#i wrote a fiction

[jackass-biomancer]

Twenty Questions

There was an intruder in the tunnels.

This time, Pyotr knew she was there because she'd texted him.

Meli, it's Pyotr. I found 7 of the roots you were looking for.

hey dude! thats fab, can i trade you some more ear pats for them? ^.^

I will trade them for a taste of your blood.

i am NOT letting you drink my blood. theyre not worth that much to me. ₤25?

 200

50

100

ugh fine 100 it is

And the ear pats.

haha ok can i come pick them up this morning?

I can only meet you at night.

ah crap i work nights. saturday night?

Yes.

ok! see u saturday!

hey dude im here... i was going to wait outside but its started to rain so im just inside the cave

And there she was, sitting on a rock not too far in from the cave entrance. This time she sat atop a supremely shitty-looking folded blanket. Beside her sat another, and next to that her camping lantern.

Despite the fact that this time she knew he was here - and knew what he was - she’d come unarmed. Stupid.

Pyotr decided to try his luck sneaking up on her again. It couldn’t hurt to test the limits of her perception, after all. Even if he wasn’t ready to kill her just yet.

Closer he crept until he saw her relaxed posture tense to alertness.

Meli yipped in surprise and recoiled, banging her head on the cave wall as Pyotr suddenly appeared not ten meters from her, right in the middle of her field of view.

“Jesus fuck, Pyotr!” she yelped, giving herself a shake to rid the excess adrenaline, “Do you have to give me a heart attack every time we meet? Fuck!”

Pyotr cackled as she brushed dirt out of her hair, glaring at him.

“Don’t blame me if you do that and I accidentally punch your head off,” she grumbled, standing up and giving herself another shake. She slipped her hand into her pocket and pulled out a wallet, rifling through it. “D’you bring the cave roots?”

“Yeah, I brought them,” he told her, pulling a wad of tattered and suspiciously stained cloth from his pocket. He unfolded it, showing her the plants he’d gathered within.

Meli raised her lantern as she approached for a closer look.

“Nice,” she told him, “That’s them alright.”

She returned her lantern to its perch and pulled two £50 banknotes from her wallet, handing them to him and accepting the roots in exchange.

“Thanks,” she told him with a smile, “This really helps.”

“What do you want those for anyway?” he asked, curious despite himself.

“It’s an ingredient!” she chirped happily, “I’m making a potion! Well. Trying to make a potion. We’ll see how it goes.”

Pyotr blinked at her.

“I’m sorry,” he said sarcastically, “Are you some sort of alchemist?”

“Eh,” she replied, shrugging, “Kinda? A bit? I can only do simple stuff really, and it’s hard to get ingredients, but yeah.”

Pyotr peered at her suspiciously.

“What?” she asked, suddenly defensive. “I’m an alchemist like how you’re a vampire. It’s real!”

Realisation dawned on him then that this was the reason she hadn’t been more terrified or disbelieving when she’d met him - if she was aware of minor sorcery, being at least dimly aware of the existence of vampires and similar creatures wasn’t a huge stretch from there.

“And what kind of ‘potion’ are you planning on making with these roots?” he asked warily as she folded the cloth back around them.

“Heh, it’s kinda funny actually,” she told him with a wry smile as she wandered over to the cave mouth, “It’s a potion that lets you see in the dark. These kind of roots only grow in completely dark caves, and that’s what you need to make a potion that lets you find roots in completely dark caves.”

She set the cloth package down in the rain just outside the tunnel and turned back to her equipment.

“You can see really well in the dark, can’t you?” she asked as she plopped her folded blanket down on the ground and began to unfold the second one in front of it. “You have the kind of eyes for it, I think.”

Indeed, those pale, bulging eyes tracked her movements suspiciously as she bent over.

“I can see in the dark far better than you mortals can,” he told her sneeringly. Better than most nocturnal animals, in fact, but she didn’t need to know that.

Meli cast her gaze over to her lantern, and then back to him.

“Oh, are you okay with the light? I’ll turn it down if you want.”

Bright light was uncomfortable, but he could manage. The lantern wasn’t too bad as long as he didn’t look directly at it. Before he could tell her that it was fine, she was already adjusting the brightness to the lowest setting.

Probably for the best. He had her at a disadvantage if he could see and she couldn’t.

Lighting sorted out, Meli sat herself down cross-legged on the folded blanket, and patted her thigh with a grin.

And just like that, Pyotr’s embarrassment at their former meeting came rushing back. Had he really been so touch-starved that he’d laid in her lap and purred like a kitten while she stroked his ears?

Oh god, he had.

And he was strongly considering doing it again.

What was wrong with him???

“So you were serious about the ear rubs thing?” he asked carefully, trying and failing to mask his sudden and uncharacteristic bout of insecurity.

“’Course,” she replied cheerfully, “It’s fun to do. D’you not want to anymore?”

Okay. Okay. If he really thought about it, this was just her performing a service to him, the superior species. The creed of the Sabbat was to subjugate all of humanity to the Cainites, but that didn’t strictly mean food, right? They could also serve in other ways, like ear rubs or being good to talk to. So, he would just be taking his birthright as a true Sabbat.

Right. Yeah. Okay.

That, plus his dignity wasn’t exactly going strong, what with living barefoot in a cave with a bunch of idiots who spent more time fighting each other or plotting against him than furthering any cause.

And thus, casting aside worthless human notions of dignity or shame, he laid down on the blanket she’d spread out and rested her head in her lap once more.

Unbidden, a soft sigh escaped him as she ran her hands over his flesh.

“What do you get out of this?” he asked her through the soft tingly feeling creeping out from where she was touching him.

“Well, for one you are totally fascinating,” she told him happily as she worked. “I really wanted to hang out with you again. I mean, a real vampire? I’ve never met one before. This is like, I dunno, like getting to pat a lion!”

“Do not compare me to an animal, Kine.” he sneered at her, secretly pleased that she was comparing him to one of the few natural creatures humans would consider predators. Yes, a lion allowing a lamb to serve it...

“Sorry,” she said, “I didn’t mean it in a rude way. What’s a Kine? Is that like Cainite?”

“No. Kine, that’s you. Human. Mortal. I am a Cainite.”

“Oh. So you’re not mortal then? You live forever?”

“That’s correct.”

“Huh. That sounds scary.”

“Of course,” he told her smugly, gesturing languidly with one clawed hand. “Our lives are beyond your comprehension. Centuries mean nothing to Cainites, your meaningless and brief lives coming and going while we toy with you from the shadows, using you as we please.”

Her hands stopped their motions. He opened his eyes, glaring up at her from her own lap. He didn’t consider her a threat to him, exactly, she perhaps had the physical strength to challenge him but he was certain she didn’t have the state of mind to attack him, or anyone else. Soft, weak human.

“You just told me off for comparing you to an animal and now you’re being a giant racist,” she admonished him, although she didn’t seem too offended. “Human lives aren’t meaningless, but that wasn’t what I meant. It must be scary for you to live forever.”

“What?” he asked sharply, tilting his head further back to regard her fully.

“Well,” she began slowly, “I don’t know what I’d do with myself if I lived forever. I think the sort of, eighty years or so most people get is enough. It’s like, I sort of only expect to do so much, and that’s okay. It’s kind of comforting to know that no matter what I do or no matter what happens to me, it’s all only temporary. I’m supposed to end, and that’s okay too.” As she spoke she resumed running her hands up and down his ears.

“Pathetic,” he told her irritably, although he did relax again, letting his eyes drift closed.

“If you say so,” she replied, having the audacity to sound amused.

“And what do you do with your life, that’s so meaningful?” he asked disdainfully. He had no idea what compelled him to keep talking to this grinning idiot.

He absolutely refused to admit to himself that he wanted to talk with somebody who wasn’t one of his idiotic pack and/or wasn’t busy disdaining of his low status or Nosferatu appearance.

“Probly nothing meaningful by your standards,” she admitted, massaging the tips of his ears between thumbs and forefingers, “I’m a fitter. I work at the Great Yarmouth power station, making sure all their shit doesn’t break down.”

For the second time his eyes snapped open.

“You’re a fitter?” he asked incredulously.

“I get that a lot,” she told him with a grin. “Yep. Fitter. I always thought tradesmen were super cool, and it turned out machining was loads of fun, so I decided to do it for a job."

Well, that explained the steel toe capped boots. She was a tradesman. An unusual profession for a woman, but apt he supposed for one built like Shitbeard.

“Do you do much welding?” he asked, for the first time without sarcasm or superiority.

“Not on this job, we have boilermakers who do most of that, but I do from time to time. I’ve done my fair share of it before though.”

“Tell me about the last time you welded something,” he commanded.

“Uhh... oo-kayyy...” she replied, clearly taken aback by the abrupt and obscure request, “Well, we had a gauge give out on Boiler 5, and I had to get it working until a replacement came in, so we...”

Despite himself, Pyotr found himself getting more animated in his questioning and criticism as she recounted various metalwork she and her coworkers had done during her career. Finally, someone to talk shop with!

“Ack, geez dude,” grumbled Meli, shifting her legs around underneath his head. “Let me stand up and walk around a bit, my legs are cramping.”

Reluctantly, Pyotr sat up, allowing Meli to stumble stiffly to her feet.

“Why so much interest in welding?” she asked as she stretched her back, then bent to touch her toes. “Can vampires even weld?”

“I- what do you mean, can vampires weld?” he shot back, offended by the very question.

“Well, y’know, the UV flash? The sun hurts you, right? So wouldn’t welding hurt you?”

“That’s stupid,” he told her flatly. “It’s the sun that kills vampires, not UV light.”

“Oh, so it’s like a magic property.”

“Exactly.”

He watched her stretch her legs against the rocky wall, and elected to answer her first question.

“I used to be an underwater welder. I worked on oil rigs off the Scottish coast. That’s what I was doing when I was Embraced.”

Meli stopped working the kinks out of her legs, and turned her full attention on him.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Rage sparked in his breast, and he drew himself up to his full height.

“You’re sorry?” he snarled, “I am now beyond human, something far greater. It’s something to be celebrated, not pitied.”

“Okay, okay!” Meli held up both hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Right, sorry, it’s kind of a reflex to say things like that when you hear about someone dying. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Somewhat mollified, Pyotr raised an eyebrow at her.

“You tell people you’re sorry that they died?”

“Ye- well no... ugh, you know what I mean.” Meli made a helpless face, and he found her fumbling amusing enough to placate the rest of his anger.

Dejectedly, she returned to her folded blanket and sat back down.

“So, uh, how d’you feel about having your hair brushed?” she asked.

Pyotr wavered. On the one hand, it was stupid and unnecessary. If he wanted his hair brushed he’d do it himself. On the other... women had had a fascination with his long, dark hair when he’d been mortal, and were always playing with it. He’d found it tiring then, but since he’d been Embraced he’d discovered that he missed it.

That, and it meant being stroked and touched some more.

“If you must,” he grumbled, trying not to sound too eager.

She beamed at him, and leaned back to retrieve a comb and a brush from behind her lantern.

“So I was thinking,” she piped up as he sat himself back on the blanket in front of her, “We’ve both got a lot of questions about each other, right? So, how about this - we take turns asking one question each until I’m finished with your hair.”

“Augh, okay,” he growled irritably as she scooped his hair back behind his ears and shoulders, “It’s not like I have anything better to do.”

“You can go first,” she prompted.

“Alright. Hum.” he pondered, then his grin became even more pronounced.

“Is this like getting to brush a lion?” he asked slyly, casting a glance behind him.

She grinned back.

“Absolutely not,” she told him primly as she began to comb out the bottom part of the first section of hair. “This is nothing at all like getting to brush a stunning apex predator with a gorgeous mane.”

“Hmmm,” he rumbled, smugly soaking in the compliment.

“My turn. Were you invisible earlier? Like actually invisible?”

“Yes.” He wasn’t inclined to offer any further information on that one.

“That’s amazing.”

“My turn. Are you a human?”

Her hands stopped.

“I’m sorry what?” she asked, staring at him.

“Are you a human?” he repeated, tilting his head to stare back.

“Um... yes? Obviously? I’m pretty sure.” She spread her arms and then gestured down at herself meaningfully.

He stared at her a moment longer, then turned back away.

He felt her resume combing his hair, and then:

“Okay, you gotta tell me if this is racist because I really don’t mean to be racist, but are you like... technically dead?”

“Yes, I’m ‘technically dead’. My heart doesn’t beat, my body is cold, I don’t breathe unless I want to. By human definitions vampires are dead. Why, are you worried you’re a bit of a necrophiliac?” he finished with a purr.

“That counts as your question. And... maybe a little bit.”

Pyotr froze, and began to turn, only for her to gently guide his head back away from her so she could continue detangling his hair.

“How do you do the invisibility thing?” she asked, her voice carefully measured.

“It’s, um, a trick of mine,” he muttered distractedly. “I can make people think I’m not there. Do you actually find me attractive?!?”

“It’s... complicated.” she said lamely.

He sat silently, waiting.

“Look, I’m really not sure myself, okay? That’s the honest truth. I guess I can say I find you... compelling? I think?”

More silence.

“I don’t know,” she grumbled, taking a new section of hair. “Hoookay. Um. How old are you?”

At least that was an easy one.

“I was 29 at the time I was Embraced,” he told her. “That was 25 years ago. I guess you could say I’m 54.”

“Huh.”

“The first time we met you punched the wall hard enough to crack rock, but you didn’t break your arm,” he lead in, “How are you so strong?”

“It’s a trick of mine,” she replied carefully, “I’m stronger than I should be.”

He waited, but any hope for further clarification was squashed when she asked her question.

“Are you alone down here?”

“That’s not your business,” he relied coldly.

“Okay, sorry, I’ll ask something else. Um, d’you like, live in here or it it just a place you hang out?”

He hesitated.

“I’m living here at the moment,” he admitted, “But it’s a temporary thing.”

Using that as a springboard for his next move, he posed:

“What about you? Where do you live?”

“I’ve got a house in Acle!” she told him. “Just a little one, nothing fancy.”

“Acle? That’s an hour and a half away.”

“Just under an hour actually,” she replied, giving his ear a little poke with the comb in admonishment for asking an extra question. "Can you drink someone’s blood without killing them?”

He perked up at that.

“Are you offering?” he purred greasily.

“No. Answer the question.”

“Yes, we can drink a mortal’s blood without killing them. Usually when we feed we don’t kill, it gets too messy that way. The Kine start... asking questions.”

“You tried to kill me the first time we met,” she pointed out accusingly.

“You were the one stupid enough to wander into a vampire’s lair. You should be grateful, very few Kine find us and live.” His voice took on a threatening edge.

“Point taken. Your turn.”

“This alchemy of yours - what kind of ‘potions’ can you make?”

Meli took a firm grip on the portion of hair she was working on, so that it wouldn’t pull as she combed at a particularly dense snarl.

“Let’s see... well, like I said, I’m working on Night-Eye at the moment - for seeing in the dark - and then there’s one that you can pour onto a cut or scrape to heal it, one’s a powder that purifies water, although that one’s a bit shit because you need a lot of it, I don’t think I made it right. One makes you a bit stronger. I tried to make some other ones but they didn’t work.”

That was interesting. It sounded like she was bad at whatever she was doing, but had managed to achieve some genuine, if minor, supernatural effects. Had she used her ‘a bit stronger’ potion to give herself the strength she’d displayed earlier? Possible, but he doubted it. She wouldn’t offer this information so freely if it was what she had glossed over moments earlier. No, he suspected it was something else.

“What’s this ‘Embrace’ thing you keep talking about? That’s where you got turned into a vam- a Cainite?”

“Just say ‘vampire’ if you’re too simple for ‘Cainite’,” he grumbled at her. “Yes. When a mortal is drained completely of blood, we can then Embrace them, and they become a new Cainite. It doesn’t happen often, and those who receive the Embrace are... specially chosen. In my case, for my profession."

The comb slid through the last partition of his hair, and he heard the rustle of her clothing as she leaned back, the click of the comb being set down, and the rustle of her returning to her sitting position.

“Why... hmmm...” he trailed off with a hum of pleasure at the first pass of the brush over his scalp and down to the ends of his hair. “Why aren’t you afraid of me?” he mumbled lazily.

“Don’t need to be,” she replied, a smile audible in her voice. “I’m pretty strong, and I’m not going to let you hurt me. You might be able to go invisible, but I have a good nose and you still smell like something. And before you ask, you smell like old dried blood and a bit like fabric because of your clothes. Point is, I don’t think you can sneak up on me either."

“Don’t count on it,” he hissed dangerously.

“Come on,” she said gently, “You don’t want to kill me. Then you wouldn’t have anyone to brush your hair or play with your ears.”

“You're pushing your luck,” he told her severely. Unfortunately, he realised to his great surprise, she was also right. He was still processing this thought when her voice cut into his reverie.

“What do you do for fun?”

“I... I hunt. Sometimes I practice my skills, like the invisibility trick. I have some colleagues who visit, we play cards.” She didn’t need to know about the rest of the pack. It was close enough to the truth. He also didn’t need to admit that the ‘cards’ was Uno. “Are you always awake at night and sleeping during the day?” he probed.

“Ever since I started this job, yeah. I’m on permanent night shift. I like it, no traffic and it’s easy to make appointments and stuff if I can get them early. It’s too much trouble to change my sleeping pattern just for the weekend. So I guess I’m nocturnal now.” The brush swept through his hair, steady and smooth. “What’s your least favourite thing about being a vampire?”

He had no idea what compelled him to answer at all, let alone truthfully. Perhaps he could blame it on the slightly drunken feeling from being groomed like this.

“The cold,” he said quietly. “I’m always cold. I don’t have body heat anymore, so there’s nothing to insulate no matter how I dress or where I sleep. I can’t stand in the sun and fire is uncomfortable.”

“Oh,” she said softly.

Silence fell, except for the sound of the rain outside and the gentle shush of the brush through his hair. And then, even that stopped.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw her set the brush aside. She moved, and he heard the whine of a zipper.

“Scootch back a bit?” she implored, reaching in front of him to make a beckoning gesture.

He complied, pulling himself backwards as she shifted her legs to either side of him. His back pressed against her chest and stomach and... ah...

She was warm.

“I have plenty of body heat,” she said, and from this position he could feel her words in her chest. “You can have some.”

She tucked the sides of her open jacket around him as best she could, then rested her arms around his waist and leaned back against the rock behind, pulling him with her.

“Are you an idiot?” he asked incredulously.

“Yeah, probly.” she replied. 

Silence fell between them as a wet gust of wind swished past outside.

“Are you lonely?” she murmured behind his ear.

He'd been lonely from the first moment he was Embraced.

“Stop talking,” he sighed, and nestled back against her body.

She did. Awkwardly, she reached down and grabbed the blanket he’d just shifted off from and opened it out, pulling the clean side over them both.

Silently, they watched the rain outside glitter in the dim lantern-light, as her warmth filled him up.

#this it that pyotr petting gif except it's a fic #i'm not sure what this is but you can read it if you want #this got away from me more than a little bit #I wrote a fiction #hunter the parenting

[sp00kymulderr]

Rise

Joel Miller x afab!reader

Warnings/Tags: 18+. Jackson Joel, Touch starved Joel, Lonely old man Joel. Too much religious imagery. Feelings, feelings, feelings. References to sex. Unedited.

Words: 700~

Summary: You are a brightness, Joel is the undeserving dark.

He hadn’t meant to stare, he really hadn’t.

The thing is, you were just so mesmerizing. The way you laughed and the way you danced and the way you could shine so bright in a world he had rarely known to be anything but cruel.

Jackson brought that out of people, Joel recognised that. The ability to let go finally, to live for more than survival. You had been half the bright star you are now when you first arrived; wary and traumatised. He knew those feelings well. Why had he held on to them for so much longer than anyone else?

You were like the antithesis to him: easy to know, easy to love, creating something out of the nothing your life had once been. You were well liked. Joel liked you more, he thought, but people saw you as someone they could talk to.

Tommy often told Joel he was respected in Jackson, appreciated. But it was never the same. He doesn’t have that glow, that brilliance. People know him. No one knows him. Not since Ellie had started to grow away from him, started to doubt him more…

No, not now. Those thoughts aren’t for now.

Right now, this moment, is for reverence. How had this happened? He had been staring more than he should last night at The Tipsy Bison. How had that lead you to be in his bed this morning? He could barely remember; the night a blur of things he didn’t think he should have been allowed to see. He had bought you a drink, you had given him a dance. And then more, and more. You had given him so much more.

Joel is staring again, your resting form so resplendent in the early morning light. So…divine…there’s no other word for it. You were made to be worshiped, he’s sure of it. Being of blazing light brought down to shine on his dimmed world.

When was the last time he had been touched before you? God, he truly doesn’t remember. Certainly not the way you touch; softness of your fingers paving the way for a needy grip on him, he wouldn’t forget that touch. He had been craving it for too long, imagining. Thought upon thought of what a thing your touch could be but he was never prepared for the reality of it.

Joels own hands find their way to you, fingers skimming the bare skin of your lower back. Unworthy. So defiant that his unworthy hands - so rough from years of wear - should get to lay a place on your body.

The word repeats again and again. Unworthy. Unworthy. Unworthy.

And yet last night you had told him in the silken whisper of your moans and pleas. Worthy. Worthy. Worthy.

His calloused hand travels its way slowly up the path of your back. A pilgrimage across a body meant for more than him. The rise and fall of your breath breathes fresh air in to the staleness of his home.

Of his heart.

What did he do to deserve this? What mistake did you make to let him have this?

Grey and alone and aching in ways that go beyond physical. But you were the one who kissed him first. You were the first to touch, to feel where he had not been felt in longer than he knew.

Joel leans slowly across to you. Those harsh fingers of his trailing down the curve of your waist. He dares to plant a pious kiss to your shoulder. Surely soon you’ll wake and realise the mistake?

“Joel” You moan. A soft little thing that makes his heart jump. The same way you’d spoke it last night while he’d had you on his lap, when he’d told you to come and you had like he should have any say in anything you did.

Fuck. He is undeserving of all of this but his greedy heart wants more. Hungry mouth wants to take you apart on it over and over again. Eager fingers itching to feel their way around every beautiful, delicate crook of your body.

He breathes your name back. You turn to him. Surely now is the time you tell him it was wrong. Now…

Joel’s breath catches as you turn to face him, pull him to you. He practically trembles as your lips meet again.

This can’t last forever. He doesn’t deserve it.

It means too much.

He means too little.

You kiss him again. He feels the glow of you everywhere.

This can’t last forever, he reminds himself.

#Joel Miller x Reader #Joel Miller fic #Joel Miller smut #Pedro Pascal Character fiction #pedrostories #idk dudes I wrote this on the train it came out of nowhere it’s probably ooc as fuck but I felt it in my soul

[mayasynth]

My beautiful unhinged daughter, Mary Elizabeth Frankenstein <3 I know this was not at all how the scene actually went, but humour me

(Pssssst everyone please read Our Hideous Progeny, pleaseee 🙏)

#Is it cringe to do fanart of your own book? Maybe so. But I DON'T CARE! :D #Attention everyone!!! I wrote a book and you should read it!!!!! #It's got mad science!! It's got sapphic Victorian yearning!! It's got Victor Frankenstein's great-niece!! #She's here she's queer and she's filled with rage for the systematic injustices of 19th century science! AND A ZOMBIE PLESIOSAUR! #Our Hideous Progeny #OHP #readblr #bookblr #queer books #book blogging #writers on tumblr #fantasy books #2023 books #books #fantasy #scifi #fantasy fiction #sapphic #speculative fiction #gothic #victorian gothic #gothic literature #gothic fiction #dark academia #victorian #victorian fiction #science fiction #sapphic books

[monikatouhou]

Ran Yakumo Simulator 2023

[CORE_SOUL: On]

You are nowhere. There is nothing.

In truth, you are likely in your body, hopefully where you last left it, but you cannot tell at this time.

[DIVINATION_MODULE_v3.5: On] - It will take eight minutes to gain visual input in the right eye. It will take an hour and five minutes for [AUX_AUDIT_PROC_v9] to come online. Heat a tortoise shell and observe the cracks for more information.

You are glad Lady Yukari made it so that this is what typically comes online first. It usually gives you something to look forward to. Though it would perhaps be nicer to be able to see or move first. However, you know from experience that these are some of the more difficult parts of a shikigami to make work.

[CHEN_CONNECTION_v12: On] - She is fast asleep. No further information.

This is the only part of yourself that you made largely on your own. Naturally, it is the least functional. It was worse in the past though.

[...]

[ROCK_GAP_SIMULACRUM: On]

In place of this there used to be a gap connection to the outside world. Lady Yukari called it a "Load Bearing Coconut", even though it was clearly connected to a rock. However, it apparently shattered last year, which of course caused practically everything to either malfunction or break completely. This is a replacement she made. This increased loading time, as did all the previous band-aid fixes over the last several centuries.

[...]

[OLD_REPURPOSED_MODULE_(REPLACE_THIS): On]

[SENSE_INPUT_BUS: On]

[SMELL: On]

[VISION_R: On]

The left eye for some reason always takes at least a few more minutes to come online. Lady Yukari has not been able to explain why that is to you.

You know that you are in fact in your room, and you know that eight minutes have passed. Little you can do with this information for now, since you still cannot move.

You should change your duvet cover later today. This one needs to be washed.

[PROPRIOCEPTION: On]

[TASTE: On]

[SOMATOSENSORY: On]

Your eyes are very dry, much like every morning. They open automatically when you first awake, but you can only blink voluntarily. Not an urgent fix, since this cannot cause you any damage, it's just unpleasant.

[FIXUPS_v3: On]

For the time being, you are stuck staring at the ceiling. Yukari told you once that body motion and eye motion are controlled largely separately in humans, but this is not the case in your body. You cannot move your eyes until the bodily output bus comes online.

[...]

[FIXUPS_B_v5.5: On]

[MOTOR_CONTROL_CORE_v4: On]

This part will help you coordinate your movements once you are able to move.

[FIXUPS_C_v4: On]

[MOTORICS_STABILISER_v2: On]

[...]

[BODILY_OUTPUT_BUS: On]

[GAP: On]

At long last. You blink and rub your eyes in an attempt to get rid of the dryness. You finally sit up. You get up from your bed.

What is this gap for, in any case?

You should probably start going about your day.

You look around your room for what might be your hairbrush. None of your visual processing modules are on yet, and so identifying objects is difficult. Also, your left eye is taking a while to start working. Nevertheless you find what you figure is a brush - it is about the correct lenght, has one thinner part that may be a handle, and a wider part bearing what might be the hairs. Using the same memorized motions you've used for centuries, you brush your hair.

Maybe you should leave your room. Might be good to try to cook something, or if your object identification processing module isn't on yet by then, maybe get a drink.

You walk towards what seems like a door. You look over it to make sure it is not your closet door. The shape of the handle seems right for the one you are looking for, so you start walking towards it.

[FIXUP_OVERHAUL_v0.99: On]

Suffering a momentary lapse of consciousness, you crash right into the door, and fall onto the floor.

This was an attempt of Lady Yukari's to eventually replace all the overly big "fixup" modules with some more streamlined implementation. This giant module, currently attached somewhere around the other fixup and motorics modules, is the result. Frankly, you would be better off without it.

You get back up and open the door.

[VISION_L: On]

[SPEECH_MOTORICS_v2: On]

Took a while. You walk out of your room and head to the kitchen, using your mental map of the house, walking carefully, since your ability to notice obstacles by sight is still impaired.

You enter what you're fairly sure is the kitchen. Probably best you do not cook just yet. You remember Yukari recently purchased some outside world drink. You could try that, to pass the time.

It is bottled, so you look for a bottle, and a glass to pour the drink into. You find objects identifiable as such.

You pour yourself a glass. Isn't this smell strange? You take a sip..

You spit it out. This is vinegar. This was not the right bottle.

[AUX_VISUAL_PROC_OBJECTS_IDENT_v4: On]

This would have been very useful a few seconds ago.

[STAR_MAP_HD: On]

[CLOCK: On] - It is 7:21:30.2912 am

You are unsure what the star chart is for, and every time you asked Yukari, she just chuckled and refused to answer.

You hear a sound behind you in the kitchen. Laughter?

You look in the direction of the sound. The source of it is some sort of person. You cannot tell apart faces yet, but they are wearing one of Yukari's dresses and have blond hair, and so you easily conclude this is probably Lady Yukari.

YAKUMO YUKARI - [Unintelligible]

You cannot yet process speech, so you don't know what she is saying.

YOU - "I'm sorry, Lady Yukari. My auditory processor is not on yet, and so I cannot understand you."

The person you presumed is Lady Yukari laughs again.

You sigh.

You used to be able to do a lot of this processing with the core soul alone, didn't you? Has your core just lost its functions, as it could rely on all the auxiliary processors?

Not that it matters.

You come back to the stove to cook breakfast for yourself, Lady Yukari and Chen. By the time you are done, most modules should be on.

#ran yakumo simulator 2023 #ran yakumo #chen #yukari yakumo #textpost #shikigamiposting #the take i ended up with mid-writing is that the core soul is kinda like the mitochondria in that it loses functions that it doesn't need #anyway this is the first time i ever wrote any amount of fiction #so this is probably awkward in a lot of places #tags and comments appreciated as always

[marlynnofmany]

It’s back!

If you missed it the first time around, the “human are weird” anthology is back for a second printing. (There’s even a new story included: “Black Box” by Dara Brophy.)

Here’s the blurb:

In science fiction, humans are usually boring compared to other races: small, weak, with no claws or tentacles, and no special abilities to speak of. But what if we were the impressive ones, the unsettling ones, the ones talked about by all the other aliens? What if we're weird?

If you’d like a collection of excellent stories about humans inspiring awe, fear, and utter confusion, it’s available everywhere books are sold!

#humans are weird #humans are space orcs #haso #hfy #eiad #science fiction #short stories #my writing #other people's writing #Did you know? The story I contributed is in the Token Human timeline #though it takes place after the short stories I've been writing lately #and shortly before the novel A Swift Kick to the Thorax #I hadn't even thought up the current series of stories when I wrote this one #so Robin is working on a different ship #shortly before she gets a job on an alien planet #though she doesn't know that yet #anyways it's fun #and so are all the other stories in here #there are some GREAT ideas #I recommend #The Token Human #and more

[xiaq]

Publishing is weird. Especially when you're used to fic. Because you write this thing. And then a year later you cut it in half and edit it for publication. And then a year after that, the first part comes out. And then a year after that the second part comes out. And you finally decide to sit down and read both of them through after a bit of distance except then you're immediately going "look at this glaring plothole, why did you use so many en dashes, stop saying the word 'like,'" except, unlike Ao3 where you can just go...make adjustments as needed, you're stuck with everyone seeing your writing's flaws.

And now I'm being overly critical about the things I'm currently writing because god forbid I'm making mistakes (not recognizing them) that I will someday kick myself for once I have further matured as a writer.

I guess the good news is that I'm writing at all? But that bad news is I'm a neurotic mess.

#things to talk to my therapist about #lol #author things #this morning i wrote 1k words of fic and 2k words of original fiction #so progress is progress #i just wish i was less of a basketcase about the original fiction #writing is supposed to be fun #i remind myself darkly

[xanvasofxords]

“Huh what?”

Natsu tilts his head in confusion. She’s furrowing her brows in a cutesy way. The dragon slayer feels something in his stomach flutter because of it. It doesn’t bother him anymore though, for this has happened way too many times before.

Hands on her hips, Lucy asks, “Do you ever think before speaking?”

Natsu rolls his eyes with a shrug. He didn’t say anything wrong, in fact he corrected the guy by pointing out how genes work. Their kids will either have pink hair like him or blonde hair like Lucy. He thought she’d be happy knowing he’s more intelligent than some salon-guy.

“What did I say wrong?” He crosses his arms and leans into her space. Lucy’s face heats up from the close proximity.

The celestial mage was actually very surprised when her idiot of a partner started talking about genetics. But that really isn’t the issue. It’s just moments like this give her false hope. That maybe he feels something for her, maybe he does see her as more than a friend. But she knows he’s not on the same page.

Natsu loves her too much but it’s the same way he loves any other member of the guild. And honestly, she’s happy just being his closest friend for the rest of her life. Their friendship is the most important thing and she won’t ruin it for the sake of her feelings.

She just doesn’t want him to make things harder for her. She’s trying so hard to move on and it hurts when she constantly has to remind herself that he doesn’t feel the same. She doesn’t want him to talk about their future kids knowing it will never happen, no matter how much she wants it to.

“Earth to Lucy?” Natsu waves a hand before her, “What’re ya thinking about?”

Lucy sighs and looks up at him again. “Nothing. Leave it, Natsu.”

And he doesn’t, instead pulls her closer to him and kisses her forehead. Lucy relaxes into his chest, almost forgets about the mental storm from a moment ago. She knows he’s trying to comfort her as always. It means nothing...

“I didn’t know your favorite color changed from pink to blue.”

“What?”

“It’s okay. We can just adopt a little one with blue hair, if that’s what you want.”

#this is so silly bye #idk what i wrote guys forgive me #the idea wont leave me #natsu is so silly #and in love with lucy #fairy tail #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #nalu #natsu x lucy #fairy tail nalu #ft nalu #fairy tail 100 years quest #nalu fanfic #nalu fanfiction #nalu fan fic #nalu fan fiction

[rax-writes]

↬ the morning after

Tywin Lannister x Reader

Notes: Reader is a Stark but no physical description is mentioned. Based on an idea that came to me, as a result of the Tywin brainrot I've been experiencing.

The suggestion of your marriage to Tywin Lannister had come as quite a shock to the entire Stark family.

Lord Eddard had sputtered out a weak argument, too stunned to form a compelling rebuttal on the spot, but King Robert had waved his hand and said, "Look, I know he's old, but he needs more heirs. Jamie swore an oath, and he won't let Casterly Rock go to Tyrion. There's two dozen lords who are either closer to her in age, or more good-looking, but politically, is there any better option for your daughter than Tywin fucking Lannister? He's Warden of the West, Lord of Casterly Rock, and the richest man in the Seven Kingdoms. She’d be wealthy, protected, and living in the Keep with you and your other daughters."

King Robert had then assured you that you were allowed to reject the proposal if you wished. However, he was not wrong about it being a good match, so you consented to the union. You heard whispers of Tywin being furious with the King for suggesting he take a second wife, but once again, no one could deny that the King was right – Tywin needed more heirs.

So, given your stipulation that you marry in the Godswood, in addition to a small ceremony in the Sept of Baelor, you found yourself wedded to the infamous Tywin Lannister within a few days.

It scared the shit out of you.

And your family.

Even more so when you did not join everyone for breakfast the morning after your wedding.

Tywin had refused a bedding ceremony, so no one had a clue what went on after you and your new lord husband left the feast. But seeing Tywin approach the breakfast table alone the next morning sent a chill down the spines of Lord Eddard, Jon, Robb, and even Theon.

Discreetly, Ned grabbed Robb by the upper arm before the boy could leave the table, and told him to go check on you. Robb nodded, having been planning to anyway, and found that he was quickly followed by Jon and Theon – the latter disguising his worry as a curiosity to know whether "the old fuck could still get it up or not."

All three of the young men braced themselves for a gruesome, heart-wrenching sight as they opened the door to Tywin's chambers after you granted them entry – only to find you sitting cross-legged on the bed, smiling at them.

"Good morning, boys."

"Um… good morning," Robb said hesitantly, confused but pleasantly surprised at the state of you.

"I suspected some concern over my absence at breakfast, but I didn't anticipate a search party," you jested, laughing lightly.

Both Robb and Jon merely stared at you, taking in the sight of your messy hair and the three round, rosy bruises on your neck and collarbone, mentally assessing you for any cause for concern. Ultimately, they found nothing, but feared that you were merely putting on a brave face for them.

"Alright, let's cut the shit," Theon announced, shoving past his companions and leaning against the bedpost, arms crossed and grinning at you. "How was it? Did he force himself on you? Can the old man still get it up? Did he have a nap halfway through the act?"

The way he tried to cover up his worried questioning with jokes did not go unnoticed, but you chose to not comment on it.

"It was, uh…. Well, it was fine, let's leave it at that," you replied with a small chuckle, trying to ignore the fact that your face grew red.

"Absolutely fucking not," Theon protested, looking even more intrigued now. "You didn't even answer a single one of my questions. I'll die of curiosity if I don't get some details."

"Look, we don't need… details. We just want to make sure he didn't force himself on you, and that you're alright," Robb explained, and Jon nodded.

"He did not force himself on me. He was a gentleman about it," you assured your brothers. They both breathed sighs of relief, and their shoulders visibly relaxed.

However, before they could relax fully, you turned to Theon and briskly whispered, "I came four times."

"You what?" Jon shrieked, eyes wide and mouth agape, as Robb let out an exaggerated gag beside him. Theon doubled over in a fit of laughter, having to hold the bedpost to keep himself upright.

"You've got to be fucking joking," Theon managed to wheeze, still laughing.

"Definitely not. Now, all of you run along so I can get dressed," you said, standing to shoo your retching brothers and hysterical friend out of the room, closing the door behind them with a laugh.

sequel ↠ when night falls

#super brief and not really tywin-focused #but i wrote it so i figured i may as well post it lol #tywin lannister #tywin lannister x reader #game of thrones #got #tywin lannister fan fiction #tywin lannister fanfiction #tywin lannister fic #tywin lannister fanfic #tywin lannister fan fic #tywin lannister x stark!reader #my writing

[kittimau]

don't get me wrong I love unhinged feral disaster characters but may I submit: the calm, collected, master of resting nothing-fazes-me bitchface character gradually being pushed to their breaking point, slowly and agonizingly becoming more deranged as the foundation they've built their worldview, their entire identity, upon crumbles to pieces beneath them, until all that's left is blood and ash and the beast that's lied dormant within the darkest depths of their soul finally, gleefully awakens to unleash absolute fucking hell, mmm yeah that's the good stuff

#ngl i was thinking of nbc's hannibal when i wrote this lol #but i kinda really wanna write a sith!obi-wan au just to break him down and build him back up evil #because that would be fucking terrifying #and extremely sexy #dark fiction #dark fic #character development #character arcs #character archetypes #writing #fiction #tropes

[abbyshands]

🇵🇸 LINKS | before engaging !!! | click before you fic ♡ | m. list | join my tag list!

fix you by coldplay makes me think about ex gf!abby anderson criminally speeding down a highway. it’s raining, it’s freezing, and she shouldn’t be doing this, but she is. you were seconds away from saving what you had with her, but too late, it was over, she didn’t want you. then she went home, approached her door, and she saw you. saw the times she picked you up in her muscular arms, kissed you like you’d fade if she didn’t as she dragged you inside. she saw you on her couch when she got into her living room, sprawled across her lap as you rambled to her. tried to sleep it off in her bed, but she didn’t see you this time, she felt you, cuddled up in her arms as she kissed you to sleep. and then she cried, she bawled, because she had lost you. she had been an idiot, because how could she have let you go? then she left the house, got into her car, and fucking sped. rain falling down all around her, battling to get to you as fast as she could. like someone, someone wiser, who would never let you go, would get to you before she could. and she couldn’t allow it, she wouldn’t. you didn’t open the door at first when you heard her knock. you were numb, exhausted, sick. you couldn’t speak to a soul, not when you were like this. not when you had lost the only person who could make you feel what you did for abby. and who could even be here at this hour? but her knocking is deafening, goddamn incessant, and you can’t ignore it. you get up from bed, walk to the door, and your heart drops. it’s her. and your eyes are red. your heart is frigid, vacant. you can’t feel a thing but the cold, rainy wind on your cheeks as soon as you open the door. and abby’s there. blonde braid soaked, face red. she’s been out here for a while, obviously. but she couldn’t leave, not when you were at stake. “abby?” you’d mumble, and she wouldn’t even answer. she cups your face in her hands, pulls you close, kisses you. and when she pulls back? “baby,” she whispers, and it’s sweet, and it’s endearing, and it’s sorrowful, but it’s home. her kiss says sorry. what she calls you only yells it. and when she pulls you into her arms, embracing you like she’ll never let you go again, because she won’t? she doesn’t need words to explain it. “i promise you i will learn from my mistakes.” because she would never make the same one again.

and just to add in this lyric: “tears stream down your face, when you lose something you cannot replace” abby anderson could never replace what was irreplaceable. you were everything to her. you were perfect. all that she wanted. all that she craved, come hell or high water, no matter what happened. and she’d be damned if she ever let you slip from her fingers again.

#do i make a fic outta this? dunno… #rooted in my fear of abandonment :( #a.a. and fix you is so fucking personal #i don’t cry but #this got me #listened to fix you the whole time i wrote this btw #feeling emotional! #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson fan fiction #abby anderson fanfic #abby anderson fic #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson imagine #abby anderson imagines #abby anderson tlou2 #abby anderson tlou #abby angst #the last of us part two #the last of us angst #tlou #tlou2

[jackass-biomancer]

Admiring the Monster

Meli slips into WOD, just for a little scenario.

As usual, she’s being pathologically, idiotically friendly at people she really shouldn’t be.

Like fucking Pyotr.

(he is so confused)

Cut for length, SFW

There was an intruder in the tunnels.

At first Pyotr thought it was most likely an animal, but it was too large for that. Too clumsy, yet deliberate. Ah, yes, he could hear it - perhaps it was Kindred, but he doubted it. A meal had wandered straight into the pack's lair.

And, lucky him, he was the only one far enough down this way to hear it.

Pyotr's ever-visible grin took on an even more predatory cast as he made his way silently down the rocky passage.

Closing in, the first thing he saw was the glow of artificial light against the cave wall. Effortlessly, he draped himself in the veil of obfuscation as he crept around the corner.

The intruder was a woman. Kine, he could tell that much instantly. She was surprisingly big, though, almost as tall as he was and, thickset in a way that was both muscular and somewhat chubby. If he had to guess he’d put her at around 30, maybe 35.

She was dressed in old but serviceable jeans, a plain black t-shirt and a light jacket. Her hefty boots were, upon closer inspection, a workman’s steel-toe-caps, which was... odd. She held a camping lantern in one hand, and was slowly moving along, inspecting the walls and ceiling of the tunnel as she went. Looking for something, although he couldn’t say what.

Suddenly she paused, and stood upright. She cast her gaze around suspiciously, and intook a few sharp breaths, sniffing the air.

“Now,” she murmured, seemingly to herself. Her accent carried a hint on the North in it. “What smells like clothes and blood, but no sweat...?”

Shit, what? She could smell him?

Pyotr backed away, taking care to remain as silent as possible, and redoubled his efforts at obfuscating his presence. He couldn’t fool something with sharp enough senses, but must humans couldn’t see him if he didn’t want to be seen.

The woman frowned a bit, raising the lantern to peer deeper into the dark. Seeing - and, he surmised, smelling - nothing out of place, she returned to her searching of the walls and ceiling.

Well, she was headed this way, and staying hidden was far easier when he wasn’t moving. 

Pyotr was a patient vampire. He could wait.

As she closed the distance, however...

“Hello?” she called out into the tunnel, her normal speaking volume startlingly loud in the comparative silence, “Is there someone else in here?”

It seemed as if ambush wasn’t going to cut it, with her unusually powerful sense of smell.

No matter. There were many other avenues available for an apex predator.

Standing to his full height in the center of the tunnel, Pyotr dropped the veil of invisibility.

The woman yelped and leapt back at the sight of him, nearly falling. Her wide, frightened eyes took in his greasy, stringy hair, his distorted, predatory features, his skinny, elongated limbs.

"Wow!" she exclaimed, "Look at you!"

"Admiring the monster, are we?" he sneered. He was well aware of the disgust and horror humans - and most vampires, when it came to that - felt when looking upon a Nosferatu. Good. The more frightened this woman was-

"Yeah!" she chirped, utterly missing the sarcasm and clearly fascinated now that the initial shock had worn off, "You're gorgeous!"

Pyotr's train of thought slammed to a halt.

"...what."

"You're, like, a proper monster. You're terrifying!" she remarked cheerfully, taking a step closer.

Instinctively, he took an equal step back.

"Your eyes are amazing!" she continued, advancing another step, "And those claws!"

"Um-"

"And bloody hell, those teeth! And the ears, love the ears." She stopped, and beamed at him.

A dark flush began to creep up into what was left of Pyotr's cheeks, his lambent eyes flicking back and forth over her uncertainly.

"I, uh..."

"Can I touch you?" she asked, extending a hand.

"What?!" He took a step back, then another.

"No," he said, "No, no no, no, no. What is this? Don't you know you're prey!?"

"Uh, no, not really," she replied, dropping her hand back to her side. "I don't think I'm prey, sorry. You're a beautiful example of a predator, though."

“Then allow me to explain. I am not beautiful. I am what you would call a vampire. Kindred. I am the Sword of Caine, and you? You’re meat. You’ve picked the wrong cave to wander into, and now I’m going to kill you.”

"You're not going to kill me, and I think you're mistaking 'beautiful' to mean beautiful for a hu-"

Pyotr vanished.

"For a, uh, human..." The woman backed up uncertainly, trailing off as her head swung back and forth in the gloom, eyes darting this way and that. Swiftly, she put her back to the wall.

"I mean more like how... I dunno, a lion is beautiful, or a fire. Y'know?" she continued bravely. "And please don't attack me."

There was silence. She stayed where she was, taking deep lungfuls of air.

And then, she dropped to all fours.

A set of claws smashed into the cave wall where her chest had been, sending chunks of dirt skittering off into the darkness.

Pushing powerfully off from the ground and surging forward, the woman caught the now visible Kindred around the waist and bulled him back, sending him stumbling into the opposite wall. With the force of her momentum she rose, and slammed her hand into the rock beside his head, sending minute cracks crazing across the surface.

His eyes flicked to that, and then up to her face, and he shrank away from both, suddenly keenly aware that this woman was far stronger than she should be and perhaps he had miscalculated here.

She was also even bigger than he initially estimated, and her face-

"I said," she growled, through teeth suddenly too big and sharp for any human, "Please don't attack me. I don't want to hurt you."

He didn’t move, and after a moment of scrutiny she lifted her hand away from the cave wall and shook out her arm as she stepped back, almost seeming to shrink in stature.

"I'm sorry I've intruded in your... territory, such as it is." she grumbled. "I'll leave now. I won't bother you again and I won't tell anyone you're here, okay? So don't try to kill me again. I don't want to have to rip your head off."

She turned, paused, and tilted her head back, smiling at the stunned vampire.

"You are very handsome though," she told him impishly, winked, and then wandered away down the tunnel, back the way she had come from.

*****

Pyotr's mind was reeling. He had so many questions. What was she? Why was she here, was she looking for them? Was she working with, or for, the Anarchs? Where did she come from? Why didn't she kill him when she had the chance?

Unaided by his conscious mind, he blurted out the most pressing query he had.

"Do you really think I'm beautiful..?"

It came out far more plaintive than even his lack of intent would have had it, and he cringed the second it left his mouth, the shameful question echoing after her down the tunnel. He buried his face in his hands as silence reclaimed the darkness.

"Sure!" echoed back, still heading away from him. "Gorgeous predator, like I said."

The affirmation set his thoughts aswirl all over again, and he found himself padding off silently down the passage after her.

"I know you're following me," she said suddenly, not turning. "I can smell you. Please don't make me-"

"Wait," he implored softly.

She did turn then, eyeing him curiously. Lank hair covered much of his face, but he was sure she could see the embarrassment on his features as he stood, radiating uncertainty.

He swallowed.

"You- you can touch me," he told her, hesitant, cautious. "If you really want to."

She stopped, and turned fully. She blinked as she appraised him carefully, searching for any sign of duplicity.

Oh Caine this was so embarrassing why did he have to go and open his big ugly mouth-

"Could I see your claws?" she asked with a smile, extending a hand.

Cautiously, he reached one of his own forward, and rested it on hers. 

Ah, such warm skin...

She took his hand and turned it over, running the pad of her thumb along his forefinger and over the place where his claws began. Her digit traced the side of his talon, testing the edge, and then pressed lightly against the point, not hard enough to draw blood. Delicately, she repeated the process with his middle finger, ring finger, little finger.

Pyotr quivered, just slightly, and closed his eyes. He hadn't been touched in a long time. He hadn't been touched this gently or reverently in... decades. Maybe ever.

"Amazing," she murmured, turning his hand back over to examine the structure of his finger bones and knuckles, pressing just lightly into his dead flesh, "You're got so much strength in such slender fingers."

Pyotr swayed a little where he stood, lost in the novel sensation.

"Oh," she said, sheepishly.

He opened his eyes, and she gestured to the larger rocks against the cave wall.

"Sorry," she murmured, "I should have asked if you wanted to sit. Your claws are awesome by the way."  Her lantern she rested on a rock, leaning against the wall. Most of its light cast on the ceiling overhead, the glow falling upon them dimmed. She sat on another His rangy arm stretched to keep his hand in hers, and he sat on a third, looking at her strangely, utterly unable to decide what to do or say.

She smiled at him reassuringly, and reached over slowly to brush his hair out of his face, tucking it back behind one long ear.

His eyes fluttered closed again, and he leaned into the contact, pressing his cheek into her hand.

"Wow," she whispered, enthralled. "Your mouth is fearsome, isn't it?"

He couldn't help but smile at that, although he offered no comment.

"I'd heard vampires have better teeth than humans, but usually you need to be Fera to have this much fang..."

"Heh," he chuckled, "Should I be flattered?"

"I think so," she told him, grinning. "I'm impressed."

"Admiring the monster," he murmured, almost nuzzling into her touch.

"Absolutely," she told him. "Can I touch your ears? I need my hand back though."

His eyes opened, glowing slightly in the gloom.

"I suppose so."

He leaned over awkwardly, bracing himself with one hand on her rock.

Warm, warm fingertips traced up along the underside of his long, pointed ear and he shuddered from head to toe, nearly falling as his arm wobbled dangerously.

"Sorry, did that-"

"No, no, it's fine. I'm fine. Keep going."

Experimentally, she ran her hand over the shell of his ear as he closed his eyes once more, arching into it. She tested the bend and spring of the flesh, outlined the sharp angle of the tips.

"Hnnnnnnnndon't stop," he groaned, pushing his head closer.

"I mean, I have to stop eventually... but I suppose I can spend some time patting you, if you want."

She shifted down onto the ground, sitting cross-legged.

"Head here," she told him, slapping her thigh. "Way more comfortable."

He eagerly complied, not even caring any more how embarrassing any of this was. All he wanted was some more ear rubs.

This time she touched him with more purpose, rather than the exploration she had been conducting. The pads of her thumbs massaged into the back of both ears, and she used the sides of her forefingers to lightly press and tug at the lower edges.

The woman smiled down in amusement at the terrifying vampire practically melting in her lap. She was having to improvise as she went, the shape of his ears being so alien to her, but he didn't mind.

When she reached the tips he quivered again, fearsome teeth parting as a quiet groan issued forth from his throat.

"Hm," she murmured speculatively, mostly to herself, "Guess there's a lot of nerve endings here."

She rubbed both pointed eartips between thumb and forefinger, grinning as she felt him go completely slack.

"I should charge for this," she teased.

"Nrgh..." he grunted, which might have been intended as a response.

In silence she worked her way down to the base of his ears, then brushed the rest of his hair back away from his face. Stymied in her attempts to run her fingers through it - it was far too tangled in too many places - she instead slid her fingertips into his locks and began to rub at his scalp.

A sound somewhere between a growl and a sigh heaved out of him, and he half-turned to give her access to the back of his head, cheek resting on her thigh.

"I should have brought a hairbrush," she mused aloud. "Well, no, I shouldn't have - who brings a hairbrush for poking around in a cave - but I wish I had. Your hair'd be gorgeous if you brushed it."

She let her fingertips trail up his ear one last time, then gave his shoulder a gentle push.

"Hey," she said, "I've really enjoyed getting to pat you, but I do have to go. I got things to do-" her words were cut off by one of his rangy arms snaking suddenly around her waist, although his head didn't leave her lap. His claws dug just lightly into her shirt and the skin underneath.

"Um-" she began

"I used to be handsome," he told her, not looking up at her face, gaze fixed on the cave wall from where he lay. "When I was mortal. Before my Embrace. I was handsome, and I knew it. The transformation was... painful. And now I'm this."

There was a long, contemplative silence, and she squeezed his shoulder. An odd feeling settled in his gut at the bizarrely consoling nature of the gesture.

She shrugged, the motion rippling through her body, and smiled down at him.

"Just handsome in a different way," she told him cheerfully.

His claws disentangled from her shirt and he released her, sitting up. His pale eyes shone in the dark as he regarded her, expression inscrutable.

"I never thought anybody would ever say that about me again," he told her, voice barely above a whisper.

"Been talkin' to the wrong people then," she replied matter-of-factly, rising to a crouch to take up her lantern, then standing, stretching her legs and back. "Oof." She extended a hand down to him, and, when he took it, pulled him up to his feet with ease.

"Now, handsome vampire, I could be persuaded to come back, if you could do me a little favour?"

"Oh?" he prodded, suddenly wary. He knew this was too good to be true. What did she want of the undead?

"See, I came in here looking for a particular kind of root..."

A root? What?

"Uhh... here, this one." Still not releasing his hand, she put her lantern back down and pulled from a pocket a small book - some kind of herbal field guide by the looks of it, with several pages marked with colourful sticky tabs - and leafed through the marked pages until she found what she was looking for. She then handed the open book to him.

There was indeed a photograph of a scaly-looking plant root, strangely fat and tapered. He looked at it, then up to her, nonplussed.

"If you see any in here, could you get them for me?"

She wanted roots. She'd wandered into a vampire's lair looking for roots and called him handsome and stroked him and listened to him talk and she could have killed him but didn't and now she was asking him to pick plants for her and she'd come back if he did.

"I'll... see what I can do," he acquiesced cautiously, handing her back the book.

She smiled and squeezed his hand.

"What's your name?" she asked.

Oh. Right.

"It's Pyotr."

"I'm Meli." Leaning over just a little, she lifted his hand to her lips and kissed the back of his knuckles, her eyes catching his with terrifying intimacy.

If Pyotr's heart still beat it would have skipped one or three.

"Until next time," she purred, and finally released him.

"What!?" he all but squeaked.

But, she was already sauntering off down the tunnel.

What the fuck had just happened!???

#the best way to confound a predator is to not act like prey #I wrote a fiction #god gave me hands to type and i'm making that everyone else's problem #hunter the parenting

[quantumfeat72]

ok i just had a humans-are-space-orcs thought

i grew up in bear country. like, the “you can’t leave food in your car because the bears will break your car and eat it” kind of bear country. so up there people make sure to teach their kids how to avoid getting eaten by bears. and you know the number one thing you do to avoid encountering a bear in the first place?

you make sure it hears you coming

if you’re hiking with a friend, you talk loudly the whole time. if you don’t want to do that, or you’re alone, you wear bells or something else that makes noise. because bears aren’t stupid, they know humans are trouble, and they don’t wanna fuck with you any more than you wanna fuck with them

like. think about that. bears are walking tanks. they can cave in the door to a house or move around a 500 pound dumpster like its nothing. you can shoot a bear with a gun and not do much more than piss it off. a bear could absolutely pick off one lone human on a hike for a free meal. but bears never hunt humans, and they rarely attack humans

like imagine an alien visiting earth and their human friend hands them a bell and says “when we go through here we gotta make sure the local apex predators know exactly where we are at all times”

and they’re like “...oh, yes, of course. the other predators on earth must have learned that they can’t kill a human, and it’s better to avoid a fight if you can”

and the human says “no, if a bear attacked us we’d die”

and they’re like, wait, what?? you want to give our exact location to something that could easily kill us? do you have a death wish??? and their friend is like, no, look, bears don’t fuck with humans if they can help it

not because they can’t, but because they know better

#humans #humans are space orcs #earth is space australia #space orcs #lukewarm takes #mine #and YES it is more complicated than that #but 'bears dont like to be startled and are more likely to attack if theyre scared and confused' #and 'they don't really hunt much of anything besides fish' #just don't quite have the same poetry to them. im a fiction writer not a scientist #i've been working on a prequel to that humans-are-space-orcs story i wrote forever ago #in part because it broke 1000 kudos which like #holy shit #but yeah i have a draft that i gotta work on some more but im hoping to have that out soonish #100 notes #DAMN that was quick :o #500 notes #1000 notes #5000 notes

[power-chords]

This post is so interesting. I swear I'm not being a bitch, I'm legitimately intrigued as to how this happens. This reads like the kind of post somebody would make if they were only familiar with "romance novel" as an abstract concept. Actual romance novels employ a similar grammar of pretty codified tropes, and arguably a lot less diverse in practice. And there is abundant fanfic that expressly functions as an epic narrative on intimacy, so much so that Elizabeth Woledge proposed the "intimatopia" as a distinct form within the genre. So like, what you are asking for here is either the Brontë sisters or Vincent Virga (gay Brontë sisters) or most likely just fanfiction of a particular literary quality. Which, yes, I understand is a tall order.

#once again most complaints about prose fiction boil down to wishing more people wrote better irrespective of the 'tropes' involved #or the genres in which they choose to toil. I can relate. the answer is unglamorous and the remedy not realistically actionable.

[avis-writeshq]

your friendly reminder that spencer reid will listen to any music you want. if he’s in your car and you want to play taylor swift, he’ll listen to it with no complaints. if you want to listen to olivia rodrigo and blast it all over the house, he’ll turn it up even louder. if you want to listen to kpop music, he’ll translate them for you and tell you what they mean after.

he’s not going to hate on your music if you don’t hate on his.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #saw a post that basically said that spencer reid would hate taylor swift and never listen to it #i think that’s soul crushing when a lot of swifties love reid #i even wrote two full stories about him listening to taylor swift for reader #and another fic based on taylor swift songs #he’s a fictional character #rambles !!

[northern-passage]

just found one of my favorite pieces of writing advice when it comes to interactive fiction, i think if you've read literally any of my work, it will be pretty obvious how much i use this in my own writing. i actually couldn't remember where i read this for the first time and on a whim i went through my twitter likes and found it in a thread. i'm going to transcribe it for ease of reading, but this is all coming from Alexander Freed (@/AlexanderMFreed on twitter)

he has a website here with other compiled writing advice about branching narratives and game design, though he never posted this there and hasn't really updated recently (but still check it out. there's some specific entries about writing romance, branching and linear & other game writing advice)

original twitter thread here

It's Tuesday night and I feel like teaching some of what I've learned in 15 years of branching narrative video game writing. Let's go in-depth about one incredibly specific subject: neutral / fallthrough / catchall response options!

Player ownership of the protagonist in choice-based branching narrative games (a la BioWare, Telltale, mobile narrative games, etc) is a vital aspect of the form.

The ability for the audience to shape a Player Character, to develop that character's inner life in their own mind, is unmatched in any other medium.

The Player determines the character's actions and THE MOTIVATIONS for those actions. The character's psychology can literally be as complex as the Player can imagine. However, this works best when there's enough space for the Player to develop those motivations. No game can offer enough options to support every interpretation imaginable; much of the character has to live in the Player's head, without necessarily appearing on the screen.

That's complicated. We're going to unpack it.

Generally, when presenting choices to a Player, we want those choices to be as interesting and compelling as possible.

But compelling, dramatic choices tend to be revealing of character. And no game can support hundreds of options at every choice point for every possible character motivation a Player might imagine.

This sort of narrative CANNOT maintain its integrity if the Player is forced to constantly "rewrite" their characterization of the Player Character on the fly. You want your Player to feel like they have more than enough viable options at any given moment.

At the simplest level of writing, this is where "fallthrough" responses come in.

In the examples above, each moment contains a response which furthers the story but doesn't imply a huge emotional choice for the Player. The Player is asked to choose A or B, agree or disagree, but can sidestep the issue altogether if desired.

These "neutral" responses are vital if both A and B don't appeal to the Player... or if, perhaps, the Player likes A but not the WAY A is being expressed. Milquetoast option C works for anyone; thus, the Player is never forced to break character because of a lack of options.

Questions work well for this sort of neutral option. Tacit agreement and dead silence also serve, in certain sorts of stories--as a Player, I know what's going on in my silent character's head and the game won't contradict it.

The important thing is that I'm never forced to take a path that's outright WRONG for my character. Even if other characters misinterpret the Player Character's motivation, my character's inner life remains internally consistent.

"Neutral" responses aren't the only ways to go, though. Some responses are appropriate for any character because they're tied to the base character concept.

Here, for example (from @/seankmckeever's X-Files), the Player is a marine on a mission. The Player can respond abrasively to her partner's fear or look into the issue (out of compassion or genuine belief), but our fallthrough is actually the TOP response.

There's no version of our marine who would absolutely break character by picking "Stay calm and on mission." It's not blandly neutral; rather, it reinforces aspects of the character we can be sure of and gives the Player an option if nothing else works.

Different sorts of narratives will use different sorts of fallthroughs. A comedy might treat the option to say something funny as a fallthrough, of sorts--it's entertaining and will never violate the characterization the Player has created.

In a quest-driven RPG, a fallthrough response can often boil down to "How do I move to the next step of this quest?"

That said, the strongest moments in a narrative will often have no "fallthrough" response at all. They'll work by creating multiple responses that, by overlapping, cover all reasonable Player Character actions while still leaving room for the Player to ascribe motivation.

#cataloguing this before twitter explodes LOL #only thing i changed was the 'Player' pronouns because :-) #this was so fucking frustrating to do the tumblr post editor fucking sucks ass and kept breaking with every picture i added #i did add img descriptions... i did my best #also i cannot believe this is the guy that wrote the rogue one novelization #one of the best star wars books hands down #umm anyways #writing #interactive fiction

[thegainingdesk]

Regret

Vidhur couldn't pull his eyes away from his reflection in the mirror. The face he saw was familiar, for the most part - the same floppy hair stylishly quaffed, the same dark, playful eyes, framed by long, almost girlish eyelashes, the same long, thin nose, the same perfect, straight, white teeth. He'd even gotten used to the small gut that had recently become a permanent fixture on his previously athletic frame. But he couldn't take his eyes off of his jawline.

Vid knew, logically, he'd get a double chin sooner or later, that his face would change as he put on weight. Seeing it though, in the bright, unforgiving lights of the Weatherspoons loos, was quite another matter.

He should, he knew, be excited. Another external sign of the weight he was putting on, another gainer milestone ticked off, another change to his growing body to wank to later. But god, didn't he used to be so handsome? His sharp jawline, his cheekbones - he didn't expect them to get buried so quickly. He told himself it was the bad lighting, puffiness from the alcohol, he'd had a salty lunch. But he knew, this was his face now. He’d seen it coming for a while, ignored the changes in favour of focussing on the soft curve forming at his middle.

“What you doing then?”

Vid was snapped out of his reverie as his mate Trent walked in. He shook his head. “Nothing. Nothing. Sorry, just thinking.”

“Fuuuck mate,” Trent groaned. “Can't be doing that. That's what the beer’s for. Here, you need to go get yourself another one if you're starting to do shit like thinking.”

Vid laughed and nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I suppose you want one as well do you? Here, you fancy ordering some food?”

-

“Fuck!” Vidhur snapped, as he let go of the two sides of his waistband, and let his gut once again push them apart. He'd been struggling with them for five minutes now, sucked in his belly as far as it would go, tried to do them up lying down, tried yanking them suddenly, coaxing them slowly, but nothing would convince the two sides of the fabric to meet.

Vid looked down at the jeans lying crumpled on the floor. His boss would bollock him, he knew, if he turned up looking so casual. Maybe if he wore a jacket with them? No, his office was notorious for keeping up appearances, and besides, he didn't want to look like Jeremy Clarkson. He could stop off and buy some smart trousers before work? At that point, it was a choice between turning up on time wearing jeans or arriving properly dressed but late. Neither option seemed viable. He could hold his trousers together with a safety pin, maybe, and hide it with a belt? Not that he owned any safety pins, or realistically believed that worked outside of weight gain stories.

He sat down on his bed and sighed into his hands. He’d only bought a whole new wardrobe of 38-inch trousers and extra large shirts just over a month ago, and despite them becoming increasingly tight and pinching in the past couple of weeks, he’d managed to convince himself that they'd last him a little while at least. Unfortunately, he'd found his most recent growth particularly thrilling, and it had spurred him into some rather spectacular feats of gluttony, leading him into a rather vicious cycle of growth inspiring ever faster growth. Last Thursday he'd spent the whole day at work frantically itching his fleshy sides, only to see bright red lines there when he got undressed at home later that night. The revelation had pushed him into a weekend of unbridled gluttony, his uncomfortably swollen gut only adding to his sexual fervour and willing him on to stuff himself even more.

Vid didn't know whether to be thrilled with the effects of the weekend’s feasting, or horrified. He couldn't really need the next size of trousers up already, could he? But the evidence was right in front of him, straining around his waist, thighs and arse. This was getting out of control. Yes, he found fat guys hot, yes, he wanted to experience it for himself, but his little experiment was supposed to be twenty, maybe thirty pounds at most. Now here he was, 255 pounds, checking to see if Next had any 40-inch trousers in stock, and a couple of 42-inch just to be safe, wondering how long it would be until he needed new shirts as well. Was he even attracted to guys this big? He was bigger than even his university boyfriend Hamish had gotten all those years ago. No, he'd look at gym memberships this afternoon, this had all gone far enough.

Still though, he might as well get some McDonald’s breakfast while he was out. He didn't have to lose all the weight.

Vid picked up his phone. “Ellis? Yeah, hi, I'm really sorry, I'm going to have to work from home today. Yeah, a burst pipe, sorry.”

-

“Did you see his shirt today?” Vid heard Harriet-from-finance ask in a hushed tone.

“Stop!” came Liam-from-reception’s laughing reply. “I thought it was about the burst off of him!”

Vidhur stopped outside the break room and looked down at his shirt, which was notably straining around his gut. He had, he knew, outgrown 2XLs a while ago, but work had been so hectic that he'd not had time, or at least that's what he told himself. At weekends he was so preoccupied with stuffing himself, with pushing himself to beat personal challenges and records, and left in such a stupor afterwards, that he forgot everything else he needed to do. He had, at least, hoped that it wasn't quite so noticeable, and had thrown on a tie and cardigan in an effort to hide some of the worst of it.

He also, quietly, hoped that maybe this was as big as he'd ever get. That 2XL would be the biggest he'd ever see on a clothes tag. He knew that it made no sense, that his constant gorging guaranteed his continued growth, that he was already in dire need of some 3XLs, that every attempt he'd made to curb his growth had resulted in abject failure. Still though, he really hadn't wanted to get this big, honest.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Liam’s voice asked.

“You may in fact tell me nothing else,” Harriet’s voice replied.

“I actually used to fancy him,” Liam whispered.

Vid heard Harriet scream. “You did not! No, I'm sorry, you absolutely did not. Him? Seriously? He's so fat!”

“He genuinely used to be fit, before you started” Liam replied. “Like, properly fit. But then like a year ago he just suddenly got fat out of nowhere.”

Vid's stomach lurched. He knew that his weight gain was obvious, that everyone could see it, but he'd told himself that people still saw him as ‘chubby’, or ‘husky’, or ‘large’. To hear people call him fat, that some people were surprised he’d ever been anything else… Time, maybe, for him to stick to a diet. He took a deep breath in, sucked in his gut and walked into the break room.

“Oh hey guys, how are you?” he asked.

The pairs’ eyes widened and they both plastered on wide, fake smiles.

“Hey Viddy,” Liam drawled. “Oh, we’re good. We were just saying that Terry looks like he's put on some weight recently, weren't we Harriet?”

Harriet choked on her coffee and Vid saw her mouth “Stop it!” across the table at Liam.

“I don't know,” Vid replied. “He looks the same as ever to me.”

“Maybe,” Liam said, smiling. “I suppose, the thing is, I'm quite health conscious, so I notice these kinds of things.”

Vid saw Harriet slap Liam’s thigh and bite her lip. “Maybe,” Vid replied, seething. “Do you know if these donuts are for everyone?” he asked. “I've got a real sugar craving.”

“I think so,” Liam replied, before turning to Harriet and mouthing “Oh my god!” The two shook with silent laughter.

“Great,” Vid smiled. He took three.

-

“Oh my god, Terry! You look amazing!”

Vid looked up to see his co-worker Terry walk into the office after his holiday, with a broad smile on his face, an almost radioactive looking tan, and, most importantly, a significantly deflated gut. Terry held his arms out, showing off his baggy shirt and laughed. The office came to a standstill while everyone went over to congratulate him on his near-miraculous weight loss.

Vidhur declined to join the throng of people, instead looking down at the large gut filling his lap, and the small patch of sausage grease on his shirt from the first of that morning’s breakfast sandwiches. For a while now, he'd taken comfort in the fact that no matter how big he was getting, no matter how much weight he put on, as long as he stayed smaller than Terry, as long as he wasn't the fattest guy in the office, at least he was still in the realm of normality - a level of fat that an average member of the public could reach, without intentionally gorging themselves like Vid was doing. Okay, yes, Terry was thirty years older than Vidhur, and he'd put on his excess blubber over many years of sedentary desk work, happy marriage and living the good life, rather than Vid’s explosive weight gain of almost two hundred pounds over the last couple of years, but it remained a convenient and happy lie he could tell himself.

While Vid knew he’d been close to catching up with Terry anyway, he'd assumed that the effect of six weeks of all-you-can-eat buffets on Terry’s 58-year old metabolism would easily match the fifteen pounds Vid had put on while the older man was away. He felt ashamed. Sick. He'd blown himself up like a freak and now he was the fattest person he knew. Had he really ever meant to get this big? He'd just wanted to get a beer belly, hadn't he? Not this sack of lard he'd become.

“How did you do it Terry?” Sarah asked. Vid looked over. Maybe Terry was ill - some intestinal parasite caught in some distant country. Maybe, now he'd recovered, Terry was about to blow right back up, fatter than he'd ever been before, ready to take his heavyweight crown back from Vidhur.

“Well, I'd been thinking of dieting for a little while now,” Terry explained cheerfully. “I'd uh, well. I'd realised what I looked like. Just how fat I was.” Vid saw Terry look over at him, then look away again, a look of embarrassment on his face. Vid’s heart sank. Of course he was the huge monster that convinced Terry, the perpetually happy, lifelong fatty, just how disgusting his weight was.

“Well,” Terry continued, his face awkwardly turned away from where Vid was sat. “I thought the cruise would be awful for it, you know, all those buffets. But actually, they had these places you could go and they'd make me up these new salads every day, and I asked what was in them so I could make them at home - I've got them all written down. And the ship had this gym, and people there to help me. Three stone, I’ve lost so far.” The crowd around him gasped, ahh-ed and ooh-ed in astonishment at his feat. Terry waved them off. “Most of it was water weight, I lost most of it in the first couple of weeks.” Still, the admiration continued, and through the day Vid would cringe at each comment of congratulations. He noticed that a lot of people seemed to be avoiding him today - his size having been amplified by Terry’s sudden relative slimness.

“I hope you don't mind me saying Vid,” Terry said quietly later that day. “It's just, I know it's not easy, being so… well, you know.” Vid gave a short, uneasy smile in recognition that he did, in fact, know. “Well, I always thought I'd never be able to lose it. Told myself I was big boned, or that I had a slow metabolism, or that I just had too much of an appetite. But you know what Vid?” Vid could hear the pride in Terry's voice. “I just needed to decide to do it. It was easy in the end. Here, if I can do it, a young thing like you definitely can, eh?”

Vid smiled. He was terribly aware of the way he could feel the small action make his double chin crease even more. “Yeah, cheers Terry, I…” He paused and thought. “Maybe I have let it get too far.”

“If you ever need any healthy recipes or anyone to talk to, you know where I am, eh?” Terry smiled. “Here, can you believe I was almost twenty-four stone before my cruise? That was a wake-up call, I'll tell you that much.”

Vid whistled and raised his eyebrows. “Wow, yeah. That sure is… that sure is quite the number,” he said, giving a small chuckle. He turned back to his computer, knowing that he'd weighed in at over twenty-five stone that weekend. He had to lose some fucking weight.

-

Vid felt his whole body shake as he crashed to the floor. He wasn't sure if the crack of the chair breaking or the thwap of his soft body hitting the floor was louder, but he knew the combination was enough to bring the entire office crowding around his desk in a circle.

He lay on his side for a moment, dazed and winded as his co-workers murmured and pointed. He struggled into a crawling position, and did his best to ignore the roaring pain in his left hip and knee where he'd landed on them. In this position, his gut hung down far enough that it almost touched the ground. Vid's arms shook with the strain of holding up his weight, his heart pounded, and his breath was shallow and ragged.

“Come on, come on, help the man up,” Vid heard Terry's voice somewhere above him. “Here you go, easy now.” Vid felt a pair of hands grip his large flabby upper arms and strain to help him up. He did his best to not put too much weight onto the much smaller man as he staggered to his feet, but even so, he could see Terry struggle to stay upright. “You're okay, you're okay, there you are.” 

If Vid had enough breath, he'd have wanted to tell Terry that he wasn't a shell shock victim or a startled horse, and didn't need treating like one. Instead, he gasped out a breathless “thank you.”

“Come on, come on, someone get him a chair,” Terry barked at the gawping onlookers.

“Terry,” Sarah said out of the corner of her mouth. “Isn't the problem, you know, that the chairs don't support him?”

Vid wanted the ground to swallow him up. If he put on much more weight, perhaps it would. “I'll just go to the break room,” he said, refusing to meet anyone's eye.

“That's a good idea,” Terry said, still holding Vid’s arm and beginning to guide him. The crowd parted to allow Vid’s elephantine figure past, people pressing themselves into the desks on either side. “Let's get you sat on a nice comfy settee. Here, just let me…” He began pulling on Vid’s shirt, who looked down to see that it had ridden up so that most of Vid's soft, hanging gut was on show, with pale stretch marks almost glaring against his brown skin.

Behind Vid, he heard a creak and turned around to see Sarah probing the floor with her foot. “Yeah, I think the floorboard’s broken,” she sighed. Vid hastily helped Terry pull his shirt down, his pulse racing with shame.

Vid sat eating a plate of biscuits and a mug of “overly-sweet” tea (Terry's words; just the thing after a shock apparently. Vid didn't bother to tell him that it had less sugar than he usually put in it himself). He looked up as the door opened and his manager Ellis walked in, three years younger than Vid, and half his weight.

“HR says we’ve got to buy you a reinforced chair,” Ellis snapped. “Reasonable adjustments or some shit. If you ask me, the reasonable adjustment would be for you to lose some of that fucking blubber. Fucking hell man, I'm surprised the chair went before your heart did.”

The settlement made Vid very comfortable indeed.

-

Dr Wiltshire tutted as she looked at the charts in front of her. “If I'm being honest, you're lucky your blood pressure isn't even higher, considering your weight,” she said, not bothering to look up. She began to type something on her computer.

“Yeah, I get that I’ve-” Vid began.

“I can't believe it's taken you this long to come in,” the doctor interrupted. “Your records say that you last came in-,” she tapped at the screen and inhaled sharply, “four years ago. You've put on almost three-hundred pounds in that time, did you know that?”

“I guess I-”

She grabbed his forearm and pulled it towards herself. “I'm going to have to take some blood for a diabetes test,” she snapped. “If I can find a vein,” she added in a murmur.

Despite knowing his gut more than covered his crotch, Vid struggled against the erection he could feel forming. He'd stayed away from the doctors for years, knowing that he'd be judged for his explosive weight gain, and now he'd left it so long that it was so much worse than he could possibly imagine.

“We'll put you on some medication to lower your blood pressure, at a minimum,” Dr Wiltshire said once she'd taken some blood. “Its very likely that you’ll need to be on insulin as well, but we’ll talk about managing your diabetes at another appointment.”

“Well I thought we still had to test-”

“Yes, yes, we’ll need confirmation before we put you on ozempic. We can talk about that once we sort out your insulin,” she said.

“Well, I'm not sure I'd want to go on ozempic,” Vid said. “I've heard some bad things about it.”

Dr Wiltshire sighed. “Well, have you also heard some rather bad things about morbid obesity as well?”

Vid sat in silence the rest of the appointment, vowing to take on all of her advice, to make the changes to his diet she suggested, to start exercising more. He really had let all this get too far. He couldn't believe how badly he'd jeopardised his health for a fetish. Once he left, he realised he'd never even told her about the knee pain he'd made the appointment for.

-

“Go on,” Lee said, standing on the bed over Vid, stroking his thick erection. “Say it.”

“Please,” Vid said, as he strained towards his crotch.

“Please what?” Lee said. He raised a foot and pressed it lightly down on Vid's gut.

“Please let me cum,” Vid pleaded.

Lee’s face feigned bemusement. His hand continued pumping his cock. “You're allowed to cum,” he said. “You remember. We agreed that you needed to finish all-” he gestured towards the pile of fast food wrappers spilling over the side of the bed and onto the floor with his free hand “-of that food if you wanted to cum. And you did! Well done you.”

“But I can't…” Vid said.

“Sorry,” Lee said, bending slightly. At no point did his stroking slow. “What was that?”  His free hand pressed his ear forward.

“I can't make myself cum,” Vid said, his face flushing. “I can't reach my cock.”

Lee's hand sped up slightly. “Oh my!” he said, his face and voice in mock surprise. “Why wouldn't you be able to do that then?”

Vid was equal parts horny and genuinely embarrassed. “Because I'm too fat,” he said, collapsing back onto his pillows. “Because I can't reach around my fat gut, and even if I could, my dick is too small because it's been swallowed up by all my fat.”

Lee’s hand let go of his cock, and he let it hang, heavy and pulsing between his muscular thighs. “Why didn't you say?” he said, a smile spreading on his face. “Well then, you'll need me to do it for you I suppose then, won't you?” Vid nodded. “Sorry, what was that?” Lee asked. “I can’t see your gestures because they get swallowed by all the fucking fat.”

“Yes,” Vidhur said. He bit his lip.

“Well then. Eating all that food was the requirement for you being allowed to cum, not for me to do it for you,” Lee explained. “You'll have to have dessert if you want me to do that for you.” He shuffled forwards on the mattress, the motion made difficult by having to navigate around Vid’s sheer width. He lowered himself down until he was sat on Vid’s chest, the tip of his cock so close to Vid's lips that Vid could feel its warmth. “Do you want dessert?” Lee asked.

Vid answered by leaning forward and taking Lee's length into his mouth. He sucked hungrily, and Lee began to rock back and forth. Vid focussed on his technique, eager to please, gently stroking Lee’s balls and gripping his firm thighs. Lee moaned and gave a couple of shaking thrusts, jamming his cock into the back of Vid's throat, before Vid felt thick jizz pour down his throat. Lee pulled back and sighed contentedly while Vid coughed.

“Please,” Vid said as Lee climbed off of him. “Me now.”

Lee tutted and smiled. “Silly fatty!” he said. “That wasn't dessert. That was my cock.” He leant down and pulled a cake from below the bags he'd stashed beneath the bed. “No, this is dessert.”

Vid shook his head. “I'm too full. Please, I can't.”

Lee smiled. “I think you can. Big boy like you. And all that exercise you were doing trying to reach your little nub of a cock must have worked up quite an appetite.”

Vid closed his eyes and breathed heavily. His cock ached below the heavy pressure of his gut. “Give me the cake,” he said.

“I thought so,” Lee said. He didn't bother cutting the cake, just brought the whole thing to Vid's lips. Vid took huge bites, trying to eat it quick enough to trick his body into not noticing the huge amount of calories and sugar being forced into it. It didn't work. His stomach was straining and painful by the time he finished, and his head was spinning.

He was so dazed from the sugar that he could barely remember his aching cock, and was almost surprised when Lee's thick arm slid underneath his gut and began to work the exposed tip of his once impressive cock. Within thirty seconds, Vid yelled out and shook as he felt his crotch fill with semen.

“Same time next week?” Lee asked, wearing a thin pair of sweatpants and pulling on a muscle-tee, while Vid waddled back from the shower.

“Yeah. Money's on the bedside table,” Vid said.

Lee nodded. “Yeah, I got it, thanks.” He stayed sitting, unusual for him. “That was new, wasn't it?” he asked after a moment.

“What was?” Vid asked.

“Not being able to reach yourself,” Lee said. “You've done it before, but always pretending, part of play. That was different, wasn't it? You really couldn't?”

Vid shrugged. “For a while now. Too much in the way,” he explained.

“Right, right,” Lee said quietly. “You okay with that? I mean, I know this is your thing and everything. Shit, it's my thing too. But, you know, it's okay to not be okay with parts of it. To take a step back? I know how this can sort of run away with you. I used to think I didn't like guys over three-hundred, now that's my entire client-base.”

Vid nodded. “I'm okay with it. I've… well, I've definitely not been okay with it sometimes. But I've always kept going. Gotten okay with it, in the end.”

Lee nodded. “Okay. Good. Well, you’ve got my number if you need to talk, yeah? I won't even charge if I've got my clothes on,” he joked. “Or I could put you in touch with some other big guys? One of my exes is even bigger than you, might be good to talk to?”

“Yeah, that would be good thanks,” Vid said with a smile. “But, genuinely, I'm fine. I've got a good community going, I've come to terms with all the shit that comes along with this.”

Lee stood up. “Okay then,” he said. “No regrets?” he asked.

Vid shook his head. “No regrets.”

#weight gain #gaining fiction #gainer fiction #gainer story #weight gain story #male weight gain #wg story #weight gain fiction #regret #do i end another story with someone smiling and saying 'no regrets'? maybe but im not going to read through and check #can you spot the characters from my other stories? #desk cinematic universe tbh #i have another really long story i've been wanting to finish since about christmas so obviously i wrote this instead