaurant isn't what I was hoping it would be. I'm sorry, Susanna. Please let me take you somewhere better suited to the two of us."

I walked over to the maître d' and paid with one of my least important credit cards. This place didn't deserve the dignity of giving me gold points. "Don't forget your companion's...jacket."

"Of course. Thank you, sir." I put as much venom in my voice as I could, then took Susanna's hoodie and helped put it on her before wrapping an arm around her shoulders again. There wasn't really a need to do that, but she wasn't complaining. She even leaned further into me once we were outside again.

Despite those actions, I heard Susanna sigh. "I'm s---sorry, Ki–*EEK!*–Nnuuh!" She covered her face with both hands, and I couldn't help but laugh.

"N-no, I'm sorry!" I shook away my giggles as best I could before sighing. "I'm...sorry for laughing, for one. You're just..." I could feel my face warming. "...You're just really cute."

"Mnnf. *HMK!*" She leaned into me more, and my nerves kept pulling giggles out of me.

"But beyond that, I'm...I'm sorry about that restaurant. I wanted to take you somewhere that...that you might not have been to a place like yet. A-and I know that I'm very privileged with how much access to money I have, so that's something that I can provide you if we go on a date together and—"

"'Prov---provide me'?" Susanna squinted up at me. "You–*HOOP!*–Nn!" She covered her face again and I couldn't help it. I just pulled her into my arms and against me. She was so cute. Her back jolted into me, and for once it felt really nice to have such a soft belly for her to hiccup into instead of something hard that could hurt her. She made more tiny noises, then pulled her face out of her sleeve-covered hands. "...*MMK!* You don't ha---have to provide---nnnghf. *MMK* Provide me anyth–*UK!* th-thiiiing. Fuck."

"But I want to." I realized that we had idly walked to a small park block and looked at the nearest bench. It looked uncomfortable, especially the back, and I sat down on it and confirmed that fact. I couldn't let Susanna sit and hiccup back into that. But what other option— "...Susanna? Would you like to..." I uncertainly patted my lap.

The light was too dim to be sure, but I thought her face went even redder. Even so, she nodded. "S---sure, but–*HNK!* d-don't let m---me hurt you."

"I won't." I hoped I'd be able to keep that promise if need be, but more than that, I really really really hoped I wouldn't have to. She slowly, gently eased onto my lap, and I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her back against me. She was so small in my grasp. "...but just to be sa–OOF!" I was shocked by the force one of her spasms pushed back with. "S-safe, you should stop holding your hiccups in." After a long moment and a few rough jolts, she nodded. I could hear and feel her start to breathe more deeply, seeming to have to make an active effort not to try and mute herself. High-pitched *HEEK*s and *HNK*s and *HK-llp*s squeaked out of her, but her motions were far gentler, more bounces than jerks. One of my arms was resting on her stomach while the other had ended up across her thighs (which I really hoped she didn't notice or object to) and it was interesting just how much I felt her move, and how much more fluid even her herky-jerky hiccup motions were now that she wasn't trapping everything inside of her chest. "Yeah. There you go. Good—" My face practically lit on fire as I realized what I was about to say, and I buried it in the back of her hood. But I couldn't not finish my sentence. "Good...good girl."

After a split second, I felt her laughing against me. Her chuckles came tangled up with hiccups, but I didn't mind, and it seemed like, at least to an extent, she didn't either. Once her laughter calmed, she sighed. "S'just emb–*UCK* emb-barrassing. *HNK-lk*."

I sighed back. "I can see why. I'd be mortified." It took me too many seconds to realize what I'd just said. "N-not that I'm saying you should be! Y-you don't need to be embarrassed, Susanna, I just—" I hid my face in the back of her hood again, glad that the hiccups mostly moved her chest and torso rather than snapping her head back. "I just understand why you would be. B-but you don't need to be. It's just the hiccups. And you shouldn't have to hold them back any more than Olivia does."

Susanna made a noise I didn't know how to interpret. "Oliv---via has to h–*OLK*–g-guh. Hold them ba–*UCK* all the time. *HMK!* I'm...*hmp*." She leaned forward and pulled down her hood, resting her head against my chest afterward, and I wondered if she could feel exactly what that was doing to my heart. "I'm lucky, in a way. *HMK-mmp* To be someo–*UK* someone she doesn–*nnt* have to hide ar–*HUP* around." She hummed softly, and I could see her purse her lips. "*hmk* Never really tho–*UCK* thought about it like tha–*hup* that before."

"About what?"

Even under the dim light, I could see how red her cheeks had gone. "Ah...ah–*HUP*–p-puh...It's kind–*AUK* kinda hard to expl–*HUCK* explain."

"I suppose most things would be with a case of the hiccups like that."

Her face...her face was still so flushed. "Yeah. *hmp*. Not having the–*eek-up* these would definitely make it easier. *hmk*. Do you..." She shook in my arms with a few nearly silent hiccups. "...do you thi–*ic*–ink we could stay like thi–*ic-olp*–this until they're gone? *hmk-mmp*. I'll tell you af---after that."

I simultaneously hoped that she stopped hiccuping in the next few seconds and that this case never went away. But either way, I loved getting to have her body against mine, no matter how it was moving. "That sounds good to me. Thank you, Susanna."

"No. *hmk.* Thank you, Kiran," she said. After that, we just sat in the park together while she hiccuped, and I thought that made for a far better date than the restaurant ever could have.

#hiccups #hiccup kink #hiccups kink #my writing #hiccup story #Poly-techhic #Poly-techhic AU #Can't believe that's a tag I'm making #Eli's kink writing

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madschiavelique · 3 months ago

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Hello! I recently redownloaded tumblr to read more Viktor fics (I used to just lurk through AO3 the past few months), because I was withering dry wanting to consume more about him.

I’m so joyous finding your ACOI series, and I feel like I’m being hydrated like a plant!! I can’t even begin to count how many times your writing has made me laugh at the witty dialogue exchanges, smiled so big at the characters reactions to one another (so silly to me, esp Reader’s absolute distaste against Viktor LOL), and how you encompass the diversities of each detail to make the world feel so alive: that’s what I love about the show because of how connected everything feels, and you’re able to replicate that feeling—I’m just on the third chapter, and I’m so addicted! I have a habit of reading a fic all one on go, but I want to pace myself for this one and truly enjoy it; to let it shimmer and turn the plot in my head multiple times. So soooo good!!

P.S. Seeing the memes, even though some I don’t get (referring to later chapters), it still makes me laugh. Oooh rivals to lovers tag save me, rivals to lovers tag save me (you’re my savior).

oh my god, dearest anon you made me shed a tear by how sweet your message is

i am sincerely so happy you are enjoying it that much !! i've mentioned it to friends before and other peeps but i doubt myself a lot of the time and keep thinking that my writing ain't as good as i could think it is, but seeing so many of you lovely people come to me and tell me such sweet and honest things makes me genuinely so happy that it lightens my day no matter what. i'm forever grateful for all the kind messages because without them i don't know if i would have gone back to writing ACOI, so from the bottom of my heart, Thank You.

your message is absolutely the loveliest, i screenshotted it to keep it in my gallery and read it later whenever i'll feel down! <3

the memes and art are INCREDIBLE !! i cannot stress this enough that i crave all the thoughts and memes and fanarts and questions you guys are sending me, truly, i wait every day to receive anything in my inbox because i know it'll be golden.

YOU are my savior, anon, for this message and for taking the time to read all that i write with my silly brain <3333

#mads' asks ⟢ ݁ ˖‧˚₊ ☁︎#acoi #a crown of ink #viktor x reader #viktor x you #arcane viktor #arcane viktor x reader #viktor arcane #viktor arcane x reader #arcane x reader #arcane #wow this made me emotional

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moltenwrites · 8 months ago

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Writing interview tag!

Ohoho this one is exciting! Thanks @the-letterbox-archives for the tags. Your answers were sick, it was a very interesting read. This one is a long one, but the goal is to answer a LOT of questions. A empty list will be at the bottom with the tags!

About me

When did you start writing?

Oo im not sure? I started “ seriously “ writing a couple of years ago when I took a writing class, but I wouldn’t say I was really a “ writer “ untill I started working on How Our World Ended a few years ago

Are there different genres or themes you enjoy reading other than the ones you write?

Oh 100% I haven’t been reading that much lately, but I mostly read horror and mystery. While I sneak in horror sometimes, I’ve never really been compelled to write a mystery story

Is there an author you want to emulate, or are compared to often?

If I’m honest, no to both of those. I have authors I love, but i have my own thing. And people don’t compare me to any author. Weither that’s good or bad is up to you I guess

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

I write with my old, shitty Chromebook on my bed with my pillow propped up as a back rest. My PC keyboard is very loud and just not too fun to write with, and I despise writing on mobile. If I’m in the mood, I turn on some music and get to work

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

I’m gonna answer this question in two different ways, how I get inspiration for ideas, and how I get in the writing vibe. For the first, it’s honestly just seeing something I like and going “ I wanna do that “ or listening to a song while some grand story plays out in my head. For ACTUALLY writing, that’s tricky. I normally write late, but if a friend is up talking about whatever thing ive really liked as of late can help. Thinking ahead to scenes I’m excited to write helps, especially when I listen to music that I tie to those moments.

Did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and/or places you write about?

I mean, I’m sure they did subconsciously somehow- but I tend to write in fantasy, and my suburban ass life doesn’t really lend to my ideas well. Though I will say, my moms fondness for museums has inspired Paintings a good bit

Are there any reoccurring themes in your writing? If so, do they surprise you?

Yeah, a good few. I’d say grief, and how it impacts people is the most prevalent theme across my stories. This is a bit surprising since I’ve ( fortunately ) not lost too many people in my life

Characters:

would you please tell me about your current favorite character?

Oo this one is HARD. I can pick my favorite for each story easily but OVERALL is really hard. I’m torn between Lars from Souls Collide, or The Artist from How Our World Ended. Both characters mean so much to me, and I’d say those two are the characters I’ve made with the most depth. Ughh this is difficult. I guess I’ll say Lars for now, just because of how prevalent and important to me he’s been

Also I know it’s not what the question is asking, but my favorite character that I DIDNT make is Sunny from OMORI

Which of your characters would you be friends with in real life?

I think I’d vibe with most of the souls collide cast, considering they were initially based off of people I knew. I also think I’d get along with Asim and Astera from Paintings, along with Lyra and Val from How Our World Ended.

which characters would you dislike the most of you met them?

Oh god most of them. I write TERRIBLE people. Samaueal would just kill me- I’d hate Nelios, he’s a dick, Ryder from Souls Collide was based off of a person I disliked in real life, Salazar is pretentious and WOULD kill me, Dimitri is the worst- I can go on. But the worst is Samaueal, considering he would just kill me for the hell of it

Tell me about the process of coming up with your characters?

It’s real weird. I either see something I like, and want to steal it in some way, so i base a character off of them. Asim and Astera are heavily influenced by Mary and Reginald from Cemetery Mary, Hart is inspired by Walter White, the whole council was inspired by the organization from Kingdom Hearts. But for characters I didn’t partially steal, it mostly just comes to me when listening to music. Some characters were also created out of necessity, and evolved far past that.

Do you notice any reoccurring themes/traits in your characters?

Yup. I tend to write certain types of characters very formally, my protags are often shaken by one particularly harrowing event, and they almost all have some sort of huge internal fight with themselves.

How do you picture your characters?

It depends! Most of the time, I imagine every character in the style I wanted Souls Collide to be, but for certain scenes ( especially fights with Res ) I see it in live action.

My writing:

what’s your reason for writing?

I have a whole lotta ideas and gotta get them out SOMEHOW.

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

Literally anything positive anyone says makes my day. You all have been more supportive than irl friends. But the things that make my day are either people predicting what comes next in private circles, and for comments here, saying that people like a character or are interested in a story makes me beam. I will die if I ever get fan art ( in a good way )

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

However they wanna. You don’t have to see me any way, but I’ve tried to be a positive force here, so I guess that.

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

I don’t wanna sound egotistical, but my ideas are really cool ( at least I think so )

What have you been told is your greatest strength as a writer is by others?

I’ve been told that what I can do is impressive. I remember one specific interaction about the artist that was incredibly kind.

How do you feel about your own writing?

It depends. I’m incredibly proud of my recent work. I love how Paintings is coming along, and I think the laster chapters of How Our World Ended are the best things I’ve ever written. Anything over two years old is dogshit though, I was in physical pain rereading the first draft of chapter 4

If you were the last person on earth, would you still write?

Gonna be real, don’t think I’d live. But in the event I continued living for whatever reason, maybe? I don’t know, that’s a hard ass question.

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

I write plots entirely for myself, but I try to thing about what issues there are with my plot from a readers perspective. Idk if that sounds crazy, but thinking about stuff from an outsider perspective can be helpful in editing.

Annnd that’s all, this took me life half an hour wow. Here’s the question list ( It’s unspaced so fellow mobile users can actually copy it all ) Thanks for reading it all, if you did, it’s a super fun exercise!

About meWhen did you start writing?Are there different genres or themes you enjoy reading other than the ones you write?Is there an author you want to emulate, or are compared to often?can you tell me a bit about your writing space? What’s your most effective way to muster up a muse?Did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and/or places you write about?Are there any reoccurring themes in your writing? If so, do they surprise you?Characters: would you please tell me about your current favorite character? Which of your characters would you be friends with in real life?which characters would you dislike the most of you met them?Tell me about the process of coming up with your characters? Do you notice any reoccurring themes/traits in your characters?How do you picture your characters? My writing: what’s your reason for writing?Is there any specific comment or type of comment from readers that you find particularly motivating? How do you want to be thought about by your readers?What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?have you been told is your greatest strength as a writer is by others?How do you feel about your own writing?If you were the last person on earth, would you still write?When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, do you write purely for yourself, or is it a mix of both?

Annnnd tag list!

@thatuselesshuman @ddgraywrites @jjoneswriting @revenantlore @aintgonnatakethis @yourpenpaldee @illarian-rambling @autism-purgatory @the-letterbox-archives @theverumproject @gioiaalbanoart @noxxytocin @joseph-hooser @mk-writes-stuff @yrndrgn @wyked-ao3

+ Open, as always

#writers on tumblr #writing #writing on tumblr #writeblr #howourworldended #souls collide #writing community #fantasy #writerscommunity #howe #paintingsstory #open tag #tag game

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