#but i also itch to write something original. so maybe i'll be doing that
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in darkness shall you be reborn
Chapter 10
Word count: 3763
Warnings: violence
A/N: im sorry this took me so long, life got in the way. i started taking meds for my depression and got into a new relationship, and also my thesis deadline is looming... also i had to practically rewrite this one from scratch too. idk when i'll be able to update, i have exams in a month, but i'll do my best <3
When they walked out of the bathhouse and into the pub next door, night had already descended upon the town, the full moon high up in the cloudless sky bathing dirty alleyways and shabby houses in silvery light. There they found Holmes and good two-thirds of the Shout crew, who rather predictably deemed the establishment a worthy investment of their scarce time off. Holmes seemed to be familiar with many of them, shaking their hands and conversing in that hardly legible pirate jargon Vince still struggled to understand. If it wasn’t for his suit, he’d fit right in.
“Ay, you came!” He noticed Nikki and Vince at the door and beckoned them to the table he was occupying.
“I fucking wish,” Nikki grumbled, maneuvering between the chairs. The Shout crew was far from the only clients of the pub tonight, and it was messy, busy and loud. The room was soaked through with smells of smoke, cheap beer and onions, and the walls practically rattled with every roar of laughter or cry of indignation drunk sailors emitted, which they did plenty.
Holmes must have fought a hard battle to keep the chairs at his table in their places, as the sailors at the tables nearby, many of them on shaky stools, frequently shot him resentful glances. When Nikki and Vince sat down, these glances redirected their ire at them – the bastards coming in so late yet getting the good chairs! – but no verbal complaints were made. The benefit of dining with two pirates armed to the teeth, Vince almost chuckled. Holmes wasn’t a walking armory like Nikki, but didn’t make much effort to hide a pistol on his hip and a dagger on another either.
“Why’s your hair wet? You two had waste poured on you or something?” Holmes squinted when they neared the table. “Wait, no, you’re too clean for that. Was there a sudden rain that I inexplicably missed? Did you go swimming? Or worked up some sweat unloading cargo? No, Sixx, would never carry loads himself when he’s got a slave nearby. Nay, I can’t even imagine what you two were doing. Or maybe I can, but later, when I’m in private.” He flashed them a toothy grin. Vince pretended he hadn’t heard the last part.
“Done jeering?” Nikki scowled, plopping onto the chair. Vince lowered himself carefully onto his, as if it could crumple under him any minute. “We were in the bathhouse across the street.”
“Oh, there were no rooms at the inn?”
“You rascal,” Sixx said sweetly. “We were bathing. A thing you do in bathhouses, among others.”
“Now, that’s the most improbable guess of all I’ve made,” Holmes laughed. “For all I know, you’d rather suffocate on your own stench.”
“Lies and slander,” Nikki huffed indignantly.
“It was my request,” Vince said. He knew he’d have to pay for this later, but just couldn’t help it.
“Ha! I knew it!” Holmes banged his fist on the table. “He ain’t gonna let you fool anyone, right, Sixx?”
“Yeah,” Nikki said with an unnerving smile. Vince only saw a glimpse of his hand in the air when a slap on the cheek burned his skin and sent his head swaying.
“Damn, Sixx,” he heard Holmes sighing, “keep your disciplinary process behind closed doors, won’t you?”
“Won’t work with this one. He’ll behave only if he knows he can get his ass kicked whenever and wherever.”
“From my experience, all stick and no carrot never made any slave more docile.”
“Well, then your experience is clearly limited. Now, I thought I came here to get pissed, not lectured.”
“Very well.” Holmes leaned onto the back of his chair. “Hope you’re right about this. Hey, waitress! Over here! Whatcha gonna have?”
“They got any wine?” Nikki picked up a crust of bread from a plate at the center of the table and carefully bit it. He could as well gnaw on the table itself, Vince understood from his expression.
“Wine? For you?” Holmes raised an eyebrow, but Nikki’s face remained serious, so he chose not to continue with a joke he clearly had in mind. “Sometimes, when there are shipments. You can never count on it, though. A Dutch ship docked here a couple weeks ago, so I reckon they still may’ve got some left.”
“I shall have some then. Sure hope it’s not that sparkling shit the French keep pushing. I don’t want any air in my wine.” Nikki dropped the crust back onto the plate with disgust on his face. Vince last ate in the morning, and with every passing minute the crust looked more and more alluring. He hadn’t fallen so low, though – for now.
“You’re being unfair to the French.” Holmes laughed. “They hate it as much as you do. It’s the English who you should berate. You an Englishman, Vinnie?” He suddenly turned to Vince.
“I-“ Vince began, but Nikki didn’t let him finish.
“That don’t matter, Chris. He ain’t got no home anymore besides the Shout.” Nikki appeared nonchalant, but Vince could see his body tense up like a taut string.
Holmes, smiling placidly, didn’t seem to notice anything. “That’s what I tell all my slaves too. The past is in the past. It’s the present you should think about. Ya hear me, Vinnie?”
Vince didn’t reply, his throat tightening.
“You should do that too. It’ll make life easier for both you and your master. Oh, at last! It’s only been a whole day!” He lashed at the waitress that shuffled to their table, a thin, tired woman, the silver in whose hair didn’t match the still youthful face. She withstood the attack with indifference of a rock, making Vince a little bit envious of her thick skin. That’s probably what spending one’s days and nights surrounded by crude, vulgar men could do to anyone, more so to a woman.
Nikki ordered his wine, and Holmes brandy. Vince watched them detachedly, nursing his burning cheek. He had already realised that the combination of the collar and ragged clothes on him were the reason people here pointedly ignored him, addressing only Nikki, so Vince didn’t expect the waitress to turn to him after she took the orders. She did, though.
“And you? The blond fella? Whatcha gonna have?”
It took Vince a couple of seconds to understand that she was talking to him. She was probably just too tired to figure it out, much less to notice what her question did to Vince, but if he had any money, he would tip her twice her wage.
He looked questioningly at Nikki, who after a short hesitation nodded. Vince didn’t expect this part to be over so fast, moreso with such an outcome, which was why the next one - choosing the drink – took him an embarrassingly long amount of time. One part of him wanted to get so drunk that he would pass out and lie uncaring and senseless through whatever debt Nikki would want him to return. Another still buzzed annoyingly in the back of his mind, if you want to escape you need your mind unclouded by spirits. Wouldn’t Nikki get suspicious if he refused to drink, though? Maybe he could pour the drink out while no one was looking?
“Rum,” he finally said when the pause stretched for too long. He’d never tried it, might as well get a taste of this lowly drunkard experience. He was living on a lowly drunkard ship now, after all.
“Oh, he’s really in it now!” Chris laughed, and his laughter spread like contagion to the Shout crew, shaking the walls of the small pub. Other clients didn’t seem to like that much, frowning and murmuring disapprovingly, but didn’t yet dare to protest out loud. “A bottle of rum and a mug for the pretty boy!”
“I don’t need a whole bottle-“ Vince protested, but nobody listened to him anymore – nobody except Nikki, whose sharp gaze almost clawed into him when their eyes met. Damn, he was certainly suspecting something. Now, if Vince didn’t drink the whole bottle, he’d grow wary.
The tired waitress brought them their drinks, flung the mugs and the shots on the table so forcefully Nikki’s wine and Holmes’ brandy splashed over the rim of their mugs, slapped Chris’s hand off her butt and left. The bottle in front of Vince was made of dark, foggy glass, the darker liquid inside it barely visible. The bottle was smaller than he feared, though. He always handled alcohol pretty well, and the dark glass obscured the amount of liquid inside, possible to determine only by putting it against a light. Maybe he could still pull it off?
“Well, for the meeting!” Chris toasted, clinking his mug against Nikki’s. Then both looked at Vince expectingly. Vince hurried to pour some rum into his mug (only hoping its taste would mask whatever was in there before) and clinked it against theirs awkwardly, acutely sensing that they only permitted him to do so as long as this fickle illusion of their equality amused them. Then Holmes sucked in nearly half of his brandy at once, and Nikki took a few gulps of his wine – such a sophisticated drink wasted in such an inelegant manner, Vince shuddered. Not wanting to attract even more of captain’s suspicion, he followed suit and took a big sip of his rum.
Oh, that was a mistake. The liquid, somehow both sickly sweet and bitter, burned its way down his mouth and throat, making him grimace and cough. The room again roared with laughter.
“Our princess isn’t used to strong spirits!” someone shouted. Vince’s cheeks began to burn. God, why was he always so easy to turn red?
Embarrassment and alcohol got to his head then, he later figured, shame and anger muddling his rationality. For a moment, the hurt and humiliation of the insults overpowered his desire for freedom, and he upended the mug into his mouth and swallowed the rum in two forceful gulps.
His mouth burned, but there was no water in sight to wash down the disgusting taste. As the rum dissolved the remains of Vince’s dignity, the lonely crust of bread finally served its purpose, like an old, wrinkly hooker finding a client desperate enough. It tasted just as stale as it looked.
“Wow, look at that,” Nikki grinned. “How ya feeling?”
“Very well,” Vince exhaled, trying not to break a tooth on the crust. “Don’t feel anything.”
“For now,” Nikki nodded condescendingly. “Just you try to go take a piss.”
“And what’s gonna ha- oh, shit.” Vince clutched the table to stay up after he so recklessly sprang onto his feet. His mind was still clear, but his legs liberated themselves from his tyranny and now were doing their own thing, which didn’t coincide with Vince’s intentions. “It all went into my legs.”
“First time’s always like this.”
“I have drunk before.”
“Well, that’s no wine or sherry or whatever you used to drink in your villa. Its purpose is to knock you off your feet as quick as possible. Because you don’t wanna drink more of this shit than necessary.”
“It does taste like shit,” Vince nodded, his mouth still burning, and dropped back onto the chair. Time seemed to slip between his fingers, and he could only watch it run out. Maybe the spirit would clear out just as fast as it hit?
“More?” Chris pointed at the bottle, still perceptibly half-full. “Or maybe you’d like something lighter, like we unassuming folk here?”
“I’ll pass, thanks.”
“Being the most sober person in the room is no fun, you know.”
“I’ll manage.”
“He’s a delight to have in the crew, I see.” Chris told Nikki, smiling sarcastically.
“Absolutely. You haven’t heard his best yet – not in his element today, it seems. He’s usually much bolder. I would have taught him how to talk to his seniors if I didn’t enjoy it so much. He’s like a small dog barking at dogs ten times its size.”
“Small dogs also bite.”
“Yeah, he tried.” Nikki rolled up his sleeve and showed Holmes the cut Vince dealt him in the first fight. It had already closed, though the edges were still red and inflamed. Hoping that Nikki would die of infection was too unrealistic even for Vince, though. “I was impressed, really – that was a close hit, almost cut open my axillary. Too bad it got me angry.”
Rage sparked inside Vince’s chest. They talked about him like he wasn’t there – no, worse, like he was an animal or an object, and to them, he probably was. He wanted to bang on the table and scream, I’m still here, bastards, but they would laugh at him at best and grow angry at worst.
“I won’t listen to this anymore,” he said through gritted teeth and rose from the table. Not quickly enough, unfortunately - Nikki caught him by the sleeve and pulled him back onto the chair.
“Nobody’s asking your opinion, slave,” he grinned unpleasantly. “You stay here as long as I do.”
Vince bit his lip, a bitter retort lingering on his tongue. His snarky comebacks were the only revenge he still could enact, but if Nikki enjoyed them, he wouldn’t give him that pleasure. The problem was, his tongue was often quicker than his thought.
Nikki and Holmes, meanwhile, had finished their drinks and craved more.
“Hey! Waitress!” Nikki waved his hand in the air, but the waitress, who shortly before went into the back room, didn’t answer his call. “Where’s this bitch? Were she my employee, I’d already had her flogged. Vinnie, go fetch her.”
“You sure would,” Vince murmured under his breath.
“What did you just say?” Nikki inquired sharply.
“I said,” Vince raised his voice, rum stirring boldness inside him he’s been suppressing the whole day, “my legs won’t let me, remember?
“That’s definitely not what you said.”
“Maybe you misheard.” Vince smiled into Nikki’s frowning face. Holmes stifled a laugh.
Nikki narrowed his eyes, eyeing Vince for a while, counting pros and cons of lashing out. The cons seemed to have won, because he exhaled and leaned back onto his chair.
“Maybe I did,” he said with a one-sided smile. “Anyway, you heard me. Go fetch the waitress. And don’t you veer off somewhere I can’t see you.”
“If I fall down halfway, I deflect all the blame,” Vince dropped, rising from his chair. He didn’t catch Nikki’s reply – maybe he didn’t reply at all. This would have alarmed him were it not for the rum.
Vince staggered between the tables, leaning on chairs and sometimes on someone’s shoulders, eliciting angry cries from their owners, though the offence wasn’t considered serious enough to warrant use of force. He peered into the back room and found the waitress there, leaning onto the counter, staring at the wall with empty eyes. For some reason, a shiver went down his spine.
“Excuse me, miss,” he said into her back, “my… companions there would like a refill.”
She turned to him quickly, startled, and eyed him warily from head to toes. Then recognition appeared in her eyes.
“Of course,” she said, making an effort to smile. “What did they have?”
“Brandy and wine.”
“Very well. And you?”
“Nothing, thanks.”
“All right. Tell your companions I’ll be back in a moment.”
She disappeared behind a small door in the other corner of the room, probably leading to the cellar. Vince backed away a bit – look at me, Nikki, I’m behaving, I’m keeping in your sight – and leaned onto the counter. Being away from crude jokes and sleazy glances of the pirates felt nice-
A slap so strong landed on his ass that it rang throughout the entire pub. God, why couldn’t Nikki leave him alone just for a second…
“What’s a pretty lass like you doing in the place like this?“ leered some sailor, long-bearded, bald and reeking of cheap beer. When Vince turned to him, sporting his two-day stubble, his mouth fell open.
“You’re- you’re-“ the man didn’t get to finish, because Vince punched him right in the face. It was a vile thing to do – the fella just made a mistake, after all – but Vince was so wrought up from the constant mocking and taunting that this was the last straw.
Rum led his fist astray, the punch landing on the cheekbone instead of swiftly breaking the nose like it did in his good days. The sailor wavered on wobbly legs but kept his balance. His face flushed red with anger.
“You fucker!” he grunted, throwing a punch at Vince. Vince leapt back to dodge the hit, but his legs betrayed him at the worst moment possible – he’ll never drink this foul substance again, god damn it - and he had to clutch onto the counter to stay upright. The man used this moment of weakness to grab him by the collar of his shirt. The sound of fabric tearing reached Vince’s ears, although the collar held on so far. Mick would hardly lend him another shirt, a thought flashed through his mind.
Vince pulled the sailor’s beard as hard as he could. The man yelped in pain and planted a punch under his eye. Vince couldn’t dodge, his collar in an iron-like grip, and white exploded in front of his left eye, pain shooting through his skull. His head fell back, and the guy kicked him in the stomach, pushing the air out of his lungs.
His grip suddenly weakened, then released Vince entirely. He staggered back and would have fallen down if not for someone’s arms propping him up in the back. A mop of black hair flashed past his seeing eye, and then he heard the sailor’s nose crack.
“Hey, you all right?” he heard a familiar voice. It took him a few seconds to recognize that it was Holmes holding him by the shoulders. He didn’t answer - he was listening to the sailor’s pained cries as Nikki rammed his fists into his face until he was gurgling on his blood and spitting out his teeth. And when Nikki let go of the guy, letting him slide down the counter lifelessly onto the floor, and turned to Vince and Chris, his face was so distorted by rage Vince shuddered. The next second it smoothened out, but the vision stayed in front of Vince’s eyes for the rest of the night.
He grinned – no, bared his teeth, so much like a panther Vince almost expected him to growl – and, not sparing Vince another look, headed back to their table. From there they then heard a cry of a poor bastard that wanted to steal their chairs. The crew cheered and raised their mugs for a toast.
The bald sailor lay on the floor bloodied and beaten, his face a single enormous bruise, his chest rising and falling heavily. The bartender looked him over with a frown, then called his errand boys (probably his sons – same heavy jaw, same droopy eyes) and they promptly grabbed a leg each and dragged the sailor out.
On wobbly legs Vince returned to their table and sank onto the chair, avoiding looking at Nikki. The captain sat there sipping wine – the waitress must have brought it during the fight - with an indifferent expression, but Vince could see he was pleased as a cat that snatched a fish off a table.
“He almost knocked you out,” he taunted. “D’ya ever think before fighting a fella twice your weight?”
“I could handle him just fine,” Vince murmured and pressed the cold rum bottle to his throbbing eye. The pain lessened somewhat. “You didn’t even give me a chance.”
“Because he would have kicked your ass,” Nikki dismissed him confidently. “And I ain’t gonna drag your body to the ship on my back. I saved your ass, and this is what I get! And then you act all offended that I’m so harsh with you. Your manners leave a lot to be desired.”
“Vinnie, it’s clear he’s expecting a thank you kiss,” Holmes laughed. “Or maybe something more upon your return. Look at that face - not a single pristine thought behind these eyes.”
Nikki snickered shamelessly. Vince felt sick to the stomach.
“I have to visit the latrine,” he murmured, dropped the bottle onto the table, got up and stumbled to the door, holding onto the tables on his way. His mind was crystal clear, but his body was still under the influence of the spirit, although less so after the beating- fight, he meant fight. He expected Nikki to follow him, but he only followed him with his eyes – Vince could feel it burn holes in his back.
There was a barrel with water outside, next to the door. Vince drank from it hungrily, then washed his face. The water dripping back into the barrel was pink. Vince carefully examined the damage with the tips of his fingers. His nose wasn’t broken, and his eye could still see, although it was hard to open because the skin around it began to swell. There’ll be an ugly bruise for a while, but no permanent damage, hopefully.
He looked around, but people in this part of the street were few and far between – everybody who wanted to go to the pub already got there. The latrine – a wooden outhouse with a smell so malodorous Vince had to convince himself to breathe around it – looked exceptionally uninviting. Vince decided he would rather take a leak onto the bar wall in front of the whole street, which he promptly did. Judging by the typical stains on the walls, he was far from being the only one to resolve so. Unexpectedly, he remembered his governess, a woman of great knowledge and manners and little to no sense of humor. She probably would faint were she to see him right now: dressed in a torn shirt with bloodstains on it and dirty breeches, barefoot and collared, hair loose and disheveled, face cut and bruised, pissing on a wall outside a port bar. Here, though, nobody spared him more than a passing glance: he matched the surroundings really well.
And if he just walked away, nobody would spare him a second thought as well.
Vince pulled his breeches up, buttoned them with trembling fingers, washed his hands in the barrel, wiped them on his shirt, looked around sneakily and darted into a dark alley behind the bar.
#nikki sixx#vince neil#vinikki#motley crue#pirate au#motley crue fanfiction#yknow i. really feel better now. with the meds and all.#i have more energy and spring is coming which means the seasonal part of my depression is off for now#but idk how it will affect this fic. i used to write it to express my anguish through it. now i have little to no of it left#i still have like 16k of unedited writing in my document so maybe that will tide you over until next fall#but i also itch to write something original. so maybe i'll be doing that#in darkness shall you be reborn
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On My Silent Days
I Miss You A Little Louder
[Crocodile x female!OC]
Explicit with a capital E
Word count: 7k / 15 pages
A/N: Writing this has been my whole life the past 5 days, as anyone who has frequented my Dash recently can attest. I am obsessed with their chemistry.
Technically, this is part of 'The Show Must Go On'. You don't have to read it, but I recommend it. You'll get to know Shivs and her helter-skelter relationship with Buggy which sits as the background to this whole ordeal.
You see, this is like, Arabaste arch at the earliest - Cross Guild era more likely. By then, Shivs and Bugs have rollercoastered through so much bullshit and they've come out rock solid on the other side somehow. Clown keeps failing up, even with this relationship. Sir Crocodile finds the whole thing insulting, to say the least. And seems to think it is one well-placed remark away from utterly crumbling. Jealous ex, whomst? My dude, you fucked that up yourself. Repeatedly. You had more chances than you have fingers. Chemistry aside, this is absolutely a desert of his own making.
What else do you need to know? Shivs is only 2 or 3 years younger than Buggy (i.e. my age, come sue me), but Crocodile is 5 years older than the clown. So, she's in her mid 30s, he's in his mid 40s. She originally met him when he was maybe 28? Do the math. Oh yes, and for those less familiar with the Cross Guild era: our favourite clown has managed to accidentally become the lauded public face of what is actually Mihawk and Crocodile's venture. Understandably, the ex-warlords are a little miffed by this and spend decent amounts of time physically abusing poor Buggy.
Shivs' absolutely flawless plan is basically swapping sexual favours with her ex for get-out-of-jail-free cards for the clown.
My girl literally barging in here telling Croc: "I'll take ur cock if u leave my clown alone."
Yes. That's it. That's the plot.
She almost had him, too. Arguably, she had him the entire time. And then he gdamn snapped her from the pond edge like an unwitting gazelle in the last minute. Cuz we all - her included - forgot who we're dealing with for 14.5 pages straight. APPARENTLY.
screams into a pillow
Tag(s): Oh? Ok. Sexual favours! Is she fucking her boss? No, but he always makes it feel that way. Is she fucking her ex? Yes. Are they technically still married? Maybe. Blow jobs? Deep throat. Size kink? 100%. Filthy language. Graphic sex. Soft dom? Power bottom? I am on the fence. Little girl vibes on the margins, like, he tries. She too sassy and sooner a brat. Oh, orgasm denial! Big time. Humiliation? A little bit. Stretching? Yes. Moar size kink. Choking? Big yes. Spoiling? Also yes. She deserves nice things. Power imbalance? Yes. In whose direction? It kind of flip-flops. Did I need to spend so many words on their smoking and his cigars? Probably not, but it scratched an itch. With them, it counts as foreplay; I am sure. You know you're doing well when he takes the damn thing outta his mouth. World class banter, too. If I may say so myself. But really, the bottom line is that it's just oral and PIV dressed up real fancy.
ON MY SILENT DAYS
I MISS YOU A LITTLE LOUDER
The double doors were as tall and foreboding as Shivs remembered. All bevelled hardwood and delicate gilding. She stood before them, gazing up. In the dead centre sat a brass knocker shaped like a bananawani's head, polished to a sheen.
Knocking was for people with appointments, and waiting wasn't something she planned on doing here ever again. She put her palms against the cold, expensive wood and pushed the massive doors open as if breaking a siege. They swung on smooth hinges despite their weight and struck the marbled walls with resounding booms.
The opulent office beyond was exactly as she remembered. Marquina walls, fishbone parquet floors, blackwood furniture. The taxidermied juvenile bananawani set in the wall vitrine behind his desk was new. What had been there before? A map? A ship? No, a stone. An artefact of some kind riddled in curious glyphs.
Crocodile glanced up from his papers and the irritation flitting across his scarred face in the split second before he realised who'd dared barge in, set the hairs on the back of her neck on end. How often had she seen someone shrivel into a desiccated husk straight after that look?
Shivs held his pale gaze, set her jaw and strode into his office as if down the plank.
The creak of leather as he leaned back in his seat. “You know I've killed people for less.”
She paused in front of his outrageous statement piece of a desk. She put her hands in the pockets of her baggy pants and forced her shoulders to unclench, her stance to relax. If Buggy’s dumb luck had managed to rub off on her in these past months, then now would be the time for it to start working for her.
“Lucky I am not ‘people’,” she said as she crossed her fingers in her pocket.
Amusement squinted his eyes as the corner of his mouth twitched up behind his cigar. “No, you're not,” he said as he rose.
Shivs was not short. Not by any regular definition of the word. Buggy was only a head taller than her. She hadn't forgotten how tall Crocodile was, not really. And yet, as he came around his desk and towards her, there appeared to be no end to him as he approached. If she reached up, stretched her arm, she could nick his cigar. But only just.
"Do you still smoke?" he said as he stopped well within her personal space, forcing her to crane her neck to meet his gaze. He took a flat, brass case from the inside pocket of his coat and held it out to her. She remembered it. Remembered the exquisite taste of the narrow cigarillos in it.
"No."
"Liar." His gaze flicked down along his cigar at her. "You smell of cigarettes, doll."
"I have changed my ways."
Humour flitted under his gravelly voice. "For the worse."
Shivs pursed her lips. "It's an expensive lifestyle when they don't come free with a goodnight kiss."
"Hah."
The bark of laughter actually reached his eyes, crinkling their crow's feet for a moment. He held out the case to her again. "You poor thing. I do support charities, you know."
She took it this time and flipped it open. The rich waft of tobacco and sweet Goji berries greeted her as if no time had passed at all. Might as well enjoy her sojourn back to hell while she could.
She put one of the thin cigarillos between her lips and let him light it. Watched the firelight catch and reflect in his rings. Took a moment to savour the blend, rich and sweet as polished Beli.
They were very good.
Always had been.
Shivs took the cigarillo from between her lips and blew the smoke up in rings through a slow smile. They almost reached him.
Crocodile leaned down through the cloudy hoops to pluck the shoulder of her red-and-white striped sweater between thumb and index finger, a judgemental 'hmph' escaping around his cigar.
She enjoyed the expensive smoke and his fascination while it lasted. Maybe, just maybe, this would be enough? Letting him treat her like a doll badly in need of a better dress up? He liked to spoil, always had. Now, more than ever, he had the means to take it to completely nonsensical levels. Her ego could take it, if that was the price of leaving Bugs alone.
Shivs indicated his everything with an up and down wave of her free hand. "No way to afford the good stuff on a waiter's salary."
He let go of the fabric to brush his thumb across the smear of grease paint near the collar, staining his skin and the gold of his ring red.
"Or a dud's haul."
He hooked the silk kerchief from his vest's breast pocket and wiped his hand. She followed the length of his arm up to his face.
"The entertainment isn't half bad."
“Yes.” He chewed the butt of his cigar, derision twitching his thin lips as he tucked the kerchief into an inside pocket of his coat. “His pathetic antics can be mildly amusing.”
Shivs’ grip on the cigarillo tightened, but she smiled pleasantly. “I like it when a man can make me laugh,” she said, pointing at him with the thin smoke between her fingers. “Even if at his own expense.”
She frowned at his broad back when he turned away from her without a witty reply, retreating to the button tufted camelback near them.
“You're not here for a social call,” Crocodile stated as he sat down, putting his arms along the sofa's curved back. Something flitted past his pale eyes, but it was gone so fast Shivs couldn't nail it. “What do you want, doll?”
Shivs rolled back and forth on the balls of her feet, pursing her lips as if preparing to drive a hard bargain. She intended to seem casual, unconcerned. But her palms were slick with sweat and her heartbeat drummed in her ears. She filled her mouth with smoke, tasting the rich flavours. Savouring them before blowing it out in small puffs through her pursed lips.
"I want you to leave him be," she said, extinguishing the cigarillo in his ashtray.
Crocodile shifted and put his shin across his knee. Her gaze flicked down and she saw him take note.
"And if I do?"
She held his gaze. One breath, two breaths, moved her jaw but didn't form the words. She wanted him to leave Buggy alone. Even if that meant taking his… beating, instead.
He blew out smoke through his nose, waiting patiently for her answer. The hint of a smile lingered as his pale eyes held hers from above the waterline of his scar. And in that moment, he reminded her so strongly of a lurking crocodile. Watching. Waiting. Biding its time to strike. It sent a shiver down her spine, and not entirely out of fear.
Shivs pursed her lips, steeled her emotions, checked her resolve. I'll do it for you, Bugs. It's a deal I know he won't refuse.
She met his intense gaze head on, then dropped hers slowly to his crotch once more. Allowed it to linger there, before looking back up.
He chewed the butt of his cigar and beckoned her. "You never could fit all of me down that skilled throat of yours."
Shivs watched him uncross his legs as she approached. She trailed her fingertips along his clothed thighs before leaning on them. It brought her face level with his and she deliberately took a moment to breathe in his secondhand smoke.
“Want to judge if that hasn't changed for the worse?” she whispered against his lips as she savoured the distinct flavours that made up his private blend.
Strong muscles flexed and relaxed under her palms, and she presumed that to mean ‘yes’.
She ran her hands down his muscular thighs, taking in their shape until her palms rested on his knees. His breathing changed, she could tell from the way he exhaled smoke. Denser palls, deeper breaths. No resistance as she pushed his knees apart far enough to kneel between them.
Brushing her fingertips across his overstated belt buckle, she smiled to herself. Some things never changed. She slipped the tooled tip through the frame, her movements slow and deliberate as she listened for the subtle shifts in his breathing. She loosened the prong with a sharp tug on the strap, using more force than was strictly necessary. An undercurrent of need laced the grunt that escaped him in response.
Shivs reached into his pants with both hands, catching his gaze as she drew his penis out, feeling it swell against her palms. She made a noise of appreciation as she let her hands slide down his shaft. His pale eyes hunting after hers when she broke their gaze to look at her fingers fitting around the base. She had not forgotten how tall this part of him was.
Leaning forward, she trailed teasing kisses from halfway down his shaft towards the tip. I’ve swallowed swords longer than this, and dicks aren’t even sharp, she thought as she flicked her tongue past the rim, playful-like. Length was only half the problem though, she knew that perfectly well.
She put a hand on his thigh and leaned on it as she ran the flat of her tongue across the head and took him into her mouth, suckling the tip. Inched his cock further with deliberately slow, short bobs, tilting her head to ensure he’d catch every movement of her lips as they worked around him. Need strained his stoic expression when she stole a glance up. A twitch of his eyebrows when the tip bumped against the back of her mouth. She sucked down and drew his cock back out, watched it twitch and his grip tighten on the backrest as she felt his thigh flex under her palm.
She took him into her mouth again and ran the tip of her tongue along the underside of his cock. Relaxed her neck and let it slip further than before, teasing at the entrance to her throat. Nudging it, stretching it just a bit before sucking down and drawing him back out, tasting precum for her efforts.
The frustrated groan that rumbled up from somewhere deep within his broad chest sent sparks flying down her spine. This is gonna work, she thought as he reached for her head, petted her hair while she teased the precum from him with fleet, wet kisses.
“Stop messing around and swallow my cock, sweetheart,” Crocodile grunted, pale eyes alight with hunger. The petting stopped, fingers tangling into the hair at the back of her neck instead. It was like the twitch on the line that told a fisherman to react.
Shivs glanced up along his hard shaft, and reeled him in:
“Yes, Sir.”
The horny groan that drew from him, before she’d even begun to take him again, settled comfortably in her bones. Gotcha, she thought.
Shivs breathed slow, deep, steady breaths as she slid his cock along her tongue, lining him up. The head pushed past the entrance of her throat and she switched to shallow breaths through her nose. The grunts and huffs that escaped him every time she swallowed were inhuman and she needed more of it.
She slid his cock further down, felt his thighs tremble as she did. The closer she got, the more his musk pervaded every stifled breath she managed around his thick cock. It was a heavy, heady scent and she shifted her position to press her thighs together. He didn’t notice.
She stroked his legs, ran her hands up to his hips as she leaned closer, and took him deeper still. His fingers were fisted painfully tight into her hair, but his large hand followed her without force or resistance, resting heavily against the back of her neck.
Almost.
Almost there.
And then the tip of her nose bumped against his flat stomach. She could hardly smirk with his dick this far down her throat but counted on the crinkle of her eyes to work for her as she caught his gaze and slowly raised her hands, palms up. She didn’t care that they trembled.
Look. No hands, motherfucker.
Crocodile grinned down at her through a huff of smoke, cigar dangling between his teeth. She thought it looked a little worse for wear.
“The pathetic clown doesn’t know what a dirty little slut you are, does he?” Crocodile said, his gravelly voice thick with lust as he petted the back of her neck. “Giving such sweet head to save his sorry hide.” He ran his fingers along her throat as if trying to feel how far down his cock had gone. “I always knew you could do it, sweetheart.”
“Now,” he added as he huffed out a pall of smoke and she felt cool metal sliding around the back of her neck, barring a retreat. “I need my cock-hungry doll to make me feel good.”
Shivs dropped her hands to his hips, gripping the folds of hard muscle there for support. She slid her tongue between her bottom lip and the underside of his cock, making sloppy little noises with the slightest bob of her head. Even those small movements pressed the round curve of his hook into the back of her neck, sending a shiver down her spine that made her squeeze her thighs together. She didn’t bother to try and hide it.
His large hand joined his hook, strong fingers digging into the back of her head, twisting into the hair there and holding her put as his thick cock twitched so far down her throat she didn’t even know anymore where precisely she felt it. She worked her throat around him, drawing rumbling moans from him that pitched.
“Ah -nngh- you feel so good, doll. So. Damn perfect.” His thighs tensed under her arms, flexing his hips with short jerks. She closed her eyes as she swallowed around him, frowning with effort. His breathy grunts as he lightly fucked her throat made her pussy throb.
Suddenly, his grip tightened like a vice and he shoved her nose-first against his hard, trembling stomach muscles, stealing her breath. Her eyes flew open as her throat strained and cramped, swallowing around him in reflex.
“Fuck, honey. Ah---! Yes, yes.” The satisfied, drawn-out moan as Crocodile spilled his hot cum down her throat reverberated through the quiet office.
Her fingers dug around his hips, tears jumping into her eyes as she gagged, feeling cum come up around his cock as stars danced into her vision. His grip weakened as he rode out his orgasm and she pulled back before he was quite done pumping cum. Shivs swallowed it mindlessly while coming up for air. His dick slid wetly out of her throat and mouth, streaks of cum connecting them before they broke.
She glanced up from his softening cock, glistening with her saliva all the way to the hilt. He’d tilted his head back, held his cigar nowhere near his mouth as he came down from his orgasm with deep, steadying breaths that expanded his wide chest and flared his nostrils.
He straightened with a lazy groan and a roll of his broad shoulders.
Shivs met his gaze, panting.
“You’re still my pretty little thing, aren’t you?” Crocodile said, his gravelly voice breathy as he reached for her, stroking her cheek with his thumb. The gold of his ring was smooth where his fingertip felt rough, the warm touch grounding her fried senses. It lingered at her eyepatch, lightly brushing the faded leather. “The things we let people do to our faces…”
He hooked the kerchief from his pocket and dabbed her mouth. She reached for his hand with both of hers, touching the back of it, taking the cloth. She watched him watch her as she cleaned her face.
“Don’t you have a new pretty thing? Miss Face-of-the-Casino in her cute kimono?” Shivs forced her tone to be casual, edged with light mockery, maybe. It was stupid that it’d stung when she’d seen the younger woman. An irrational, petty feeling. An old pain. And, none of her business, at any rate.
The dismissive look that flitted past his pale eyes was rather unexpected. “An investment, nothing more.”
“She’s pretty,” Shivs said. Perhaps, part of the sting had been the fact that Miss Pretty had not responded to her the way women did when they were into other women.
Crocodile looked at his cigar before putting it back in his mouth. “That she is.”
Their gazes crossed and she pursed her lips. He reached for her jaw, fingertips grazing its curve. Then leaned down and pressed a peck against her frown. She sat up and chased after him as he took another draw from his cigar, stole the aromatic smoke from him as she teased her tongue into his mouth. He blew it out through his nose, taking the cigar from his mouth as he caught the back of her neck with his hook and took control of the kiss.
“You can have one if you like, sweetheart,” he said when they broke apart, indicating his cigar.
And lord, if she wasn't tempted.
“You share ‘em these days?”
His derisive ‘hmph’ made her smirk as she rose to her feet.
“What about Miss Pretty? She enjoy your… cigars?” Shivs said, and noticed she’d gotten his cum all over Buggy’s sweater. Shit.
Crocodile glanced at her, pale eyes searching. “I prefer making deals with those who have something of value to offer, doll.”
Shivs put her hands in her pockets and rocked up on the balls of her feet with a mildly overacted grin. “Oh, it’s a deal then? You’ll play nice?”
“My compliance doesn’t come that cheap,” he said through a huff of smoke.
She crooked an eyebrow, risking a hint of ridicule in her tone. “Cheap? And here I was, thinking I have a unique skill up for offer.”
He actually cracked a smile as he flicked the butt of his cigar into the general direction of his desk and ashtray. Then beckoned her with hook and hand.
“Come here, doll.”
It would have been too easy.
She sauntered back to him and linked her fingers with his, curling the others around his hook, letting him draw her into his lap, straddling his thighs. He shifted so his cock was between them, pressing against her clothed cunt.
“What else will it cost me?” she said as she rested her hands on his shoulders, lightly riding against him. Every rub along his dick pulsed pleasure up her spine, and she hadn’t failed to notice it was already stiffening again.
He stoked the tip of his hook along her cheek as his large hand took in the shape of her firm butt, guiding her movement. “I want to know if your tight pussy can take all of me now, too.”
“Here, on a couch?” she said as she slipped her fingertips under his coat and pushed it off his shoulders. She trailed her hands down the revers of his vest, grabbed hold of them as she dry humped against him. “I thought you said you weren’t cheap?”
The bark of laughter that drew from him shouldn’t make her smile the way it did.
He pressed a kiss against it.
“I wouldn’t dare, honey,” Crocodile said as he gathered her up in his arms and rose smoothly from the couch, leaving his coat behind. He strode across his study and through the adjacent library to the expansive bedroom beyond. She remembered the sweeping view from its curving window wall and the sea of nightlights twinkling far below.
Instead of depositing her on his spacious bed, he set her down on the plush rug beside it. And motioned up and down her clothes with a dismissive gesture. “Take those rags off.”
Not my rags, Shivs thought as she kicked her boots aside, removed her baggy pants and grabbed the edge of the sweater. She didn’t wear a bra. She didn’t like them, and she hadn’t bothered wearing one this evening either.
Fingertips traced the lacy sides of her underwear while she had the sweater pulled over her head.
“You still have those.”
He sounded…not surprised. Curious, maybe?
“No reason to get rid of perfectly fine underwear,” she said as she freed herself from the sweater, finding he’d already undressed.
“They can stay on,” he said as she folded the sweater, her hand lingering on it before she turned to him.
“For now?”
A smile twitched the corner of his lips.
“Here, doll.” He held something out to her, cream-coloured and neatly folded. It seemed small and delicate in his large hand.
When she took it, the fabric cascaded into a surprisingly classy, mid-thigh negligee of shimmering silk. The top was constructed from intricately detailed lace with tiny bananawani worked into the pattern.
“Pretty,” she said as she brushed a finger across the delicate lace. She put it on and it fit her so neatly it felt like a second skin. An outrageously luxurious second skin for the silk felt soft as sin and the lace light as air. She turned a full circle on her tiptoe, overacting it just a little. She knew he liked that.
“Looks good on you.” He reached for her head, combing his fingers through her tangled red hair, tucking stray bangs behind the strip of her eyepatch. “I’d never let you get so grimy.”
“Can’t be a dirty little slut if you wash me.”
“Hah.” Crocodile leaned down and scooped her up into his arms, just like that. “Come here before I shove my cock down your throat again to shut you up.”
“Don’t tempt me- ah!”
Her reply cut off when he suddenly let go, dropping her into his bed. And that was quite the distance, even if the landing was soft. He immediately climbed on top of her, caging her with his much larger body. She spread her legs, accommodating his wider hips as he reached for her breast. His thumb traced circles around her nipple through the fine lace, stiffening at his touch.
“Like what you see?”
“Always have, doll,” he rumbled against her collarbone. Though no longer smoking, she could still smell it on him. Would be able to pick it out of a crowd. Subtle tones that reminded her of burnt coffee, dry glass and cinnamon, mingling with the faint wax smell of his hair gel and heavier citric notes of his cologne.
A small gasp escaped her when he brushed the lace down and kissed her hard nipple, taking it into his mouth and licking the sensitive tip. She felt the curve of his hook press against her hip, hitching up the silk as his hand slipped between her thighs. Strong, confident fingers pressed against the fabric of her panties and outer labia underneath. It ignited old desires, flickering life into fires she’d thought snuffed out.
His rough fingers traced the delicate lace, undulating with its curling, stylised waves. Her breath caught when they found the edge along the crease of her thigh. A mewl on her lips as he dipped them under the smooth fabric, fingertips grazing the warm, sensitive skin of her outer labia and sending sparkles of anticipation up her spine. The delicate fabric stretched with an alarming whimper from the seams as strong digits brushed between her folds, not quite able to reach. He grunted against her breast at the soaked pussy he found there.
She felt him slip the hook under the edge, warm from resting against her hip. The thought of him pulling her panties down with it lit up every nerve in the vague vicinity of her hips. Her eyes snapped open at the sharp jerk, the sudden cry of fabric tearing at the seam between silk and lace.
Shivs made a noise, nose wrinkling. Those were the nicest-.
“I’ll get you new ones,” Crocodile promised against the curve of her breast, his gaze down as he hooked the fabric from her hips. The hunger in his pale eyes as he looked at her pussy made her spread her legs further. He leaned down to caress her labia and press a light kiss against them that made her throb, thinking about his tongue.
A breathy huff escaped Shivs when he slid his middle finger between her folds instead, running slow circles around her inner labia. Gathering the moisture there before teasing them apart and brushing across her clenching entrance. Pleasure sizzled up her spine when he pressed it inside, mapping her inner walls and finding all the right places far too easily. If he kept this up, she was going to come very soon.
He switched to her other breast, teasing the sensitive skin as he inserted a second finger. “I seem to remember you liked getting your little hole stretched,” he rumbled against her nipple, and spread his large fingers apart. She moaned at the strength in them, the ease with which they pried her open. It sent twinges of sweet, sweet pressure blazing through the haze of need fogging her thoughts.
She reached down to his hand, stroke the back of it. Found his thumb and guided it against her clit with a needy moan. Her thighs trembled as he massaged it firmly, pushed his fingers all the way in, then spread them as he pulled out. She felt his knuckles and the hard edges of his rings press into her labia when he pushed them back in but she didn’t mind, kind of liked it. She reached a hand for his shoulder, neck, grabbing hold of the tout muscle there as she arched her back towards him. His pace was torturously slow and she was loving it.
Shivs let out a drawn out whine when he stopped, pulled at his neck, wrist, knowing perfectly well neither will give an inch but trying, anyway. She tried to clench her thighs, rub them together, nurse the need smouldering in her veins, but his knees were between hers and she writhed in vain.
Crocodile shifted unto his elbow, bunching the silk further up her hips while taking his hard dick in hand. A hoarse whisper close to her ear as he guided the head against her slick pussy: “Won’t you beg for my cock, sweetheart?”
“I need to feel your cock in me,” Shivs said as she caught his hungry gaze. “Feel it fill me, stretch me.”
He grunted with barely contained need, she could see it in the straining of his back as she reached for his thick neck, folding her hands behind it. Felt it in the way his hips twitched as he pressed his shaft through her wet folds, coating it with her juices.
“Am I not a good girl, sir?”
“Yes, you are.”
Shivs moaned loudly when he entered her. Whined at the delicious pressure as he pushed deeper into her soaking wet pussy, stretching her around him. She clung to his neck, mewling with incoherent need. Her hand went to his hair, messing it up but not caring. Neither did he.
“Ah -ngh- fuck,” Crocodile grunted, his breath hot against her neck.
Shivs held onto him for dear life as she arched against his hard body, savoured the sharp pleasure of him stretching her cramping, soaking cunt wide enough to plough through. He’d not bottomed out yet. If she could take him, she’d have him wrapped around her finger.
“You’re. Fuck. As tight. As I remember. Sweetheart,” Crocodile groaned into her neck, his gravelly voice strained to the point of being near unintelligible. It was getting tougher and tougher to push further through her tight, contracting walls.
“Almost there,” Shivs whispered as she brushed a stray bang of dark hair from his eyes.
The noise he made in response was inhuman and she drank it in as she closed her eyes, spread her legs further to accommodate his hips and relaxed every muscle she could still feel. A whimper bubbled from her lips when he pushed up against something deep within her that twitched a pleasure so sharp up her spine it sat right next to pain.
“Fuck, yes,” he ground out as his hips pressed flush against hers, his breath hot, heavy pants buffeting against the crook of her neck. “Feels. So good.”
He managed to push himself up onto his elbow, satisfaction animating his whole face as he looked at their joined hips, her soft labia squashed against his pubes. Shivs whimpered, his movement nudging tight bursts of pleasure deep within her.
“I knew you could do it, doll.” His tone was thick with lust, laboured from his heavy breathing. He gently brushed a strand of sweat-slick red hair from her forehead with his hook, looking so proud. “You like getting your little cunt stuffed, don’t you?"
Shivs gave a sharp nod, struggling to form words.
“I know you do, honey,” he whispered as he rolled his hips against hers, not truly thrusting. She reached for his face with trembling hands, stroking his hard jaw. He grunted under his breath with each push and she pressed pecks against the puffs of hot breath until he responded. Until he chased her tongue back into her own mouth and pressed her head back into the pillow with the desperate force of his kiss, demanding entrance with his tongue that she was more than willing to give.
“That's all you g-got?” she whispered through a moan and a bated breath when they broke their kiss for want of air. “I b-barely feel it.”
“Ah? You want more, doll?” Crocodile pulled out with a grunt, just a fraction, before shoving himself back inside her to the hilt, making her mewl with pleasure through clenched teeth as his cock bottomed out and up against her cervix. “Shall I take you back to my study? Pound you bend over my desk, like I used to?”
Shivs whined into his mouth as she latched onto him again, arms tightening around his thick neck as her cunt squeezed around his cock from the pleasure coiling around her spine. If he took her from behind, he could probably push deeper still. Oh, she’d be in trouble.
“Who’s cheap now, hrm?” A breathy hum into her ear as the obscene slap of his hips against hers filled his bedroom. She whined in need, the heady mix of mind numbing pleasure laced with an edge of pain making her tremble against him. “Do you want to be my little whore again? My pretty fuck slut to sit on my cock whenever and wherever I want?”
All she could do was whine and roll her hips to meet his steady thrusts. Fingers digging into the taut muscles across his shoulders, keeping him close as he fucked her deeper than she’d ever felt a man, even him. She whimpered, the heady mix of mind numbing pleasure laced with an edge of pain all but overwhelming her. Especially when he thrust just right, shoving his cock against a sensitive spot so deep inside her she didn’t even know she had it.
“I missed my. Pretty cocksleeve,” Crocodile grunted into her ear. “The. Only. Little slut that can take me -hng- properly.”
“Fuck me harder,” Shivs whispered, hands massaging his broad shoulders. He groaned with effort, she could feel the bridled strength in the muscles working under her palms. His pace picked up, and so did the strain in his body. Every thrust stretched her so deliciously, stimulating every needy nerve inside of her.
“Do it,” she moaned wantonly as his thrusts started to push her up on the bed, her weight no match against his strength. “I c-can take it.”
“Ah - hng- you’re. Going to. Make me cum, doll,” he growled through clenched teeth. He grabbed her shoulder, holding her in place as he jerked his thrusts up against her. Her mind was unravelling. The only thing she could think about was his cock filling her, burning up every single nerve she had as needy pleasure coiled in her belly. She wanted him to cum. She really did.
When he paused, she struggled to comprehend why. Her gaze found his. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his mouth slack to accommodate the deep breaths heaving his chest. He was barely holding still, strain thrumming through every inch of his large frame above her.
“Does. My pretty little thing want. Cum as deep in her tight pussy. As her pretty throat?”
She whined, pulled at his neck with both hands. “Y-yes.”
“Beg. For it.”
“P-please,” she whimpered as she tried to make him move, weakly rolled her hips towards him.
“Please what?”
“Please, s-sir.”
The noise he uttered in response to that settled somewhere at the primal base of her brain. She wanted, no, needed, to hear it again.
“Please, sir. Pound my needy hole like I deserve,” she mewled into his ear, savouring the way his breath hitched, that noise came again.
“Damnit, doll,” Crocodile grunted through clenched teeth as he picked up a pace that became quickly rougher, slightly erratic. He locked his hold on her shoulder, broad fingers digging around her thin muscles and narrow bones, keeping her put as he pounded into her soaking, cramping cunt. “Gonna fuck you so full, you'll be leaking my cum well into tomorrow.”
“Please, please, pleaaasse,” she whined and clenched around him as he fucked her into the sinfully soft matrass with long, deep strokes that shoved his cock shamelessly up against her cervix to fit it all in. She wanted, needed, to cum around it, desperate for release. “Fuck me full of cum, sir. Stuff my tight cunny like you did my slutty mouth.”
“I -ngh- will, honey. I am,” he ground out, barely intelligible as his pace lost all semblance of rhythm and he bucked against her in the grip of his orgasm’s first throes.
“Oh! Yes, yes,” she moaned as he shoved his throbbing cock as far as she could take it, cumming against the deepest corner of her cunt as she shuddered around his cock with unfulfilled need. He stayed buried inside her as he came down, breath erratic before steadying, slowing. She whimpered in need, clenching around his softening cock. She hadn’t been able to cum around it like she wanted. It was too thick to cramp enough for a proper orgasm. She knew that, but had thought maybe this time…
He knew it, too. Remembered it.
“You’re still my pretty little thing, aren’t you?” he said as he caressed her cheek, ran his thumb across her parted lips. “Unable to cum around a cock like a big girl.”
She made a small noise that he swallowed in a kiss.
They stayed that way until her breathing steadied as well. Then he sat up and gathered her into his lap. She held onto him, her cheek against his collarbone. Not quite ready yet to let go.
“You look parched, doll,” Crocodile said as he brushed a bang from her eyes.
Shivs peered up at him. “I would not say ‘no’ to a sweet white.”
A noise escaped him that could have been a fond one as he lifted her off his lap and rose. The sound of his retreating footsteps filled the quiet. He’d gone to his study, judging by the distance. Shivs got up as well and shimmied the negligee down. Despite everything, she did not feel like taking it off. It felt nice against her flushed skin.
She sauntered to the curved window wall and found the view precisely as she remembered it. A sea of nightlights twinkled across the city below, mirroring the deep blue, star-speckled sky above. The moon hung low, waning from view. It wasn’t long before he returned. She heard him uncork a bottle behind her and fill two glasses. The snap and swoosh of his lighter. The familiar scent of his cigar preceding him as he came to stand beside her, still naked.
He held a glass out to her, a cigarillo clamped against its curve. The wine was a deep bronze instead of the pale yellow usual to white wines. She accepted the glass and smoke, gaze lingering on the narrow slot through its delicate stem. It allowed him to hold them with his hook without slipping. She glanced sideways and up at him. A fond smile twitched her lips when she noticed his hair was neater than before. He’d evidently taken a comb to it for a hot second.
Shivs put the cigarillo in her mouth and turned to find his lighter lying on the nightstand beside the wine bottle, and a corkscrew with its split cork still attached. She glanced at the label as she lit the cigarillo. It read ‘1811’ in large, proud capitals, and a name in a curving script she couldn’t be bothered to try and decipher. She would not be able to afford it, anyway.
Taking a sip, she returned to his side. The wine was sweet, indeed. With hints of lime, honey, saffron. She made herself comfortable against him, her bum resting on his thigh. “It’s a nice view,” she said as she blew out a thin pall of smoke.
He glanced down at her and their gazes crossed as he idly stroked her hip. “It is.”
Shivs leaned into his touch, sipping the wine. It really was, very good.
“Clever scheme you’ve gotten up to, in order to save the loser’s sorry hide,” Crocodile remarked as he blew a smoke ring against the narrow cloud she’d just produced. “But it has a flaw.”
Shivs let her weight shift from his thigh to his loin, only the soft silk between them. “You sure?”
A self-satisfied smile twitched behind his cigar as he gave her hip a squeeze. “None of this will work on Dracule.”
Only because I don’t have a penis, she thought, but no matter. They may have both grown older, but Croki was still fundamentally the same man she’d left years ago. And that would work for her, she was sure of it. Inevitably, Mihawk would pick on Bugs. She would take it upon herself to get irritatingly upset about it. Mihawk would no doubt insult her next, and Sir Self-Satisified here would take it personally by-proxy and shut him up. It’d be a win.
“I’ll think of something,” Shivs said as she blew a thin pall through his smoke ring, dispersing it.
He glanced at her, amused. “He’s partial to good wine, at least.”
“I’ll take it under advisement.”
She nipped her own wine, idly rubbing her thighs together. Pleasure skulked around the base of her spine, denied but not forgotten. She made a little noise against her glass when she felt his hand move up her thigh, his thumb brush under the edge of the negligee.
“Still needy?” he said as he bunched up the fine silk, rubbing his middle and ring finger against her clit in slow circles. It sent lazy sparks of pleasure straight to her brain. Drawing a shuddering whimper from her as he dipped his middle finger between her folds.
“Cum for me, honey,” Crocodile rumbled as he lightly ran the tip of his finger along the inner rim of her vagina, then teased the sensitive spot further down. Shivs gasped through her moan as the briefest shudder of an orgasm stole over her like a thief in the night. It was not enough, not nearly enough.
“N-need more,” she said as she put the glass down with a wobble. Reached for his large hand when he stopped, withdrew, tugging it back. Bunching two of his fingers together, of a mind to stick them into herself if he didn't.
“Come to our board meeting tomorrow. You’ll come sit with me and I’ll take good care of your needy little hole.” He shook her fussy touch and caught her pubes, massaging his palm firmly against her soft cunt, pressing her bum against his cock. “You can ride my palm like you used to, and I’ll make you cum on my fingers till your tight pussy is sore from cramping around them.”
Shivs wasn’t particularly keen on doing any of this semi-publically, least of all anywhere Bugs would be. Though she feared she wouldn’t be able to talk herself out of this, as easily as she’d talked herself into it.
“Don’t worry, doll. I’ll leave the pathetic clown alone,” Crocodile promised as he stroked her flat belly with the rounding of his hook. “Can’t beat the loser if my hand is occupied with something sweeter, hm?”
Shit. She had to tell Bugs. Forewarned, forearmed, and all that. She turned in his hold, his hand moving to her butt instead. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” she said, but he caught her wrist when she took a step back.
“Ah, ah,” he admonished as he stopped her, pulled her with him, back into bed. “You’re staying with me tonight.”
“I, what? Why?”
Suddenly, she wanted to leave as he gathered her against him, nestling her into his lap and chest, spooning his large body around her like a cage. She wanted to leave, wanted to go to Buggy and cry when he guided his cock back inside her still moist pussy with an incriminating noise and a satisfied rumble. She’d meant to turn this trick and tell Buggy about it. Tell him her plan to manipulate the ex-warlord to leave him alone, to leave them alone. Tell him it had worked.
Shivs pushed herself on her elbow but Crocodile pulled her back down to him.
“Stay,” he said as he hooked the fluffy underblanket and silk cover sheets about them, his arm around her waist, hand on her hip.
“Why.” She had to tell Buggy, but now she couldn’t. She’d left after they’d gone to bed. She hadn’t told him yet. He didn’t know. He’d wake up alone.
Crocodile stroked the midline of her belly with the tip of his hook, rippling the cream-coloured silk as it moved up her chest, counting to the fifth rib. The one behind which her heart sat.
“Wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise.”
A quiet sob escaped her.
"Ssh, sleep, honey," Crocodile whispered into her hair, fingertips stroking her hip. “I’ll take good care of you tomorrow.”
~
Honourary mention tags: @smut-goblin , @ruledbyproblematique , @gingernut1314 , @swirlsofblackandwhite
(N/A): To anyone reading & making it to the end. Writing this has consumed me the past days. I want to know what you think! What did you like? What made you laugh? Was there something specific you noticed? Something you now wonder about? I am 100% open to lengthy comments and blow by blows, ngl. I am obsessed with this.
If you want for more, I jotted down some of my own thoughts regarding this debacle. I may also be plotting another stint. Because Impel Down, do you understand me??
#sir crocodile#one piece crocodile#crocodile x oc#op crocodile#cross guild#KINDA#crocodile x reader#crocodile fanfic#one piece fanfic#one piece smut#opla#op smut#crocodile one piece#smut#one piece#one piece live action#one piece anime#one piece manga#imperial fiction#buggy thoughts#imperial shenanigans#crocaine#crocodile x shivs
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Sugar daddy Desmond sneak preview.
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January 5th, 1500, Rome, originally recorded in audio, later transcribed in writing.
So, uh. I. Have no idea what to say. Fuck. How do I even - where the hell do I even begin. With the phone maybe? Like that even - fuck, with my luck this thing will break down in a week, and then whatever I even say won't matter. I shouldn't even keep this thing, right? It's a risk to the time continuum of something. Herein lies the paradox. But.
Fuck. I'm so fucked, hehe - heh. Fuck.
So. So. I've travelled back in time!
Not exactly what I was expecting. Only maybe I sort of - it's kind of - it's weird. I've spent so much time in the Animus, living through history, travelling back in time in memory, that this, that in some part of my mind where habits are born I've gotten used to this. Like, I've gone through something so similar to this so many times that it's - it's not even a shock anymore. Like, I know this is a big fucking deal - I'm back in time. But in that part of my brain where, uh, where humans build routines, you know? It's just like, like whatever. Animus, time travel, it looks the same on the surface, to my grey matter. So I'm like… comfortable? At home. At ease. As far as my Animus-ingrained instincts go, this is normal. And on the inside my common sense is throwing a fit. It's a weird feeling.
And that's - that's completely beside the point, right. I should, uh, start from the beginning.
I activated the Grand Temple - something I probably need to explain later, seeing as this is… kinda the first record of it in human memory, probably? Later, I'll do that later. Anyway, I activated the Grand Temple, and I honestly expected to die. Juno kind of made I seem like that was what was going to happen, and Minerva didn't exactly reassure me there either. I was - I wouldn't say fine with it, but it was - it was what it was. It was what had to happen, so I was… okay with it.
I can't really explain what it was like. It hurt, but like - like - I don't know. Fuck. It was like a painful stretch or like the itching of a healing frostbite. Like my nerves couldn't categorise the sensation properly, so they just fired raw white noise sensation at me. Buzzing itchy pain, all over, but also… not. All pain really is, is your nerves sending alarm signals, right? I think mine just got confused. There's no basis of experience for what happened to me.
If I had to guess, I… I think I got disintegrated. Demolecularized. Like fucking Star Trek teleportation beam - I was broken apart into atoms.I don't know if I was transported or - copied. Something happened.
Rebecca once went into this rant about teleporters in science fiction, about how they're material shredders and copiers - how people who use them are probably instantly destroyed, broken apart into materials, and then remade again, and probably not even from the same materials. That what actually moves between teleporters is building instructions, and people being beamed up are just rebuild on site after their horrible, silent murder at the hands of the teleportation beam. It was kinda gruesome, the way she put it.
This… will make absolutely no sense to anyone for about four hundred and fifty years, haha - hahaha - ha…
I think I maybe did die in the Grand Temple. And Minerva's Vault here, in Rome - the one under the Vatican, it… printed a copy of me. A perfect, exact copy, with all the information intact. Even had my backpack and phone and everything.
Only it's, uh, five hundred and twelve years early.
Which, uh. Well, we already knew that the Precursors, or at least Minerva, saw time differently. The lady could have dialogue with people tens of thousands of years after her time, so she had some means of getting data from the future and interacting with it in a way that affects the future. So, that, um. That's something.
What's five hundred to a woman that's been dead for seventy five thousand years? Barely a blink of an eye. So, she takes info from a later moment, and brings it back, like - like moving bits in a chain. One later domino moved slightly earlier to change how the chips would fall. Because it will affect how the chips will fall. I've already killed like two people who probably weren't supposed to die just yet, so…
Fuck.
It's terrifying that they have this power. Dead for seventy five thousand years, and they can just shuffle things around. How many things have they changed - how many times have they done this? The history I know, how much of it's - is - is real and untampered and how much of it's by their design? And -
I -
Ho boy, okay. Right. Uh.
So. I'm in Rome, circa fifteen hundred. Ezio's come and gone from the Vault and if I have my timelines right, Monteriggioni has already been raised to the ground. Rodrigo Borgia is the Pope, Rome is in grips of a tumultuous, Templar engineered poverty, and, uh. What else? Ezio isn't back yet, but he will be here soon, I think. Machiavelli is here already, though, I can, sort of, feel him. Very historically important dude. Not as much as Leonardo, though. I can feel him too, stuck behind Templar lines, serving the enemy, so to say.
And I - I need to figure this out. And there won't be any guidance from on Long Ago - Minerva's temple is dead now. I think bringing me, or making me, or whatever she did, it drained the Vault's batteries. It's completely dead now, out like a light. Just like this phone will be, very soon. I'll probably write this all down later - preserve it for future Assassin generations and whatnot. Right now…
Right now, I'm.
Fuck.
I'm going to go pickpocket someone, buy some wine and get drunk, maybe. I'll figure out what to do, after I've had the chance to - to turn my brain off and on again. I think I've deserved it.
Yeah.
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Yup. Gonna try writing at least few chapters before posting, but here's like 1/3 of first chap. It's not going to all be in epistolary but it will be peppered with letters and journal entries and wanted posters probably. We'll see how it goes.
Feel free to suggest story titles. Also Desmond's is going to need an alter ego, so if anyone knows Italian names starting with De or Des, I'd love to hear them. So far the only one I got is Desiderio.
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WRITING PARTNERS ?
WHO AM I : finn, she/her, 25+
WHAT I WANT : seeking sneezy roleplays w/ people, either fandom or original content. looking pairings in order of preference: m//, mxf, f// (all gender identities welcome of course!)
VIBES : chill, no pressure, lazy lit. i'm old and i work full time i'm not pumping out novels these days. my replies are typically in the 200-400 range. i want something fun and low stakes that we both enjoy, with characters we're both invested in and maybe a loose plot? doubling is totally fine (i.e. i play a character for your pairing, you play one for mine) or having a whole cast of characters depending on what we're doing
WHERE : happy to write either here on tumblr, on discord, or over email. wherever you are most comfortable! my preference is discord just because it's easiest but i'm flexible
SNEEZE CONTENT : look i'm a simple woman, i like snz. i tend to play caretakers (whether it's a canon character or not) but i have no problem trading back and forth who we torture, it's a give and take! also let's discuss limits / icks / what we like and don't like so we're both totally comfortable. this should be a safe space above all else!
FANDOMS & IDEAS : just going to list some things here that i'm craving or i think might be fun. if none of these grab you, don't hesitate to reach out with something you're thinking about! odds are i'm down for anything, i just love to write! also i'll write any character, the ones in parentheses are just ones i'm itching (LOL i hate myself) to play in particular
FANDOMS
trigun (vash)
haikyuu (literally anyone)
one piece (literally anyone)
jjk (toge, gojo, yuji)
mha (anyone)
stardew valley (harvey, sebastian )
cyberpunk 2077 (literally anyone)
so many video games just ask
ORIGINALS
dnd fantasy vibes
singer x manager slice of life isekai
crime (either historical settings or not)
♡ feel free to send me a DM if you're interested in starting something up! even if you've never roleplayed before but think it's something you might be into, i'd love to have some more kink friendly rp buddies!
#snzblr#snz rp#snzblr rp#snz kink rp#snz kink#snz ocs#snz fic#snz blog#lol idk if there is actually anyone out there looking to write but i adore finding new writing friends so truly just hit me up#if you ever even think this might sound kind of fun
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[ indigo ] when did you first start writing / roleplaying?
[ plum ] are you more of a dialogue or a description writer?
[ mulberry ] what tips would you give someone with writer's block?
[ coral ] give a shoutout to one of your favorite blogs.
🐝 * ― 𝑪𝑶𝑳𝑶𝑼𝑹𝑭𝑼𝑳 𝑰𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑽𝑰𝑬𝑾. ( send one or more of these to get to know the person behind the blog a little better. )
(these are going to get long so i'll put a readmore to spare the dashboard lol)
[ indigo ] when did you first start writing / roleplaying?
for writing (stories) i'd say in early middle school when i realized fanfiction was a thing. before that i just did a lot of journaling, or i'd finish a trip with family and write a long essay about everything we did on the trip. anyways when the fanfic itch hit i wrote obsessively and even titled my story journals as i finished them so i could keep them in chronological order. (like i had one named after spring, another for summer, fall, winter, etc. and then a series named after favorite gemstones x flowers). i think i filled 40+ notebooks of various sizes by high school? they're still somewhere in the basement at my parents' place probably.
then i found ff.net and realized people posted their stuff online so i tried that a bit, and when ff.net started getting dated i moved onto ao3. i don't have as much energy or drive to write the crazy crossover AUs i used to do but it's still nice to post there, or make up original short stories for fun. anyways TL;DR i'm always writing something somewhere sometime~
for RP i wanna say...early 2000s? back when forum RPs were a thing. and i don't mean the fancy kind they have now where you can custom-theme your posts, but just plain message boards where you started a topic to make "threads" and replies to that thread made up your interactions, and the rest of the board was divided up so you had locations in one place and character profiles in another, etc etc. they were everywhere and constantly opening and shutting down so i went everywhere too, lol. also signed up for this digimon PbEM RP group where they had a plotline and an all-original crest lineup but you had to make up your own digidestined and digimon and apply to join. then we'd RP on a word doc and email it to the next person in the group to get the story going. it was sooo old school but it was genuinely fun. i also applied to join a livejournal MFRP group but got rejected because my app wasn't good enough hahaha that got me a little scarred so i hid away from MFRP for awhile
(also a special bonus to the time my friends and i RPed as neopets faeries in a composition book we'd pass around in school between periods.)
for tumblr RP i think it was like 2014 or 2015 after a RP hiatus? the messageboards were dead or dying by then and heck if i was going to learn livejournal and its weird system so i joined some ancient chinese themed MFRP group with a similar chinese drama-inspired muse but that shut down within a month so i wandered around until i found a bigger more active group and stuck around there. and now i'm on and off here. :)
[ plum ] are you more of a dialogue or a description writer?
when it comes to RP, i think i lean more towards description because i need to give context to my muse's lines. but for stories i'm more dialogue heavy, and i enjoy writing exchanges back and forth between characters.
[ mulberry ] what tips would you give someone with writer's block?
i don't know if i'm the best person to ask but when i'm stuck on writer's block i work on a different...writing project..... you know they all have different vibes and stuff so a change of scenery gives the mind a break and stuff? it's good.
and it works because i still wanna write, i just don't want to write for Thing A so why not Thing B lol.
it also helps to find a focus, most of my writing block woes come because i don't know where/what to do next, so maybe i find a song, a pretty quote, or an icon that gives me the right "vibes" for what i want to express and think up the rest of the post from that.
it also helps to have a smaller goal to work towards even if you don't know how the ending will turn out. for example, if in a thread my A is interacting with your B and i think to myself "well according to what i've read in B's app he'd prolly hate A and think him a prick, so it'd be interesting if A gets a chance to showcase his prick side in this thread eventually," then i'd insert stuff into my replies to gradually make A more annoying and play off what B replies to work towards that "goal."
of course since RP is directed by both sides those mini-goals sometimes get sidetracked, but then it's fun to see in what new direction we take the interaction instead haha
[ coral ] give a shoutout to one of your favorite blogs.
i can’t stress enough how helpful quotes/musings blogs are for like aesthetics or muse inspirations for me and the nice thing is most of them are still around even if they haven’t updated in years so HERE HAVE THIS POST WITH LINKS TO A BUNCH MORE GREAT MUSINGS POSTS BLOGS
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still haven't finished totk bcs i keep getting busy w uni but i kinda just wanna rant about the main plot line lol
The continuity issues of this game is frustrating if you try to mince the main plot, shit just doesn't add up. As fun the open worldness is, being able to solve the puzzles any way you want, it feels as if they had to cut corners when it came to the plot 💀 Like it's some afterthought djsbdkwnkdns Having cutscenes fully voice acted has so much emotional power, like I kinda wish they made the most out of it jdjsbkwndke
I've read here in tumblr before about how it's as if the original direction of the zonai shifted, because I do remember Rauru's hand being creepy. And then the game releases and he's apparently a good boi! But it's fine, sometimes art do be like that it just takes a whole new direction. But the way they interweave things w botw is very inconsistent. Like they could have really did more with it yanno
Personally, it would have been better if we didn't start the game exploring the ruins ? the castle depths ? idk what's it called but like, we got to experience following Zelda as she puts in the effort of "restoring Hyrule". We get to see the glimpse of their life together after the calamity.
The thing is, does Hyrule need to be restored? Most specifically, the castle. Also it makes me wonder how people reacted seeing what seems to be the princess of legend come back, the princess they've heard from their grandparents. But I guess it's easy to interpret it with Zelda being vital to their worshipping of Hylia. And Hyrule Castle seems to serve as a seal for Ganon, and for more generations to come
It would have been more meaningful to see beloved characters from the series intermingle with the new characters. Though the new characters look cool, they also feel so out of place. I get that Penn replaces Kass in terms of role but it would still have been fun to see Kass just chilling at home. It would have also been fun to see Zelda and Kass interact, after all Kass' teacher is the court poet that regularly accompanied the princess. They could reminisce the stories of the past... Kass going "Ah, my teacher used to tell me stories of (this and that)" and Zelda enthusiastically recalling these stories... It would also have been cool to see how the whole Zonai Survey Team was formed. Since Tauro was a solo explorer and his passion for field research is what made Zelda choose him to be the leader of the survey team, it would have been nice to have a neat little side quest of getting to know the guy. Same goes for Yona. It would have been less surprising if Link and Sidon were penpals and they'd regularly write to each other, Sidon would recount some childhood memories with Yona. If maybe we were there to welcome Yona as she arrived, her introduction would have felt smoother? I'm not against the idea of Sidon and Yona but their relationship feels so abrupt HABSJABDKANDK Would have been fun to see how Sidon slowly realized he loved Yona, something like that.
I'm really digging the idea that totk zelda should be playable. Totk's story is more about her dilemma. It would have been more meaningful experiencing the Dragon Tears memory as Zelda, we get to move around as her. I mean, she's apparently the strongest Zelda in the series I think it would have been so monumental.
But back to the actual story, it could have been more... Though it's fun seeing that Link isn't as alone anymore, teleporting to Lookout Landing always feels nice because I know that's where Link's friends are, I just wish Zelda had more screentime.
Thankfully the fandom has people rewriting the story to fill in the gaps so that's what I'll be busy reading once I finish the game to scratch the itch that is inconsistent storytelling sjbskdnsns that's my totk rant for today 😘
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2022 fic wrap-up!
Here it is, my 2022 fic wrap-up! I'll divide it in three parts: general rambling about writing, month-by-month discussion of what I wrote in more detail, and a conclusion about what I'd like to get done this year a.k.a. 2023!
(I wrote so much I'm sorry.)
General Thoughts and Rambling about Writing
I've had multiple times when I'd say I stopped writing. I wrote a lot when I was younger, both fic and original, always in my native language (French.) I also roleplayed a fair amount. Back in 2011, after a very bad time in my life, I stopped writing. My last attempts were roleplaying posts; I think by that time I hadn't written fic in over a year.
For a little while, I focused on drawing exclusively. I even created an original webcomic that's currently discontinued. Then, in 2013, Pokémon X&Y came out–
I'd planned to write posts about my main X&Y fic series on Tumblr, but only wrote one and then never got around to writing the rest. I still want to, though! It probably covers most of what I'd want to say already, so I'll be brief: I got back into writing fic in 2013, for Pokémon X&Y, in English this time, and then lost steam the next year for a variety of reasons. I got back into writing again in 2015-2016, writing more or less exclusively for myself without sharing it except on dreamwidth and password-locked blogs. At the time, I think I felt self-conscious about posting fic on AO3 that I didn't think was "up to par," not to mention I felt guilty about my lingering WIP...
In late 2017, I got into a brand new fandom, Yakuza, and for the first time in four years started to focus my creative energy in something that wasn't Pokémon X&Y. I still thought about it a lot (Lysandre especially) but I was able to get into new ships that I was excited about for reasons that weren't "this reminds me of my ultimate blorbos." In 2018, I started working on a Yakuza fic that I then gave up on, until (encouraged by one of my friends) I got back into working on it in 2020.
I don't know what did it; I'd guess it was having someone who could cheer me on and who was also a writer, maybe, but in 2020 I really started finding pleasure in writing again. I finished the fic around the end of the year and got very sweet feedback (which I was surprised about because the topic of the fic isn't something I expected people to care about haha.) I was itching to write more but I was also kind of exhausted. I figured maybe this was going to be my fanfiction swan song, which I was pretty happy about, honestly. I still think it's a pretty good fic.
Then, in 2021, Pokémon Masters EX grabbed me by the throat–
It felt kind of eye-opening. It felt like I was back in 2013/early 2014 and suddenly I was fueled by the raw power of OTP. I reread my unfinished WIP, that I'd continued further from what was posted on AO3, and thought: I can finish this. Not only that, but I can make what I've already written better. It doesn't matter that it's been almost eight years, it doesn't matter if nobody cares to read it. I can do this, for me.
And I did!
Not only that, but it kickstarted me into getting back into writing for real. I posted the finished, rewritten (in parts) version of the fic in November (I promise I'll talk about this in more detail soon,) and then in December I posted another fic about them. Which then brings us to, of course, what this post is actually supposed to be about: 2022.
What I Wrote in 2022 (And Other Considerations)
I started out still riding that high from having finished my long fic, and posted two fics related to it in January, turning it into a series:
* The Pangs of Disprized Love: This one is an outsider POV taking place between two of the later So Long as We Can Say chapters. It was really fun to write, despite the subject matter! The last SLaWCS chapter is actually probably my favorite, as a post-canon aficionado, so getting to write more of that was a treat.
* And With Your Hands Your Hearts: This one is a more or less direct sequel. A marriage proposal... How corny. It felt like what the characters needed after everything they'd gone through, though. I had very strong mental images for this one and I'm still pretty happy with the result.
After that, I got to work on the sequel to Et Surtout Mourir de Langueur, the first part of my mutual pining saga. At the time, I ran into two issues:
— I was embarrassed by the idea of writing and posting smut on AO3. (Yes, this seems insane to me too now.)
— I was worried people would be put off by me writing Lysandre as submissive more "aggressively." (As in, actually making it clear that was what I was going for, and not just implying it.)
Because of this, I started getting writer's block, and found myself stalling after deciding to actually include explicit scenes in (what would become) Le Bien l'Ennemi du Mieux. But something very special would happen to me that month...
Indeed, February is the month I came to know Noah a.k.a. @jonphaedrus. Which seems both so long ago and way too little time. I will refrain from gushing and just say that had we not met, I might have never started posting E-rated works to AO3 and I might have even given up on writing that second mutual pining fic. So there.
Thus, in March, thanks to Noah (and Grey!)'s support, I finished and posted:
* Le Bien l'Ennemi du Mieux: They continue pining, but this time they fuck explicitly. A lot. Way too much if you ask me. The romantic tension does not resolve in this fic and did not resolve period in 2022 but it will in 2023 I promise.
My SLaWCS energy had not left me however, and so after taking a short break I started work on a direct sequel to And With Your Hands Your Hearts, where I'd explore Augustine and Lysandre's backstories at last. This quickly became a multi-chapter project, which I was anxious about because SLaWCS (the original fic) had been my only successful attempt at that, but the fact that I had been successful once – and now had support from a fellow prfr appreciator and author – helped carry me to victory.
So, in May, I successfully published:
* Wisely and Slow: Definitely one of my favorites from the year. A three chapters story about dealing with your demons and finding a new place to belong to in the world. I could talk more about it but I won't... for now. This is the last (plot-relevant) SLaWCS story I've posted so far; the next one is going to be the wedding one and I'm SO excited to work on it. SOON.
Taking a break from longer fic writing, I wrote this treat for Noah:
* That Give Delight and Hurt (Not): I feel like this was the first step toward me going full self-indulgent when it comes to publishing smut. It still has feelings, but there's no pretense of a plot, just two characters engaging in D/s fun. It was my first time posting actual PWP on AO3... emotional...
In June, struck by a sudden bout of inspiration at the very end of a challenge from a Discord server I was in, I wrote 20k in a week:
* Perfect as a Statue, Unadorned: A Xerosic/Lysandre fic where Lysandre is a robot. It's also one of my favorites from this year! Very underrated imo. It's long, it's an AU, it's for a rarepair... so I'm not really surprised, but I do wish more people would give it a try. Oh well.
And then, finally embracing my id fully, I wrote and shared what is probably still the most unhinged thing I've written in 2022:
* All in a Day’s Work: Also known as "Rocket Lysandre free use" which tells you all you need to know. Truly just pure bottom Lysandre PWP. I think about the tag "I Want That Pokémon Villain Obliterated" regularly. I originally wasn't even planning on posting it but doing that freed me from any kind of worry about what I was "allowed" to post on my AO3, because nothing else can come close to it. Also very underrated imo but not for the same reasons LMFAO.
I was slowly getting into the habit of writing regularly, so in July I decided to try my hand at writing short fics/ficlets based on prompts I found or that were sent to me. This way, I successfully wrote five ficlets:
* Phototaxis, Show Off, The Precious Time That We Have, Then We Shall Need Each Other & Aspectabund
I also participated in BDSM Exchange, with a fic! Which was my first time writing fic for an exchange – before that, I'd only done art.
* Viens Me Libérer de Mon Sommeil (Je Suis à Ta Merci): An OT3 (Diantha/Sycamore/Lysandre) fic for Noah! It has all of our favorite things: D/s, Lysandre getting run over, BDSM therapy... I nearly finished it in time for frenchflagshipping day, too, but missed it by three days. Alas.
Powered by pure hubris, in August, I decided to try my hand at Writer's Month... and couldn't pull it off (in parts because I got very, very sick mid-way through.) I'm not going to link all of my fics for that separately (they span from August to December) but I will namedrop a few I especially like. Otherwise, you can check them all out in my series! (Shout-out to the series-within-a-series specifically for the bodyswap storyline, too. I'll finish it in 2023! I swear!)
My favorites from August were:
* My (M37) friend (M32?) keeps alienating everyone we know with the way he presents his opinions: Absolute classic. A reddit post parody. I'd still like to write a sequel/spin-off someday.
* A Comedown of Revolving Doors: Kind of a weird one; I just caught a vibe and followed it without being completely sure where I was going with it. I do enjoy the result though.
* It’s a Mechanical Bull, the Number One: Bottom Dom content for the soul. I still think this one was very big-brained of me. Also the title does not get old.
* Hit Me With the Way They’re Flaunted: It sure is over 3k about Lysandre getting his tits tortured/played with. What else can I say.
August was also the month we started posting courage is the most foolish thing in the world a.k.a. roleswap! I am not involved in the writing (as in, I don't write it; I am definitely involved in the ideas and concepts) but I couldn't not give it a shout-out.
For September, I'll cite this one:
* Something in Your Head You’ve Been Fighting All Along: It's cakeverse. I found out about cakeverse completely randomly and have not stopped thinking about it ever since. I'll probably write and/or draw some more at some point... It's still at the back of my mind.
I also participated in another fic challenge: to write an AU fic of no more than 5k words. It turned out a lot more difficult than I expected; I apparently do not do well with max word counts. Still, I managed to post:
* From the Throat, I’m Tied to You: A very horny soulmate AU. I just decided to write the kind of soulmates I'd like to see in fic, heh. Despite how hard it was for me to get the words out, I do enjoy the result, and it was fun to work on!
In November, I posted a fic for the exchange Fic In A Box! I feel like I've already talked about this one a lot LOL, so I won't get too into it.
* do let the old enmity be: A recursive fic for Noah's main prfr series. It's all in-universe stuff, and probably the most fun I had working on a fic this year. I was very pleased to see so many people enjoy it!
I also kept working on my late Writer's Month prompts, and my favorite for that month is obvious:
* Let Your Backbone Slide: My first time writing trans porn... finally, I can put what I want to see into the world (Dom trans/cis sub, in case that wasn't clear.) I like this one a lot, tbh. I'd like to write a sequel/related fic sometime soon.
Finally, the last month of the year: December! My end of the year was really busy. I had a lot on my mind. Still, I managed to post a few more Writer's Month fills and one very special fic:
* De nouvelles saveurs: My last fic of 2023! And it's in French! It's 12k words of flirting via baking croissants. Before writing a short thing for my FIAB fill, I hadn't written in French in over a decade... so it was an interesting experience. I am pretty happy with the result though! The croissants (quaso) got baked and that truly is all that matters.
I'll finish this off by giving a quick shout-out to the old fics I posted throughout the year. These are the fics I wrote back in 2016, as mentioned in the introduction of this post. Noah slowly encouraged me to post them on AO3, even the ones I was the most embarrassed about. Since they've all been backdated, I don't remember the exact month (of 2022) they were posted on, so I'll just give them to you in their original chronological order:
* Fighting With My Weak Hand: A post-canon story about Lysandre trying to earn forgiveness. (Yes, it was already my shit in 2016.)
* Status Symbol: Car sex.
* A Lesson in Self-Control: Omorashi.
* This Is the Finest Game, It Ain’t Even Got a Name: Spy AU. Very self-indulgent.
* Midas Touch: Lysandre doesn't masturbate. Augustine investigates.
* Give Me Fire, Burning Hell: My original soulmate AU.
Phew. Okay, now that that's all out of the way–
What 2023 Has In Store (Hopefully)
I have a lot of WIPs.
See, at the beginning of 2022, I told myself I'd only have one WIP at a time. That way, I could focus on one thing, and get things done at a good pace. Unfortunately, as I began writing more and more, and chatting with Noah about ideas, I started listening to the devil on my shoulder telling me I could just work on multiple things at once.
...and I could! At the end of the day, "a lot of WIPs" isn't actually even that many WIPs. Still, I have a bunch of stuff I'd like to get done in 2023, writing-wise:
— I have an unfinished SLaWCS smut spin-off that's like two scenes away from being done and has been for months. I really need to get back on that.
— I have, of course, part 3 of my mutual pining series. I'm nearly 10k into that and Arceus knows how long it'll get. But I'll finish it this year for sure!
— I have the few prompts left from my Writer's Month, most of which I have ideas for if I haven't already started them. I will complete it this year (and not give the prompt list for this year a try, I'm sorry–)
— I have a few challenge fics I started and never finished that I might or might not go back to. (One I'm fairly confident I can finish; the other I have no idea where to go with so it might stay unfinished forever. Maybe I'll share what I have at some point.)
— I want to write in French more!!
— And, last but not least, I'm desperate to write more SLaWCS. I want them to get married!! I spent most of the latter half of 2022 writing shorter fics, and I really want to get back to longer works. I want to drop 60k of wedding planning that only five people will read. This is all I need to stay alive.
As for the rest... I'm still itching to participate in exchanges and other fandom events, so I have plans in that vein, but I don't want to give it away too early. I'm very grateful for the support I've gotten this year, no matter the content... Thank you for all your comments, asks, tags, kudos... I wouldn't have written this much without you! I don't know if I can aim for more than I did in 2022, but I'd like to keep at it, at least.
So here's to another year of Pokémon fics... and art! If you've read this whole thing, thank you, too! I appreciate it! 🙏
#samfic#fic wrap-up#i'm sorry for writing so much lmao i wasn't planning on talking this much . you don't have to read it#it is a pretty handy guide to most of what i wrote in 2022 if you're into that tho
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hey morri!
do you prefer dnd as a player or as a dm? tricky question i know :)
/rodentwrites
Hiii Harrison!!
I prefer it as a player, to be honest. I've only ever DM'd once, and it was for a oneshot. I'd love to do it again, and maybe even run a campaign someday, but I'm not nearly organized nor consistent enough to do that, at least not right now. Part of that is my ADHD, which is SO bad it's not even funny.
I love the idea of creating my own world, and writing my own story, and seeing people interact with it, but the amount of planning that has to go into a campaign, not just at the beginning, but on a weekly (if you play weekly) basis, is amazing. I am just about the least organized person you will ever meet, and I am the world's worst procrastinator. Between those two things, I don't think I could ever DM a campaign.
I'm such a funny goofy person when it comes to playing, though. All my characters have very detailed backstories and personalities, but when it comes to RP, I struggle. I know what my characters would do and say in most situations, but coming up with it on the spot is fucking HARD. Not to mention that I feel more than a little awkward doing it at some times. (Especially since I cannot do voices to save my life, and so all my characters just sound like me.)
I do absolutely adore combat, though. There's something about turn-based combat that just scratches such an itch in my brain. (Hence why I loved games like Wildermyth and Divinity: Original Sin.) I have the brain for it, since I have a really good understanding of d&d mechanics, and also a fair mind for logical strategy, at least somewhat.
Actually, funny annecdote from yesterday's session: we were having combat at sea, and the rest of the party was floundering (at one point we had 4 people down), which they claim is due to their year-long curse where all water-based combat goes horribly wrong. Meanwhile, my character, Rook, was all by himself on the back of a whale with 4 enemies, and doing just fine. Was only down 5 HP for 90% of the combat. We joked the reason it was going so well for him was because he's a pirate, so sea-based combat is his natural environment. (The one downside, though, was that he never got to use sneak attack, which is like, the entire point of being a rogue.)
I'm in two campaigns currently (though one hasn't started yet, but will be in a week or two), and I'm having a blast. Even though I'm relatively new to playing d&d, it definitely is one of my special interests. (and I continue to amaze my DM's with my near-encyclopedic knowledge of the rules despite only having been playing for less than a year.)
Hopefully in the future, after these two campaigns, I'll be able to play more and try out more fun and interesting characters, be it with the same people or new ones.
What about you? What do you prefer? And why??
(Sorry this got so long, I am incapable of being to-the-point, especially when it comes to my interests.)
#Anonymous#morrigan replies#random asks#morrigan plays dnd#dnd#(if anyone wants to follow my personal blog where I talk about my d&d adventures more lmk and I'll share the url.)
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10 and 18 🙏🙏🙏
Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?
To me, if I said a piece of writing "haunted" me, it would just mean that I cannot stop thinking about it/am obsessed with it to an unreasonable or unsettling degree, and yeah, that happens to me with other people's writing all the time!! Both with published fiction and also with fanfic. It's so basic of me, but I definitely felt that way after reading The Secret History by Donna Tartt, and also My Brilliant Friend by Elena Ferrante. And probably others too, but those are the two books that first come to mind when it comes to things that consumed my every waking thought for days after I read them.
For my own writing, hmm. I feel like when I'm haunted by my own writing, it's only during the writing process, and it has a more negative connotation. I often get this feeling where I'm obsessed with the world and the idea of what I'm writing, but when I'm in that phase, I'm usually failing at actually putting words on the page, probably BECAUSE I'm overthinking. I'll lay awake at night drowning myself in little scenarious, but never actually write them down, or when I try to write them down, they don't live up to my imagination. That's a bad place to be!! As fun as it is to be consumed by something like that, I definitely don't do my best work when it's happening.
Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.
Oh dear!! I'm so bad at these commentary things, mostly because, as I hinted at above, I think I do my best writing when I'm not thinking too hard about it, so it's often hard for me to go back and talk about how I came up with things or my thought process behind it, because...ideally I wasn't having too many thoughts! But I guess I'll attempt to talk about the opening paragraphs of A Praise Chorus:
Max gives him a birthday card. The envelope is blue, and Daniel thumbs it open carefully to find a picture of two cats in party hats and a hand-scrawled message inside about how he’s over the hill. He laughs and pulls Max into a hug, his mind racing a mile a minute about how—It’s weird, right? It’s so weird. The only people who send him cards anymore are his parents. No one else here got him anything. A lot of them have probably already forgotten it’s his birthday, too focused on their own plans for the weekend, getting laid or getting high.
“Thanks, man,” he says, squeezing Max’s shoulder as they break apart. He can’t look him in the eye. Something itches between his shoulder blades, where Max’s palm rested for maybe a second too long. “Let’s get a drink, huh?”
“I got it,” Max says. Daniel scoffs and waves him off, but later he catches Max slipping a credit card into the hand of a passing waiter. He’s a fucking kid, not even 20 for a couple more months, not even through his second year of F1, and Daniel can afford to buy his own bottles. But Max catches his eye and gives a thumbs up, two bright spots of red high on his cheeks that Daniel would think were sunburn if he didn’t know better.
So, I've recently talked about how the idea of the birthday card saved this fic, because I was totally lost about how to begin it when I first started writing. I originally was trying to open the fic with Max doing the shoey, but I think the reason it wasn't working is because that wouldn't freak Daniel out enough. Which is a weird thing to say about a guy drinking champagne from a shoe, but ultimately I think that's the kind of thing a guy can shrug off as just guys being dudes, you know? Whereas showing up to a San Tropez birthday party with a card of all things is just uncanny enough to send Daniel into a crisis, lol.
I think the part where Max insists on paying for the drinks really drives it home, because again, it'd be totally normal for your buddy-pal to insist on buying you drinks on your birthday, but since Daniel is already off-kilter, it takes on a different kind of meaning for him. I think it sets the tone for the rest of the fic, where Daniel starts to question what's normal and what's not and what it is he's actually feeling. The road to untangling his denial had to start with something he couldn't deny--the birthday card and how it made him feel--and then suddenly it became harder for him to cope with even normal friend stuff.
I hope all that rambling made sense, ahaha. Like I said, I'm bad at this!!
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Fat Evil Women #1 devlog 1
I'm working on a new comic and I thought it would be good to share some notes on its production. I think this will be the only devlog I share publically for this comic; I'll probably include a start-to-finish log with all of the concept art and layout roughs as a tier bonus when I sell this on itch.io later. But, here's a very generous taste.
This comic is eventually going to be sold as a CBR file on itch, but I'm also doing to try printing it on A3 paper [which will be folded] and making a small batch of physical copies to give away. It will probably be 32 pages long. It's going to be an anthology [with one particularly long story]. In other words, it's going to be a complete comic, like one you might buy in a comic shop, rather than something more "informal" in shape. In the future, I plan on making enough of these to collect them in trade paperback form, perhaps as a print on demand book?
So far I've done a couple of layouts and compiled a ton of notes. Work on this project began with a simple two-page layout for a bimbo sequence.
I did all the pencilling, inking, and coloring in between two and four hours I think. The first panel on the second page uses an old drawing of the bimbo character I'd drawn several months ago.
I then made a sequence using a Goblin Queen character I'd created around a year ago. Here's the sequence and the original illustration I'd done. The second incomplete panel is from an old drawing I started but never finished.
Yes, the Goblin Queen who looks nothing like a goblin is meant to be a reference of sorts to the Goblin King from Labyrinth, if you were wondering. Except my Goblin Queen mostly hangs out with dark elves.
These sequences are only meant to be rough guides for the final drawings, but I put way more efforts into my layouts than I actually need to. After making these two page sequences, I decided to do something a little more ambitious.
I illustrated a woman wearing a shiny black dress, and she reminded me of an old indie porno producer character I'd created a while ago named Demonia [please ignore how terrible the old three part sequence looks; I didn't know how to draw fat women yet].
When I started plotting this sequence out in my notebook, it was only four pages long. But I added a bunch of extra panels in later and brought it up to six pages [The numbers are original panels, and the letters are ones I added in after making the first complete rough layout.]
I made some concept art for characters I'd mentioned in the script that didn't have designs yet, as well as a few locations. I then compiled all of that into a CBR file I can refer to while working on the final art [the blacked out bits in the thumbnails are photo references].
I then started work on another sequence that quickly grew beyond the six pages I was initially planning on doing.
A few years ago, when I first started using my Wacom, I illustrated an androgynous spider creature. Much more recently, I started moving overseas and started designing new characters in my sketchbook that I was planning on making digital pieces with later, and I revisited my spider concept. If you overlay the rough spider drawing from the sketchbook page with the digital WIP below, you'll notice I did a whole bunch of warping and stuff to the individual limbs to make it look better.
This WIP will appear in finished form in the spider comic somewhere; look out for it.
Anyways, I decided this spider would be perfect for a weight gain sequence, and so I started making concept art.
This is just a fraction of the concept art I created. I've done at least 15 pages of work for this comic, and a lot of it is exploratory work. In the beginning, I had basically no idea what the plot of the sequence would be, and designing new characters and illustrating scenarios gave shape to the story.
After making maybe three or four pages of sketches, and writing a list of elements I wanted to be in the story in my notebook, I made this rough synopsis of the plot. I then started working on a CBR file for the spider sequence that includes photo references, sketches, old designs I want to repurpose, scans of my notebook, etc.
Work was slowing down in my notebook, and so eventually I made a text document and started writing down panel-by-panel bullet points. Of course this all needs to be adapted into rough visuals, but I covered a lot of ground with this after building my foundation.
You might be wondering what the point of all this pre-production work is. The problem with comics as a medium is that it's extremely time intensive, and so you have to get all of the iterative stuff done long before you put pencil to bristol board for the first time [assuming you only use bristol board during the very last stage of your process].
[Old comic artists were sometimes drawing upwards of 40 pages a month, and they didn't have time to think things out so thoroughly. But for people who aren't drawing multiple books a month, it's been common to do multiple waves of layouts for decades, and this pre-production stuff has only gotten more common. Which is good; quality > quantity. The video on layouts below is a great overview.]
[Note: Apparently Ed Piskor is a massive creep. This was not public knowledge when I wrote this post, and so apologies for the Cartoonist Kayfabe embed.]
youtube
While I was doing layouts in my notebook for this spider sequence, I started working out a page that ended up not hitting all of the notes it needed to. If I'd been drawing by the seat of my pants, it would've been a big problem, but when you're doing layouts with illustrations only two or three steps above stick figure drawings, re-doing a page is not a hassle.
You might be wondering what my actual workflow is for producing finished art. Once I got very used to the feeling of using an Intuos Wacom, I told myself I was going to draw comics entirely digitally. It made a lot of sense; I could use layers, perspective work is a lot easier digitally, and I can fix mistakes and/or warp things a lot more easily.
Over time, I realized I hated doing everything digitally. There are many things that are better digital, like coloring. I prefer drawing pin-ups digitally. But I really don't like drawing an entire page digitally, and I realized my previous serious comic attempts had all petered out when it was time to start doing the final work in the computer, after the layouts and stuff had already been completed.
Of course, I'd tried making professional quality work without computers before. But it's nearly impossible to do that inside of a sketchbook [although I'd drawn many joke comics in highschool using a sketchbook], and using only bristol board I had problems with things like perspective; I have a lot of respect for older artists who couldn't use any digital tools.
So, I've resolved to buy a scanner and printer. I'm going to make final layouts in my art programs that have skeletons laid out where I want them, perspective grids, panel layouts, etc, and then I'll print them onto bristol board using light blue ink [which doesn't get picked up by a scanner]. I'll then do the final pencilling and inking on bristol board, scan those pages, and do any touch-ups and coloring in the computer.
I forgot to mention that none of these comics have words. Perhaps future issues of Fat Evil Women will have dialogue and stuff, but as a conceptual thing this first issue is basically completely silent. When I was making panel grids digitally to start working on some final layouts, I noticed that, when you don't have any speech bubbles, a traditional six panel grid looks way too square and vertical. So, I've decided to make my spider sequence on a four-tier grid, which shouldn't be a massive change. The entire story uses uniform rows, and so it just means moving stuff back. There are no dramatic page-turn moments that will be compromised by this change.
I might have to alter the Demonia sequence as well, but probably not. Since the height of the panels in the two page sequences are variable, I think I'll leave them exactly as they are.
I was planning on including a giantess sequence in this first issue as well, but if I reach 32 pages without it then I'll have to push it to a later issue. But since I'm moving to four-tier layouts, I might end up with a lot fewer pages than expected.
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hi !! i hope you’re doing well ~ i want to say a few things:
one: i’m no longer a mcyt stan and thus i’ve drifted a lot from writings of the community but somehow i always find myself drawn back to tommy’s clinic !! it was maybe ? the first fic i read about mcyt and i started it when it had like say three chapters 😭 seeing the growth since then makes me incredibly happy as a writer myself it’s just… you’re incredible and despite not enjoying the content anymore i will always enjoy your writing
which brings me.. two! i recently ( this morning ) discovered you have a new fic which i believe you call stars? 😭 and !!!!! oh my gosh. everything about it is mindblowing. the world building is incredible like i cannot begin to explain how much i admire it. i feel like i’m reading original work when i read your stories and it’s amazing how you’re able to create something out of a simple liking towards streamers and youtubers and their characters on a roleplay smp 😞🥺 i looooove love love your mind. seriously.
if you have any worldbuilding ( and ch. building too ) tips would you mind leaving them somewhere? 😅 your worldbuilding just itches something in my little author brain and i want to know your main process sooo badly !!
sending love love love !!! i might drop by again so i’ll drop this emoji so you know it’s me 🧸
awww oh my god this is so sweet!! I'm so happy to hear that even if you're not super into mcyt anymore, you still enjoy my writing :D seriously that's so cool to me that people will read my stuff just because of the stories themselves and not bc of the fandom it's for. like, that's one of the highest compliments i think you can give to a fic writer so thank you <33
also ty for the compliments on my worldbuilding i am SO proud of the worlbuilding i've done for stars. while I definitely do make a very strong effort to keep dynamics and relationships in character and to use the canon characteristics of my characters to influence plot, a lot of my fics are just vehicles for original concepts that i plop my blorbos into like i'm playing dollhouse games lol. I'd love to turn stars into an original novel one day with completely new characters, but we'll have to see how that goes
worldbuilding tips!! on the passerine podcast's channel on youtube I recently did a live interview where I was asked about that, so I'll try to give a condensed version of what I said there. when it comes to worldbuilding for me, I try to imagine it like a tree. there's the main trunk that your story is centered around. these are the world concepts that are going to be directly related to your story so you have to flesh them out to make the base of the trunk as thick as possible. examples of the 'trunk' of my stories would be: the way the system of heroes vs villains in clinic, the setup for the vampire hunting academy in notcturnal animals, and the general government structures of both eldingvegr and zephys iv in stars. these are concepts that are integral to the function of the plot, so they have to be very fleshed out and this is what you're going to want to focus on the most.
a lot of worldbuilding tips i see online say to HEAVILY worldbuild everything about your world so it makes everything feel more alive even if you don't end up using it in the story. personally, I disagree with this, at least for my style of writing. if I told myself I had to know the current economic state of the city in clinic just to 'flesh out the world' more I would never get anything done. instead, when it comes to details like that, I try to think of them as branches on the tree. when certain new elements become relevant to the story, you can add a branch onto the base of the trunk and flesh that detail out albeit in a smaller way. examples of branches would be: the entire function of sigil tattoos on humans vs vampires in nocturnal animals, or the details of different side planets in stars like Floslium, Kinoko, Badlands, etc. these are things that you don't have to start fleshing out until you need them to be talked about in the story. don't bog yourself down with worldbuilding trying to write out every detail of every possible character or organization or government that might sow up before you get anything down on a page. get your trunk determined, then start writing and figure out where you need to branch off from there
I don't know if that makes sense but that's how I think of worldbuilding in my head. as far as chapter building goes I don't have as much in depth advice because I don't really have a solid strategy for how i build chapters. it's kind of just based off what plot points I know I need to hit, and how many I can hit in a single chapter.
anyway ty so much anon!! i'll tag your asks as teddy anon bc of the teddy bear emoji, hope this helped!
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8, 13, 37, 38?
8. Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.
"Why are the shakes something you're even looking for?" Phil asks, amused right up until he notices Sneeg using all of his strength to push the barely-eaten golden apple to the edge of the platform. "Hey, hey now, what're you doing?"
"Well, if you actually don't have a problem with it, then you won't mind me wasting one," Sneeg says defiantly, just before his voice breaks with the strain of his exertion. "Right?"
"Right," Phil says slowly, unable to completely bleed the reluctance from his voice. Once again, his feathers are prickling, and it's making the back of his neck itch. Some horrible feeling is twisting inside of him, lies pressing against his teeth in a desperate bid to shield his vulnerability away from Sneeg's beady, prying eyes. "It's...yeah. That's fine. That's totally not a big deal."
"Totally," Sneeg agrees, and both of them watch the apple fall into the lake below, together.
so, this is from my last origins fic about sneeg and phil, and what I really like about this exchange, and a lot of their exchanges I write, is that it sort of showcases their funky power dynamic - neither of them want to lose each other, but they're also always pushing boundaries with each other. it's this carefully threaded tension where sneeg is testing how far he can push phil to reveal his secrets, and phil trying to retain as much control as he can - and fooling himself into thinking that sometimes giving control away makes you come off as stronger than you actually are. they're really fascinating to write to me :)
13. What’s the best writing advice you’ve ever come across?
already answered!
37. Talk about your current wips.
mmm i have so many and very few im paying attention to right now. well, i still want to finish danse macabre, that's mostly plotted out and ready to write, i just need to make time for it. Then there's the hardcore fics I'm in the middle of writing, like the mind control ender king & phil one that I still need to finish + my big memory loss-centered hardcore fic... that's probably the two that are my main priority right now. we'll see how i feel about revisiting my several Older wips (send me another ask and maybe i'll tell you about one of those)
38. Talk about a review that made your day.
ohhh one time i got a double whammy of a lovely long comment + tumblr ask/dm session from lew @/liloinkoink who had some super super kind things to say about red eggs and ham :] their kind words still live in my head to this day for real <33
40 questions for fic writers
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For the ask game I have to ask the obvious one: Dorian Storm?
look you're so valid for this ask. he is the Bard, the Boy, the Legend
First impression: okay so I saw dorian live from episode 1 of EXU and he was my immediate favorite. over the course of EXU that was taken over by dariax (himbo beloved), but my immediate first thoughts of dorian were that he was going to play into one of my favorite tropes in existence, which is spoiled/rich kid with a good heart ala fabian seacaster or taryon darrington or beverly toegold. a boy who is Posh and has a very skewed idea of how the world works learns over time and finds family kind of deal. while he is from privileged means (prince???? lord???? robbie pls just drop the lore), this is more a backstory than a core character trait like i assumed initially.
Impression now: absolutely fascinating character and character choices. i have absolutely seen interesting takes on bards and self-conscious bards before, but i've never seen it done quite like this. the way robbie toes the line of charisma and self-consciousness is wonderful, especially in relation to his brother and the way charisma was probably one of the few advantages he had over cyrus growing up. i'll be so sad when robbie leaves the table and i'm very hopeful he'll be a returning guest who can come in whenever robbie's schedule and the narrative allows. additionally, pertaining to his EXU arc, one of the BEST corruption arcs ever. he really went "i will lose my lawful alignment if it protects my friends."
Favorite moment: god how do you pick just one??? some highlights: the panic after dariax steals his clothes in the byroden pageant and thus he wears dariax's clothes that are wayyy too small. all the little dorym battle moments since campaign 3 started. "reminded me of drama club :)" also dorian and fearne's stealing interaction in c3e1 like "i literally just told you a story about being pickpocketed and you try to steal???" "all i heard is that stealing is easy here!!"
Idea for a story: i mean this is me itching for dorian backstory but once we get a better idea of where exactly dorian comes from, because i don't think it's on the same plane as exandria, i would love to see a story about his relationship with his brother growing up. i can imagine it as a sort of short story of vignettes of all the ways cyrus was "better" "bigger" "stronger" and dorian finding his strength in his music.
Unpopular opinion: can't think of a ton, but maybe that i don't NEED dorian to be a full time PC? i'm going to miss dorian so much once he's gone, but i do think this is a fabulous opportunity to, as i said, create a sort of new type of recurring guest PC. something ala kash and zahra in c1 but even more frequent. (although, if they suddenly sprung an announcement like 'robbie's here to stay forever' i can't say i'd be mad)
Favorite relationship: i think i'm gonna stick to my guns and say doriax aka D&D aka the double Ds, which was my original ship. BUT dorym is edging in there based on campaign 3 interactions. they're both amazing relationships with a ton of depth (both in and out of a romantic implication!)
Favorite headcanon: ive said this before but dorian writes dariax letters!!! he's travelling around marquet and adventuring with only half the EXU crew and he sends dariax letters about what he's doing and then it kind of slips into how he's feeling.... and he misses dariax (and opal) :)
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And what a year it has been. I have decided to not be original and follow the steps of other IF authors and have a little final updates on this year.
I don't really talk much about personal things on this Tumblr (maybe I should, maybe I should leave it like this), but it has been a strange year. I moved across the world early 2021, had to deal with a terrible administration to have my papers in orders (it took for some 8 months you guys...), lost some people and almost lost some more, was hella bored waiting for things to come through (completely out of my control), met some new people, had a small culture clash along the way... and, most importantly, survived another year (even with the C-panini looming over our heads - get vaccinated and boosted).
One highlight of this year was coming to this hell of a website and interacting with cool people, exchanging ideas and information, and working in even cooler projects. I think what saved my sanity was starting creating IF stuff. Sure I had to take a (long) break or two along the way, but helped so much with keeping a semblance of a routine (with M's help too).
Since April-ish, I have worked on a bunch of stuff (see the Master list). There is probably too much I want to say about these projects, so I'll limit myself to a few words each. Meeting the Parents was a RIDE, that taught me a coding language or two and some cool praises. Crimson Rose and White Lily has been and still is EXCITING, and reminded me to keep things simple and organized. Exquisite Cadaver was QUICK but not easy, and took me in a deeper dive into coding and macro use. TTTT was PAUSED as soon as it started, but it will come back hopefully sometime next year. And other ideas and projects that are still in the infant stage.
As I dived back into writing, something that I had forsaken for too many years, I learned a lot about myself and what I liked doing. I worked hard... and also barely. I wrote much more than I thought I would, and also barely finished NaNoWriMo. I failed many, many, times and also succeeded (unless you are called Tweego, I will master you next year!). I have given up and started again. I have been excited and annoyed, infuriated and ecstatic, and felt so much that I thought I would not feel as deeply again (fuck you, depression). And I have worked a lot on myself. I don't think I can completely stop comparing myself to other people, in how much or well I write or the numbers I get; or stop myself from feeling undeserving and out of place in this space. But sharing some stuff that is not always shared here and be vulnerable here has helped me tremendously. I can still be afraid to fail, but it is getting easier to get over with it.
This year has been great. This year has been terrible. It is ending just fine, around people I love and care, with some lovely food and drinks. I hope you are able enjoy the passage into the new year as happily as I definitively will.
Boy-o-boy am I excited for this new year!
I can't wait to get deeper into the IF Ocean and its wonderful games. I don't think I have been trying out as many games as I wanted, but I have already set myself some time to look up fun demos to try out and be excited about. I have a saved list already on itch. I also want to be more part of the community in terms of supporting other authors (as much as I can, cause we are all #broke here). Expect some bunch of reblogs maybe?
There are a few projects that I have on the horizon:
First, CRWL Chapter 2 should be out some time in 2022 Q1 (depends on how fast the re-drafting/proofreading goes).
I do want to finish and submit TTTT to the next IF Comp, the code is there and works, I just need to do the hard part of actually writing characters and backstory.
M has been hard at work with his Lovecraftian-inspired IF, which I will code (yay for less work!); I will take whatever is done and probably submit it to a Halloween-themed jam on itch later this year. I have read his file and I have to say... THIS IS SO COOL. Unfortunately, he is going to have busy days ahead so progress will be ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Some other stuff I am looking forward to:
I think one of my games will be hitting a milestone soon.
Next month will be the 6-month anniversary of CRWL, and like MtP I am planning on doing a small retrospection on how well it is doing and some stuff I've learnt working on this project.
Some other IFs I am following are getting an update or are releasing their demos.
Finally making Tweego my b*tch (hopefully... it's really not easy 😭)
My birthday will be coming up sooner than I'd like it too. But I've stopped being afraid of seeing my age grow and not feeling like I am keeping up with my peers. I am really looking forward to my favourite meal 😂
Finally, I've been toying with the idea of getting some sort of Kofi or add a Donate button to my itch page. And a Discord for beta testers. I'd need to mull it over a bit longer.
Anyway... see you all in the new year! Luv ya!
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For the director's cut: Could you do Nice Work If You Can Get It? (Eliseo/Padgett)
That fic... Changed me. I'll never forget it TBH.
Yes, I'd be happy to! This one was really fun to write, and it was the beginning of two OCs I am very fond of now (and who I am happy to know made an impression on quite a few people!).
(If anyone enjoys this director's cut thing and wants to see one for another of my stories, ask away. I had a lot of fun!)
Commentary in bold below the cut! NSFW, mess, deliberately sneezing on people, m/m
This story started from a prompt about one character hiring someone to get them sick. An intriguing idea!! But it was one I actually struggled with finding a groove for when I started out. I actually started a few different scenarios with different character dynamics before I figured this one out. I have a 2600-word WIP of a different version of this in my "unfinished" folder.
"All right... close your eyes."
Eliseo swallowed and did so, blocking out his bedroom, the red-gold sunset light pouring in from the windows, and Padgett, who was straddling his hips. He could still hear, quite easily, the other man's labored breathing and feel the heat of his thighs... and his crotch. Eliseo was under no illusion that he was in an incredibly compromising position at the moment. He hadn't thought much about the.. particulars when he'd first decided to strike this deal.
"Are we really doing this?" he asked, voice weak.
I can't really write fetish porn without including actual porn lol, so from the beginning it was sexy even without the snz. In this version, the POV character is Eliseo, who is the "naive" character in a way. I pretty much write pairs where one character has the fetish and their partner does not but is indulgent. The one with the fetish is usually embarrassed about it or somehow naively realizing they like this weird-ass thing.
Padgett laughed, voice tumbled and edging on hoarse. "Hey now. Not getting cold feet are we, my lord?" His exhale ghosted over Eliseo's forehead and his tousled black hair touched Eliseo's cheek.
Padgett is the confident character, and he brought the humor to this scenario!
Eliseo cleared his throat. "No..." He could imagine the other man's smug look. They'd known each other long enough now that the image rose unbidden to his mind's eye. Padgett's eyes always glittered like opals when he was scheming something.
Padgett surprised him with a tender touch on the shoulder, and he almost opened his eyes again. "The safe word is 'pumpernickel,'" he said, managing not to chuckle. "We can stop whenever you want... Hhk-" He fought off a gasp. "Decide hh quickly, though."
Eliseo shivered. "I'm okay. Let's do it." He didn't want to admit it, but Padgett's reassurance did put him at ease, even if this had been his idea. He relaxed and tried to lose himself in the late afternoon heat.
"Yehh-s, my lord." Padgett leaned forward and took a shaky breath. It stuttered and caught on invisible hooks, sounding at once to be full of potential and then gone again, like a ghost at the window. Eliseo could feel his body tightening again with anticipation, especially when Padgett gasped and leaned back. "Hh-... hah--
"A ghost in the window" eehhh this is kind of overworked. I like to write descriptively even when it isn't necessary.
"Huh-ktschht!"
A warm rush of air burst in Eliseo's face, almost immediately followed by a watery spray over his forehead, closed eyes, and nose. His instant reaction was to curl back, or try to, and he had his hands braced on Padgett's chest before he could think about it.
I had never written anything quite this scandalous as it were. There hadn't been a lot of snzfic I had read where there was direct, purposeful contagion like this or quite so much mess description directly on the skin, the face even. So I was sweating while writing this lol.
"Hey now," said Padgett, delayed by a sniffle. His tone was light. "Easy. You specified this in the contract, remember?" He rested his hands lightly on Eliseo's wrists. "How are you feeling about it?"
CONSENT IS THE SEXIEST THING. We get this instinctual edge of revulsion from Eliseo because he has not acknowledged to himself that he likes snz yet and also he has never allowed anyone to do this to him before because why would anyone do this?
Eliseo found he was holding his breath, but- Well, that would defeat the purpose of this exercise. He cautiously let it go and then opened his eyes. Padgett was gazing down at him, looking neither smug nor concerned, just curious. "I- this was on instinct," Eliseo murmured. After a beat, he lowered his hands, and Padgett let him go easily.
"Yes, I imagine so. It's natural." Padgett smiled then, and then his expression crinkled. "Wh- hh- want to do it again? Hkt-- hhh..."
Eliseo forced himself to surrender again to his pillows. "Yes." Again, he closed his eyes. Padgett shifted forward on his lap and oh- but then he was sneezing one more.
"Huh- hktsschit!" Again, the spray. This time it dusted over Eliseo's nose and mouth. He fought to keep from thinning his lips and... took a deeper breath. Padgett hadn't moved, was still fighting with his own lungs, reeling in another insistent sneeze like a stubborn trout. "Huh- hh... hh hh huh-" He made an annoyed sound. "Hah-- hah-krttschtts!" Eliseo felt droplets of saliva decorate his cheekbone. Padgett sniffled thickly.
I think artists often point out how funny it is that when they're drawing they mimic the face of the character. I do this with sneeze sounds (IF I'M ALONE). I tend to like softer sounds for my characters, so a lot of sibilance creeps in.
"...Bless you," Eliseo murmured. He was feeling hot. Maybe it was Padgett on top of him. The man was running a fever. "You are... doing the job admirably."
That earned him a laugh. Padgett shifted his weight to his heels, which did interesting things to his cock's relation to Eliseo's own. "Thanks, I guess? I never would have thought anyone would be hiring for this, much less you."
"Circumstances are dire," Eliseo intoned without a hint of irony.
Eliseo is a card. I love him. Of the two of them he is much more my preferred "type." He is similar to my mage character Llewellyn but less fussy.
"Mmhm." Padgett sniffled again. "You must really hate weddings. Couldn't you have just gone on a hunt or something this weekend instead?"
Eliseo sighed. "No. My sister would do anything to ruin my plans if I tried to avoid the party any normal way. But luckily, she's terrified of germs. I think a miserable head cold will be the ticket." Like hell he wanted to sit through another of his sister's weddings. Every time it was some new, world-changing drama. He wasn't even sure whether the groom this time was noble born. No doubt the reception gossip would be scathing.
What absolute drivel.
There's a little "my lord" up there before, but this is kind of where the setting is characterized - Eliseo is a noble and this is a time and place where nobility matters. However, it's also anachronistic, because germ theory is a thing. They're kind of in a pseudo Regency/Victorian world where I just write whatever feels like the most fun.
"Lucky also that you have me around, hm?" Padgett's next chuckle turned into a bit of a cough.
Eliseo patted his knee awkwardly. "I- well, yes. Very. But believe me when I say that I would not wish for you to be so stricken if I had the power to stop it."
People with shitty immune systems are my jam. Even if it's really unlikely, I love it. Sometimes especially if it's unlikely. Like mister high elf Llewellyn, or if they're a god or angel or something. Or in a world where if you had that bad of an immune system you probably would have died of diphtheria or pneumonia by now.
"Of course, my lord." Padgett rubbed his nose. And though his breath hitched a few times in the following moments, he stayed where he was.
Eliseo blinked. "Are we...?" Done? He didn't really think the exposure had been long enough. "I am ready."
Padgett blushed a little. Blushed?
"Sorry," he said. "I can kind of feel that, uh, the uh, next ones are going to be kind of... wet. I could blow my nose." His voice trailed off, wavering again. His nostrils twitched, and Eliseo did see within the promise of moisture.
Perhaps it was the taboo of it, but Eliseo was alerted instantly to a sudden thickening of his cock. It pressed at his trousers with some gusto as Padgett sniffled again. Eliseo swallowed. "No. No, this is good. This will... help."
After consent, MESS is the sexiest thing. That's just how it goes. I don't make the rules.
Padgett gave him a considering look, at least as well as he could between soft gasps and squinting against the itch in his nose. "If you're sure, my lord."
"Just- call me Eli, like you used to," said Eliseo, stumbling over the words. He wasn't sure where they had come from, but now they were bare between them. Still, perhaps a bit of affection wasn't so odd compared to what they were already doing. Eliseo closed his eyes on Padgett's startled look.
I wasn't sure where this came from either. But suddenly they were in love and I was cool with it. Eli btw is pronounced like the name (Ee-lye) but Eliseo is pronounced Ell-ee-zay-oh in my mind. It's of Latin origin and means "God is my salvation" according to that authority Babynames.com lol. Padgett means "attendant" so that was chosen partially because he's Eliseo's employee but also because Padgett is just a SUPER English-sounding name. I really enjoy looking up name meanings and representing different traditions in my characters. I tried to give Eliseo's family members Latin names, too, although they're not mentioned here.
"Eli," Padgett said, and he sounded like he'd just come home from a long war to find the hearth kept warm for him. "I will." He leaned forward again, bracing himself. "Now, I'm going to- to hih-- to snhhsneeze, hah-- haktschtsch! Hrh- Hnkgstschhiu!
More spray this time, more wetness, and Eliseo gasped himself when he felt a thick drip against his chin. Padgett hadn't moved. When Eliseo tentatively looked up, he saw his friend caught in a limbo of urgency. His green eyes were shut, eyelashes fluttering. His nostrils, gently pink now, flared. A clear trail hung from one of them, quivering as Padgett panted. He looked wild and fever bright and teetering on a precipice. Eliseo ignored what it might mean that Padgett's desperate expression, his wet nose - even the mess - suddenly went to his cock. He was hard, looking up at a portrait of a sneeze.
Sometimes you just have to stop writing for a second and drink some cold water or something.
Carefully, he placed a hand on Padgett's thigh. "It's okay," he said, words coming of their own accord. "I've got you."
Padgett's fingers tightened fitfully in the sheet as he shifted his weight again. He was making soft, irritated noises. His nostrils flared and Eliseo saw another drip lying in wait on the cusp.
Fingers tightening fitfully in a sheet is a thing I love to describe. If you binge-read everything I've written, you will find that I write snz and sex in a very particular way over and over. Because that's what I like! And I'm super glad readers like it as well! But I can basically only find the motivation to write what I enjoy (when I write at all... .__.), which is why I only write m/m or nb characters and such.
When the urge became too much, it was like watching a wave finally crash down. Padgett's breath caught; he tensed and leaned back. Eliseo hurriedly closed his eyes again, and none too soon.
"Hhhhrektschuckh!"
He felt the mess streak his face, fly to spatter his mouth and nose and chin. Padgett moaned and then gasped again, chest swelling with air.
SCANDALOUS
"Hah- Huhrttschuh! Hshtt! Hah- hsshtt!" Again, he teetered, teasing the air with shivering gasps. Then, he abruptly folded with a crush of vowels and congestion. "Hggtschiucht!"
A baptism, pondered Eliseo's brain as it detached from reality momentarily. Pinned as he was to the bed by Padgett's sex, he couldn't move when he felt himself coming just as abruptly as the sneeze. Somehow the slick wash had become a mounting sense of urgency in each of his muscles, racing from his fingertips and toes to his abdomen, where, quite unbidden, his cock had tugged all that energy into a gut-wrenching orgasm that sent the shockwaves back out with renewed vigor.
Padgett whined, and Eliseo took him firmly by the shoulders and drew him in for a messy, off-putting, contagious, blindingly good kiss.
"Wow," said Padgett, when they finally broke for air.
Wow, lol. I have a great imagination. I wish I could make myself write more often.
"Don't ask me why," Eliseo muttered, but he refused to be made a fool of by embarrassment. "C- come here." He shifted to sit up further and put his hands on Padgett's hips. "I want-" He wanted. "This. Yes?" Before he could stop himself, he swept his tongue over Padgett's mouth, under his nose, to rest at the edge of a nostril. He tasted salt. It was not entirely pleasant, but whatever pilot was captaining his body right now didn't care. He could still feel his cock pulsing against his trousers.
Also the first time I wrote anything like this, but Eliseo was like go big or go home, so.
Padgett moaned. "It feels... odd. But, my lord, you can do what you- I mean, Eli." He was breathless for different reasons now.
Eliseo laved the tender skin above Padgett's lips, then licked up his septum. When Padgett shivered, Eliseo kissed him again. Slowly, he cleaned away the mess from Padgett's face. When he was finished, neither of them knew what to say. Eliseo was hard again.
Huahaha Eliseo can have an unrealistic refractory period. I don't really give a shit how accurate this stuff is when it would get in the way of the enjoyment. Not to the point where people are just going in without lube or something crazy like that, but being willing and able to go again is just sexy, so that's fine.
Finally, Padgett laughed shyly. "I think you'll be catching your cold, Eli."
Eliseo blushed and shrugged. "I should hope so. I am-" He bit his lip. "I'm not ready to stop. Will you stay the night? I'll look after you."
Padgett kissed him, tenderly drawing them together. "I would like that, very much."
And then they DEFINITELY banged. I hadn't conceptualized their specific history together at this point, but Eliseo and Padgett were FWB while younger, so the "surprise" at meeting again like this in a sexy fashion is more like "Oh, are we doing this now, as adults with drastically different social standing?" and less "Hey, are you into me??"
I got more than one request to write the direct sequel to this, but I dunno. I usually prefer one character in the pair to be the one who is sneezing, and writing Eliseo sick isn't as fun. Partially because I'm much, MUCH more interested in the shy/embarrassed/"voyeur" dynamic, so someone who gets off on their own sneezes really does nothing for me. I do have a WIP of Eliseo sick that is a direct sequel to Carriage Shenanigans, but I have no idea if it will ever get finished.
Thanks so much for the request for this very fun exercise!
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THE EVER-CHANGING STORY OF LUNARIS
*SOME OF THESE CHARACTERS AND PLACES ECT. DO NOT BELONG TO ME, THEY WERE MADE BY LUNARIS GAMES FOR THE INTERACTIVE VISUAL NOVEL "WHEN THE NIGHT COMES" AVAILABLE EITHER FROM THIER WEBSITE OR ON ITCH. THE COVER IS ALSO FROM LUNARIS GAMES (ITS THIER PIN SET FOR SALE ON THIER SITE)
https://www.wtncgame.com/collections/pins-charms/products/wtnc-holo-sparkle-charms
This is a project I started to maintain my boredom so ill be using the characters from a really great visual novel called when the night comes written by lunaris. Go check it out! ill be writing about all the characters including you being the x reader. After I've introduced the plot and characters and if i have enough readers, I'll let you guys pick who I right the first romance ending with, the endings will probably have a bit of smut so if your just wanting to know the story you don't have to read the romantic endings
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Chapter One: Unwelcome start
My feet are killing me and its hot and dark, I'm walking through unfamiliar woods. All I can smell is tree leaves decaying and pine. To fill you in without telling you my life story and having a pity party, I'm one of the few shifting Dire Wolves left. We are a dying breed since people and monsters were coexisting now, I'm over joyed about the mixing of the populations but as the wolves breed with humans our ability to shift is slowing leaving as the generations grow. I on the other hand wasn't liked by much of anyone. I grew up around old town human folk. Both parents had been killed by townsfolk and luckily the little who girl found me as a puppy was nice enough to bring me to her home. That little girl became my life. Her blonde hair reminded me of wheat in the fall and she smelled of old moth balls and freshly cooked bacon. Kasey was a lonely child born a bastard and then left alone when her mom left into town one day. She didn't come home that night. She had the kindest eyes. They say eyes are the window to the soul and hers was broken and glued back together so many times that you couldn't recognize her original beauty. She brought me to a little cabin back in the woods where I stayed with her and her grandmother. I stayed out of school because at the time freaks weren't exactly normal. I learned everything through Kasey and her homework as I grew up. We played in the old field through the woods and down an old forgotten gravel road. She would always tease me about my ears but she loved my big bushy tail. Kasey was a pure soul and sometimes id have to remind her how special she was especially during the times to come. She became ill in late fall, losing her ability to walk and becoming more and more pale from the lack of sunlight. We were told she had an immune issue that couldn't be fix with the medicine we had then and magic was a cure but was also out of the question since anyone who was seen as a witch was seen as a harm to the community and burned at the stake. It wasn't that way in the big towns with lots of people coming and going bustling about, but down here in the boon dock of the forgotten swamp everyone had the same opinion. anything new and different was and and therefore had to be destroyed.
When I was around six Kasey succumb to her unfortunate circumstances in her sleep and she took her welcome with her. I think that maybe it was one of the few mercies I've ever seen god do for someone. After she died the grandmother, already being on her last years, passed not long after that. With nothing holding me to that little shack in the woods I moved on. I was never given a name and so along the way I've figured out who and what I am. Remind me to tell you that one later on, I've been walking for a few days with my satchel made from rabbit fur with old shoe laces holding it together, Kasey in her better days stayed bored in her old pink bedroom reading the same book she had on the old bookcase in the living room. Her grandmother went to the market in town most days to sell her vegetables. she would bring us home sweets and toys. For Kasey's birthday she bought her a bag of fabric rabbit fur and some thread and needles to teach her to sew hoping that would cure her boredom. A few months before she passed, she hurriedly finished off the synch bag with one of her shoelaces from her boots. That bag is the one I have with me now. My clothes and few days worth of food is in it as well. I had been shifted into my wolf form going on 48 hours now and my (F/C favorite color ) fur was now stained with mud and leaves from the nights sleep in a dug out hole. The last sign of civilization was back in my home town. it was now night time again and had seen no sign of a town any where close. It was getting dark and my joints were burning from the pain of walking. I quickly found a soft spot in the ground digging up a little hole to lay in for the night. The woods around me creaked with shifting wood and wind rustling the foliage. Harry had become the governor a while back suddenly disappeared recently in his home base in Lunaris. That's where Kasey's grandmother went for hours everyday to be a part of the market so I decided to see if there was anywhere I could stay and maybe get a job and start a life for myself. All this time I had no real name, Kasey never named me. She wanted me to be able to choose it for myself and I'm now 20 in human years. Our bodies aged in human instead of dog years another kind of pro with the watering down of the generations. I had gone through all of Kasey's family and school friends, even people she heard the name of by passing by in church, I'd heard all the names and thought about them and said them all out loud the see how they role off the tongue and I finally settled on (Y/N) tonight.
I had fallen asleep at some point and shifted back into human form curling around my bag to protect it from the outside. Suddenly the ground around me started to shake and the foliage covering the entrance to the den started to shake loose and fall in. At this point I'm wide awake and have my back to the wall and head in a snarl towards the entrance not knowing why or what had shaken the ground so harshly. I smell a fowl smell that reeks of something I've never smelled before. It began to burn my nose like alcohol or whatever grandma had in the wash rooms for spring cleaning. I heard twigs breaking and a long groan that howled with the wind. My heart was racing not knowing what to expect to come through the entrance and that's when I saw the light from the moon blocked by a large shadow. I braced for a fight when suddenly it let out a yelp of pain as I see two or three other shadows chase it to the right of the hole. Lots of yelling from men and women can be heard along with lots of new smells. All of them had hints of sweat and fear but some of them were odd. One was carried in on a breath of lavender and honey and the other of burnt wood like a fire place. One also smelled like chocolate and for a split second I smelled the familiar canine sent, Another wolf or maybe a half breed Lykan. I laid there and listened as the group seemed to quickly dominate whatever that creature was and if there's a group of hunters then there has to be a town. I wait for the noise to die out before I stick my head out of the hole to check my area. I look at the position of the moon and start to get a better idea of how long I was asleep. I think it must have been at least 3 in the morning. I grabbed my bag and pulled myself out of the hole, shaking off loose dirt and changing myself back into that big furry wolf I've become used to and walk towards where I heard the commotion to catch the scent of where they had gone. The creature they fought was dead on the ground covered in its black oozing blood. It looked like a genetic mutation of some kind gone very wrong and the smell almost could knock you out, if your a dog that is. I heard a snap of a twig in the distance and that's when I caught the scent of a dying summer, decaying flowers and dying memories.
I see a blue glow coming from an object a few feet in front of me hidden in the darkness of the trees, whatever it was it made it very clear that I was unwelcome and that I was seen as a threat. I bent neck down feeling the hair along my spine start to stand on end as I snarled my teeth in the direction of the ominous blue glow. Suddenly the tense feeling in the air dropped, you could feel the tension melt away and in that second the strange creature pushes forward into the moonlight. A man with golden eyes and a mechanical arm moves forward looking with his hands raised. "My names Finnegan and I know you wont hurt me because your not just any wolf am I right?" The sudden question brushes me as weird and out of place but regardless it only makes me all the more persistent that he not come any closer. He stops in his tracks and sits in the tall grass he had been previously standing in. We sat there like that for what seems like forever and he seemed to feel talkative because he asked question after question. I looked around to think of what direction I wanted to go in order to get away from here .
"You know it would be easier to go to Lunaris." he said picking at something under his nails. I look at him tilting my head, can he hear my thoughts? I didn't think humans could do such things but he didn't look like a human. Not with the fangs like that and those pointed ears. "No I'm not human I'm a vampire, I live in Lunaris with my friends. I actually have a Lykan friend as well so you wont be alone." I bent my ears back in annoyance, tired of the vamp imposing on my thoughts. I decided I would speak with him but not in this form. As a Lykan I could still stay able to protect myself and be able to speak to this other freak of nature in front of me. In order to do so I'd have to get away from this vampire long enough to cover myself. Almost instantly the vamp got up causing me to jump. "There's a graveyard a little ways from here, you can shift and change in the maintenance shed. As I'm sure you heard earlier there are some odd creatures in these woods so ill walk you to town myself. Then I can take you to Ezra and have him give you a once over." he began to walk and turned around about five feet away to ask if I was going to follow, I decide that this town might be a start to a weird series of events. We made our way through the woods to a small path of cleared trees and some sand, we followed that to the graveyard behind a large church like building and that's when I saw the small shed. "I'll stand behind the shed towards the woods I'm sure nobody is awake so you shouldn't have to worry about townsfolk." I shifted back into my Lykan form and hurry into the shed. My (hair length) (H/Color) hair fell over my face as I shoved myself into my tight jeans and put my long sleeve white shirt on. my ears still sat on the top of my head and my tail is swishing back and forth in anticipation of how this town was going to accept a new comer and a freak at that. I threw on the hoodie I had found hanging on a tree on my way out of my old town, probably left by one of the boys in the old town. I smoothed my fur down and walked out of the shed with my bag in my hands, I peaked my head around the corner and caught the golden eyes of the man called Finnegan as he's leaned against the shack with his arms crossed.
I walk up to him with my arm wrapped around my bag and offered him the other. "My names (y/n), sorry about the weird introduction but I really just have no clue where I am or where I'm going." he grinned and studied me before opening up and talking again. "You cleanup really well don't you (y/n)." I simply lowered my head as a response and shrugged my shoulders. " It would suck to have to stay as wolf all the time because I'm just to ugly to look at as a Lykan." he laughs flashing his fangs and approaching me and taking my hand pulling me closer to him to where we were inches apart. "Ugly is one thing you aren't, if your this pretty as a Lykan then I cant wait to see you in human form" he then snuck his arm around my waist turning me around as he began to walk to the town. "How did you know I could do that?" I stopped him and I could see his grin form as he turned around to meet my eyes. "I've been alive a long time (y/n). when the old man who sired me was alive he'd tell us stories of the dire wolves that lived in the forest in the mountains. He would tell us stories of how they had almost repopulated in a town not far from here, completely unannounced to the world growing among the town folk." he looked away suddenly his essence changed from one of wisdom and confidence to one of remorse and sadness. He began to walk once again motioning for me to follow. "That is until the townsfolk caught wind of such rumors. He banded together the higher ups and went through exposing half the town to be," he grimaces as if saying the name leaves a sour taste in his mouth, "werewolves as the humans put it." We had just made it through a small alley leading too a large stone road. This is the first time I've heard the real story aloud of what happened to my parents that day. Suddenly I didn't feel much like talking anymore and the vampire noticed this as we made it to the closed up and dark market side of town. Large tents and shacks were on both sides of the road, I'm sure it looks much nicer when its open and bustling with people. "I'll have to show it to you." he says suddenly again answering my thoughts as if id said them aloud. "You know Finn I love your interest in me but I think its kind of of rude to read others thoughts right?" His eyes suddenly dart away and clears his throat, "Not if the person has particularly loud thoughts but I do see what you mean. Nasty habit it is, been aiming to fix that." We both laugh for a bit and then he heads for a door on the right side of the road raising his metal arm to touch the door. When his hand makes contact, Finn says a few words in another language and his arm burst to life flowing with blue lights. The door makes a noise and a shield seams to lower into Finn's hand as he opens the door. He pulls me in and I'm immediately overwhelmed at the smells around me, some fragrant like perfumes and others dirty like burning wood. He had shelves of boxes and books, homemade spells and food with jars of candy lining the shelves.
Finn puts the wards back up and leads me to the kitchen where he sits me down at the wooden table across from the couch and the wall covered in art work, "Wait here while I run upstairs and get the witch you just relax and think if anything hurts or needs to be looked at." with Finns vampy speed skills he vanishes up the stairs to get this so called witch, I certainly do hope I don't meet the same fate as my parents once did in this town years ago. I here rustling and movement up the stairs as a dark skinned man comes running to me with worried eyes and open arms. he cups my face in his hands and scans me over for any sign of blood or wounds. "Finnegan she looks alright, you made her out to be as if she'd been attacked." He looks back at Finn letting go of my face in order to hit him in the head just enough to scuffle his hair. He then turns around to me and straightens up his robe and his curly mop of hair, I hold out my hand to introduce myself and he grabs it with both hands pulling me in with a smile. "I'm Ezra and this my little spells and Knick knack shop." he has a strange contagious happiness that causes my worries and doubts to slip away. He rubs his hand through my hair making his way to my ears checking for ticks and mites since my ears are much different from human ears. "Are you ok," He says we a worry filled smile and motions me to sit down, I obey as my feet have become numb after so many days of walking. He reaches into his shelves and pulls out a kettle and a metal box of herbs and tea bags for homemade blends. "Go on love what happen? Why are you out in the woods at this hour?" I yawned in response of all their questions and simply said, "No disrespect Ezra but I'm exhausted and my feet are throbbing, I think the walking has caught up to me." He nods knowing what I mean. Ezra hands me a cup of tea and some cookies from a jar up in the cabinet. "Right I'm sorry. Let me help Finn out and I'll come back and run you a bath with herbs and salts to get you well rested and ready for tomorrow." He and Finn stepped to a hatch underneath the rug in Ezra's common quarters. I took a few cookies sneaking them into my bag so that I can eat them later as well, they were ( favorite kind ) cookies and i couldn't resist the temptation to stuff my face.
Finn calls my name waving as he disappears into the hole and Ezra closes it back up and covers it again. "Alright now to get you all set, come with me up stairs." I follow behind slowly hating every step up those stairs but it was well worth it when I made it. He had a big circle tub surrounded in stone, it looked to be able to fit two people and the water come up pretty high. The twinkling lights hanging from the ceiling were different shades of blue purple and pink with a magical blue flamed candle hanging on the wall in a glass case. The tub was filled with steaming water and flower petals, the room smelled of pine and mint with citrus chopped up into slices and dropped into the water. Bubbles had covered the top of the water like snow and smelled like lavender and honey. His bathroom was pure happiness and love expressed in his home. "Now this bath should help your muscles not be sore in the morning and it should help you fall asleep tonight, I hate to ask but should I check you for ticks or scratch's anywhere on you?" I shrugged as my body was still covered in fur and it could be hiding anything but I was so self conscious about my body that I wouldn't dare ask for his help with this task. I point my head down and hugged myself as if to comfort myself. Ezra looked at me with kind eyes and hands me a towel, "Its ok if you aren't comfortable with it, just promise me you'll come and let me take any off for you. They carry lime disease and other things that can harm you!" as he goes to grab the handle to leave I grab his arm. I muster up all the courage I can and whispered, "Can you stay and help me Ezra?" He smiles and blushes slightly, wrapping me in a hug, "of course!" He closes the door and stays turned around as I take my clothes that I have on now off and grab the robe from the wall and cover myself. "Alright your ok to look now." I say in a small voice. "Alright I'm gonna start with your legs and work my way up and after your done you can use my cats flea shampoo to make sure everything is clean and gone. I nod my head agreeing and let him begin, he rubs his soft hands over my paw pads massaging as he goes looking for any bumps or imperfections. He comes across a tick that had made itself at home on my inner thigh , he poked and prodded at it for a few minutes but it was resistant to all his attempts. "You know fur is great but I just don't think I could do a full body of it." He laughs and I return his joke with a giggle of my own. "Would it be easier if there was no fur?" I ask searching his face for his reaction. At first he looks confused and he seemed to be racking his brain for what I could be saying. "Well I'm certainly not going to shave you if that's what your asking." he smiles and we both laugh. I trusted Ezra I didn't sense any type of misjudgment or threat coming from this simple witch.
I began to shift into my human form and my leg grew smaller in his hand and the once thick course fur is now bare soft human skin. The robe that was a perfect fit before, is now hanging down off my shoulders. It draped around me like a sheet and Ezra had stayed quiet so far, only staring wide eyed and enchanted at the sight. My hair falls in front of my face as I smile at him, "Is that any better?" He's still not said a word so far, just staring at my face and rubbing my legs searching for the fur that was no longer there. "Now how did you do that? spell? hallucinations? Are you even a wolf?" He seems stunned and unsure of what to say, he did however have lots of questions some of which I could answer and others was searching for myself. We talked while taking the ticks that had made themselves at home on me off finally, burning them as he went. his hands glided over me like soap and his hands felt like heaven against my skin. "I'm honestly stunned I didn't think of it before you told me, I remember in school they use to mention small things about dire wolves but they never dove into that chapter which I guess was because you guys were believed to have died out long ago. but behold!" he places some bubbles on my he'd and smiles so wide that his eyes look squinty. "your here1 So obviously the world didn't lose all of its beautiful one of a kind dire wolves." What a sweet happy minded guy, he seemed to only be able to see the silver lining and if he could see the other side of things then he hides his emotions very well. It didn't take much for the mud and dirt that was previously there to fall away into the soapy water. Ezra had gone to make himself a cup of tea and was waiting in his room for when I was done. My hair had been shampooed and I washed my body with the bar of soap sitting on the side of the tub. It was green and purple but see through, there was a small flower in the middle and there seemed to be small beads in the soap that came out as you washed. It smelled like roses and vanilla, the smell reminded me of Ezra. Soon I got out and dried myself off with the lavender towel Ezra had left behind, throwing the robe on and heading to where Ezra had said his room was. He had laid out a large t-shirt and a pair of women's shorts? I hadn't seen a women in here before and no-one had said anything about a wife or girlfriend ... maybe they were a friend of his, at least that's what I'm hoping. As soon as my head hit the soft feather pillow I drifted off into a deep sleep, filled with dreams of of cookies, flowers, and Ezra? oh, Finnigan as well. Seems I simply cant escape the happenings of tonight or the past. My memories slowly drift back to that little blonde haired girl I had loved once before.
(A/N) The picture at the top is of the characters mentioned in this story from from the game when the night comes. if you haven't read it You should definitely take a look before you dive into this so that you can fall in love with the characters before reading other peoples interpretations of their personalities. I personally feel like I couldn't dream of reaching the level of dedication that the creator of the game had for their characters. I have a second chapter out on my wattpad.
https://my.w.tt/FNUbZCj8mbb
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