over here I'm known as cudavianka, but you can call me Marcelina too (yes, just like the one from Adventure Time, hence the profile picture)
I love green tea, redbulls, eyeliner, collecting cassette tapes, piercings, hoarding plants in my room, Resident Evil franchise, Verso from Expedition 33 (and Sciel, oh my lord, Sciel) and for now, I'm falling into the rabbit hole of RedactedAudio all over again.
despite me finding my spot in many fandoms, this blog is mostly reserved to whatever my brain comes up for audio drama roleplays (though don't be surprised if I reblog or post other content occasionaly)
feel free to enter my dms as they are always open for lone wanderers (homophobes, racists and the rest of the disgusting lot are never welcome, not in the dms and not on this blog) and enjoy whatever I decide to curse the world with.
#cudavianka's struggles may contain my, well, struggles.
my master list can be found here, and here is my ao3 account.
the sword of destiny has two edges. You are one of them
Her eyes crawl over to find yours, lids lax with the carelessness solely bestowed on the honest summer child. Her heels are burrowed into damp, glutinous mud, still weeping with the remnants of last week’s downpour. Bare feet tilt at a persistent angle, pushed by the creek's current, the only sounds your shared breathing and the babble of liquid motion over stretches of flattened stone.
“What wouldn't you like?” she drawls, her voice lancing through the balmy stillness between you. “Rich's godawful cologne suffocating you while you try to cook his dinner like a serf?” She snorts, fingers lazily drifting through kelly green blades of bristled growth.
The night before, she had insisted on you stopping by right after work while she grabbed a portable radio for your night to the drive-in. Her mother had indeed been slaving away over the stove while her stepfather, Rich, encased her from behind, barely allowing her an inch of movement in any direction.
But there's one particular aspect that has stuck out in your mind and needled at your idle hours since.
“He kept kissing her neck.” you finally answer, flicking an ant off of your skirt. “They were loud and wet and…and kind of off-putting.”
Alexis grunts, her agreement not needing to be articulated. But her eyes remain on you, eyebrows raised in droll challenge, irises shimmering with something that tugs at your memory.
"Is it just the thought of him kissing your neck, or being kissed on the neck in general?” she questions, her hand falling stationary.
“The thought in general.” you reply, your nose wrinkling. You've always been rather sensitive, giving your peers and family members no shortage of amusement as you twisted and flinched away from gentle pokes and teasing prods. You can't imagine that having lips where your sensation is most heightened would be anything nearing pleasant.
Quiet resumes, and you've just managed to tuck away your sensibilities enough to lay back on the grass before her words reach your ears.
“I could kiss you there. If you want. To see if you like it.”
Your chest hitches, static weighing thick and heavy over your just prone form. The implications don't need to be voiced. The potential fallout sits like a stone in your throat.
“I…I shouldn't…” you trail off, fingers curling into your dampened palms.
“Wouldn't you rather find out now?” There's an odd sort of hunger coloring her tone, desperation tempered with a bite that almost makes you wince. “Why would you want to wait for some prick to slobber all over you just to find out you'd rather be dead?”
The word dead coming out of Alexis Getty's mouth is nearly enough to make you break into peals of laughter. She isn't made for talks of mortality, not conceivable in terms of beginning and end. You can close your eyes and imagine her laying on this creek bed at any period, at any era. The world could be in ruins, and she would still be siphoning the sunlight for all it was worth, gulping it down like a rabid scavenger aware of its closing window.
Call it familiarity. Call it something that won't go past your trachea. Either way, it's just wrong.
You bite your lip, watching as her pupils dilate a touch at the crease in your skin.
“It…it won't mean anything, will it?” you ask. You're not religious, exactly, but the community might as well be your temple, your family its followers, and its creed forbids aberrations.
Her face shutters, her nostrils flaring.
“No.” she mumbles. “It doesn't matter.” Her eyes flash with an accompanying sneer inching at her lips.
“I'm just helping you. I've done it enough.”
Something hot and sour lances your stomach at the reminder. Girlhood is a toothy thing, blossoming in patches of damp in curves you aren't ready for, shark-infested waters you haven't managed to acclimate to, milestones so far out of your reach while others attain them with every other step. Lip gloss and mascara feel like they're trying to glue your orifices shut, making sure you can't see and you'll never be heard. It ends up leaving you sitting in front of your mirror in a daze, wondering when, or if, you'll ever feel ready.
Alexis, on the other hand, was born ready in a way that renders you equally dizzy. She flirts and parries advances with blistering ease, caustic insults and saccharine coos intertwining into a symphony that makes your bones chill as you watch from the outskirts. She kisses and tells with identical nonchalance, detailing her exploits with brash satisfaction moderated with boredom while you stew in something nervous and slippery.
It will be helpful, won't it? To be on the receiving end? To know what she does and how it feels good, so that you can replicate it later?
“Yeah.” you eventually murmur. “You can do it.”
Your eyes slide shut on instinct, not allowing your senses to catch up with what your mind has decided. The second darkness descends, you feel them. Plush, slightly sticky warmth grazes your skin, lighting a traction path that forks lightning around your skull.
You remember when she first moved here, your mother all but commanding you to show her around. You had ended up on this very same creekbed, what would eventually become your ‘spot.’ She had nicked peaches from a yardside farm stand with a quick snap of her wrist, tucking them into her skirts with a wink and a smirk.
You had watched her sink her teeth into the warmed, fuzzed flesh, overly eager to see her reaction to the fruits of your land. But then the juice had trickled, and she had slurped the tender meat until you had to focus on your own produce in order to not do something irrational. The thought of her mouth and tongue roving over the mess of sugar and fiber had stained your mind for weeks after.
Now, feeling those same motions on your heated skin, you wish that your dermis could split as easily as a peach's, that she could play audience to the deepest, wettest parts of you.
Seconds or hours pass, time stretching and morphing into a pocket of simple yet devastating pleasure that you can't bring yourself to reconcile with. Her mouth is eternal, her tongue everlasting, and all you want is to fall into the void of athanasia with her.
But eventually, she retreats, breaths puffing in moist drafts over your collarbone. A groan sits leaden in your throat at the sheen of saliva ringing her mouth, and you briefly wonder if it still carries the remnants of nectar.
She looks down at her watch, then jumps to her feet, leaving an imprint in the grass already fading.
“I have to get going.” she mutters.
“What for?” you ask, cringing at the desperation lining your tone. You know it's irrational, but you can't help but wonder if your neck wasn't up to par, if you didn't taste the way men do. You don't even know what men taste like, but a sudden, unquenchable urge wells up within you to not only match it, but better it.
“I have a date.” she answers, blase as ever. A vague silhouette takes form in your mind. Gangly limbs and calloused fingers, nicotine breath and wandering hands.
And oh, how you ache. How you burn. It doesn't matter. It can't matter. But you can feel your teeth lengthening, whetting themselves on sleek and bitter steel.
“Have fun.” you eke out, watching the creek rush by, continuous and unfeeling. A singular stone tumbles along its current. You know that it will eventually fall out of synch, that it'll stray to the banks and find rest among its kin, too burdened to forever be held aloft. And as she makes the solitary trek back to the township proper, you know the feeling so intimately that it nearly ruins you.
—
She's in your front yard. Her body leans against her beat-up Ford Falcon, the engine idling. Her shoe arcs in drag paths through the packed dirt of your entryway, sending up plumes of sepia tinted dust.
You open the door and go out to greet her, the words lapsing to quiet before they reach the open air. Her coming to you is a novelty, and the implication has the hairs on your arm standing on end.
“What are you doing here?” you ask, and ‘here' could mean anything from your property to the mortal plane entirely.
“I'm gonna be gone.” she replies evenly, her hair frizzing in the steadily growing humidity. Her manner is almost frenetic, charged with prey's instinct for watchful wariness. “For a while.”
She looks as though she wants you to wail, to throw yourself down on the earth and beg. But you instead feel a hollow resolve fill your chest cavity. Something ancient and weary resting in your bone marrow knew this day would come, in the half-baked fashion of a child imagining the sun blinking out, plunging the earth into permafrost at the first mention of dissolution. A tumble from the mundane into the ephemeral.
“With the guy from…” you swallow past snarls and profanities. “From that day?” Your voice is limned with a plea so needing and insecure that you almost want her to insult you the way she did the men who lurked outside the storefront window when she bussed tables.
She nods, chin tilting upward in defiance of a structure you aren't aware of. Her eyes meet yours, and your lips nearly form a perfect circle as the memory from before finally settles into resolution, a stubborn fold in a sheet of paper finally wormed out of its obstinance.
Your mother had taken you to a different county, wanting to show you one of the new-age centers for stray animals.
“They don't euthanize them right away.” she informed you as you made your way through corridors of steel cages and echoing yips and yowls. “They keep the majority of them for adoption.”
You remembered that your dad had muttered something about it being a waste of tax dollars, but you thought it was rather nice, to give the rejected a second chance, or at least the hope of one.
You had dawdled by the end of a hallway while your mother talked to one of the volunteers. Peering into the nearest cage, you were caught in your own sort of limbo.
Pressed against the bars was a Rottweiler, lips curled up in a ferocious baring of fatal teeth. But its eyes were open, bare in another fashion entirely, frantically jumping between your face and your hand at your hip. Simultaneously asking you to touch, and daring you to try.
Alexis looks much the same way, you realize, beckoning you ever closer and promising a fitting retribution.
Affection, or perhaps a jealous sort of pity, buoys your next words.
“Is he nice?” you reply, knowing the answer.
“No.” she says swiftly, intending it to hurt but unable to follow through. “But he wants me.”
You let the pointed comment slide by, readjusting your blouse.
“Well,” you try with a smile, “when you come back, I'll be here.”
A bright laugh tears from her tongue. “You make it sound like you're staying in this shithole forever.”
“You make it sound like you'll be gone forever.” you retort, but somehow it doesn't sound as funny.
You hold up a finger and dash into the house, fingers sliding against glass and fumbling under water before you re-emerge, tossing her a farewell token.
A peach.
Her face lifts and falls and goes every other direction in the span of a second, her limbs spasming.
“A snack for the road.” you tell her. “And maybe a little something to remind you of home.”
She holds the fruit in her palm for a moment or two before biting into it with a savage tear.
“When I come back,” she says through a mouthful of pulp and juice, “we'll share one. We'll buy out that whole damn stand. We'll get sick of them. I promise.”
It's the last thing you'll ever hear from her. And when you're sitting on the creekbed after your mother's wake, not caring if you muddy your Sunday best, a small, worrisome nook of your mind will pause to wonder if Alexis Getty ever ate another peach.
Thank you @clonethirstingisreal and @unconsciousxreality (not fair I was gonna tag you) for the tags!! ☺️ I’m hella fucking tired from Memorial Day Weekend shifts and just started my technical weekend so what better way to start it than to describe current things in my life.
Last song: I’m technically the “DJ” at my job since I lent my Bluetooth Speaker to the Kitchen. So, I play a lot of random Spotify playlists I don’t know the songs 50% of the time. Spotify is saying it’s “All Time Low” by Jon Bellion, which I know nothing about. The last song I liked was “Dark Side” by SkyDxddy which I would love to draw an Animatic with.
Currently watching: I am currently on a movie binge with my s/o. We are watching the Hobbit Trilogy after finishing Lord of the Rings Trilogy. Also, I been watching him play the new Yoshi game, Yoshi and the Mysterious Book, for the Switch 2!
Current obsession: Tomodachi Life: Living the Dream. EVERYONE IS FALLING FOR CROSSHAIR HELP! Except Mimi and Hunter who IMMEDIATELY hit it off and made the 60$ on the game worth it. They are the only two married with a child.
Currently reading: If we are talking about actual books, then I’m reading Star Wars: Low Red Moon, Star Wars’ Bad Batch: Sanctuary, and refreshing myself of Homer’s The Odyssey before the movie comes out. Sadly; however, I don’t really have much time reading actual books right now. So I been also reading short one shot fanfics/headcanons.
Currently working on: the Star Wars Fanfic I been writing which STILL doesn’t have a name 😅 I need to come up with a name before I post the official first chapter. Also, my Drawing Every Day Challenge. Making lots of fanart of people’s OCs and will post more soon.
Last Google search: “Substitution for Garam Masala”. My job makes tikki masala chicken and it’s probably the most popular item on the menu and we been out of garam masala for weeks. It’s been hell and if another shift lead yells at me for not being able to make it, I will throw hands.
CURRENTLY WATCHING: The Bad Batch. I can't get enough of those guys, especially my sweet Tech.
CURRENT OBSESSION: Star Wars.
CURRENTLY READING: Relic by Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child. So far, it's a fascinating little mystery thriller about a string of murders that happens in a Museum, but the killer doesn't appear to be human...
CURRENTLY WORKING ON: My Bad Batch AU, Smuggler's Route.
LAST GOOGLE SEARCH: The Lovers Tarot meaning. I'm still learning how to read Tarot cards.
Thank you for taggjng me! We haven't spoken before, atleast not a lot if we have sk this was a nice surprise!!
LAST SONG: Dashboard by Noah Kahan technically but I purposely played Im Alive from Next to Normal.
CURRENTLY WATCHING: Avatar The Last Airbender!! Haven't seen it before but I've been persuaded to recently. I finshed the first 2 books now I need to start the 3rd.
CURRENT OBSESSION: A mix of The Mandalorian and Avatar. Honorable mention: Searching/destroying a world that doesnt exist videos.
CURRENTLY READING: Im supposed to be reading a comic book my friend let me borrow sooooo...
CURRENTLY WORKING ON: My Starwars ocs. Mainly Valja Covatolas (mando oc) but rn im finishing a design for a rebel oc. I want to begin working on my searching for a world paintings tho.
TYSM for tagging me @kristal-star @the-hale-house and @the-tech-turn !!! You guys are all so sweet!!
LAST SONG: Pas de Cheval by Panic! at the disco. I haven’t listened to them in months but I remember the last time I did a challenge like this a song by them was my last song too 😅
CURRENTLY WATCHING: casually rewatching avatar the last airbender, and all going back and watching some select episodes of the clone wars. not really deep in anything at the moment. i just need to watch obi wan and the book of boba fett until i have seen all of star wars!
CURRENT OBSESSION: still the bad batch….. but just star wars in general. also just digital art in general. i am enjoying learning about rendering specifically!!
CURRENTLY READING: Ballad of songbirds and snakes! i picked it up earlier this year and just haven’t picked it back up yet…. my goal is to read five books this year and I think I have only read one so far, so I need to lock in (i know these are weak numbers, im not a big reader but i am trying to get better!!)
CURRENTLY WORKING ON: I have two in progress fics, one for @heartbreakinabottle99 and the other for @moonlovefairy, and then i am working on a meet the artist intro page, as well as a TON of stuff for my 1940s/Copacabana Star Wars AU!! I keep teasing an announcement about it but then chickening out. Since I am just starting to learn digital art, some things come out well and others don’t! So I have to redo a lot 😅
LAST GOOGLE SEARCH: “moomin sleep music” a lot of nights I can’t get my brain to turn off, so i like this one specific video of rain sounds and music from the moomin valley animated series-
Thank you so much for tagging me, @scribblesofshadow and @the-hale-house !!
LAST SONG: "Legendary Lovers" by Katy Perry
CURRENTLY WATCHING: I'm currently watching Star Wars Rebels, next is Andor S2 or Rogue One.
CURRENT OBSESSION: Maul Shadow Lord...I'm so obsessed with this series, I REALLY LOVE THE CHARACTERS, especially Devon, Rylee, Brander, Two-Boots and Vario.
CURRENTLY READING: I'm not reading anything yet, but I will soon read Star Wars: Shadow of Maul.
CURRENTLY WORKING ON: I'm working on my editing stuffs.
CURRENTLY WATCHING: I've been rewatching The Clone Wars, and after that, I'm gonna be rewatching The Bad Batch! And I've been watching a really cool dinosaur documentary with @shadowlit-shows (it's called The Dinosaurs, and it's by Steven Spielberg, it's so cool)
CURRENT OBSESSION: Star Wars, but ESPECIALLY Maul. He is my babygirl and it kills me that I can't spend $100 on Maul books and merch 😔
CURRENTLY READING: I've been rereading Wings of Fire (I'm on book 11 right now)! And I'm hoping to get some Maul books this year, so I'll be yapping about those when I get them!
CURRENTLY WORKING ON: I'm working on a bunch of Maul voiceovers, my Jedi Maul AU, and I am working on about three original comic series and a novel!
CURRENTLY WATCHING : star wars rebels! four episodes away from completing it. however i am also watching andor with my dad.
CURRENT OBSESSION : star wars obviously. i have like… a whole wip shelf / shrine dedicated to maul with two figures on it as well as some shirts TvT
CURRENTLY READING : hey so like i don’t read- DONT SHOOT ME DONT SHOOT ME! i do have this tmnt comic i’ve been meaning to read but i also REALLY WANT THE MAUL BOOKS AUGHH SAVE ME!
CURRENTLY WORKING ON : a small lil’ fic / headcanon ask i got about my maul yumeship. maybe yall should check it out psst… ( not forcing )
LAST GOOGLE SEARCH : ‘ is star wars resistance worth watching? ‘ look, i just wanna know if i need to watch it at some point ok?
CURRENTLY WATCHING: Haunted Hotel and starting Assassination Classroom
CURRENT OBSESSION: Percy Jackson, I've been speed running the books since Jan, and TADC
CURRENTLY READING: House of Hades and rereading How the War Saved My Life (that shit is so good)
CURRENTLY WORKING ON: Pride bracelets :3
LAST GOOGLE SEARCH: "What episode was it when green befriends purple in AvM" My friend just got my back into AvM and I had to go back to the only episode I remembered
no pressure tags :D
@itsabitweird8 @deux-jee-ode-msm @capaiaque @madscientistfrommars @donniesgaptooth @redwinterhavoc66 @the-canis-major @puppy-boy-jayden and all of my other moots :3
Last Song: The mashup of Toxic by Britney Spears x Change (In The House Of Flies) by Deftones, by William Maranci
Currently Watching: I don't really watch a lot of shows, but am on my 15th relisten of Vincent Solaire's playlist from Redacted Audio. And I think that sorta counts as a show. Or, I guess, more akin to a radio play.
Current Obsession: Same as the answer above XD Vincent has taken over my brain chemistry. The selfship virus has infected me hard.
Currently Reading: Between Once Burned by Jeaniene Frost, which I originally started when I had no internet because it was about a vampire prince who has beef with a british vamp guy x electro human, like Vincent, the vampire prince with beef with a british vamp guy, and his listener with electro powers (found the book at a library sale a month before finding him. The library knows all, even the future, apparently, because that's a very specific pairing). But I'm also in a reread of Bite by K. S. Merbeth. Reminds me of Fallout, but if you followed the wacky tale of raiders instead, and they became a sort of found family.
Currently working on: Both some little one shots and two stories, and trying to work on art.
Last Google Search: Looked up an anime called The Unwanted Undead Adventurer, because it looked interesting. Only just found out about it a few minutes ago.
just thinking about the contrast between porter and vincent.
vincent who had a loving childhood, a good human life. one ripped away from him in a freak accident. saved by william, turned to vampire royalty by a maker that would never even think about invoking vincent for frivolous reasons, only to save his life. turned by a maker that cares for him, that loves him, even when vincent pushes him away.
vincent, a prince, progeny of the king. vincent who’s third in command of one of the strongest vampire clans. vincent who couldn’t care less about his status, or vampire politics, or any of that kind of thing. vincent who resented it for so long, who resisted the name of his maker. vincent who hated being a vampire.
vincent who’s practically still human in the way he acts. vincent who seems to almost float above it all, who was so sheltered by his maker he had no idea what the reality of his house really was for over twenty years.
vincent who left the house of solaire once the curtain was pulled back. vincent who saw violence and gore and murder and decided he wanted no part in it. vincent who was presented this option by william, who reiterated that no matter what vincent chose, he would always be family.
porter, who had a turbulent upbringing, colored entirely by loss and pain. porter who didn’t have much of a human life to miss. porter who was so determined to avenge his sister he got caught up with the wrong people, turned against his will. turned by a maker who couldn’t care less about him. not that being unloved by people who should care for him was something new to porter. no, he was very familiar.
porter who spent eight years living with constant invocation and swift, harsh punishment. porter who was relegated to nothing more than a lowly servant, who’s only purpose for existence was to please his maker. a task that proved impossible, if the beatings were anything to go by.
porter who ran when his maker died. his first taste of freedom in eight tortuous years and his first instinct was to run, to leave the entire country, entire continent, and run all the way to california. there he found himself at the doorstep of a king, gracious enough to take in a stray like himself. porter who pledged his loyalty to william in gratitude for what he did for him. porter who took the solaire name eagerly, who wore it with pride.
porter who is most decidedly, not human. porter who has time and time again been not just a vampire, but a monster. porter who spent a fair portion of his afterlife up to his elbows in gore and violence. porter who never, in his entire life, vampiric or human, had the privilege of being sheltered. porter who, save for his sister, never had anyone care enough to attempt shelter him from anything.
porter who was the blade of the king. a king that didn’t even seem to consider he might not want this forever. a king who barely acknowledged the loss of an entire wing of the house, who just gave him the next assignment like it was nothing. porter who didn’t get the offer of amicable separation. porter who tried not to think too hard about what he would do, if the offer had been extended. porter who was not williams family. porter who was family to no one.
Stages of writing a novel: (1) this is a great idea (2) this is a good idea (3) this is an idea (4) what even is this (5) i have made a terrible mistake (6) okay there's something here (7) this is actually good (8) this is too good, something is wrong (9) wait did i accidentally write something real (10) close laptop. do not think about it for three days. open laptop. start over from stage 4.
