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dearmantis · 2 years

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Back from the dead

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/The Darkling x Reader

Summary: As a new servant hired to help out in the Little Palace you have a bit of trouble finding your place in the new, unfamiliar environment. It doesn't help that some of the people there seem to know you.

Warnings: mentions of death/dying alone, bleeding out

Word Count: 4k

Authors' Note: I have written something. Congrats to me. I'm not sure if I like it. This isn't edited and I'm not a native English speaker.

"Who is this for? There's no name." You ask with a frown, holding up the dark brown wooden hanger. Usually, the clothes you're supposed to deliver to the Grisha have their name and order on the hanger, but this one is empty.

The other servant in the room with you, Mira, who is currently busy hanging the Kefta of a Tidemaker onto a dark blue hanger, looks up, eyes scanning the wood before her face contorts into a grimace.

"That's for Baghra. She prefers to wash her clothes herself, but once a month, the General asks us to steal her clothes and wash and repair them. Small warning: she's probably going to yell at you when you give them back."

You pull your eyebrows together, a deep wrinkle forming between them. "Wouldn't it make sense to just put them in front of her house in a basket or something instead of giving them to her personally? Or waiting until she's out again to bring them back inside?"

Mira shakes her head quickly. The movement makes her hair look like the most expensive black satin available.

"She has definitely noticed that someone took her clothes while she was out training the kids. She's waiting for someone to return them to let out some of her anger. There's no way Baghra is leaving her house until her clothes are back and she got to verbally abuse someone. I'm sorry."

Her attention goes back to the Tidemakers kefta, her long fingered hands carefully smoothing any wrinkles out of the material while her gaze checks the clothing item for any loose threads before hanging it up on the clothing rack next to her and moving onto the next item, a cream coloured cotton blouse with some beautifully carved wooden buttons.

Your hands dig slightly into the dark fabric of the dress you're holding, trying to determine if Mira is just trying to mess with you for fun or if she's seriously trying to warn you. You've only started working in the Little Palace a week ago and rumours about Baghra quickly found your ears as well, but you foolishly assumed that you would never have to interact with her after finding out that she usually only terrorizes the kitchen staff who bring her her meals.

Carefully looking through the other clothing racks for other dark brown, unnamed hangers, you end up with eight items before you finally leave the room, Miras "good luck!" following you through the halls like a death sentence as you move to leave the Little Palace.

You want to get this done quickly, trying your hardest to talk some bravery into yourself. Getting insulted by the old woman is basically a rite of passage according to some of the things you've heard over the past few days, like getting scared to death by the General or one of his Oprichniki randomly appearing behind you, getting into a fight with a servant from the Grand Palace after they said something mean about the Little Palace, and slipping on the stairs that lead to the kitchens.

You will survive this. Many have survived this before you, and many will continue to survive this after you.

The sun is slowly disappearing behind the palace, dipping the sky into a lovely shade of bright orange, pink, purple and grey-ish blue, reminding you that you will probably be done with work soon after this delivery. You will eat dinner with the other servants, who will probably want to gossip about Baghra with you, and then you will go to sleep for the night. It'll be a nice day, maybe, after you're back.

And then a new day will begin, and hopefully, someone else will be tasked with bringing her clothes back next month.

Of course, there's still the risk of being asked to steal her clothes, but you'll simply try to avoid joining the group scheduled to collect dirty laundry, at least when it's time to sneak into her house.

You've never been a fast runner, and you can't run for long either. She would catch you and beat you to death with that stick you've heard so much about before you even realise that she noticed someone breaking in.

When the house finally becomes visible, you can feel your muscles stiffen, but you force yourself to keep going. This is your job, after all. It's already a big miracle that you got this position in the first place, considering you have no training or experience as a servant. You really can't afford to run back into the palace and cry that you're too scared of the old woman to bring her her clothes.

And saints, what if she finds out you're that scared of her? Your mother always said that people only bully you to get a reaction out of you. They find the fear in your eyes amusing.

And that's what the old woman is, right? A big, old bully who kicks the children she's supposed to train around like pebbles and verbally abuses everyone who gets a bit too close to her.

You can't be weak in front of her. You won't be weak in front of her.

You can't see the woman, but you know she's waiting. You can feel her, somehow. She's lingering in that house, waiting for you to step closer, for your shadow to come just a bit too close to her door, and then she'll rip it open before you get a chance to knock to scare you as much as possible.

It's predictable, simple, and childish, and for some reason, it feels exactly like something Baghra would do. Which is weird because you don't actually know her. You've only heard what the servants and Grisha have gossiped about in the halls of the Little Palace.

But you feel like you've known her. Back when... when you were a child, maybe? No. You grew up in a village so small that the testers don't even bother to go there anymore. You would remember a woman like Baghra, just like you remember everyone else who has ever lived in the village.

Readjusting your hold on the old woman's clothes, you finally get close to the house and take a deep breath, waiting for her to rip the door open. Your steps become heavier and slower a few metres away from the door, hopefully catching her attention before she slams it right into your face.

The plan works. When the door gets thrown open, it misses you by two whole steps. You only feel a bit of air move against your face when an older woman steps out of her home, her dark eyes focused on the clothes bundled up in your arms.

Her thin lips open, ready to begin her verbal attack and insult and ridicule everything about you, when her eyes finally move up to your face.

The words get stuck in her throat and she simply stares at you for a few seconds, eyebrows pulling together as she looks you over.

"I have your fresh laundry, Miss." You announce, trying to make your voice sound as even and calm as possible.

She. doesn't. scare. you.

You might be scaring her a bit though.

A deep frown appears on her face, quickly turning into a scowl when you hold the clothes out to her.

"Did he hide you from me for all this time? Or did you hide yourself from both of us and decided to come back because he has more power now?"

Now it's your turn to frown, confusion written all over your face.

Baghra rolls her eyes, clearly already tired of you and whatever game she thinks you're playing. You try to prepare yourself for some other speech, some explanation of whatever she believes is your plan, but then she says your name, the name you've never given her, and any form of control you had over your body seeps out of it like water through a cheese cloth.

"You supid child. Faces reappear through history, and so do voices. But both? Together? And exactly the same as the first time? Impossible. I'm not gonna fall for your schemes. Take what you need and leave before he sees you. I don't need to hear his pathetic sobbing again. I had enough of that when you first died."

Her thin arms reach out to rip the clothes out of your graps before she moves to return into her house.

"Or, well, didn't die." the old woman murmurs, her gaze finding yours once more. "You really should just stay dead."

Slamming the door shut behind her, she leaves you to stand in front of her house, completely speechless.

What just happened? What was that?

You slowly turn around and walk back to the Little Palace, unable to tell if you can actually feel Baghras eyes following you, her gaze burning itself into your back, or if its a wave of paranoia making you think that that's what's happening.

Of course you're scared. Someone who's not supposed to know your name knows your name. Nobody knows a servants name – except other servants, of course – because no one ever bothers to learn their names. That's just how it is. You're background characters who clean up and take care of the main characters. Nobody learns the name of a background character because they don't matter.

You don't matter.

But why does Baghra know? The only explanation you can come up with is that she harassed some other servant to find out everything about the new servants in hopes of scaring the absolute shit out of them. But why bother with that? For fun? Is she that bored?

Huffing quietly, you slip back into the Little Palace and go back into the basement, simply letting out a deep sigh when Mira asks you how it went. She smiles encouragingly and promises you to give you half of her desert at dinner tonight in hopes of cheering you up a bit.

You have trouble sleeping that night, and it doesn't get better the next night, or the one after that. Instead, you dream more vividly than ever before, waking up completely exhausted rather than well rested like you should be after six to eight hours of sleep.

You never remember what you dreamed about.

"You didn't have to..." You say quietly, carefully cradeling the fresh herbs.

"Well, if you don't want them-" The man playfully reaches out to take the bundles back, but you move them out of his grasp quickly, accompanied by a bright laugh. "Come on, I can give them to someone else. I bet my mother would appreciate them."

"You are not going to re-gift these, Sasha! They're mine now." You giggle. "I have some flowers you could bring your mother though! I doubt she's going to openly appreciate them, but she might like them. You know, in her own way."

He smiles and takes a slow step forward, his face hovering directly over yours.

"I will bring them to her later. Right now, I just want to focus on you."

A soft smile paints itself onto your lips and you wait for him to lean down and press a kiss against them.

Your laugh echoes loudly through the house when he finally catches up to you, his arms wrapping tightly around you.

"Caught you," He huffs, his head bending down to lean against yours. Your hands move to his, holding onto them tightly as you let yourself sink down onto the soft carpet in your living room, pulling the man down with you. He sits down before you get the chance to, pulling you onto his lap, his lips pressing small kisses onto your shoulder and neck.

You lean back against his chest and soak up the warmth his body gives off. "It's not fair. Your legs are longer than mine. Of course you're faster than me."

"You were the one who suddenly ran off and yelled you'll have to catch me first! when I asked you for a simple goodbye kiss." The man laughs, and you can feel how the amusement and joy you felt before disappear slowly.

"I don't want you to go, Sasha."

You don't like admitting it. It makes you feel weak. A voice in the back of your mind whispers that he would never miss you the way you miss him. It sounds a bit too much like his mother, and you wonder when your inner voice of self-doubt started copying her voice. Since when do you even care what she thinks?

"I know, lapushka... But I'll be back soon, I promise. It'll be fine. You won't even notice I'm gone. Everything will be alright. I would never let anything happen to you, I swear it."

You can't hear anything.

You can't tell if it's actually that quiet or if your body is starting to give up and you lost your hearing. Hopefully, it's just silent. It would be a shame if you could never hear Aleksanders voice again.

But silence isn't good either, you think. There are supposed to be screams around you. If they stopped screaming, that means they're dead. That means you're next.

But you can't be next. Aleksander isn't here yet, and he promised he would be back. He promised, and he never breaks his promises.

He has to come back. He swore he would make sure you would be safe, and while you told him that that's a stupid and impossible thing to promise someone, you did believe him when he said it.

But where is he?

How are you supposed to keep your own promise if he's not here to save you?

You said you wouldn't leave him behind, but you can't keep that if they burn you. You're not strong enough to withstand flames and endless torture. No one is.

It's shocking how bad he is at cooking. He's completely devoid of any talent.

Sure, simple broths and soups are no issue, but as soon as the recipe requires a bit more thought, he is suddenly helpless.

Of course you would never tell him that. Not when he always tries so hard to help you, eyes wide and pleading as he begs you to let him take over some of the work.

"Please. I promise I won't mess up."

He always does, but you love him anyway.

He is a fantastic baker though. Every loaf of bread he works on, every cookie and every cake, turns into something perfect. As soon as sugar is involved, he suddenly becomes the most gifted man in all of Ravka.

Probably because he doesn't want to waste precious sugar, no matter what shape it comes in. Honey, fruit, berries, it doesn't matter. If it's sweet he loves it. That's just how he is.

He has a big smile on his lips when he shows you the freshly baked loaf of bread he worked on that day, already talking about what he's going to pair it with later when it's finally cooled down.

You know you should tell him not to eat so much sugar, to instead pair the bread with some of the cheese you still have in the house, but his smile is such a rare sight nowadays. You can't bring yourself to ruin his good mood.

Your head is resting on his chest, ear pressed against his skin to listen to his resting heartbeat. His face is relaxed.

He looks younger like this. Every time he is awake he looks and acts like the fate of the whole world rests on his shoulders, but when he's stuck in the world of dreams he is completely calm.

He looks like the boy he was never really allowed to be.

You're glad that he managed to find rest relatively quickly considering how outraged he was after his fight with his mother just an hour before, his loud voice booming through the small abandoned house you're hiding in.

"Who does she think she is to keep trying to force her opinions down my throat? I don't care about what she thinks. I get to choose who I want to spend my life with. She has no say in this. She doesn't even know you! You would never leave me, right?"

A quiet mumble leaves his lips, his arms moving to wrap around you, pressing you closer to him before he rolls to his side and presses his face against the space between your neck and shoulder, his warm breath brushing over your skin and pulling you out of your thoughts.

You try your hardest not to flinch at the sensation, no matter how much it tickles you. Instead you start to brush your hands through his hair, carefully massaging his scalp with your fingernails. His body tenses slightly, just for a few seconds, before he fully relaxes again, letting out a content sigh that sounds suspiciously like your name.

Smiling weakly you press a kiss onto his neck before closing your eyes as well.

"I promise that I won't leave you behind. I'll stay with you until the end of time if you let me. I swear it, Sasha."

Baghra is oddly possessive of her son considering she clearly doesn't like him.

That's the only thing you can think about as you watch her fuss over the boy she has tried so hard to keep hidden from the rest of the small Grisha village.

You want to talk to him. Everyone your age wants to talk to him. There aren't many teens in the village and while you all like each other, you're getting a bit sick of each other as well. Having someone new here to talk and play with could help soften the rising tension.

But that woman... she just shoos you all away as soon as you get too close to her precious son. You can't help but notice that he doesn't seem particularly happy about her behavior either.

He always looks so sad when he watches you and the other play and train, desperate to join you and have some fun instead of helping his mother wash dishes and fix clothes.

Most people would've fought back at some point, would've tried to defend themselves against their mother, but he just sits there and takes it as she scolds him over something stupid again. It's always something stupid, and he just listens to her words with that sad look in his eyes before his gaze begins to wander in hopes of finding something else to focus on, his face flushing from embarrassment.

This time his gaze find you, and even from several metres away you can see how his ears turn red. You try to give him an encouraging smile, but his attention snaps back to his mother before he can see it.

You really need to get him away from her, at least for one night. Maybe you could convince him that you could hunt together or something. He deserves some normal interactions without his mother hovering around him like a bird of prey.

There are screams again, and you're almost glad. Almost.

It's cold now, and it keeps getting colder with all of the blood seeping out of your body, stealing all of the warmth from your limbs and spreading it on the dusty stone floor you're laying on.

You're not sure if its just the exhaustion making you hallucinate or if the shadows are truly moving in your little cell. It would make sense. Aleksander always draws pictures and scenes onto the walls or floor when you can't sleep. Nothing relaxes you more nowadays, except maybe his voice and touch. If your body wants you to stay relaxed as you slowly die, it would probably show you that, right?

You can feel how your powers try to put your body back together. The familiar, almost tingling sensation spreads all over your body, but the blood is still seeping out of you like a small river.

You will die here, you realise. Aleksander hasn't come back and you will die, leaving him behind. He will be on his own again.

You both broke your promise.

Your mind feels like a glass bottle, ready to burst at any moment. You feel fragile and weak, disoriented and somehow... misplaced. You're not where you're supposed to be and you don't know how to get back to your original position.

Where do you belong?

Your physical health deteriorates further as well, alongside your mental health. You're often confused and lost, and your body never stops shaking, forcing you to wear the long, three coloured scarf you used to wear back when you still lived on your families little farm. It's against the uniform guidelines, but no one ever says anything because of how pitiful you look.

Mira compares you to her little siblings a lot, which is always followed by a sad sigh. Both of them are sick, which is why she works at the Little Palace, so far away from home. She sends the money she makes home to make sure they get the medicine they need, and now she takes care of you, giving you easy tasks like repairing small tears in clothes, sowing buttons back on and, of course, bringing the clothes back to their original owners.

You're never asked to go to Baghras hut again though.

"It would just exhaust you more, and you already look like you can barely stand. I don't want you to collapse."

That is Miras' official explanation when you asked why she didn't want you to go, but you're starting to question that reasoning now. If she really wanted to protect you from fainting, why did she send you to bring the General his clothes?

That seems a lot more exciting than being yelled at by the old woman again.

The basket filled with his clothes is also quite heavy and hard to hold with your sweaty palms, a lot harder than the eight hangers that you could simply hug against your body, letting the clothes drape over your crossed arms.

But you really don't want to tell Mira that you don't want to bring him his clothes. It's already embarrassing enough that you are officially no longer allowed to bring clothes to Baghra because of your illness. If you now say you can't bring the General of the Second Army his stupid socks, you might as well resign from your position and go back to your families farm in the middle of nowhere.

He's probably not even in his office. He's a busy man, after all. You will just swoop in, place his laundry basket on the floor next to the door, and take the basket with his dirty laundry back to be cleaned.

A simple job. You're scared for no reason. And even if he is there, he never interacts with the servants. You haven't seen him once since you started working in the Little Palace, and you know several other servants who have been here for longer and have never seen him either.

It'll be fine.

You repeat those words to yourself over and over until you finally see the dark, beautifully carved wooden doors that lead to the Darklings quarters.

The oprichniki standing in front of them eye you suspiciously, but they knock and open the door for you anyways, stepping aside to let you in.

They close the door behind you as soon as you're inside, and your gaze automatically swoops up to the man sitting at the desk at the other end of the room. You planned to just drop the basket off and get the dirty one, but now that you're actually here and in front of the General, you can't bring yourself to move.

There's a tingling sensation at the back of your neck, like your brain is trying to dig up a memory that isn't there anymore. Like you've seen this man before, but you don't remember where.

He's bent over his desk, his dark eyes reading through a thick, several pages long letter, paying you no attention while you shamelessly stare and try to remember where you could've possibly seen him.

He has definitely never been to your village. He is the Darkling.

A sigh leaves his lips after a few agonizing seconds, but he does not look up.

You're starting to get a headache now. The bottle feels like it's going to burst.

"Drop the basket off at the door. The dirty laundry is in my bedroom. Simply go through the door on the right and you'll find it."

You take a step backwards, your back hitting the door as you try your hardest not to drop the basket. There is a name right on the tip of your tongue, demanding you speak it into the silence lingering in the room.

The headache is now a sharp pain, right at the base of your skull. It feels almost like a warning. Like your body is begging you not to say it. To simply get the laundry and leave and never come back. To not let the botte burst.

"Aleksander?"

He looks up, eyes widening when his gaze finds your face. He whispers your name so quietly you almost miss it.

The bottle bursts.

#aleksander morozova x reader #general kirigan x reader #darkling x reader #the darkling x reader

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heavenlycloud · 11 months

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y/n and her *inability* to say no to kazuha~ a compilation

a/n: i’ve seen a lot of these compilation type fics circulating plus my youtube recommended always has at least one random compilation of something like this so i thought i’d give it a go here!

i tried my best to format this to be like one of those youtube videos. the bold text means it's a caption in the video.

ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ⤹˚˖♬୭ ♡

y/n and her *inability* to say no to kazuha

────────🦋────────

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

----˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹----✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧

intro: *automated voice*

hello everyone~ this is heavenlycloud. i just wanted to start off the video with saying that this is for joking purposes only, and i am not making assumptions about y/n and kazuha’s relationship. so please don’t doxx me or leave hate. okay lets get on with the video :)

*tv glitch screen*

clip one~ 🦊{when y/n went all the way back home to bring kazuha food even though she had plans}

“okay so i just have a lesson this morning and then i think i’m gonna go shopping? it’s my first free-ish day in weeks so i think i’m just gonna enjoy today alone.” you spoke to the video camera in english as you walked out of your dorm building. a loud buzz from your pocket grabbed your attention and you showed your phone to the camera, “zuha is calling me.”

you put the phone to your ear, “hello?” kazuha talked on the other line and you hummed along as she spoke before finishing, “unnie will get it for you zuha-yah. alright i’ll be there soon.” you both hummed before hanging up then you told the camera, “change in plans. zuha forgot she had a photoshoot today, and ordered food to pick up. but she’s getting ready and she won’t have time to get it. so now i’m gonna pick it up, and take it back to her… technically i think kkura unnie could have done it, but oh well.”

you continued filming until you got her food, then back to the dorm where she was waiting for you. the younger girl beamed as you handed her a bag with multiple small containers, “here you go. have a good day today. you’re beautiful! nakamura kazuha number one stunner!” you shouted out the last sentence in english prompting a laugh from the younger girl. she thanked you before you had to rush back outside to head to the company building.

clip two~ 🦢{y/n dropping $6k on kazuha just bc}

DAYOFF season 4 was in full swing since you and your members had worked tirelessly for the past few months. stadium concerts, award show performances, and a months worth of comeback promotions had you and the girls spent. thankfully, you all were given another opportunity for a mini vacation with filming another season of DAYOFF. technically speaking, you all were still working since it was youtube content, but you all were free to do as you pleased. for this season you all were in singapore, staying in a 5 star hotel with a stunning view of the city down below.

kazuha had mentioned she wanted to explore, and you’d suggested shopping which is how you all ended up in a seven floor shopping mall in the city. kazuha had entered with the mission of finding a new wallet, just something small and inexpensive that did it’s job. meanwhile, you were looking for a new handbag just because you’d grown tired of the same neutral colored bags you had. the two of you briefly looked in the Gucci and Dior stores but nothing caught your eye or kazuha’s. to be fair, she didn’t pay much attention to the bags the fashion advisor showed you since everything was out of her budget…by a long shot.

the last store you entered for yourself was Prada in hopes that they’d have a piece you’d actually like. you immediately found a line that caught your eye, and asked an associate to show you the options available currently. much to your surprise, kazuha was engaged with the entire interaction, marveling at the alabaster pink handbag and wallet you requested to see. the younger woman’s gaze lingered on a powder blue version of the wallet you were holding, so you told the associate to also bring it over too. kazuha gasped, “it’s so pretty, i like this style a lot too.” there was a teasing tone as kazuha joked, “you should get this for me.” this only intended to be a playful comment she usually made when shopping with yunjin when the two found something impractical, unsightly, or outrageously expensive compared to their budget. when you pulled the associate’s attention once more, kazuha sneakily peeked at the price tag, on the wallet in hopes that maybe on some off chance she could buy it. yet, you noticed how kazuha’s eyes widened when she saw the $750 price tag.

me seeing they raised prices by $0.25 at the dollar tree

kazuha mumbled something about going to find the Daiso store on the mall directory outside when lightly pulled her back by her hand. you motioned for the associate to hold when you asked kazuha, “did you like this one, princess?” kazuha nodded and said, “it’s classic and not too flashy. it suits you really well i think.” you sighed and asked once more, “i meant for yourself.” her face fell and she murmured nervously while eying the associate, “yeah, i like this shade of blue…sky blue.”you turned back to the associate and told him in english, “all four items please, and separate bags. the blue is for her, and the pink for myself.”

beside you kazuha quickly rushed out in a panicked tone, “no no no no no- unnie, i can’t afford to pay you for this kind of thing. i’ll lose it.” you let out a small laugh and said, “you’re right, you do lose stuff a lot…” for a moment you remained silent until asking the associate, “can you add the AirTag holder for the blue set please?” the associate smiled and quickly went to grab one to add to your transaction. while the associate was retrieving your last items, kazuha told you in a confused tone, “i don’t have AirTags?” the associate came back and rang all of your items up, “two Small Prada Galleria Saffiano leather bags, one in Alabaster Pink and one in Light Blue. two small Saffiano and leather wallet, one Alabaster Pink, one Light Blue. one Saffiano AirTag holder in Light Blue. which brings your total to $10, 971.” you shuffled through your four different credit cards and answered without sparing kazuha a glance, “i’ll buy you some.” you checked twice before choosing the right card, and tapping it on the screen reader.

RICH GIRL Y/N (no actually wtf cuz how does she have a black card at 23?)

*bonus*~ {y/n dropping $6k on kazuha pt. 2}

“hello this is le sserafim’s kazuha. today i am going to introduce the items i have in my handbag.” the japanese idol held up the light blue handbag and pointed out, “this is the Prada Saffino leather bag, on the outside here i have AirTag in the matching holder.” she unclipped the holder and said, “i have 4 of these and they’re engraved with カズハ on the back. they’re very helpful with making sure i don’t lose my things.”

y/n bought and engraved *FOUR* AirTags for Zuha

clip three~ 🦊{zuha and y/n studio choom mix & max}

when kazuha was told that she was requested to perform for studio choom apart from her members, she was beyond excited. for the first time in her idol career she had full creative control over her performance with plenty of ideas to match. however, within a week of the three week long preparation period, she realized something was still lacking. kazuha lost sleep for days trying to figure out what the issue was, until she had a spontanous shared practice with you.

although you were presently known as the main rapper of your group, it was very well known that prior to being an idol you were a dancer. classical ballet training along with some contemporary and lyrical dance made up nearly eighteen years of your life. you’d never completely left that part of you behind even after becoming an idol. since debuting, your focus wasn’t solely on classical training anymore, that had become a ‘glorified hobby’ as your choreographer called it. nevertheless, you found yourself dancing alongside kazuha during early mornings or late nights when the two of you missed your past a little more than usual. dancing alongside kazuha, you felt like that missing piece was filled as you both complemented one another so effortlessly.

kazuha pulled out the filming camera to capture more moments of her behind the scenes process to her new project. you sat on the floor with one foot in your foot stretcher when kazuha nudged you, “unnie…can you help me with this project?” you looked up from your phone and set it aside, turning all of your attention to your member, “yeah, what’s wrong?” kazuha pouted and you poked her cheek until she admitted, “i really really want you to perform with me. can you?” immediately your face fell and your stomach sank at the thought since you haven’t performed ballet, contemporary, or lyrical in years. kazuha could see your hesitance and she explained, “i’m dancing to young and beautiful by lana del rey. it’s all choreography that you’ve done before i’m sure. i just know i’m missing something and it doesn’t feel right alone, but i can if it’s too much. i know you don’t really perform like that anymore so….” you shook your head and assured her, “no it’s fine. of course i’ll perform with you, zuha.” she beamed and let out an excited squeal before leaning over and throwing herself into your arms.

the entire preparation process was a lot more intense than you thought it would be. although you had still continued dancing, doing a full scale performance required a lot more technique than practicing alone for fun. additionally, kazuha was also getting in her own head especially when it came to lifts and holds. if her hesitance continues then you’d have to get rid of the moves because she’d then be posing a risk to her own safety, and yours.

kazuha had been practicing with you for nearly three hours and you were still struggling to pull the performance together. you sat on the floor with your elbows on your knees and palms against your temples. letting out a deep breath you told her, “this isn’t working.” the younger woman reached for the camera that was still recording you both but you stopped her, “leave it on. it’s going to be fine.” you pressed your back against the wall and kazuha sat back down beside you with her head down. carefully nudging her, you motioned for her to sit between your legs, her back against your front. she obliged and you began running your hands through her hair, “relax.”

your other arm wrapped around kazuha’s torso and you rested your cheek against her bare shoulder, moving her tank top strap away from your face. she let out a breath and you could feel that she was going to cry from stress. ever so gently, you kissed her shoulder and assured, “shhhh we’ll be fine. just relax for a minute, okay?” your fingers grazed her bicep lightly as you just kept your eyes closed for a moment.

they’re so soft for one another i can’t do this anymore

kazuha lifted her head from your shoulder and stretched her legs from the folded position they were in. you opened your eyes and told her, “you have to trust me. i got you, i’m not gonna drop you or let you fall. i’m not gonna let anything happen okay?” kazuha nodded against your shoulder and you smiled, squeezing her side making her yelp in surprise. you gently pushed for her to stand up, “alright let’s do this.”

and if you haven’t seen their performance go watch it NOW because they worked so hard

clip four 🦢~ {members making kazuha ask for things because it’s the only way y/n agrees}

“we could be the winx club fairies!”

“no”

“we could be the disney princesses!”

“no.”

“what about the avengers?”

“no because you’re all gonna try to make me the hulk.”

“the friends characters?”

“absolutely not.”

“harry potter characters!”

“Wait…never mind i’m just kidding. no.”

you had turned down every suggestion yunjin and eunchae threw your way regarding a group costume for the HYBE halloween party this year. honestly, the suggestions weren’t bad but you just weren’t big on the holiday. yunjin and chaewon thought they were setting you up to say yes by having a livestream on, so you’d be inclined to agree to look like a nice unnie for your members. but, you knew their game which is exactly why you didn’t agree even though you liked yunjin’s first suggestion.

eunchae read the comments and gave more suggestions that you continued to refuse until kazuha entered the room and distracted the youngest member. you beamed with a wide smile, “my zuha!” your other two members pretended to cry and dramatically said, “see she loves zuha more than us!” you rolled your eyes and denied with a smug grin, “no i love my members equally.” the comments flooded with fans jokingly calling bullshit, just because they knew you had a very small inclination to lean in favor of kazuha.

you patted kazuha’s thigh for her to stand up and you murmured for only them to hear, “i’ll be right back.” when you left the room and closed the door, yunjin and eunchae immediately explained to kazuha, “we need halloween costumes and y/n won’t agree on anything so we need you to pick from our list and ask.” eunchae added on, “she’ll say yes if it’s you.” kazuha looked at the list on yunjin’s phone and quickly looked through online searches to pick her favorite one. when you came back and sat down, kazuha stood up before sitting back on your lap and playing with your fingers that rested against her leg. she shot a small smile to the camera and proposed, “fearnot are saying you all were talking about halloween costumes. did you guys pick one yet?” you shook your head and said, “no, do you have any ideas?”

kazuha shrugged and said, “i don’t know some of the ones people are suggesting. i think they’re from american shows or something?” yunjin played along, secretly loving the way you were already starting to fall for their trap. she leaned over and showed kazuha a few of them just to make it seem like they weren’t setting you up. eunchae made small comments about the ones she liked until kazuha had yunjin stop on one internet tab. the japanese girl showed you yunjin’s phone and asked, “can we do this one?” she paused and then said in her best american accent, “monster high.” you looked over the screen and smiled sweetly, “yeah sure who do you wanna be?” immediately eunchae and yunjin’s jaws hit the floor as they sat in disbelief that you actually agreed after refusing both of them when they asked. kazuha let out a laugh and you did the same while the comments flooded with fans calling you out for your obvious favoritism. when you stopped laughing you looked at the camera and admitted, “everyone i was going to say yes to their costume suggestions later on, i swear. it’s just funny to see their reaction like this! i love my girls, don’t misunderstand okayyyyy?”

sure y/n…whatever you say ;)

clip five 🦊~ {y/n who’s afraid of water agreeing to swim with kazuha}

“what is something we don’t know about you?” you read the question aloud as it appeared on the screen in front of you. for the first time in weeks you had finally found time to have a solo livestream for fearnot after practice one evening. for a moment you thought and mused, “something you all don’t know… hmm.” suddenly you remembered the word, and said, “i have aquaphobia.”immediately you responded, “i’m not afraid of drinking water or showering. i’m scared of swimming pools, oceans, lakes, seas, and stuff like that.”

you stopped for a moment and saw comments asking why so you explained, “when i was little my mom put me into swimming lessons. i think i was about five years old international age at the time, and my brother, was 13 or 14 but i can’t exactly remember? at the end of the lessons we got out of the pool and went to find our parents in the lobby area. usually i got out of the pool and walked to find my older brother on the other side because he was on the swimming team, and they practiced while i was in lessons. this one day i decided i was going to walk through the pool to the other side because i saw another girl do it, and walking outside always made me cold. so, i jumped into the other pool and started walking towards my older brother. but i didn’t know this pool got deeper because the one they teach little kids in was all 1 meter deep. the water went from 1 meter to 1.5 quickly and i started to drown because all i knew how to do back then was hold my breath. i just remember i screamed a lot and i got water in my nose, mouth, ears, and eyes. my brother was the one that saved me because the lifeguards were with the other kids and parents, but heard me all the way across the pool and he was the one who got me. but after that i didn’t take lessons again until i was eight years old because i was too scared.” you skimmed the comments from fans and most of them said they also had a similar experience or said something else supportive. upon noticing a comment regarding your brother you added, “yeah my brother is a good older brother. after that day he picked me up from lessons every time after that. he taught me how to float too in case i ever fell in again but even though i can swim now i don’t like getting in water anymore.”

“unnie come to the pool with me!” eunchae insisted as she ran around the large house that your company rented for a new episode of a show you all were filming. you slipped on your flip flops and followed her so you could sit on the pool side and dip your feet in while she played. the rest of your members were in the kitchen cooking something for dinner, and had everything under control. eunchae jumped into the pool and you snapped a few pictures of her while telling her how cute she was. you heard footsteps behind you and kazuha sat beside you after taking off her slippers. eunchae waved the japanese girl over and kazuha slipped into the water and joined eunchae in her games.

you simply watched the two of the girls as they enjoyed the water and shot each other with water guns and pool toys. eunchae ended up getting out after a while because she was tired of the water, but kazuha was still full of energy. she looked over at you and asked, “don’t you wanna get in? the wait’s really warm.” you thought about it and sighed, hesitantly taking off your mic pack and setting it aside. slowly you lowered yourself into the water, standing against the pool wall as the water stopped just below your neck. eventually you were chasing kazuha around in the pool and it was like you were never scared of water in the first place. the younger girl jumped on your back and wrapped her legs around your waist with her arms around your neck. she beamed, “thank you unnie!” you bent backwards a little and dipped her into the water before laughing, “anything for you, zuha.”

#kpop fanfic #girl group imagines #girl group scenarios #kpop imagines #girl group fluff #kpop reactions #kpop scenarios #girl group reactions #lesserafim reactions #le sserafim imagines #le sserafim scenarios #lesserafim imagines #le sserafim #nakamura kazuha #kazuha x reader #kazuha x y/n

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Text

What's New In IF? Issue 20 (2024)

By Marjorie, Axelle, Noi. Brij, Dion and Bex

Now Available!

Itch.io. - Keep Reading below

If you read the zine, consider liking the post: it helps us see how many people sees it! And sharing is caring! <3

~ EDITORIAL ~

(Re-)Growing Team!

A couple of courageous souls contacted us, looking to make a difference in the IF community by helping us with the zine!

So, we would like to introduce our new members of the team and officially welcome:

Bex, Brij, and Dion!

If you too would like to help us out in a more official capacity, we still have some slots available in our roster. So shoot us a message!

This week, we had a very special guest on Small Talk... Author of many IF games, XYZZY winner, ClubFloyd founder and IFComp organizer... Jacqueline A. Lott!

We got to learn about her trajectory in the IF Community since her debut in 2002, from author to event organizer, to community leader!

Check out our interview with Jacqueline A. Lott on Small Talk...

We hope you enjoy this extra long issue!

MARJORIE, AXELLE, NOI, BRIJ, DION, BEX

~ BE PART OF THE ZINE ~

WHAT'S NEW IN IF? HAS EXPANDED!

Since the release of issue #14, we've enacted some changes with the zine. It is now expanded with interviews of creators from all around the IF world, as well as direct contributions from you, our readers!

THIS ZINE ONLY HAPPENS WITH YOU!

Want to write 1-2 pages about a neat topic, or deep-dive into a game and review it in details? Share personal experiences or get all academic?

WRITE FOR THE COLUMN!

Prefer to be more low-key but still have something to share? Send us a Zine Letter or share a game title for Highlight on…!

WE WANT TO HEAR FROM YOU!

Excited as we are about next week's interview and have questions for our guest? Or want to see a certain author answer questions next? Message us!

SMALL TALK... IS WAITING!

Came across something interesting? Know a release or an update announced? Saw an event happening? Whether it's a game, an article, a podcast… Add any IF-related content to our mini-database!

EVERY LITTLE BIT COUNTS!

~ EVENT SPOTLIGHT : IFCOMP ~

The Superbowl of Interactive Fiction

The Interactive Fiction Competition (or IFComp) is one of the major yearly IF events, since 1995. It may be even the longest still-recurring yearly game making event!

Started by Kevin Wilson in the IF Usenet Forum rec.arts.int-fiction, submitted games were limited to 2h playtime before being judged and ranked by players.

Throughout the years, the IFComp evolved, seeing a couple dozens of parser entries to a wide and diverse range of IF forms. Still, after ballooning during Covid, with recurring 70+ entries, the event continues to be a key avenue for IF creation

As the submission period ended just this week, the IFComp is now moving to its Voting Period, which will last for 1-1/2 month (until October 15). Starting this Sunday, judges will be able to play and rate entries (minimum of 5 to count).

At the end of the event, if participants rank high enough, they are eligible for prizes and part of the Colossal Fund pie! @ifcomp They are still looking for donations!

Looking for great games to play? Want your voice make a difference? Go create an account and vote!

~ ENDED ~

Nothing of note this week.

~ ONGOING (VOTING) ~

Only a couple of days to submit your feedback to the single entry of this year's IntroComp. You just need to “vote” to send it!

~ ONGOING (SUBMITTING) ~

Today is the last day to submit a campfire-inspired visual novel around a thrilling tale. Tales to Thrill awaits!

There is also about as much time to create a parser, in French(ish), for the Confiture de Parser!

And for the SuNoFes Jam, you will have about three days left to submit a narrative games!

Do you have WIPs on indefinite hiatus? Projects you've started forced to be set aside? Bring Out Your Ghost is a jam to show off your ghosts (and maybe even spruce them up and finish them)! @neointeractives

On the CoG Forum, Halloween is already there! Until Oct 31st, submit to the Halloween Jam - it has funky themes!

Running until Halloween, the Phantasia Jam is a three months game jam to create a fantasy narrative game, with the theme of “Hidden Magic”. It accepts both VN and IF.

Do you understand or write Ukrainian? Until the end of the year, the Ukrainian IF Festival is happening on itch.io!

~ OTHER ~

The end of the Review-a-thon on the IntFiction Forum, whose initiative is to get more reviews for games, is almost there. But you can still participate!Check out this post by Tabitha! This is also a sponsored event, aiming to raise funds for one of the Forum members.

The Interactive Fiction Showcase is still running! If you have completed an IF piece this year, consider submitting it! It is happening only on itch!

~ SMALL TALK… ~

WITH JACQUELINE A. LOTT (website)

~ Joining us this week is IF author, ClubFloyd founder and IFComp organizer: Jacqueline A. Lott ~ Author of “The Fire Tower” and many, many more!

Due to Tumblr's link limit, this transcription does not include any links. Download the zine on itch for the complete list.

⟶ Hi Jacqueline! Welcome to Small Talk..!

Thank you for having me!

⟶ Can you tell us a bit about yourself and how you got into Interactive Fiction?

I grew up in a family that loved to play games of all sorts, and I was a kid during the original era of Choose Your Own Adventure and Infocom. Zork was on our C-64 at home, and also on the IBM PCs in the computer lab at my elementary school. I wanted to make my own games, but I didn't know any programmers and there weren't as many resources for kids like me to learn to code back then; I tried to teach myself with books and by typing code out of magazines, but without any adults who could help it became pretty demoralizing, and I drifted away from the idea of making my own games for ten or fifteen years. In 2002, I stumbled across rec.arts.int-fiction, which at the time was where most of the interactive fiction conversation was happening, and joined the ifMUD. Inform 6 was the hot language at that time, and it came with wonderful documentation. I used that to make my first game, which was an entry in the first IntroComp.

⟶ The Waterhouse Women was this first game. How did you come up with the premise? and why submit it to IntroComp?

I was staying with family for several weeks during that period, helping to take care of my papaw, who was very ill, and I had quite a bit of downtime while he was sleeping. In the bathroom of the house were these eclectic accent tiles, each with a scene on them, that looked like illustrations from a children's book of fairytales. There was a lighthouse, a frog on a rock surrounded by cat tails, a double-masted sailing ship, and a striped koi fish with bubbles. I got to wondering if these scenes were meant to be connected in some sort of narrative, or what else I would see if I were to somehow step into each of these illustrations. The concept of moving in and out of images intrigued me, but I wanted a richer tapestry to work with, so I decided instead to use John William Waterhouse paintings.

I entered The Waterhouse Women into IntroComp because it seemed the perfect way for a new author to share an idea and get a lot of feedback before committing fully to an idea that people might not find interesting (or actively dislike!). I still think IntroComp is wonderful for that and I wish more new authors took advantage of it. Ultimately, I got great feedback, figured out what I was doing well, where I needed to focus more, and that the game needed a lot more plot. I have the plot mostly figured out now (with lots of research, correspondence with the art community, seeing many of Waterhouse's paintings in person, and even visiting his grave). One of these days I hope to revisit this story and share it with others.

⟶ The Fire Tower is your highest rated solo project, and one that you recommend yourself on your website. Can you tell us a bit more about this one?

The Fire Tower was written for a curated competition called the IF Art Show, in the Landscape category (other categories included Still Life, Portrait, and Event). The landscape I chose was my favorite hike in Great Smoky Mountains National Park, and the work is grounded very firmly in that actual, real-world landscape. The rules of the IF Art Show let me do what I love to do most in IF, which is to exhaustively craft and implement a natural environment. I didn't realize it at the time, but Aaron Reed wrote a lovely essay about The Fire Tower as part of his Fifty Years of Text Games and pointed out that the game was basically an IF walking simulator, before walking simulators were really even a thing. I absolutely love walking sims, so him writing that really made me smile.

⟶ The Fire Tower led you to receive one of the coveted XYZZY prizes, for Best Setting. How do you feel about this achievement?

I was surprised and delighted and touched. And I was surprised and delighted and touched again when Aaron Reed included it in his recent book. I'm glad that that game, which is about a place I hold so dear, impacted other people in ways I'd hoped for, and in other ways that I hadn't anticipated.

⟶ About a 1/3rd of your publication was created with other authors. How was the experience working in a group compared to your solo work?

Well, I'm an only child and an introvert, so writing, composing, sculpting, drawing, photography… any sort of solo creation work is the sort of thing I generally love to do to unwind and recharge. That said, I'm fond of the games I wrote with my husband because it's fun and memorable to create things with someone you love. For example, we wrote Within a Wreath of Dewdrops while staying with his parents, who live in rural England, and a lot of that game was conceived during conversations we had while walking across the fields and through the woods. For Disenchantment Bay, even though that was more or less a solo project, where I built on an example that lots of people are familiar with from the Inform 7 documentation (specifically from The Inform Recipe Book), it felt a bit like a collaboration because Emily Short based that Inform example on an experience she had when she was visiting me in Alaska, the boat captain is an actual friend of mine, the setting is another real-world place that I know intimately and love dearly... so I showed Emily the place, she wrote an example, and then (with her permission) I used that example to make a game. I smile just thinking about that. And the four interactive fiction exquisite corpse projects I've contributed to are possibly more fun for the authors than they are for non-authors who play the games later, because being a part of those kinds of projects is a bit of a game in and of itself.

⟶ Is there a game that you made you are particularly fond of? and why?

Well, we've talked about a few of them, but one we haven't touched on yet is I Hear the Wind Blow. It's a one-turn game, meaning that you get one turn, the game ends, you start over, and you use what you learned in previous playthroughs to figure out what move you'll take this time. One reviewer said that it was the first one-turn game they'd played which actually had an emotional impact on them, and that they hadn't thought a one-turn game could do that. I'm pleased I was able to pull that off with such a simple story.

⟶ You were also part of the making of Cragne Manor, a cadavre-exquis-like project which hasn't been replicated since. How did it come to be and what was your involvement in the project?

Well, Cragne Manor was a project conceived by Jenni Polodna and Ryan Veeder to commemorate the 20th anniversary of Michael Gentry's Anchorhead. I'm very fond of Anchorhead... my husband and I played it during a road trip across the United States on our honeymoon (I drove, he read the text aloud and entered commands on a PalmPilot!). I think both Jenni and Ryan are amazing, hilarious, technically proficient, and ever-so-slightly unhinged (in the best sort of way). So, when I read what they wanted to do, and I realized the scope they were willing to take on, and the fact that they really did want as many people as possible to contribute (ultimately they stitched together work from 84 different people), I decided to pitch in. It was just too unique and special a thing to pass up. It was great how it was a bit exquisite corpse but also Jenni and Ryan had thought of special assignments to give many of the participants in order to ensure some degree of cohesiveness and a playable end result. It was amazing, honestly.

⟶ With so many rooms in the game, how can we recognize the Jacqueline room of the manor?

Ah! Well, all of the rooms include the name of their author, and my room was “The Dim Recesses of the Forest”.

⟶ Have you yourself played the game? Any room you found interesting to solve?

Yes. I played Cragne Manor from start to finish with ClubFloyd, the interactive fiction group that gets together on Sundays to play games together. We played it a couple of hours or so at a time, so it took us 19 sessions that spanned six months. It's the longest transcript we've ever produced. I loved so much about it, so many of the rooms, so much of the writing, so many of the moments… I'd be hard pressed to pick just one thing.

⟶ If not just one room, what do you still remember clearly about Cragne Manor? something that touched you maybe?

Well, I adored the half-full styrofoam cup of cold and unpleasant coffee in the game. Which sounds terrible out of context, but there we are.

⟶ Is there a game you regret having made or don't look kindly on in retrospect?

I have a Thanksgiving-related speed-IF that I coded in under an hour called You Are a Turkey! that ... well, I don't regret it, per se, but it's just very silly. It takes less than five minutes to play, and contains a joke that is only funny if you were watching the news in the USA in 2012.

⟶ Aside from your two last publications, your games were made through competitions or jams. Were independent releases not as prevalent during the 00s-10s as it is now?

Honestly, now that you ask this, I'm not sure I've ever just released a game independently without some driving event (a contest, jam, group project, or because I wanted an example to share for a presentation). This is also likely part of why almost everything I've released is fairly short. I suppose that I've looked to events to provide me with a deadline and a writing prompt, or I've done a jam because I found the constraints particularly interesting. I think that's just more about me, and not about any overall trend, though I do think a lot of folks out there only produce for competitions because they think it's a way to get more eyes on their work. I've always just written for myself, or my friends, and have never been about trying to win something big. That's why I have never really considered entering the IFComp or SpringThing. The fact that I received a Xyzzy for The Fire Tower was just serendipity. When the time comes (possibly in retirement!) when I do produce the one or two large stories in my head, I don't think I'll release them as part of anything. If they're any good, word will get out, and people will play them.

⟶ For the next decade, you released a bunch of games, almost all of them made with Inform. What made Inform your program of predilection when creating IF? Do you see yourself trying other systems in the future?

I feel like I've somehow done quite a few games, yet also simultaneously not done very much at all. I've made eleven games on my own (all of them rather short), co-written two with my husband, written that game that builds on an example from the Inform Recipe Book, and contributed to four exquisite corpse games that have tons of authors (most notably the epic Cragne Manor, as we discussed).

I started coding with Inform 6, and was an early adopter of Inform 7... I think that's just because the documentation for those languages was/is so well done, accessible, and fun to read. I've explored a couple of other languages as well. I released In Memory in ADRIFT, as part of the Indigo New Language Speed-IF, where the requirement was that you had to write a game in a language you'd never touched before, and I have one short game, Cloud Dreaming, that I wrote in both Inform and Twine, as examples for a talk called If You Can Write, You Can Make Games. I recently dusted off Inform to explore a couple of percolating ideas, and found that my memory of how it works is still pretty solid, so I suspect I'll stick with Inform rather than picking up something new.

⟶ You've praised the Inform documentation for being so extensive, but are there things you wished you knew about the program before starting?

I think it's less about what I would have liked to have known about Inform specifically, and more about ways of achieving efficiency and organizing my ideas. In terms of efficiency, I know my code is not as streamlined as it could be, and that sometimes I go about things in a way that's harder than it needs to be. That leads me to wonder if I could have done more (and better) work if I hadn't spent so much time fumbling around. And not having worked very much in the games industry, I don't have a grasp of all the tools that are out there, best practices, etc, so that's another place where I've sunk a lot of time trying to figure things out for myself, which leaves less energy for writing stuff that people actually see.

⟶ Based on your own experiences of making games, if you could give any tips to future IF creators, what would it be?

Hm... I think this advice is general enough so as to be applicable to anyone thinking about writing IF, regardless of platform/genre/style:

- Don't use your favorite idea for your first piece of IF; you likely won't do it justice until you've had some practice, so save the favorite idea until at least your third or fourth project.

- If you're going to make something for a competition or a jam or some other event that comes with a deadline, start earlier than you think you need to, and build in time for at least two or three rounds of beta testing (i.e. people test it, you correct the bugs, more people test it, you correct the new bugs that crept in when you were fixing the previous bugs, etc).

- If you're making your game for a competition and it's not quite ready by the deadline, there is nothing wrong with withdrawing from that competition and entering your work somewhere else or waiting until the following year.

- If you're not sure what kind of story or game to write, just write the story or game that you yourself would want to experience.

⟶ Was there ever a project you found particularly challenging to create?

Only the projects that I have not yet released, and in all four cases, it's just challenging due to my bandwidth / energy / available time. Two of the four are somewhat grand in scope. I'm envious of people I know who are also incredibly busy but who somehow manage to continue turning out epic creative work… but I also try to place a lot of focus on self care and proper rest for myself.

⟶ Any chance we could get just a hint of your current works-in-progress?

I'm always hesitant to talk about WIPs, because there is this case of imposter syndrome within me that hears people saying, “She's never released anything substantial, so it's all just talk!”. Setting that dismissive internal voice aside for a moment, I have four ideas that have been living rent free in my head for a while, and that I do poke at often enough to keep them from going entirely stale. One is inspired by a favorite book from my childhood, one is inspired by a favorite film, one is a non-sci-fi sci-fi set on a distant planet, and one is a fantasy filled with beauty and unhealthy love and dark magic.

⟶ Aside from creating games, you are also a pretty prolific reviewer, releasing even a rating method advised to be used by judges at the IFComp. How did you come up with this metric?

Hm. I wouldn't say I wrote it for other judges, or that I'd necessarily recommend it for anyone else. I wrote it mostly for myself, and perhaps for authors who were curious what my ratings mean because they often seemed to differ from ratings other people gave on the same game. I like having this descriptive scale for consistency, so that I know what a 7 I gave 10 years ago meant. Oddly enough, I've found the descriptions for each number useful enough that I've adapted the scale for ranking other things, like, um, comparing the various skills of job candidates.

⟶ How did you get to writing reviews? Any advice for players looking to start reviewing?

Just start writing reviews. Try to write them from the perspective of what you'd accept as valid critique if it were your own work and you were on the receiving end of the review. You don't have to be glowing where it's not warranted, you should be honest, but you don't need to be cruel, either.

Some of my earlier reviews were also written to be somewhat humorous, and I blurred the line into cruelty from time to time; I regret that, and think I've matured since then. I've opted not to update old reviews; what's online is online. But I've shifted to an approach that I hope is still honest, perhaps still a bit harsh when that's warranted, but mostly I try to write reviews that are helpful to the author.

I think it's important to focus on the game, its writing, its implementation, its content, and never on the author. Never make it personal. If you can't avoid that, then you probably shouldn't review that particular game. Consider, where possible, offering ideas for how the work could be improved, particularly if you're hoping to see future work from that author. Help them learn how players experienced their work. The best part is, writing reviews leads you to think about what makes a good game, and in turn improves your own work.

⟶ Is there a review of yours that you are particularly fond of?

Not particularly. There are games I'm particularly fond of, which leads me to go back sometimes and reread my reviews, because that evokes some of the memory and emotion that I had during my experience with that piece of IF, but not from a fondness of the reviews themselves. Also, if there is a particularly memorable turn of text in a game that I think I'll want to remember later, I'll often quote it in a review so that I can find that text again easily.

⟶ Following the release of your first game, you took over the IntroComp for its second edition, which you would run for 14 editions. How did you become the organizer of IntroComp? What was your experience with the event?

IntroComp had been so helpful to me, and there was nothing else out there quite like it, so when Neil deMause indicated that it had been a one-off event, I asked him if I could pick it up and make it an annual thing. Some years it gets a healthy crop of entries, sometimes only a few, and while I did start offering cash to people who finished their games within a year, the real prize of that competition has always been thoughtful, honest, and generally empathetic feedback that helps new authors grow.

In 2018, when I was asked to become the new IFComp organizer, I approached Xalavier Nelson and asked him to become the new steward, which he graciously did for five more years. I was so pleased that, when Xalavier's career really took off and he finally needed to step away, he came back to me and we worked together to make sure IntroComp kept going. Eric Brown has the helm now, he's got support from the Interactive Fiction Technology Foundation, and I'm a member of his advisory committee. We got a normal number of intents to enter this year, but ultimately most of the authors didn't complete their intros, so for the first time ever there's only one entry -- but people should still go to IntroComp.org and play Good Bones and 'vote' (which provides an opportunity to share anonymous feedback with the authors) before Sept 3rd! It's an intro, so it's not a huge time commitment, and I know the authors would really appreciate it.

⟶ As an advisor on the IFTF board, what does this position entail?

It principally entails attending a few meetings a year where the IFTF board brings us together to share general updates and discuss topics that may impact multiple committees, such as IFComp.

⟶ You moved from organizing the IntroComp to handling the IFComp. Aside from the amount of entries per edition, are there differences between the two events?

Yeah, there are ... a *lot* of differences. IntroComp was a thing I thought about perhaps three months a year, at best. It was a light lift. I mostly did it solo, though I had invaluable help from Dan Shiovitz who wrote the website's backend to automate aspects of collecting feedback, reviewing votes, and determining the results.

IFComp, by contrast, is more of an eight(+) month per year endeavor. There are multiple teams of volunteers (and occasionally paid help) to coordinate. There's a team for the maintenance and continuous development of the website and its custom software. There are a couple of folks who collect, track, and help distribute prizes. There's a curation team that reviews entries as they're uploaded to ensure consistency with competition rules so that we can hopefully prevent any disqualifications. There's a social media team that is way more online than I like to be. We work with folks over at the IntFiction forum, who facilitate a private space for authors. Each year there's a different artist who is commissioned to create the competition logo. This year there are some folks offering to help me improve the awards ceremony. And I have an advisory committee, which includes multiple past IFComp organizers, who help me think through tons of things far better than I could do alone.

⟶ During your tenure as the IFComp organizer, have you seen any changes with the event? How has it evolved?

Well, participation has varied annually over IFComp's full thirty-year lifespan. On my watch, we notably had a year with over 100 games [2020], but that had less to do with me as organizer and more to do with a global pandemic. I can't speak for what the atmosphere was like prior to my watch, but one of the reasons that I've stuck with organizing IFComp for as long as I have now, despite having other irons in the fire, and the fact that organizing the Comp keeps me from creating more work of my own, is that the majority of folks who take our annual post-competition survey remark on what a great experience they've had, and that's really important to me. I enjoy being a part of making that happen. I obviously do not (and cannot) please everyone, but that's just how things are anytime you're doing something that impacts this many people.

I brought one thing with me from IntroComp: allowing judges to leave anonymous feedback when casting their vote, feedback that is only shared privately with the author (after we review it to ensure it meets our Code of Conduct). I guess the other major changes that have happened during my tenure are the introduction of a new logo each year, the addition of an awards ceremony live stream, allowing authors to judge in the competition (but only on games they didn't write or beta test), and shifting the competition up one month to let EctoComp have full control of the spooky season. Mark Musante and the Dev Team have also made a ton of great improvements to the website based on feedback from the annual post-comp survey.

⟶ Stephen Grande was the longest organizer for the IFComp. You’re about halfway through. Do you think you’ll break his record?

Oh wow. What a question! Stephen did this for fifteen years, and he's still helping as a member of the advisory committee, for which I'm very grateful. I'm not sure how much gas there is left in my tank, and my day job is pretty demanding, and I've definitely hit the point where if I bowed out I could do so knowing that I'd had a decent run and made the Comp a little bit better for having been involved with it... but I also do still really enjoy doing it, it was a hard thing to learn to do, but now that I've got the boat up on plane it's not that hard to steer. So I guess the answer is that I'm not out to intentionally break any records, but I ran IntroComp for 14 years and have been (sporadically) organizing ClubFloyd for 17 years as of this coming month... so, who knows?

⟶ So many positive changes brought during your tenure! Have there been ideas for change that were discarded or processes that didn't quite work out?

Thanks for saying that, you’re very kind. As to the question, I don't think we've made any changes during my tenure that we've ended up rolling back. There've been a small number of experimental changes that I thought we might end up rolling back, but then based on input from the post-comp survey decided to let stand, such as allowing authors to also be judges. I really do benefit by being the fifth organizer, inheriting a thing that has been running for decades, where a lot of the kinks have already been worked out, and where I personally know all of the prior organizers and can reach out to them to discuss anything.

⟶ Any advice for aspiring gamedev event organizers?

I recommend volunteering to help with an existing event for a year or two, learn from that, and then spin things off using what you've learned if you still see an unfilled niche that needs an event. It's also fine to reach out to other event organizers and ask for advice... for a while I was on a private group chat with a few other IF event leads, and we should probably resurrect that, as it was pretty helpful to everyone involved.

⟶ Is there something you'd like to see happen or implement in the future for IFComp?

I would like to see more mainstream coverage, at least in gaming media; we've done press releases in the past but have been mostly unsuccessful in getting those picked up for news stories; I think we may take another run at that next year, because our parent non-profit, the Interactive Fiction Technology Foundation, is working to rebuild its communications team. There are folks every year in the post-comp survey who lament that we don't get featured more in the press, or that we don't have folks like Wil Wheaton do a cameo at our awards ceremony, or that we don't have more judges than we do, and I agree with a lot of that (well, all of it, really -- Wil (@wilwheaton), if you're reading this and want to do a cameo, please reach out!).

⟶ Is there anything the community would like to see happen for IFComp that you don't support?

I think there are a fair number of people who look to the IFComp to help make interactive fiction itself more 'mainstream' or more profitable, but I don't see that as our role. A lot of past IFComp participants have gone on to have amazing careers in gaming or academia or publishing... so in that sense, we are having an impact on the industry, but mostly IFComp is about providing a venue for people to share good, well-tested works of interactive fiction and to put a spotlight on the very best of the best among parser and choice (and other IF that may not neatly fit either of those categories). We've got some folks who feel we shouldn't rank all of the games, that no one should come in last (or at least know that they came in last), but there are other venues for that. It’s not a jam, it’s a contest, and we are asking people to bring their best game to the competition.

We've also had repeated requests to reduce the number of entries through entrance fees, or having curated pre-judging, or having multiple rounds of judging with brackets, or splitting the comp by genre or platform, or hosting multiple iterations of the IFComp per year... and for a variety of reasons related to equity or workload, we're not considering those changes. Some folks have consequently created different competitions that do do those things, and that is absolutely of benefit to the community as a whole. It's great for there to be more ways for authors to get their games seen.

⟶ In the past couple of years, the IF event calendar has sort of exploded - you can't spend a month without one happening. Have there been recent competitions or game jams that you thought seemed fun?

It really has exploded, which is pretty great. I'm grateful that there are so many people out there organizing different things to give authors lots of options, and some of the jam constraints are novel and interesting. I'm exploring the Single Choice Jam games right now, for example. It's interesting how people approached the idea of games with only one choice. I wasn't sure what to expect, but I'm starting to see how, if there's only one choice in a game, you build up to it and make it count.

⟶ You don't just run competitions, you are also the founder of ClubFloyd, a weekly IF-play session. Can you tell us a bit more about it?

Sure. ClubFloyd is a group that meets mostly weekly on the ifMUD. I mentioned the ifMUD earlier; it's an old yet fancy chat room principally frequented by people who are interested in interactive fiction that's been around since 1997. In 2007, a group of us there decided to start playing games together using the MUD's resident bot, whose name is Floyd, inspired by the robot in the Infocom game Planetfall by Steve Meretzky (hence the group's name, ClubFloyd). I post the transcripts of the games we've played on my website. I unfortunately update the site pretty sporadically, in file dumps that happen every six to twelve-ish months. I'm a little over a year behind right now, but there are over 800 transcripts that have been posted, so there's plenty to look at until the next big update.

⟶ Dang! 800+ games played! That’s impressive.

Yeah. There are 811 game transcripts up on the site right now, despite me being a year behind on uploads. Some of the transcripts are of games we've played more than once, either with different players present, or because we just wanted to revisit something after a long time. I have not been present at every session, and I don't play IFComp games with the group until after voting closes (so that I can remain more neutral and unbiased as the competition organizer). But still, yes, it's a lot of games.

I'm grateful to ClubFloyd, because without it I wouldn't have experienced nearly so many works of IF. It has forced me (in a good way) to experience genres I usually don't do on my own, and the group can solve puzzles in a way that individuals sometimes cannot. Definitely in ways I don't usually have the patience for. Having a diverse group means you experience things in a way you wouldn't otherwise.

⟶ Can anyone join ClubFloyd or is it an invite-only type of group?

Yes, anyone can join us at ClubFloyd, and anyone can reach out to us for a playtest. Sometimes, though, we get into the middle of playing a long game (like when we were playing Cragne Manor for six months), and when that happens we're not available for playtesting.

⟶ How does a lambda session of ClubFloyd happen? How are games picked and running?

For years I was very organized and planned in advance and even invited authors to show up when we played their game! These days we only occasionally do that, and it's usually reserved for when we are beta testing someone's work, which we do for folks from time to time. These days we usually just all show up at the appointed time, chat a bit about what's happening, what's new, what jams have happened, or look at the list of things we haven't yet played, and pick something together. It's far more informal.

⟶ Are there restrictions on what type of games played during ClubFloyd?

No, no real restrictions in terms of content, but the bot itself has constraints. It's text only, for example, so we miss out on games (or don't fully experience games) that contain graphics or sound or effects. If a game turns out to be particularly adult in some way, such as violence or sexual content or something along those lines, then we (try to remember to) flag the transcript but we still post it to the website. Some games, like ChoiceScript, require us asking for a special file that will make it work on Floyd. Other games, such as Twine, do not work. We've occasionally laboriously done Twine games using Copy/Paste, but it's pretty intensive. Worth it, though, for the right game.

⟶ Your own games were playtested by ClubFloyd. How does that experience compare to being a player?

Oh, I often find it maddening to watch people play my games in real time. But it's also interesting to watch how people approach your work, what they try, how they react, etc. I think that's why a lot of authors appreciate our transcripts - it's not just the game, you can also see the side conversation that's happening about the game as it's being played, which gives you more information about player motivation than you get from transcripts alone.

⟶ Is there a ClubFloyd session (or tested game) you remember the most?

Hm. There are a few. I think the games that make the most memorable ClubFloyd sessions are games that build tension over a long time, put the whole group on edge, and then suddenly release the tension or surprise the whole group at once and leave us a little (or very) stunned. Those are fun moments. The game Once upon a winter night, the ragman came singing under your window did that, despite being a SpeedIF.

⟶ You've participated in many editions of the Speed-IF, which ran also on ifMUD (none since 2016). How was your experience with them?

They're fun. Just writing a Speed IF is a sort of game (for the author, I mean). Speed IFs don't expect quality, they're meant to be done in a short period of time, and they give you interesting writing constraints. It's fun to see others work within those same parameters and what approach your friends took.

⟶ How did a Speed-IF event go? How did you know there was one happening? Was there really a 2-hour limit?

Well, back in the day there'd be a bulletin board post on the ifMUD and/or a post on rec.arts.int-fiction. The 2-hour limit was always a suggestion, never seriously enforced, though a couple of my games were made in less than two hours. And you can definitely tell that they were made in under 2 hours! But that was part of the fun.

⟶ If you were not currently organizing the IFComp, would there be an IF event you would want to be part of?

I've long wanted to make something for EctoComp, and have two ideas for that. Maybe one of these years. I've also always wanted to enter le Concours de Fiction Interactive Francophone (i.e. the annual French IF Comp).

⟶ Speaking of the French IF Comp, which you've also previously reviewed, is it as cut-throat as its original counterpart?

Hm. By that, do you mean is it as cutthroat as IFComp? Gosh, I don't know that I think of IFComp as cutthroat... Serious, yes. Competitive, yes. I guess for some, serious and competitive is how you might define cutthroat.

⟶ Yes, the IFComp seems like very scary and serious event -- kind of like authors wearing armor and battling for the prizes!

Ha. I think both competitions have a high degree of comradery among authors and judges. I mean, there are prizes. But the authors are pretty great to one another. There are wonderful private forums [on IntFiction and on Discord] where authors come together and share their jitters and hopes and talk about their experiences being part of the competitions. It's lovely, really. No armor, no swords.

The main differences I see between the two are that the French comp has an annual theme (though admittedly it's within their rules to completely ignore the theme), and there are aspects to their awards that, in the English speaking community, have generally been addressed by other events outside of IFComp, such as specific qualitative awards for literary excellence, technical achievement, etc… [similar to the Xyzzies].

⟶ A fun thing we found out during our research: you appear as an NPC in Yay Games by David Welbourn. How does it feel to see yourself in someone else's game?

Ha. I did not realize this (or had forgotten). I just went and played the game. It is indeed a little weird to see yourself as an NPC that you did not write. (I'm pretty much the PC in The Fire Tower, for what it's worth, but that's a very different thing.)

⟶ You gave a talk called If You Can Write, You Can Computer Make Games. Can you tell us a bit more about it?

Yes. I gave that talk a few times, back when I was living in Seattle and a part of various coding meetups and actively going to conventions. It was a talk targeted at general, non-IF audiences, to introduce them to the concept of text based games, and to show what the learning curve was like in a couple of different development environments (specifically Inform and Twine, though I mentioned other authoring systems like Ink, ChoiceScript, Undum, and Texture). I also provided some resources to get people started.

⟶ What Interactive Fiction games would you recommend to our readers?

Hm. I've played so much over the years. I like a lot of the games that lots of other people like, but let me recommend a lesser-known game that I loved experiencing that apparently is not universally loved but which I don't think has enough reviews. (How's that for a strong sell??) Anyway, if you're up for something a bit dark... wear headphones, turn off the lights, and play Ms. Lojka or: In Despair to Will to Be Oneself by Jordan Magnuson. Love that game.

⟶ Thank you, Jacqueline for sitting down with us!

Thank you for the fun interview! Before I go, I just want to put in a plug for this year's IFComp (@ifcomp). I hope anyone reading this who hasn't been a judge before swings by our site to play a few games. We really want more new judges -- and you only have to play 5 games between Sept 1 and Oct 15 to be part of the fun. If anyone has any questions, don't hesitate to reach out to us at [email protected] and ask!

Huge thanks to Jacqueline A. Lott for letting us take some of her time during the very hectic period that is the week before the opening of voting of the IFComp!

~ NEW RELEASE ~

Terminal City (Unity) is a text-based adventure inspired by the 80s games like Space Quest. In this retro setting, you play as a street kid trying to right some wrongs and rescue his friends.

Anastasis (Twine) is a short-ish game based on The Talos Principle, where you explore the history of civilization and decide on its future.

hiraeth and hwyl (Twine) is a fantasy fan-inspired text adventure set in the world of “Howl's Moving Castle”, in which you explore a mysterious house

As always, don't forget to check out the submitted entries to the events mentioned in the previous pages. They deserve some love too!

~ NEW RELEASE (WIP) ~

The Gladiator's Oath: Blood and Sacrifice (CScript) is a Rome-inspired project where you play as a gladiator.

Lament (Twine) is a horror project in which you explore a mysterious town in hopes for a cure from your tormenting nightmares. @lament-if

Bastard (Twine) is a fantasy project where you play as a bastard heir to a tense kingdom on the brink of war. @plotplay

For King and Country (CScript) is low-fantasy project inspired by many world (like LOTR), where you must work through the intrigue of the capital. @forkingandcountry-if

War of the Divines (CScript) is a modern-fantasy project with a hero reborn trope, where you must to everything in your power to save your world.

One Hærfest Day (Ren’Py) is a prequel to Myrk Mire (in re-writes) where you follow multiple characters over the span of one day. @catt-nuevenor

Final Sunset (CScript) is a slice-of-life project, following an aspiring e-Sport professional hoping to find success in Battle Royale/FPS games.

Ballad of the Cosplayer (Ren’Py) is a yaoi isekai project, where you enter a cosplay contest, only to get more than you hoped for in return.

~ UPDATES ~

Boyband Hell (Ren’Py) has now been released on Google Play.

FFS, Another Northern Duke?! (Ren’Py) released the complete version on Steam. @chthonicchromestudio

Grey Swan - Birds of a Rose (CScript) added extra content to the demo. @reinekes-fox

Vestiges of the Hallowing (Twine) updated the demo with a second chapter. @buttercupfiction

The In-Between (CScript) made the previous update available to all. @dalekowrites

Creation: Book 1 (CScript) added Chapter 6 to the demo. @creation-if

The Night Market (Twine) 's latest release is now available to all. @night-market-if

Starways Saga (CScript) added the Navy path to the demo.

Dance of the Night (CScript) added a second chapter to the demo.

The Cordillarian Revolution (CScript) added the Police path to the demo.

Shepherds of Haven (CScript) updated the Patreon demo with extra content. @shepherds-of-haven

Peninsula Campaign (CScript) updated the Patreon demo with extra content.

Defiled Hearts: The Barbarian (CScript) updated the Patreon demo with new scenes. @defiledheartsblog

Velocity: The Race Begins (CScript) added 2 new chapters to the demo.

Blood Legacies (CScript) added extra content to the demo. @bloodlegacies

The Thousand Of Us (CScript) completed a major re-write of the demo and routes. @ivanwm-05

Press Play (CScript) added the second part of Chapter 1 to the demo. @pressplay-if

It Takes Three To Tango (CScript) has been released to the public. @when-life-gives-you-lemons-if

Thicker Than (CScript) added extra content to the Patreon demo. @barbwritesstuff

Saturnine (CScript) updated with Chapter 20. @satur9-if

Dear Diary, We Created a Plot Hole (CScript) returned with a whole lot of new content. @ddwcaph-game

Aquarii (Twine) added chapter 3 to the demo. @aquarii-if

~ OTHER ~

The Humble Detectives Bundle includes a handful of IF games, including Inkle's Overboard!, with its profit going to the Direct Relief charity.

To celebrate its anniversary, Wayfarer (Twine) is doing a Giveaway where you can win an Alpha Build key if you submit fanwork. Check the rules! @idrellegames

Not Your Mother's Shire (CScript) is looking for beta-testers ahead of submission.

The Rosebush Magazine published the first article on a ZIL series: Studies of ZIL - History of Infocom and the Z-Machine. @the-rosebush-mag

Lost in Limbo (Ren'Py) has just launched its Kickstarter. @ravenstargames

Gold Machine published a new article for its series on Infocom's Trinity. @golmac

The IF program PunyInform has updated with major bug fixes (Log).

As always, we apologize in advance for missing any update or release from the past week. We are only volunteers using their limited free time to find as much as we can - but sometimes things pass through the cracks.

If you think something should have been included in this week's zine but did not appear, please shoot us a message! We'll do our best to add it next week! And if you know oncoming news, add it here!

~ MAYBE YOU NEXT? ~

We did not get a submission this week. But if you have an idea for a short essay, or would like a special space to share your thoughts about IF and the community...

Shoot us an email!

~ HIGHLIGHT ON ~

A couple of games that we thought were cool.

Leechcraft by Ainsley Sunday @addersmire (Ink - itch.io - IFDB)

This relatively horror short game is steeped in dark fantasy with medieval inspiration, mixing dark urges of vampirism and duty for care during a plague spread. Though it is not in its fully completed form, the current release creates a very intriguing build-up.

//recommended by Marjorie [Team]//

In the Flesh by Raziel Razmattaz (Narrat - itch.io)

Ranked first in the second NarratJam, In the Flesh asks you to investigate strange reports from an old house. Though pretty ordinary, the house arbors many dark secrets. Will you solve the mystery before it is too late?

//recommended by anonymous//

Spider and Web by Andrew Plotkin (Inform 6 - itch.io - IFDB)

One of the most revered parser game from the late 90s, winner of many xyzzy, and showcasing the best of IF. Though it might be more on the challenging side, it is still an interesting experience with pretty intricate implementation. Walkthrough

//recommended by Axelle [Team]//

Your favourite game here?

Do you have a favourite game that deserves some highlighting?

An old or recent game that wowed you so much you spam it to everyone?

Tell us about it! And it might appear here!

WE LOVE TO HEAR FROM YOU ALL! WHETHER IT'S GOOD OR BAD, OR EVERYTHING IN BETWEEN...

HOW?!?! DO YOU?!?! MANAGE?!? TO GET?!?! ALL THESE SCOOPS?!?! WHAT ARE YOU?!?! THE IF SCRET WHISPERER?!? A new E. Jade Lomax (@ink-splotch) game?!? coming soon?!?! I AM SO FREAKING SOCKED!!! - raving anon

That last Column was really conflicting, because I get how demotivating it can be to get very negative messages about your writing, but on the other hand, do we really want to coddle people who purposefully and publicly put their work out there? - a reader

i hope it's ok! cause i'd like to use my shoutout for a non-author friend~ Jessica, you devilled egg, thank you so freaking much for introducing me to IF! - Patate

Have something to say? Send us a message titled: Zine Letter!

As we end this issue, we would like to thank:

Our new awesome team members (Bex, Brij, and Dion), @franzinyte-writes, Patate, raving anon, a reader, and a couple of very helpful anonymous users!

For sending news, interview questions, helpful tips, cool links, filled form, written Sheet line, even emails... all these help us so much to make this Zine possible!

And as always, huge thanks to all you readers who liked, shared, and commented on last week's issue! What might be tiny actions are huge support and motivators to us! Thank you for cheering us on this journey!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

We also hope you join us again next week, for we have a very special guest on the zine:

Surrealist Twine author, multimedia creator, Tumblr sensation: We'll be talking to Kit Riemer (@adz) next week!

Want to know more about their work? How they found IF? And everything in between?

Send us all your burning questions!

And see you again next week!

MARJORIE, AXELLE, NOI, BRIJ, DION, BEX

WHAT'S NEW IN IF? 2024-ISSUE 20

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cboffshore · 2 months

Text

"Bridal Portrait of Uncertain Origin"

Artist unknown, circa the Fall of the Preeminent (estimated)

Oils on bespoke canvas, silk tulle, gilded oak frame

Shortly after the last Yin-Yang Eclipse prior to the Merge, this portrait was discovered in the attic of the Temple of Airjitzu, despite no records of the portrait ever being displayed inside. Indeed, "Bridal Portrait of Uncertain Origin" lacks any solid provenance or provable history. The materials and techniques used only further obscure the truth; perhaps the only thing certain about it is that it exists.

Examination of the structure of the canvas and gilded wooden frame indicate classical techniques from the end of the Era of the Stone Warrior; however, chemical analysis of the paints, varnish, and other materials used to finish the base revealed compounds identical to substances readily available in civilian art supply establishments of pre-Merge urban Ninjago, specifically those available shortly before the portrait's discovery.

Further complicating matters, the image itself is a web of self-contradictions and mismatched details. The subject's pose is highly informal, but the portrait itself - from the level of detail in the oil paint to the larger-than-life scale - is lavish enough to suggest a formal reason for its creation. The subject's attire, too, is highly unusual. Of all known ceremonial attire in the realms, the blues, sharp lapels, and floral motifs rendered here most closely match traditional Djinjagan royal wedding garments (hence the portrait's given title). However, the presence of only two arms, human legs emphasized by a jumpsuit, and the highly unusual structure of the outfit preclude it from being truly Djinjagan in origin and match no other known ceremonial garments from any realm.

Despite all of these bizarre qualities, perhaps the most intriguing part of the portrait is the silk tulle veil flowing out from the painting to drape over the edge of the frame. Independent analyses by multiple art historians found absolutely no point of the connection between the veil and the canvas; the fabric seems to proceed from the image itself, as if the frame is in fact only a window sill separating the viewer from the bride. Furthermore, chemical analysis of the veil revealed trace quantities of organic Latrodectus sotoii venom - a toxin found only on one island in all sixteen realms, which was nowhere close to the portrait's point of origin. Combined with the spiderweb embroidery on the veil, as well as the subject's trio of spider shaped brooches and venom-coated raised hand, the presence of this toxin may be the most reasonable thing about this portrait.

(Now: notes from the artist.)

The process for this one was utterly unlike any other artistic project I've ever done. This all started with me thinking back over a past Skybound analytical piece of mine and thinking how fun it might be to try putting it on an actual person instead of the template croquis I designed it on. (Also: seeing how my texturing methods have evolved!) One Dallon Weekes photo and a Reel about quick contrapposto armature doodling later and I was off to the races.

Initially, this was only supposed to be a souped up edition of the original look - the second image shown just above these notes. Then, while I was trying to figure out how I wanted to display the veil, I wondered: wouldn't it be neat to let it drape out of the frame? Except for I didn't have a frame involved at that point.

At which point I decided, well.... let's make a frame happen. There was already a decidedly haunted portrait energy coming off of this thing (fully intentional, but that's what happens when two of the albums you associate most strongly with your Skybound work are Vices and Virtues and Violent Things), so I thought: let's put it on display. Let's let the veil creep out to meet actual gallery air. Furthermore, why not give it a scary ass, borderline SCP ish existence? I do love an excuse to try and write a museum plaque.

Put another way: If you walked into a gallery and saw an oversized portrait of you on one of the worst days of your life that never happened, except for all the details were wrong (but just right enough to suggest the artist knew what she was doing), would that be fucked up or what?

Some other assorted notes about this:

The design of the gallery space itself was inspired by an image of Crystal Bridges, an art museum in Arkansas that I'm hoping to visit later this year on a trip I'm taking to that area. I've had a family friend hyping it up for years now, and I've looked into it a lot; it's an incredible space. In the fictional lore of this painting, it ends up in a Crossroads art preservation institute of some kind that hangs on to art and artifacts from throughout the realms that crashed together in the Merge. (I couldn't quite squeeze that into the plaque writeup without sounding clunky.) Crystal Bridges, an American art museum with a dizzying range of works, inspired that idea and seemed the most appropriate place to base my fictional gallery on. Here's the image I used as reference, taken from a Google result from their site:

There is, in fact, text on that plaque on the wall. It's too tiny to read, but I promise that's text. Barring a few minor changes, it's the same as in the writeup; I typed it out, screenshotted and removed the background, and laid it out on the plaque. Much easier than trying to draw out teeny individual words.

Something else I couldn't fit into the plaque but tried to imply via the details was that this piece survived whatever collection it was originally in and made it through the Merge inexplicably intact, much like Nya's memories of the deleted timeline still hanging on even after the full reset. Weird as some stuff in this world is, there truly is no escaping it. Better get some nice lighting on it and try to get to the bottom of it. (I do also think it's funny how I bent over backwards trying to help this unnamed plaque author curator character trace every possible origin path when the motive for making this was just... fun. I just did this for fun and then I tried to make it look so grand and terrifying.)

The outfit in the portrait is faithful to the original design, with a few tweaks: the web collar is now gold to stand out against the veil, the veil itself is much longer, there are now two more spiders on the skirt, and there's a birdcage-inspired crinoline under the skirt. That last one was a technical decision, as the lace this time around didn't feel like it could hold itself up. Also, it's a convenient source of more symbolism if you need one.

That's about all the notes I have for right now - if I think of others, I'll be sure to add them. If you have any questions or comments, the inbox is always, always open.

Thank you for stopping by the exhibit.

#art on Tumblr #Ninjago fanart #Ninjago Skybound #Ninjago Delara #Ninjago couture #Lila draws #ordinarily I don't feel bad for people I have blocked but this one I do. rip my mutualship with [REDACTED] you would have had #thoughts on this for sure.#genuinely a banger I'm gonna have to go lie down til December I think #Ninjago Nya #how did I forget that tag that's like the most important one.....#Ninjago #I take that back THAT is the most crucial tag wtf. thanks Raine

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cakerybakery · 4 months

Text

The War of Temptation AU

There were rules to this sort of thing. No interfering with their lives as minors was one, and sins not caused by their temptation didn’t count. This reincarnation of Adam drank to excess before Lilith and him could even try to tempt Adam into gluttony.

The home he had chosen had turned out to be abusive in many ways and he had turned to the availability of whatever numbed him young. By the time he could legally slide onto a stool in a bar Lucifer and Lilith couldn’t bring themselves to put any effort into their half of the war this round.

It wasn’t technically against the rules not to try and tempt Adam or Eve. Expectations were not the same as rules. A technicality even God couldn’t deny.

Adam blew out smoke as Lucifer and Lilith took a seat on either side of him.

Lucifer ordered three beers and slid one over to Lilith and Adam.

“Hello,” Lilith grinned.

Adam looked from Lilith to Lucifer, took a swig of the free beer, and said offhandedly, “sure, why not.” Banging some couple looking for a way to spice up their dead bedroom wouldn’t be his worst decision. He had a long list of those starting somewhere with stealing his prick of a father’s cigarettes when he was five, earning himself a fierce beating and addiction as he just got smarter about the theft, and ending somewhere last week when he’d woken up sore in places he didn’t want to think about after blacking out. At least this he was going into this sober… ish. He wasn’t into guys but he had a lifetime of being use to it. Adam just needed a bit of something before hand to help.

It was somewhere around the hotel room that it occurred to him that might be murderers and not just some swingers. By then he figured he liked his odds. If he was wrong, he also wasn’t too choked up about it. Life was shitty anyways.

The hotel was fancy as fuck. It even had a phone in the room. They ordered a spread of food and some real fucking fancy drinks sipped from special glasses. He’d never seen shit like this before.

He figured they’d want him to fuck her or to get fucked by him while one watches or something. Instead they fed him fruits and cheeses and shit he didn’t know the names of but looked fancy as fuck. He was given a glass of water and one of champagne.

Lilith sucked on his neck and Lucifer fed him nibbles of food. It was only after he insisted that he was full that they dragged him into the bathroom to be cleaned up. Lilith sat in the bath with him, washing his hands and front as Lucifer scrubbed his back and hair.

Adam supposed he was a bit dirty, it had been… a few days… okay, weeks since he last had a chance to bathe.

He had a great view anyways. Lilith’s hair was long but she had pinned it up to get in the bath. Despite them being obviously older than him, her tits were still perky and they both looked to be in good shape.

If they’d been ugly he would have turned them down. He might be poor but he wasn’t a whore, yet. Drifter or not, he was still finding work as a labourer. When things got bad enough he’d provided services to some people. Just enough to get on his way and try his luck somewhere else.

Once they decided he was clean enough Lilith slipped away. Lucifer handed him a towel to dry himself with and he stripped until he was as naked as Adam.

When Lilith returned she was wearing a nightgown so sheer there seemed to be no point in wearing it at all.

Adam thought they were finally getting to the sex but they just insisted on cleaning disturbingly sharp teeth and put him to bed with them.

Finally he broke, “are we not having sex?”

“Not tonight.” Lucifer switched of the light on his side.

Lilith clicked hers off as well, pressed a kiss to his cheek and rolled over with a tired sounding goodnight.

This was the weirdest threesome he had ever been party to.

They stuck around for a week and it was always the same. Lots of cuddling and kisses, food, bathing, and then just sleeping.

When they were leaving town they asked if he wanted to come too.

He had nothing here and figured on the gamble once more that they were murderers of some kind and went with them.

Months passed. Adam knew Lucifer and Lilith had sex. There had been more than a few occasions when they would slip away. Or he would wake at night to the sound of them in the bathroom, it kinda made him jealous.

When he asked, they said they didn’t want to pressure him. That night would been the first time he joined them and not the last.

They never seemed to work but always had money. They stayed in the nicest hotels Adam had ever seen until he noticed he had put on weight. His ribs no longer showed, he couldn’t remember his last cigarette or getting black out drunk, he dabbled in drugs before but hadn’t even thought about needing to feel numb in almost a year now. Even the bags under his eyes were gone as he always slept well now.

“We’re here.” Lucifer announced one day pulling into a driveway.

“Where are we?” Adam asked from the backseat. If they killed him now he was going to be pretty disappointed.

“A place we bought a few years ago. Treat it like your home.” Lilith popped her door open and went around to the truck to pull out the few bags they threw of them had while Lucifer unlocked the door.

Adam climbed out of the passenger door and grabbed a couple of the bags. Lilith always insisted on carrying her own but Lucifer never seemed to pull his own, even though it was always in the room waiting for them in hotels. Adam figured he just slipped it to a bellhop or something when no one was looking.

It was a nice place. The kitchen was modern, it even had an automatic washing machine he’d seen advertised a couple years back. Plenty of bedrooms and Adam was half surprised there wasn’t other people like him there. Strays.

He was also half surprised not to find some sort of kill room.

They told him they were getting groceries and to walk down to the beach, check the place out.

It was easy enough to find, the house was only a block away and he wandered the roadside stands on the edge of the beach. He could have sworn he saw Lilith before an arm hooked around his.

Lucifer was tugging him along. He ignored all of Adam’s questions, just assuring him, “you’re going to want to see this.”

He spotted Lilith with a woman, not much bigger than Lucifer, her hair shimmered red in the sun as she looked to be about his age.

“Say hi,” Lucifer whispered giving him a push.

Lilith disappeared as quickly as she seemed to have appeared but Adam only had eyes for the pretty girl in the polkadot swimsuit.

“Hello,” Adam could feel the goofy, dumbstruck look on his face. He couldn’t bring himself to care about anything except her pretty green eyes.

She look surprised, then looked around for a moment, before hesitatingly replying, “hello?” She bit her lip, her cheeks flushing a similar colour to her hair in the sun and giggled.

“My name is Adam.”

That really set her off, “that’s funny. My name is Eve!”

When Adam returned to the house many, many, many hours later a deed with his name on it sat on the kitchen table, along with a set of keys for the car out front. A simple note didn’t say much beyond confirming Lucifer and Lilith had left both for him to have.

He would live there for the rest of his long life with Eve by his side.

#hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel lilith #hazbin hotel eve #adam x lucifer #adam x lilith #adam x eve #lucifer x lilith #adamsapple

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after-witch · 3 months

Note

For your yandere Summer oc, i offer you a quote.

What good is the warmth of summer, without the cold of winter to give it sweetness?

notes: just vague fae-ish stuff, reader was whisked away unwillingly

Sweat sticks to the back of your neck, but you no longer bother wiping it away. It will be there again soon enough--perhaps tomorrow, if you spend the afternoon stretched on some sandy beach, while monstrous machines you barely comprehend fly overhead and poison the air.

You hate these days, and tell him so; but he's seen so much more, and sometimes forgets that you have not--that you do not wish to--and he only gives you a grin and pulls you back down onto the sand. For a kiss or a secret or to sink underneath like turtles burying eggs.

Or perhaps that sheen of sweat will come in a week, where you might taste frozen ice cream made with fruit you've never heard of before. Maybe it will come in a year, in ten years, a century from now, when you are spending yet another summer day underneath the sun, its rays soaking into your clothes, your skin, penetrating down to the marrow of your bones.

God, how you have grown sick of summer. The thought would have never crossed your mind, before. How could it?

If you found yourself wishing for an end to the hot humid days, all you had to do was look ahead on your mother's calendar, picked up every year from town. Summer would be over and the coolness of autumn would settle in, sparing you from the sweat and heavy lead of heat.

And then, when the dead frigid beauty of winter grew dull and you began to miss the way the sun beat down on your back until it was late in the evening, there was only a matter of counting the days until the season began again.

Now? Now, there is no end in sight. No blissful moment when the heat will break and cool autumn nights will come sliding in through a cracked window.

"You're thinking awfully seriously about something," he says, suddenly standing above you; you jump, never used to his surprise appearances. "But what?"

When you look up at him, he is wearing the clothes of a farmer's son. Hand-me-downs, with patches that would have--if he were really a farmer's son, and every angel and devil in the world knows he isn't--been carefully stitched on by a mother or sister or spinster aunt.

Today his hair is blonde and his face is sun-kissed, brown freckles splayed across his nose like specks of paint. He grins at you, tucking his hands behind his head like he hasn't a care in the world.

Well, it might be the truth.

"Does it matter?"

You pull your knees in closer to your chest. Today is a day for being petulant, you decide. It's too hot. You're too sweaty. The beach is deserted and you can't even swipe a coin from someone's purse to buy an ice cream from a cart. There's no one here but you and him and the damned heat of the sun.

"Aw," he says, just as petulant. He has those days, too. Maybe you've rubbed off on him--or is it the other way around? "Don't be like that." he gives you a light poke to the side, and you flinch. "It's a beautiful day."

Your expression must be that damn dour, because even he looks taken aback when you glare at him.

"It's too hot," you say, the words like bitter lemonade. "I'm sick of it. How can I enjoy a hot day, when every day is like this? There's nothing to look forward to, no--no autumn chill that makes you want an extra blanket in the morning, no foggy morning breath while you milk the cows, no..." The endless list of things that are no longer available to you tumbles out, only some of it coherent.

All the while, he simply watches you, waiting for the moment that you run out of steam. When you do, you simply go limp, letting the sweat drip down your neck and drip on the ground with your frustrations.

He tilts his head, and looks more serious, just for a moment. A flicker. So quick that it might have just been a heat mirage, and you blink, just to be sure.

"I can't give you winter," he says, softly. Like you're a stubborn horse in the barn he has to coax. "I wouldn't know how, if I wanted to. But," he adds, and his grin is boyish again, light and airy. "If you want a change, how about a summer storm? I know the perfect place!"

He hops to his feet, and stretches his arm down towards you.

A summer storm is not winter. But it is not this endless heat, either.

What can you do, but take his hand again, and follow where he goes?

#seasonal spirit #yandere ocs #yandere #original stuffs #afterwitch writes #summer spirit my beloved!!

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cyberchronics · 10 months

Text

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

it's almost that time of year....

thoma + inazuma winters (gone sexual)

★ cockwarming, nipple play, grinding, riding, public-ish sex, marking, dash of dacryphillia, subby sensitive thoma ★

✩∘₊ ✩*✯☆⃟⃟⃟✯*✩₊∘✩

thoma's first winter in inazuma is so rough. back in mond he'd just call it a day and curl up by his fireplace whenever it got cold outside, but now he's so busy he just has to brave through it until the end of the day :(

his cute red nose is running, scarf wrapped tight around him as he attempts to use his vision to warm his skin to no avail. he's feeling miserable while sporting a cheery smile, just wishing night would come faster so he can cuddle up with you in your comfy bed.

there's always lunch, he supposed, using his little free time in between tasks to stare up into the afternoon sky. maybe you'll agree to skip eating this once and warm him up instead... he'll have to think of a good pitch before he makes it to the teahouse.

∘₊ ✧───────────────────✧₊∘

Thoma buries his chin in your shoulder as he holds you tight, chewing his food happily while gripping your waist. He can't think with you seated fully on his cock, the searing heat of your tight hole fogging his mind and making him melt into a puddle. It's the only thing today that manages to succeed in warming him to his core.

The two of you are huddled together in a private room at Komore Teahouse, his thick winter coat draped over your mostly clothed bodies. You reach for the plate, having taken up the job of feeding him today, and Thoma lets out a needy whine in response to your jolt.

His hips buck up out of habit and make both of you moan, the shared laugh following after being punctuated by a tender kiss. Cold, shaking hands snake underneath your shirt and cup your chest, icy fingertips massaging the hard nubs until they draw a pretty noise from your throat. It makes him want to put cute hickeys all over your neck and bring you to the brink of pleasure over and over again until you're satisfied.

To his surprise– and absolute delight— the sentiment is shared. Caring hands tangle into his blonde hair, pressing his face against your shoulder as you begin to grind slowly. At this point, Thoma thinks he might go crazy. Even with your skin in between his teeth, he's so sure that the people in the neighboring room can hear the loud whines he can't seem to muffle through the thin walls.

The thought of someone walking in on the two of you has him whimpering even louder, tears welling up in his eyes when you start to bounce on his lap. You ride at the perfect pace for him, giving him deliciously slow and deep strokes despite how hard his fingers dig into your side. "Mmm, fuck— please...!" Is all he could choke out before cumming with a sloppy kiss pressed to your lips.

He's never been more thankful that he carries an emergency condom.

Thoma pants as he leans against your chest, wrapping his arms around you tightly as he kisses over the bite marks populating your skin. A comfortable silence sweeps over the teahouse until finally, he speaks, a stupid yet small smile plastered on his face.

"You know, sweetheart... I'm still a little cold. Could you lend me a hand?"

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

a/n: finally had some downtime to write during the week ♡ thoma is such a cutie need him in my bed

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #thoma x reader #thoma genshin #genshin thoma #sub thoma #🦮#☄️#dom reader

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finniestoncrane · 3 months

Text

hello friendos!! it's a very neat coincidence that it's 2 years today since i rejoined tumblr, and i get to be excited at hitting the next milestone!! 💚💚💚

update: all options have been picked and the event is closed!! 🩷

since i've just done a big-ish event though i thought i'd keep this one smaller and a bit less daunting for me!! SO here's the rules:

i'm going to do 21 of x reader ficlets (scheduling 3 per day for a week)

i'll take these requests as first come, first serve

as in: ONCE SOMETHING HAS BEEN PICKED IT'S NO LONGER AVAILABLE

so dm, inbox or comment here with your selection

please pick ONE from EACH OF THE THREE lists below

(you can specify the version of the character, and let me know reader details!)

i'll then write a lil ficlet and make a moodboard for the fic too!!

i'll update the post below as and when i can (remember i'm gmt and also a sleepy girl) so you know what's left

once all the options are out, the event is closed 💚

i'll take a week off to write them, then post them all the following week, and then things will return to normal (had to readjust my queue in the end lol)

anyway, thank you for putting up with me and encouraging me, i have endless love for everyone 💚

🔞minors dni🔞 • masterlist • kofi link • tag: finnie2.5k (to follow or to block)

Option One

Riddler

Penguin

Scarecrow

Two Face

Mad Hatter

Captain Boomerang

Harley Quinn

Bane

King Shark

Black Mask

Cooper Howard

Maximus

Hancock

Paladin Danse

Nick Valentine

Sniper (TF2)

Cecil Stedman

Walter Skinner

Arthur Morgan

Egon Spengler

Nick (L4D2)

Option Two

roleplaying

spanking/impact play

voyeurism

praise kink

degradation

public/semi-public sex

posessiveness

doggy style

pet play

first hug

piss

dubcon/noncon

cnc

holding hands

sending nudes

sneaking a kiss

breeding kink

inexperienced/virginity

marking

tickling

somnophilia

Option Three

truth or dare

showering together

tending to wounds

first kiss

angst

fluff

choking

only one bed

biting

rough sex

sucking dick

blind date

fingering/handjob

cockwarming

dry humping

daddy/mommy kink

early morning sex

facefucking

edging

sitting in their lap

eating pussy

#finnie 2.5k #fallout #fallout 4 #invincible #dc rogues #batman rogues #left 4 dead 2 #red dead redemption 2 #ghostbusters

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sgiandubh · 11 months

Text

A tale of two brands

Sophie Mancini's Departures paper on S in NY started a flurry of comments even before the whole content was made available on blogs. That people - mostly in Mordor - jumped in to add their two booing cents on the matter, based on two or three Instagram Story screencaps only, is a testimony to Tumblr's community deep interest in S's slightest PR/sales move and the easiness with which people like *urv managed to push their own agenda, in the process, to her unsuspecting, bicep-loving crowd.

Many of these comments asked just one question, more or less kindly and more or less openly: who are you, Sam Roland Heughan? Some of them, more along my alley, took a different angle: who are you talking to, Sam Roland Heughan?

Let me count the US crowds: the Wall Street yuppie crowd? the old money, WASP Knickerbocker / Colony Club crowd? Tribeca's sophisticated, culture-ish snob crowd? the UN international crowd? the laid-back (-ish) brownstone Brooklyn crowd? the DC politico types? the Boston Brahmin crowd? the Silicon Valley Bitcoin crowd? the Florida Latino crowd? the Bible Belt crowd? the Deep South charmingly old-fashioned crowd? the yee-haw, witty and ambitious Texans? the gourmet, nature-loving Seattle crowd? I am sure I am missing some (it's been a while I haven't traveled to the States and I have to say I miss all 50 of them, plus and perhaps above all my beloved DC :), but you get the idea. And the problem, or rather its first layer.

The second question this very poorly written article prompted is: what are you talking about, Sam Roland Heughan? I mean, what destination are you trying to promote? Scotland, through your Scottish gin, which I truly believe is exceptional? The Big Apple, like a counterpart to Sting, you know - a Scotsman in New York? That's not very clear, since that superficial girl just whirled you to a couple Chinatown speakeasies, rat pitter-patter included (bye-bye, Knickerbocker crowd right there) and that's pretty much it. New Zealand, that you mention at length, Maori tattoo story re-hashed, just because the book comes out next Tuesday? Ha-wa-wee, perhaps in a belated attempt to mitigate Tunagate? California, even, because it takes you back to humble beginnings? Granted, the Frisco one, not LA: that would be a horrible faux-pas, in a NY centered paper, much like me whimsically and idiotically mentioning Istanbul (instead of Constantinople), in a conversation with my Greek friends.

My head spins. And then let's add to that a ladle of recycled talking points, yours and C's altogether, like this gem:

Aspirational. Mmmhm. She said that. You said that. Multiple times, in multiple contexts that probably didn't even call for it. This is *** PR right there. I am not JAMMF. I am not Claire. But we aspire to that. Stop thinking we are these characters. No sane fan ever did: the insistence is unnecessary and has a real backfire potential. Stop thinking, period. But let it be my shipper sin, then, not to believe an iota of it and stubbornly think you people are, by now, way past the aspirational stage.

So, I took a long walk down memory lane today, while driving, trying to understand what the hell your personal brand is. Once upon a time, things were clear: you and C were a single brand. S&C - the fresh-faced, candid, witty and funny and oh, so in love new kids on the block. The spark was real and it was strong (it still is, only dampened and muted by PR-prompted shenanigans) and OL's audience was under its spell. People loved you, both of you, and some of us still do. You showed us as much as you could and for a while, it seemed to be convenient for just about everybody. That created expectations, but at the same time, you could have sold us land concessions on the Moon and we would have bought them, no questions asked.

And then, things happened. We know what: IFH, EFH, Remarkable Week-end. The spell was broken for many, who left in droves. Fans turned into bashing other fans. The S&C brand was progressively compromised and along with it, your Barbour Ambassadorship (for different reasons). Let's stop a bit at this point, in fond remembrance: that was the perfect pitch, for the perfect kind of corporate brand, for the perfect niche, for the perfect guy. A guy who had a credible, authentic story to tell, with a really strong potential to attract people outside of OL's crowd. Image and message perfectly aligned. Best case scenario.

So, with ***'s and your own PR benediction, what once was your solid gold starting point was ridiculed, trampled, shot to shambles, in a (failed) attempt to be sent to complete oblivion. You then had to think of something and try to branch out of both the blessing and curse of it.

MPC suddenly became more important than just any other charity project, of which there were a few (Cahonas Scotland comes to mind, the blood cancer one, as well). Cue in Sam the Athlete, Sam the Healthy Living Evangelist. The project was turned into a lucrative business, with a strong charity side. People bought subscriptions, people changed their eating and lifestyle habits, people lost weight - but really, I shouldn't write 'people', but 'women'. This was a women-oriented endeavor. A problem, again, on the long term.

Ha-wa-wee 1 happened, to more scandal and shrieks (that, I believe, was the reason you lost the Barbour project, another gold opportunity squandered because ten Internet bitches knew better). Then we were told another avatar was born: Sam the Entrepreneur. With a genuine, carefully curated, labor of love first alcohol product that clearly used the discarded S&C brand: The Sassenach and believe what you want, but just buy it. Mommies obliged. Antis obliged. Shippers obliged. All wallets are created equal, as I (often) use to say. And then COVID-19 came, putting a very real, very dangerous logistic strain on it.

Yet, you still had to somehow mitigate delays and losses. The Sassenach went exotic, with that limited edition tequila that probably won't be remembered by many outside OL's fandom, and that is a pity and a shame. The reason it won't be remembered is that you almost did not promote it, spare one or two Tick-Tock and Instagram clips. Does that justify the investment, the trips to Mexico, the very expensive retainers and commissions your tequila friends took for their trouble? I very much doubt it. That was, until being proved completely wrong, a flop. It brought absolutely nothing in terms of personal branding, spare perhaps a new faction in this paranoid cesspool of a fandom: the Gay Crowd, fueled by the image of a Lonely Bandana Cowboy, instead of the intended Sophisticated Traveler and Connoisseur. Yes, people are stupid, like that. Your PR and Sales team, too - and this comes from a place of deep understanding and appreciation.

We are now talking gin and boy, am I glad we do! This is perhaps an opportunity. Finally, a more democratically price-tagged, carefully tailored (again) drawing card product. But who is selling it to me? The California Boat Party Host? In that case, I won't buy it, but never mind me: maybe the fun-loving California Millennials would (we know the Smuggling Mommies would do it, anyways). The Sophisticated Traveler and Connoisseur you tried to show us again in Mancini's abysmal Departures paper and who is invited to important events, in recognition of his efforts?

You can't have the two of them, Sam, whatever those incompetents told you. You're either a 43-years old midlife crisis-stricken and shirtless clown or an Old World Industrious Thespian, with a stature and a status to match. A real Entrepreneur, not a cartoon scuba diver/beach boy Influencer. Eye Candy vs. Brain Power: after all, you are a '3x NYT best selling author', aren't you? Your pick, not mine. Stop the Sri Mataji-style Hugging and Booze tours: it's nonsense and that geriatric crowd is nowhere near what you need to make your dream come true. Do some real soul searching and stop listening to clueless 28-year old journalists, who tell you tacky rings are fun: they aren't. They make you look like an ageing Atlantic City Sinatra wannabe:

Sam Roland Heughan: currently at crossroads, trying to not choose between two opposite personal brands. Tricky position and an even trickier context, with the strike still lingering on and the pressing need to find an after OL strategy.

I promised you a tale of two brands and I think you wonder, by now, what happened to C, the other half of the primary SC brand?

The answer is, I honestly believe, not much. She has no personal brand, so to speak. Until now, she is just an Enthusiastic Dilettante. Book Club - started, unfinished and with that, farewell to any fan engagement. Cinema production rights - bought and then silence. Botanical Gin - first batch released (?) with no promo, no interviews (mentioning it in a podcast does not count), no reviews. Then teasing, then crickets again: a bit late, now, for the end of year celebrations. And I have to say I miss her or the part of her I never witnessed in real time (is such a thing possible?). I miss that starry-eyed, funny and witty girl. That girl was somehow completely swallowed by an Acrid Matron, who thought it was intelligent to yell at an Internet nobody, on Christmas Day, 'I am not married to Sam!' (ok, you aren't, but you're still lying). And I honestly don't know which one is best (or worst, for that matter): try to build something and make mistakes and try again until you hopefully find your way, or say nothing, do nothing and of course, never be controversial.

Now I am really interested to see how is she going to promote her gin. But you know what, I am not holding my breath, for some reason.

#BoozeWars

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propertyofwhitney67 · 5 months

Text

I Thought Of You

M!Kylar x Gn!Reader

Words: 503

TW: Tracking jewelry, stalking, kidnapping, suggestive and dubious ending (dub/noncon ish)

Note: sweet reader isn't privy to Kylar's tendencies and finds out the hard way

Kylar seemed anxious, more so than usual. He kept fiddling with something in his pocket throughout class. He would abruptly stop and stare at me, then go back to fiddling with whatever it was in his pocket. It was kinda creepy, but I was used to it by now.

At lunch he picked at his food and fiddled with his pocket. I didn’t ask him what was wrong, not wanting him to shut down. I worked so hard to get him out of his shell and I didn’t want him to revert to that state again.

After a few minutes he seemed to gain the courage he needed, pulling out a box from his pocket and placing it in front of me. “I-I uh saw this at the mall and thought of you…I thought, maybe, you’d like it…” He was blushing furiously and trying to hide behind his hair.

I couldn't help but smile, he looked so sheepish and cute. “You got me something?” I picked up the box and inspected it. It looked like something jewelry would come in.

He nodded quickly, “Yeah, I hope you like it.” He twiddled his fingers, waiting for me to open the box.

I opened the box, and inside was a bracelet. It was cute and simple, nothing fancy or flashy, just a simple bracelet with a green gem. It reminded me of his eyes. “I love it, thank you.” I kissed his cheek and slipped it on.

–

Since Kylar got me that bracelet it seemed like he was everywhere I went, like he knew just where to find me. Interrupting everything I did and chasing off my friends, it was getting annoying. Testing out a theory I had, I left the bracelet at home.

After alternating between wearing and not wearing the bracelet for a few weeks I concluded that Kylar was tracking me using the bracelet and in a fit of anger I broke the bracelet. I needed answers, why would he do this?

I decided to confront Kylar about my findings. I looked for him during lunch to no avail. I finally tried his spot outside, as soon as I stepped outside something pricked me in the neck and I began to feel woozy. I collapsed but I felt something catch me before I lost consciousness.

–

I awoke after what felt like ages. My whole body was sore and when I tried to move I couldn’t. I looked down and found myself tied to a chair in a dark basement. Before I had time to think the door opened, revealing a disheveled Kylar. “You’re finally awake, my love!”

Something felt off about him, but I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what. “Why did you have to remove the bracelet?” He sounded unhinged.

Before I could reply he aggressively kissed me, “That doesn’t matter now.” He began to undress me, “You’re safer here with me anyway…” With my body now accessible to him he didn’t waste any time in taking what was his.

𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

𝘒𝘰-𝘍𝘪

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heich0e · 1 year

Text

tags: yakuza!suna/escort!reader the prequel(ish), icymi here's PART 1 + PART 2 series masterlist

The car pulls up along the back of the club just past ten o’clock.

It had rained earlier in the evening, though you'd fortunately missed most of the shower. The world passing outside the windows of the car is still soaked with it, and puddles pool in the divots of the road as the water trickles slowly towards the storm drains that line the street.

“Thank you, Toma,” you say to your driver as you reach for the handle to let yourself out, and in the front seat the kindly man dips his head in response.

“Would you like me to wait to drop you home?” he asks, his eyes meeting yours in the mirror positioned along the highest centre point of the windshield. “I haven’t got another ride for a half an hour.”

“I have to drop my take-home off to the office and get my payout, and the trains are still running, but thank you,” you assure him with a shake of your head. You smile at him in the rearview mirror as you pop the door open. You hesitate just before you slip out, leaning up towards the front seat. “Drive safe tonight.”

You have to step around puddles as you approach the staff entrance to the club, the water collecting every few steps along the craggy surface of the alley. You hear a voice filtering down the dingy alleyway from up ahead, and it makes you slow ever so slightly. It’s familiar, and as you round the corner to the door, you recognize why.

Kaito stands just beside the metal door with ‘STAFF ENTRANCE ONLY’ emblazoned across it peeling white paint. He’s ditched the suit jacket you’d seen him wearing earlier in the evening, left in his black dress shirt with the first few buttons undone and his sleeves pushed up to his elbows. The flickering light above the door catches on the garish chain he wears around his neck, glinting at you as Kaito holds his cellphone up to his ear, lost in his conversation.

“Of course, sir. I understand,” he says, and though his voice is as insincerely pleasant as ever, his face is contrastingly grim—the affectation of charm extending only to that which the caller on the other line is able to witness. You watch as Kaito pushes a hand through his carefully-styled hair in frustration, tousling the dark strands, squeezing his eyes shut. “It’s not last minute at all, I’ll make sure our very best girls are available once he arrives.”

You pause upon overhearing that particular snippet of his phone call, your heels clicking to a stop on the unevenly cobbled path, and Kaito’s eyes crack open once he senses your approach.

“Very well, I’ll be sure to be at the entrance to greet him myself. Have a good evening, sir.”

Kaito ends the call, his eyes still on you.

“You’re back,” he remarks, acknowledging you once he tucks his phone into the pocket of his dress pants—his voice is so different now to what it had been only seconds prior that he may as well be a different person entirely. He plucks out the cigarette tucked behind his ear and holds it to his lips, fishing a lighter out from his pocket. “Early, isn’t it?”

“Right on schedule, actually,” you reply, snapping out of your momentary stupor and approaching the door as the lighter clicks to life. “I was meeting with Suzuki-san this evening.”

Suzuki is one of your longest-standing regulars: a successful businessman in his mid-60s whose wife passed away a few years prior, and whose children have all grown and moved away. He takes you to dinner once a week, and your appointments are never anything more than that. He’s lonely, you realized quickly after meeting him, and the way his face lights up when you arrive at whatever restaurant he’s reserved for the evening makes your stomach ache a little too much to ever really enjoy the food.

“That old sucker?” Kaito’s eyes widen, the corner of his mouth twisting upward in an almost cruel way. “Still paying you to play footsie with him at dinner after all this time.”

You frown, shooting Kaito a withering look as you reach for the staff door to step inside. He ignores your glare, and you watch with a feeling of abject dread as an idea comes to him.

“Hey,” he says, his hand suddenly coming to rest against the peeling paint and forcing the door closed before you can properly open it. The acrid smell of his cigarette smoke is overwhelming with him this close to you, and it makes your nose scrunch up. “You should stay late tonight.”

“Can’t,” you reply flatly, angling your body away from his. “I’m just here for payout.”

Kaito huffs at your immediate refusal. “I’ll make it worth your while,” he tries again.

“I can’t,” you repeat yourself, holding firm.

He narrows his eyes, and you watch as he considers how he should reply. He rolls his eyes a bit and eventually backs off, taking a long drag from his cigarette. “Whatever.”

You open the door and step inside without any further words passing between you.

In the main office, you hand in the envelope of cash Suzuki-san had pressed into your palm after walking you back to Toma and the waiting car outside the restaurant. The disinterested man in the office—you never manage to keep track of who’s who with how frequently the faces change around here—takes the cash and counts it in another room, even though you'd already triple checked for yourself on the drive back to the club. You wait there with your arms crossed over your chest for him to bring you back a slip of paper that would outline how much you’d earned that week and what was deposited directly into your bank account, and your heel taps against the dingy tile as the minutes tick past.

The back office of the club is far less flashy than the interiors of the lounge a few hundred metres and some staircases away. In fact, the interiors tend to deteriorate in luxury the further outwards you move from the epicentre of activity—the club and the private rooms that are attached to it are the height of luxury, the suites that line the south end of the building slightly less impressive in their quality, and finally the administrative rooms and various other spaces that only the staff ever visit like this one are completely unremarkable. Looking around the shabby, disorganized office you wouldn’t even know the kind of business it’s running.

Maybe that’s the point, you can’t help but think.

As you wait for the nameless man to return with your pay stub, you hear a sound from the hallway outside the open office door. It’s slight, but familiar—the sound of a sniffle. It makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

It’s not unusual to hear a woman crying around here.

You quickly turn your back to the door, trying your very best to ignore it. That’s what you’ve learned to do over the years, after all. But the sobbing becomes less ignorable, more noticeable, and before you can think better of it you’re stepping out of the office towards the sound.

Around the corner from the office, next to a supply closet, you find a small girl hunched in on herself in a sparkling pink cocktail dress.

It’s Mini—at least, that’s the name she goes by around here since the girls rarely use their real names in this place, for good reason.

She’s young, maybe 20 if you had to guess generously, and had only been working at the club for a few week as a server mostly: circling the busy floor of the bar area and bringing patrons their drinks. She’s a bright, bubbly girl, and she’s taken a shine to you for whatever reason after only a few shifts where your paths have crossed.

“Hey,” you call to her, and it seems to startle her a bit, jolting when she hears the sound of your voice.

Her mascara is running down her cheeks as she lifts her face to look up at you, and her nose has gone bright pink even underneath the layer of makeup she wears. At the sight of you, she starts to cry harder, crushing herself unexpectedly against your chest. You’re not sure what to do, so you pat a little awkwardly along her back in a vague attempt to comfort her.

“What’s wrong?” you ask her, hoping your voice isn’t quite as stiff as the rest of your body is.

“K-k-kaito just pulled m-me off the f-f-f-floor,” she wails, the final word drawing out in a warbling little cry.

Your jaw sets as she struggles to compose herself, pulling herself away from you after another moment of tears.

"Why?"

“He told me”—Mini swipes at her running nose with the back of her hand, sniffling wetly—“told me there’s a private party coming in. He’s rounding up as many girls as he can for it and sending them into one of the private lounges.”

Mini hasn’t been at the club long, and has never worked a private party. You both realize what it means for her, without it needing to explicitly be said. Evidently the premise has her frightened.

You really have no right to be as angry as you are, but that doesn't change the fury you feel rolling in the pit of your stomach.

Or stop you from doing what you do next.

You find Kaito in his office on the other side of the building.

“Who’s this private party?” you ask him once he answers the sharp rap you land against his door and he calls you in.

Kaito glances up from his desk. He’s got his suit jacket on again, and he’s fixed his hair—back to his usual self. He looks a little surprised to see you standing in his office doorway, especially as pissed off as you are.

He quirks a brow. “What’s it to you?”

You bite the tip of your tongue in an attempt to temper the flare of irritation searing through you.

“I don’t think Mini’s ready to work a private party.”

“Who?” he asks, and the worst part is you know he means it, leaning back in his chair. His brow furrows as you stare at him.

Your lips part to explain, but he cuts you off before any words come out.

“Doesn’t matter anyway,”—he waves his hand disinterestedly—“I need girls and she’s on shift. We’ve got a very important patron coming in who needs a selection to choose from, and half our best girls are already booked out tonight—or refuse to stay late.”

He tacks on that last part just for your sake.

Your teeth clench.

“So you’re just gonna send a bunch of rookies in there?” you ask him. “What kind of impression is that supposed to make to this very important patron?”

He shrugs. “Beggars can’t be choosers.”

You’re not sure who the beggar in this situation is supposed to be.

You grind your heel into the tile of his office floor as you sift through your thoughts.

“How many girls do you need?” you finally ask him, the question hissing out through gritted teeth.

He grins, seeing the cracks forming in your armour even from the other side of the room.

“Depends,” he replies flippantly.

“On what?” you ask him flatly.

He leans forward across his desk with a sharp smile pulling at his lips.

“On if I’m going for quantity or quality.”

In the end, Kaito agrees not to send any of the inexperienced girls into the private room. Instead, there will only be five girls, all relatively experienced, who this unexpected guest that Kaito seems so insistent on catering to will get to choose from.

You agree to be one of them.

You touch up your makeup in one of the dressing rooms before heading towards the designated lounge. It’s one of the nicest private rooms in the building: large, quiet, and with it’s own small mini-bar that’s kept well stocked to minimize any interruptions—another testament to just how keen Kaito is to pull out all the stops for this mystery patron.

You’re not dressed how you usually would be a lounge shift like this—much less a private booking. The dress you’d worn to dinner with Suzuki-san is a little too tasteful for the role you’re about to assume. Mini had kindly offered to let you borrow one of the spares she’d brought to work with her after she found you freshening yourself up (and conveyed her relief at being spared the private party,) but you declined—not least of all because of your very different body types. Your quiet hope was that you’d get there, pale in comparison to one of the other girls who were better suited for the occasion, and ultimately be able to continue home like you ought to have already been by now, this whole situation an unfortunate—but only momentary—road block.

The other girls are already gathered in the room when you arrive, with drinks in their hands and glossy lips and beautiful, skin-tight dresses on their frames. You greet them quietly, accepting a glass of champagne that’s placed into your hands by one of the girls you’re closest to—a tall, stunning woman who goes by the name of Yuki.

“Any idea who this high roller is that Kaito’s kissing ass for tonight?” she asks you as you take a sip from your drink. Yuki had cut the drink with soda water, you realize it right away as the muted taste of effervescent wine reaches your tongue. It’s a welcomed trick that you yourself have been known to employ of many occasions, a tactic used to keep your wits about you without seeming like you’re turning down a drink while you work a long shift.

You can’t help but lament the fact that you really could use a proper drink right about now.

“No,” you tell her quietly, fiddling with the thin stem of the champagne flute between your fingers. “He didn’t say.”

“Must be someone good,” Sakura, another working girl whose long hair is tinted a pretty shade of pink that suits her name, chimes in from the other side of the room where she’s draped across the tufted sofa.

You wonder if she’s right about that, because an unpleasant feeling creeping over you is telling you the opposite.

The girls chat quietly amongst themselves as you all wait for the arrival of the much-anticipated guest, and you continue sipping your watered down champagne as you rest perched on the arm of a chair along one side of the room.

You should already be home by now. Should already have scrubbed the day from your skin and slipped into a pair of soft cotton pyjamas. You should be sitting on your sofa watching a movie, or reading the last chapter of the book you’d had to tear yourself away from to come to work that afternoon, or even be curled up in your bed asleep. You’re bitter to still be within the walls of the club, to still be maintaining the character you’re paid to play, and you chew the inside of your cheek as you stew in this resentment—so much so that you almost miss the door to the lounge swing open.

Your eyes flicker up as the rest of the girls stand in greeting.

You’re the last to rise from your seat.

Behind Kaito is a man you’ve never seen before, his apathetic stare sweeping lazily around the room as Kaito rambles on about something you don’t care to listen to. The guest doesn’t seem to either.

He has dark hair that reaches a little longer than the top of his ears, and an expression on his face that doesn’t seem to imply that he’s any happier to be here than you are. He has a bandage on his cheek, the skin around it still red enough to imply the injury is fresh, and a cut on his lip that looks like it could bleed again at any moment. He’s dressed in black—a turtleneck, under a long coat, over a pair of trousers, all in the same shade. His hands are shoved into his pockets to complete his general air of indifference.

His eyes land on you just as you make it up to your feet, and the way his attention lingers on you for a moment longer than it had the rest of the girls makes you want to curse under your breath. Your attempt to go unnoticed has already started off on the wrong foot, and the man isn’t even fully across the threshold yet.

Your eyes meet—properly meet—and for a moment you hold your breath.

“Ladies,” Kaito says, that saccharine, ingratiating tone you hate so much the thickest you’ve ever heard it in his voice. “This is Suna Rintarou”

The man’s eyes are still on you.

“I’m sure you’ll see to it that he has a very memorable evening.”

#suna x reader #suna rintarou x reader #yakuza!suna #hq drabble #hq writing #writing

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stardust-kenobi · 2 years

Note

If 46 & 57 are still available could you write them for Crosshair x female reader? Thank youuu

Ooohhhh boy. I’m ready. (Also sorry for the delay, and I hope you enjoy!!!). I’m making this one a full one shot because I got carried away LMAO. Just in time for crosshairs appearance this week

#46 - “Please, ruin me”

#57 - “What are you doing in my bed?”

Ruin me

Crosshair x Fem!Reader

Summary: Crosshair finds you waiting for him in his bed. You pique his curiosity, and he decides to indulge in your interests.

Warnings: smut, rough sex, manhandling, alot of degradation, lil tiny bit of a softness tho, anyways this is filthy…it’s crosshair so y’know

Word count: 2k ish tbh I haven’t checked yet bc I’m on mobile, but it’s a semi short one

It was an idea that floated through your mind ever so frequently, but you’d been too afraid to act on it. That is, until now. You had it bad for Crosshair, and you suspected he felt the same about you. He was an asshole, that much was obvious, but maker, it turned you on.

Crosshair’s bed smelled of cedar and musk, and you embraced the aroma of his natural scent while your lustful thoughts danced in your head. He’d been gone all day, probably training, and was expected to come back any minute now. It was no accident that you put on your tightest, skimpiest outfit. The outfit was close enough to resembling loungewear so as to be not obvious when you walked the halls down to his room, but still inched toward dangerous territory of being lingerie.

Your tits spilled over the top of the thin tank top, pushed from the bra you’d chosen to wear. A ruby red lace bra, one that would leave no question as to what your intentions were, if he decides to undress you, of course. The shorts you wore, if you could even call them that, were high cut, leaving a significant amount of your thighs and hips exposed.

You laid back, taking in the feeling of laying in his room without him knowing, and allowed yourself to become excited with the idea. Pretending that the touch of your fingers traveling up your thighs were his was the closest you could get to feeling him right now, and you hoped he’d return soon.

Just then, approaching footsteps snapped you out of your daze. You swallowed hard, anticipating his arrival. The metal door slid open with a loud hiss, and there he was, stoic in his stance. He promptly removed his helmet before his eyes found you.

Crosshair wasn’t startled, nor was he angry. In fact you couldn’t even really tell what he was thinking. The same scowl he always held was still present on his face. He tilted his head at you, studying the way you laid seductively on his bed.

“What are you doing in my bed?” He inquired curiously. That voice, gods…that beautiful voice. You wanted nothing more than to hear him whisper nasty things in your ear.

“I wanted to surprise you” you purred. Sitting up on your knees, letting him get a full view down the cleavage of your shirt.

“With what?” He scanned your body, seemingly approving, but was followed by a look of distaste.

“Me.” You whispered.

“Is that so?” He pondered with a snarky look, setting his helmet down on the desk by the entrance, “what makes you think I’d want to fuck you?”

“Are you saying you don’t want to?” You leaned back in surprise.

“Oh no, I’m going to fuck you” He said with certainty, sending a fiery heat to your cunt as it fell off his lips, “just curious what made you think I wanted to”

He cut right to the chase. This was happening, and he was ready, but not without a little more teasing on his end.

“I see the way you look at me” You noted, looking him up and down and admiring the outline of his body. He looked so good in his armor.

“How can I not? You’re always dressed like a little slut” He scoffed. He was so fucking hard to read. He wanted you, but sounded disgusted with your behavior at the same time.

“You love it, though, don’t you?” You teased, watching his face grow flustered.

He didn’t answer, but moved slowly to stand beside the bed, staring down at you.

“You want my cock? Hm? Is that what you want, pet?” He asked, his voice flowing like honey on your ears, making you shiver in anticipation of how he was likely going to leave you limping afterwards.

“Please, ruin me” you breathlessly begged. The way he was treating you was so sadistic, but oh it felt so right.

“Gladly” He growled in response.

Quickly, he worked to remove your tank top, finding the lingerie you wore beneath it.

“You wore this just for me didn’t you?” He smirked, taking your lifted breasts into his grasp. He didn’t admire your attire for long, because he removed your bra just as quickly as he found it, “and I bet your cunt is already soaking fucking wet isn’t it?” He asked, pushing you back onto his bed with force, and eagerly sliding your shorts from your hips. Suddenly he plunged two fingers inside of you, allowing him to feel what he suspected, and you gasped in response.

“You need my cock this bad? What a needy little whore” He whispered against your ear, hovering above your completely exposed body. Chills erupted across your entire body, which Crosshair noticed immediately, “Beg for it”

“I want you to- oh my gods- I want you to fuck me, Crosshair. Please” You begged through your whimpering as his fingers pumped in and out with the perfect curl, apply perfect pressure inside of you.

“I’ve thought about it, myself” He began, “thought about the way you’d look squirming beneath me. How pathetic you’d sound begging for me to ruin you. Look at you now. It’s only my fingers” He chuckled, so intent on humiliating you.

“It feels so good” You moaned, feeling a precious tension forming in your lower belly.

“I bet it does” He smirked, immediately pulling his fingers from your pussy and ripping your approaching orgasm away from you, “touch yourself while I get undressed”

You did as he asked, and rubbed your clit slowly as you watch the armor and clothes fall from his body. Maker, he was beautiful. Every scar, edge, and mark creating a masterpiece of his figure. You’d never been this wet before, and it was only getting more intense as your clit throbbed beneath your fingers.

He watched hungrily, trying not to be too be too obvious with how beautiful he thought you looked getting yourself off just waiting on him, but he could watch you do this all day.

“Crosshair” You whimpered as your eyes landed on his cock, he was larger and thicker than you were expecting. He really was going to ruin you. He stroked himself gently, his gaze traveling the length of your sprawled out body. On display just for him.

“Turn over” He demanded.

You flipped onto your belly, and anxiously waited for what was to come next. Your cunt clenched around nothing as you ached to be filled and you groaned in desperation.

“Please”

“Patience, slut” He scolded, letting his new name for you roll off his tongue with a deep satisfaction

Your next breath lodged itself in your throat as the full length of his cock slammed into your cunt, brutally filling you so suddenly with almost no warning. You winced in the stinging pleasure, quickly overcoming the small bit of pain. The pain was nice, and you’ll admit that you didn’t know you even liked pain until you’d just felt it like this. But it felt good.

A loud cry tried to leave your lips but was halted by the wrapping of his hand around your mouth as he leaned down, his chest against your back. To feel him use you like this was exactly what you wanted, and the slight twinge of pain only made it all the better.

“You can take it, Y/N” He encouraged, the first and only bit of praise he muttered.

Your muffled mess of whimpers hummed against the palm of his hand, earning a smirk from him you weren’t lucky enough to see. His thrusts were brutal, fucking you like you he absolutely hated you. The sound of the skin of your ass slapping against him with every motion accompanied the sound of your expression to pleasure.

At first, all that you’d heard from Crosshair were rough and quiet grunts, but he was growing louder, sounding satisfied with the feeling of your slickness and how good it felt to claim you after thinking of you like this for so long.

“Look at you, so desperate for it” He leaned down, pressing his lips hungrily against your neck, moving his hand from your mouth to wrap in the locks of your hair. As he yanked your head back, your moans were amplified and unrestricted.

“You fuck me so good, Crosshair” You looked up and back at him, your gaze almost breaking him, but he looked away from you, and down to where your bodies were fused together. It was unbearable how good it felt, and you were overwhelmed with all of it. Your heated skin, the friction against your clit with every swing of his hips, the sensation of being used by him, and how rough he was with you…that was the icing on the cake.

“Everyone will know if you keep screaming” He hissed.

“I want them to know” You bragged.

“Yeah?” He teased you.

An unexpected flash of burning pain struck your ass, his hand rested against your rear after striking you. You cried out in pleasure, approving of the feeling. Crosshair was happy to take that as a sign to do it again, and it was harder the second time.

His hands moved to tightly grip your waist, using it to his advantage to thrust deeper and deeper. His wandering grip traveled to your breast and squeezed, the soft of your skin driving him wild. With each second, his cock brushed against your g-spot, inching you closer and closer to your climax.

“Fuck” He groaned deep, losing himself in how good you felt, he was getting close too.

“I want you to fill me up” You begged him, needing so desperately to feel his release inside you.

The growl in his moan as he didn’t respond made it clear that he wanted that too. And just hearing you say it sent him over his edge. The pace of his hips slowed, and his expressions of pleasure grew louder, which was music to your ears. Just then you felt the warmth of his cum spill inside you. He leaned over you, pressing his chest into your back, holding you while he came, his nails digging deep into your waist.

You hadn’t come yet, and with him pulling out of you, you didn’t expect to. To your surprise, you squealed as he eagerly picked you up and flipped you over on your back.

“I never leave a woman unsatisfied” He said sadistically.

The hollowness that began to ache you was then filled by his fingers once again. Using the slickness of your arousal and his own cum, he fucked you with his fingers. Crosshair hovered above you, creating a sense of odd comfort for you.

“You gonna come for me slut? Gonna come on my fingers?” He taunted you, his demeaning tone only encouraging your orgasm more.

“Fuck, yes, please don’t stop”

And he didn’t. His thumb worked softly at your clit, as he curled his digits inside of you. Anyone in the entire wing could’ve heard you now, your moaning and whimpering was relentlessly loud, and gods you didn’t care at all.

He felt you clench around him, and listened to the way you became breathless for a moment before the tension unraveled itself so gracefully. As he felt you come, he stared deep into your eyes, his other hand holding the side of your face. You weren’t sure where this care or gentleness came from, but you savored it, staring back and leaning into him.

“There you go. Come for me” He reiterated, adoring the look on your face while you fell apart beneath him.

It washed over you like a giant wave of ecstasy, filling every inch of your body with an overwhelming tingling pleasure. You’d never felt an orgasm so intense before, and he worked you through every second of it.

You swore that there were stars in your eyes as you floated back to reality, and it was then that you realized you were fully holding onto him, and he was letting you.

“Should’ve got you alone a long time ago” He smirked, still looking down at you, making sure you were okay.

“I guess one of us had to make the first move, huh?”

“Don’t sass me” He playfully scoffed as he laid down beside you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into him.

Maybe Crosshair had a soft spot for you after all.

A/N: Apologies for any types my loves, I will try and check for any mistakes later!!

feedback and comments are always so encouraging and appreciated. If you enjoyed this, please let me know❤️

#crosshair #the bad batch #crosshair x reader #crosshair x fem!reader #crosshair smut #crosshair fanfic #tbb smut #crosshair x reader smut #crosshair x f!reader smut #tcw #my work #stardust-kenobi #crosshair x you #crosshair x y/n #fluff #smut

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everythingmp3 · 7 months

Text

𝕞𝕪 𝕗𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕟𝕕´𝕤 𝕕𝕒𝕥𝕖 ୨୧

adult!Van x fem!reader (smut)

when your friend mentions that she´s been seeing someone, you don´t picture the person she introduces you to. after a few weeks of being around Van, tension builds and something is bound to happen.

minors dni. warnings: oral (reader receiving), infidelity kind of

(disclaimer: more plot! i felt like doing something slow burn-ish, and it´s basically just Van being pretty desperate.. i think adult Van is for sure the type to get tangled up in dating drama, so here you go!)

it was summer, a particularly hot one. you were back in your hometown for three months and spent most of your time catching up with old friends, which was an easy way to always have something to do; they dragged you to the lake, camping, out to clubs, to dinner. it was everything you needed after a few very stressful months before.

during the first week of being home, one of your friends told you about someone she´d been seeing, and you were curious to know what kind of person she´d go for. your friend group was diverse but still, you did not expect someone like Van to walk in that night she introduced her to the group. she was quite a bit older than most of you, rather reserved, and painfully your type. you masked your attraction well but you were immediately very affected by Vans presence, unbearably so.

the weather did not help at all; she was dressed in a white tank top, her freckled shoulders and arms on full display, her long red hair framing her stunning face perfectly, one hour into knowing her you were secretly already crazy about her. the following weeks Van came around a few times and it always went the same way: your friend talking to people, all bubbly and excited and Van just sitting there with an unconvincing smile, an air of "i´d rather not be here". it was odd, you couldn´t understand how they´d ended up dating, they were both lovely people but did not seem like a good fit whatsoever. the group was big enough and dinners included enough drinking for the strange lack of chemistry to go unnoticed, except by you.

your interest was clearly piqued by Van and a few times you swore you´d caught her looking at you too, but each time you tried to return her gaze, it escaped you, so you often just ended up studying her expression for a while, curious who this hot stranger was behind the tough exterior. after a month of multiple dinners and hangouts that included Van, you grew increasingly excited each time she was around, you tried to talk to her a few times, you often lingered around wherever she was standing, you weren´t too obvious about it, but Van noticed, and you had no idea, but it was killing her.

she couldn´t think clearly whenever you were around; your gentle face, your beautiful laugh, the way you kept paying attention to her when everyone else seemed to overlook her, it all made her feel weak and trapped, since she couldn´t just go after you, not before resolving whatever mess she was entangled in. unless she wanted trouble, unless she was willing to take that risk, which deep down, beneath all that repression: she was.

the night that things changed, it was August. summer was coming to an end, everyone had gathered at the house of your richest friend, around 20 people, any drink you could want readily available, great food spread out over a large dining table outside, the summer heat retreating and the relief of a cool breeze sweeping in. it was perfect, and yet, as always, Van seemed to be somewhere else mentally, her expression neutral at best, a hint of something else in there, maybe anger, maybe sadness, you couldn´t really tell.

around 12 am everyone was pretty drunk, you´d had a few glasses but you were sober enough to catch Van looking pretty rough next to your friend who was absolutely shitfaced, blissfully unaware of the gloomy vibe radiating off her date, so Van quietly left the table. nobody noticed. nobody but you. a few minutes passed, five, ten, fifteen, and you grew worried at that point, wondering if she was actually ill and needed help, so you slipped away too.

the house was massive but you managed to find the bathroom, the door was closed so you knocked, listening for a response but none came, so you cracked the door open, realizing it wasn´t locked, a sharp tone hitting you all of a sudden: "please no, not now" Van said, her hands gripping the sink, gaze cast to the floor. you backtracked "oh okay, i didnt mean to-" the second she realized it was you, her vibe shifted, she stood upright then, "oh its you, sorry i thought you were-" she didn´t complete the sentence but you knew she had almost said you friends name. you didn´t know this but she´d had a little crisis in there realizing she was behaving like a messy twenty year old with her dating habits, instead of a person in their forties, berating herself about being a in a mid-life crisis, until you interrupted the thoughts.

you walked in then, eyeing her, trying to figure out what was going through her mind, "yeah just me. listen, are you okay? you looked a little out of it all night", she almost couldn´t bring herself to look at you but she did, seeing you that up close only making her already red cheeks feel even hotter, "oh, dont worry, i just had a tough day". you smiled to yourself, suppressing a laugh, she questioned you, "what´s so funny?" her tone a little more annoyed than she intended, "i mean, it wasnt just today, was it? i´ll be honest, you always look like you´re being held hostage sitting next to her", Van rolled her eyes but couldn´t really deny it.

"well maybe i am?" she said, a little defeated, you were amused by her being all dramatic, "oh really? that bad? why are you still with her then? you aren´t even girlfriends, are you?" she shook her head, "no but it´s. you know. complicated. i have no idea how to break it off, the night we met i was alone and sad and drunk and it felt good to be wanted but. yeah i´m kinda lost here, it´s so dumb" she looked at you then, seeing you nod, your faint smile, irritated by your charming aura "and you´re not making it any easier by the way" she said, you piped up then, "me?? what the hell am i doing?", her gaze was charged, fixing you, "you know."

you kept protesting, "no, please enlighten me", you might have been doing it on purpose, pushing her, and she could tell. "oh come on, you keep staring at me, all the time, and it´s not very subtle" you grinned then, "only because you keep looking first". she knew you were right, she knew she´d been the one who started the whole catching glimpses from across the table thing. you continued, "besides i´m not dating anyone, i can look wherever i want. you´re the one who should be more discreet" you teased, she shook her head, clearly riled up, "stop that".

you leaned against the wall then, the door closed by that point, looking at her with a hint of satisfaction, getting more words out of her than during all the weeks before, "you know i could just leave, make this easier for you, i wouldn´t mind, i can go home".

her tone was low then, stern almost, "don´t".

"i shouldn´t go?", she shook her head "no".

"you´re sending mixed singals here, Van"

hearing you say her name, your soft voice, it was too much, her whole body reacted to it like she was being called closer. you could tell it had struck a nerve, she was looking at you from where she was standing as if she wanted to lunge at you, first it looked aggressive, then it registered as what it really was; hunger. she looked starved and you realized your barely clothed body was only making it worse, your exposed thighs illuminated by the dim light in the expensive bathroom, your bare neck, your chest, the faint glow that the sun and sweat had left, your scent, it was like you´d purposely walked into a trap in that room, of course, of course Van wouldn´t handle it well, being enclosed with you like that. it struck you all at once, and you couldn´t deny it, how hot she looked checking you out like that, one last time she tried to stop it.

"dont give me that look" she pleaded, but you were beyond hesitation by that point, staring at her in a way that gave her the final push she needed.

she stepped closer to you then, so close you could feel her body heat, could feel her bare knee grazing yours, her hands on your arms then, running over your skin, a shiver down your spine, "god you´re so fucking beautiful" she whispered to herself, already turned on just from touching you lightly, your face giving away how good it felt to have her that close, your lips parted, her fingers running over your upper arms, to your shoulders, your neck, mesmerized, "Van.." you begged, she was breathing heavily enough for you to hear it, "you know how hard it´s been for me? to be around you all the time, to feel you looking at me with those eyes? " she was breathing against your lips then, "tell me i´m right" she whispered, a hand on your chest, "admit it, you’ve wanted me all along"

you couldn´t take it anymore, no time for words, you grabbed her face, pulling her in for a kiss, feeling her push you against the wall with how eagerly she leaned into it, immediately kissing you hard enough to force you into submission, and you gladly let her take charge; mouth open, sounds escaping you during the split seconds your lips were separated, which only fucked with her head more, she was clearly starved because she waited until the very last moment to stop devouring you and catch her breath, only pulling away once your lips were swollen red and your body was practically melting into her, her hands resting on your waist as you both tried to remain somewhat composed, you thought that was it, you thought that brief moment of transgression would stay brief, but Van had other plans.

she leaned closer again, whispering, "can you be quiet?", thinking of the people down the hall. she knew that once she´d get a taste of you, she wouldn´t be able to stop, so it was on you, to control yourself, it was on you to make sure you two wouldn´t be caught. you said yes, semi confident in your ability to keep it together, as she was already fumbling with your zipper, pulling your shorts down almost violently as she got on her knees, you had no time to process, looking down at her, shaking your head, a barely audible "what the fuck are you doing" directed downwards, watching her look up at you as her strong hands grabbed your thighs, her expression had shifted from aggression to desperation, she was begging you, "please let me taste you" voice all sultry and needy, there was no way you could have said no to her then, so you nodded, feeling your body heat up even more as she ripped your underwear down too then, kissing your inner thighs while pushing your legs further apart, feeling you tense up "jesus fuck"... you were done for, and you knew it.

she bit your soft skin out of sheer desperation, leaving slight teeth marks, you knew she´d found you attractive but that level of need was a shock. she pushed her face between your legs in a way you´d rarely felt someone do, like she actually wanted to be suffocated by the sensation of your wetness, like she wanted to be buried in you, as intensely as possible, not giving a fuck about getting enough air, her fingers digging into your flesh as she pulled you down onto her face, your back against the wall, pulling one of your calves over her shoulder to get more access, groaning into you as her flat tongue ran over over warm cunt to lap up what had collected there, kissing your aroused lips feverishly all over before diving in, intense, fast movements, immediately making it hard for you to remain quiet, an unexpectedly loud moan echoing through the tiled room, which made her squeeze your thigh very hard to signal to you "shut the fuck up", which you tried, your palm over your mouth then, muffling the cries, as she held you in place, eating you out like she´d been waiting for years, not just a few weeks, switching between licking and sucking your clit, fully driving you mad with arousal, her own sounds only a non issue because you were practically sitting on her mouth, whenever you thought she might slow down she just kept going and going, humming with pleasure, your taste even better than she´d imagined, the heat of your cunt mixed with the velvety slickness, the feeling of it all over her lips, her tongue, all of it making her delirious, wishing she´d have given in sooner, making up for it by leaving no part of your cunt neglected, your hand was wet with your own spit by that point, trying hard to keep it together, she could tell you were unravelling, holding your increasingly weak legs in place over her face, her chin glistening at that point, you tried to be quiet as possible as you whined "jesus fuck im gonna-" voice cut off from another wave of pleasure.

she spoke up for a second "it´s okay, cum on my face, i got you", you didn´t need to be told twice, your hands in her hair, holding onto her, pushing her over the edge too as she focused solely on your clit, sucking hard enough to almost make you black out from it, not letting go until your knees buckled and you almost slid down the wall, biting your hand as you came against her lips, her hands still supporting you, probably having left a few bruises which you didn´t mind at all. once you were truly finished she let you go, letting you collect yourself, as she got up from the floor, a deeply satisfied grin, a glow to her, the face of a woman who´d gotten exactly what she wanted, taking in the sight of you all disheveled, your clothes still on the floor.

"here let me help you with that", she reached down, pulling up your underwear, gently, a contrast to the way she´d ripped it off, followed by your shorts, even buttoning them up for you, facing you afterwards, adjusting your fucked up hair a little, "here you go, that´s better", a tenderness to it, that she just couldn´t deny herself.

you were regaining some strength then, "i dont think anyone has ever been that desperate for me" you said, a pleased smile, pride swelling in your chest, thinking of her kneeling in front of you like she was worshipping you, Van looked at you, clearly very enamored, "no? that´s hard to believe, look at you" gesturing towards you, you were increasingly charmed by her, "right, sure", she laughed, "i mean it. if we weren´t here.." her hands roaming your body, "yeah, what then?", she grinned, "well, this would´ve just been the start" you were turned on again by that, pulling her closer, chest to chest.

"yeah? you wanna fuck me, is that it?" she was thrilled by your shamelessness, "i mean, obviously", you smiled, hands in her hair, eliciting a sigh, already having clocked that it was a weak spot for her, "hm, i think we can do something about that" your voice syrupy sweet, killing her, you thought for a second as she kept caressing you, "okay, here´s the plan. you´ll go back out there and tell them you´re tired and going home. i´ll ask if you can give me a ride because I need to be up early tomorrow, and then we´ll leave together. and the rest, well you can use your imagination" she laughed, shaking her head "you´re not wasting any time here, huh? and i thought i was the desperate one" you shrugged, unapologetic,"you think i´d just let you go after all that? too late, sorry" she smiled, "yeah. yeah it is", a shared agreement in the air.

she almost left the room then, before you pulled her back around by her wrist, "you´re forgetting something", she looked confused, "jesus christ, do you want her to taste me on your lips, when she kisses you goodbye?" you went over to grab a paper towel, drenching it in the sink, before walking over and holding her head in place while wiping her mouth and chin clean for her, Van just letting you boss her around for a moment. you threw the towel away, looking back at her after, she seemed at a loss, fully at your mercy.

"you´re gonna be the fucking end of me" she uttered.

"we´ll see" you said, smiling, patting her on the back, before pushing her out of the door, impatient, eager to see what else the night had in store.

#van palmer x reader #yellowjackets x reader #van palmer #yellowjackets

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