Witch of Hellridge

writer, dreamer, illustrator

[witchofhellridge]

✨Rant of the Day: Apparently I’m a psychofan of geometry, physics, and biology✨

So, I just discovered that I might be… how do I put it politely… romantically aroused by applied science.

I was innocently scrolling through Inkitt’s tag list for my new orc-human romance (yes, Zhak’orr, I still love you, you tusked menace) when I stumbled across the tag “monster fucker.”

Naturally, I thought, “Surely this can’t be that bad.”

Spoiler: it was worse.

Centaurs. Minotaurs. Dragons. Things with ratios.

And you know what? I wasn’t appalled because it was gross or weird or whatever—no, no, no. I was appalled because 90% of those scenarios are physically impossible. (I'm not kink shaming anyone!)

Like, ma’am. Sir. That’s not erotic, that’s a geometry problem.

You’d need a physics degree and a pulley system to make that scene work.

And don’t even get me started on those poor FMCs with chronic illnesses in smut scenes—like Violet (hi, Ms Yarros), the delicate angel with joint issues who somehow survived being pinned to a wall by a 2-meter man without dislocating a single limb. I call B.S. That’s not romance, that’s a medical emergency waiting to happen.

Meanwhile, I’m sitting here trying to calculate whether an 50cm height difference is mechanically sustainable without one of them needing a chiropractor or divine intervention.

Anyway. I’ve come to terms with it. I’m not a monster-fucker, I’m a logistics-fucker.

I’m in it for the math, the bone structure, and the sheer Newtonian madness of it all.

Conclusion: I am, in fact, mentally ill. But it’s the fun kind — the one that writes fanfic equations in the margins of the Kama Sutra.

[witchofhellridge]

[witchofhellridge]

Hi! Any updates on vol. 2 of your derek hale fanfic? Binged the first part today and it’s so perfect for autumn !!

For now I don't think so, though if there will show up something I totally give you know.

[witchofhellridge]

[witchofhellridge]

The Club Of Lost Causes #1: The Ressurection Frat - Story by Witch of Hellridge

Five years before things got weird, Bob got fired from the FBI for “attitude problems” — which, to be fair, he still had. Five months befo

[witchofhellridge]

🎨 When you hate your face AND your voice but still wanna join the TikTok cult...

Solution? Draw your own damn persona and let her suffer on camera instead 💅

So here’s my chibi witchsona being born—complete with ADHD vibes, stress lines, and a caffeine-based life system.

Yes, I can draw. No, I won't do commissions. I have twins.

[witchofhellridge]

🧙‍WITCHY RANT INCOMING — for my fellow smut goblins and gravity-deniers 🐺📚

Can we PLEASE talk about the absolute bullshit sorcery that goes into smut scenes between a 6'6" Alpha Werewolf Daddy and his 4'11" "tiny little thing" fated mate???

✨Because apparently in romance novels, HEIGHT DIFFERENCE IS A SEX POSITION✨

I’m over here architecting a series of books (no shifter romance but size difference) where the ML is 198 cm tall (that’s 6'6" in “Alpha Units”) and the FMC is 4'11" and friends… it’s part body horror, part logistical spreadsheet, and somehow I’m the first person asking:

🧠✨ “HOW. THE. FERAL. HELL. DOES THIS ACTUALLY WORK?”

🍆 AND THEN THE DICK SIZE.

Oh, he’s twelve inches, is he?

TWELVE?!

At that length, he's not a lover. He's a bio-weapon.

He is not "stretching her out."

He is mining for her kidneys.

The cervix isn’t a prize box at the bottom of a cereal bag!!

NO uterus on this plane of existence is like “yes, rearrange me like Tetris.”

📚 Let’s break it down like a responsible pervert:

🍑 Standing sex?

Not unless she’s a pole dancer with suction cups on her feet and a black belt in levitation.

His pelvis? Up near her sternum.

She would have to dangle off him like a sensual backpack, clinging for dear life while praying her rotator cuffs hold.

There is zero pelvic contact, friends. NONE.

Just awkward thigh-clapping and the distant sound of accidental CPR.

And don’t come at me with “she wraps her legs around his waist” because NO.

Her legs are too short.

Unless she’s wearing stilts or he’s somehow built like a broomstick, there’s no way she’s getting those ham hocks around his Adonis-built V-line.

And let’s be real—he’s not skinny.

This man is built like a Greek god, right?

Not just broad shoulders and pecs you could sled off.

His hips are wide, his thighs are THUNDER, and she is not straddling that without a booster seat and divine thigh extension.

We’re not in a sex scene anymore.

We’re in a structural engineering problem.

🐶 Doggy style?

Oh sweet Luna, please NO.

You think this will work? You adorable, gravity-ignorant soul. THINK. AGAIN.

His legs are twice as long.

If they’re both on the bed, his knees are somewhere in Narnia.

To align properly?

➡️ She’s kneeling on the mattress.

➡️ He’s kneeling on the FLOOR.

Like some sort of medieval manservant trying to serve her sex and a wine goblet at the same time.

And even if the logistics line up, this is the position with the deepest angle of penetration.

We’re not talking light exploration here.

We’re talking internal trauma.

At 10+ inches?

He’s knocking on her stomach.

She’s not moaning—she’s burping vowels.

And if they do try to adjust the angle?

Say goodbye to his hamstrings.

The man is doing a full squat like he's trying to set a world record at the gym while aiming for her cervix like it’s a carnival ring toss.

🛌 From behind, but spooning?

Okay, finally a position that won’t kill them both.

Mostly horizontal, body support, manageable depth—yes!

But hot neck kisses? LOL.

He can only kiss the top of her head.

At best, he’s whispering sweet nothings into her scalp.

No steamy ear nibbling. No hot breath on her neck.

Just awkward sniffing her conditioner and praying she washed her hair.

🛏️ Missionary?

Ah yes, the ol’ “intimate eye contact and passionate kissing” position—

EXCEPT HER FACE IS AT HIS NIPPLES.

Let’s get real here:

He’s 6'6", she’s 4'11", and she’s laying flat on her back while he looms above like a sexy architecture project.

Her legs?

Too short to hook around his hips.

Her thighs are just flopping mid-air like T-Rex arms for butts. Zero leverage. Zero cling.

She’s spread out like a summoning circle.

Kissing? HAHAHAHAHA.

Her face is somewhere between his sternum and solar plexus.

He would have to dislocate his cervical spine just to make lip-to-lip contact.

This isn't sensual. This is vertebral sacrifice.

Unless his neck grows directly out of his chest like some cursed garden hose, there is no earthly angle where their mouths naturally meet.

So what does he do?

Hover like a haunted gargoyle?

Stare directly down at her forehead?

Whisper sweet nothings into her eyebrows?

Tragic.

💋 Normal kissing??

ROMANCE AUTHORS: Explain to me how your 6'7" Alpha kisses his 4'10" Omega without a step stool or destroying his lumbar spine like an old IKEA shelf.

You think tall men just fold like deck chairs???

💀 In conclusion:

This isn’t a smut scene. It’s a cursed Cirque du Soleil routine.

It’s not sexy, it’s a biomechanical horror show (or at least a really crude comedy) and I am LIVING for it in my own book.

I want rope harnesses. Platform boots. A fucking ramp.

Because this isn’t a fantasy. It’s physics with lube.

🧙‍Blessed be the back pillows and may your FMCs have strong knees.

Love,

Witch of Hellridge

(Writer. Chaos Mother. Human Bioloy MSc. Coffee-powered voice of pelvic truth.)

[luna-azzurra]

When a Character Is Lonely but Doesn’t Know How to Say It

It’s not always visible. Sometimes they’re surrounded by people and still feel like they’re drowning in the silence between sentences.

⊹ They linger a little longer after conversations. Just in case someone notices.

⊹ They always ask “how are you?” but dodge it when it’s asked back.

⊹ They invite people to things... but laugh it off if no one shows. “I didn’t really care anyway.”

⊹ They scroll through old texts and consider replying. Don’t.

⊹ They talk to themselves. Out loud. Just to hear something.

⊹ Their smile is quick, but their eyes are slow. Tired. Watching.

⊹ They keep themselves busy. Loneliness echoes louder in stillness.

⊹ They volunteer. They help. They overgive, because maybe someone will need them enough to stay.

⊹ They laugh at inside jokes they weren’t there for.

⊹ They crave being chosen. They’ll never say that. But oh, how they ache for it.

[luna-azzurra]

Emotional Walls Your Character Has Built (And What Might Finally Break Them)

(How your character defends their soft core and what could shatter it) Because protection becomes prison real fast.

✶ Sarcasm as armor. (Break it with someone who laughs gently, not mockingly.) ✶ Hyper-independence. (Break it with someone who shows up even when they’re told not to.) ✶ Stoicism. (Break it with a safe space to fall apart.) ✶ Flirting to avoid intimacy. (Break it with real vulnerability they didn’t see coming.) ✶ Ghosting everyone. (Break it with someone who won’t take silence as an answer.) ✶ Lying for convenience. (Break it with someone who sees through them but stays anyway.) ✶ Avoiding touch. (Break it with accidental, gentle contact that feels like home.) ✶ Oversharing meaningless things to hide real depth. (Break it with someone who asks the second question.) ✶ Overworking. (Break it with forced stillness and the terrifying sound of their own thoughts.) ✶ Pretending not to care. (Break it with a loss they can’t fake their way through.) ✶ Avoiding mirrors. (Break it with a quiet compliment that hits too hard.) ✶ Turning every conversation into a joke. (Break it with someone who doesn’t laugh.) ✶ Being everyone’s helper. (Break it when someone asks what they need, and waits for an answer.) ✶ Constantly saying “I’m fine.” (Break it when they finally scream that they’re not.) ✶ Running. Always running. (Break it with someone who doesn’t chase, but doesn’t leave, either.) ✶ Intellectualizing every feeling. (Break it with raw, messy emotion they can’t logic away.) ✶ Trying to be the strong one. (Break it when someone sees the weight they’re carrying, and offers to help.) ✶ Hiding behind success. (Break it when they succeed and still feel empty.) ✶ Avoiding conflict at all costs. (Break it when silence causes more pain than the truth.) ✶ Focusing on everyone else’s healing but their own. (Break it when they hit emotional burnout.)

[luna-azzurra]

Walking Style & Energy for Writers

Swaggering — Confident, maybe too confident; the walk of someone who knows they’re being watched. Shuffling — Tired, aimless, or just trying not to be noticed. Brisk — All business; fast, focused, not here for small talk. Limping — Physically injured… or emotionally carrying something too heavy. Floating — Graceful, soft-footed, almost dreamlike. Dragging feet — Reluctant, dreading something, or emotionally drained. Stomping — Angry, forceful, not subtle about it. Skipping — Childlike, carefree, or pretending to be. Sneaking — Quiet, calculated, trying not to disturb or be seen. Staggering — Drunk, wounded, or overwhelmed. Pacing — Anxious, indecisive, mind racing too fast to sit still. Marching — Determined, controlled, ready for a fight or a mission. Wandering — Lost in thought, aimless, or avoiding something. Swaying slightly — Nerves, exhaustion, or maybe something deeper. Frozen mid-step — When fear or shock stops them in their tracks.

[luna-azzurra]

When a Character Is Grieving Someone They Never Got to Say Goodbye To

✧ They talk about the person in past tense… then correct themselves. Then stop talking entirely.

✧ They touch things that belonged to the person like they’re fragile, sacred, about to disappear.

✧ They hoard the last voicemail, last message, last anything. Play it. Don’t play it. Just knowing it exists hurts enough.

✧ They leave something untouched, an empty seat, a half-packed bag, a coffee order that isn’t theirs.

✧ They get irrationally angry when someone else seems to be “moving on.” As if forgetting is betrayal.

✧ They don’t let themselves cry all at once. It comes in pieces. Like they’re afraid too much grief will drown them.

✧ They over-apologize. For being quiet. For being distant. For not being okay.

✧ They become hyper-aware of time, dates, anniversaries, time zones, the exact moment everything ended.

✧ They get superstitious. Ritualistic. As if doing things "right" might reverse something.

✧ They smile when they talk about the person. But it’s brittle. And it never quite touches their eyes.

[luna-azzurra]

Hand & Gesture Language

Hands clenched into fists — Anger, restraint, or holding back something violent or vulnerable. Fingers tapping rhythmically — Impatience, nerves, or a personal ritual. Picking at a scab/cut/nail — Anxious, distracted, or self-soothing. Hands behind back — Formal, guarded, or trying to appear in control. Palms up / open hands — Surrender, honesty, or pleading. Hands gripping something tightly — Trying to stay grounded or keep it together. Rubbing temples — Overwhelmed, stressed, or trying to think clearly. Knuckles white from pressure — Rage, fear, or intense focus. Cracking knuckles — Habitual tension, or a signal that something’s about to go down. Thumbs hooked into pockets/belt loops — Relaxed, cocky, or casual authority. Touching their mouth while thinking — Deep in thought, holding something back. Hands fluttering mid-gesture — Nervous energy, overexplaining, or searching for words. Hands in fists in pockets — Rage or fear hidden under fake chill. Wrists limp at their sides — Defeated, exhausted, or too numb to react. Shaking out their fingers — Releasing adrenaline, fear, or something they don’t want to carry anymore.

[xyywrites]

The most human thing a character can do is contradict themselves.

The cynic who still carries a childhood stuffed animal.

The liar who craves honesty.

The overthinker who makes reckless decisions.

The heartbreaker who believes in soulmates.

The pacifist who holds lifelong grudges.

The tough guy who cries during old movies.

The thrill-seeker who's terrified of commitment.

The grump who’s unfailingly polite to waitstaff.

People aren’t consistent. Your characters shouldn’t be either.

[witchofhellridge]

📧 From the Desk of Philip Daniels

(aka Fiona’s long-suffering best friend, PR crisis manager, and emotional support vodka enthusiast)

Subject: Fiona Kensington Has Done It Again—And Now It’s on Inkitt

Ladies, gentlemen, and hockey enthusiasts,

I regret to inform you that Fiona Kensington, my best friend and perpetual chaos generator, has officially put her questionable life choices in writing.

🎉 Against the Boards—the story of how she impulsively bought a failing hockey team (because why not?) and then realized its brooding, infuriatingly handsome captain is her ex—is going LIVE on Inkitt on February 14, 2025.

Oh, and because Fiona never does things halfway—this is also the official cover reveal! 🎭💥🏒 (Yes, she made me keep it a secret. No, I did not enjoy the wait.)

📍 Where? On Inkitt, as part of the Rinks and Romance Contest.

📅 When? February 14, 2025—because what screams romance more than unresolved tension, emotional damage, and hockey fights?

💥 Why? Because Fiona insists on making everything dramatic, and I insist on documenting the chaos.

And of course, none of this would exist without Witch of Hellridge, who decided Fiona’s story (and Wyatt’s smoldering glares) deserved to be told.

So, dear readers, prepare yourselves—maybe stretch a little first. This book is about to check you right into your feelings.

Sincerely,

Philip Daniels

Official Publicist of Chaos™

[witchofhellridge]

🌟 BIG NEWS! 🌟

My debut original novel: The Alpha's Substitute Bride just won 2nd place in Inkitt’s End-of-Year Contest! 🎉

I’m still in shock and full of so many emotions—this was my first foray into original fiction, and I honestly didn’t know if anyone would connect with it. But here we are, and I couldn’t be more grateful.

This win isn’t just mine, though. A huge thank-you to my beta reader, redactor, and best friend, who worked magic on this story. She took my chaotic tangle of scenes and turned it into something coherent, something real, and now—a winning novel. Her heart and time are woven into every page, and I’m so thankful for her.

To everyone who’s read, encouraged, or supported me—thank you. You’ve made this possible, and I can’t wait to share even more stories with you in the future.

Here’s to following our dreams, no matter how wild they seem. 🖋️✨

[witchofhellridge]

At last completed!

Read The Alpha's Substitute Bride for free on Inkitt

The Alpha'S Substitute Bride - Free Novella by Witch of Hellridge

Weddings are supposed to be magical. Mine? More like a disaster waiting to happen. One minute I’m planning the event of the year, the next I

[witchofhellridge]

Taking the Leap: The Shock of Publishing My Stories on Inkitt

Let me tell you about the moment I officially lost my mind — in the best way possible. It was a regular day, chaotic as usual (because twins), and somewhere between cleaning up a yogurt explosion and folding laundry, I stumbled across Inkitt’s end-of-year contest.

Now, I’d been posting fanfiction there for a while. Nothing too serious, just a place to share my love for other people’s worlds. The contest was open to fanfics, sure, but only if they were new to the platform. And that was the catch — I didn’t have any new fanfiction ready to go.

But you know what I did have? A mountain of original stories, collecting metaphorical dust in old notebooks, drawers, and the farthest reaches of my laptop. Stories I’d written and loved but never thought were “good enough” to share.

Still, even with the contest staring me in the face and that little voice whispering Why not?, I might not have done it. Not without my best friend. She wasn’t just my cheerleader; she became my editor, my beta reader, and the person who gently but firmly pushed me toward the edge of the metaphorical publishing cliff. She believed in my stories when I couldn’t, and without her engagement, I never would’ve had the courage to let them out into the world.

So, with her encouragement echoing in my head and her notes scribbled all over my draft, I took the leap.

The Impulse to Publish

It started with a question that wouldn’t leave me alone: Why not share something original? Sure, I’d spent years as a fanfiction writer, someone who loved playing in other people’s worlds. But here was a chance to step out of that comfort zone, to show the world something entirely my own.

Would I win? Probably not. But that wasn’t the point. The point was that these stories deserved to be seen — not buried in my digital clutter but out there in the world, where someone might stumble upon them and see what I saw in them.

So, with my best friend cheering me on and beta-reading like a boss, I picked a story, polished it up, and hit “publish.”

The Shock of Being Seen

Here’s what I expected: a few polite reads, maybe a comment if I was lucky. Here’s what actually happened: people read my story. Not just skimmed it—they actually engaged with it.

The feedback was overwhelming in the best way. Readers commented on my characters, gushed over my plot twists, and talked about the world I’d built like it was a real place they’d visited. And suddenly, the voice in my head that constantly whispered, You’re not good enough, was drowned out by something louder: They love it.

I didn’t know what to do with all those positive comments at first. I’d spent so much time doubting myself that having strangers genuinely enjoy my work felt…surreal. But it was also heartwarming. Every kind word was like a little spark, reigniting my love for writing and reminding me why I started in the first place.

Finding My Tribe

What really sealed the deal for me was the community. Inkitt isn’t just a platform; it’s a gathering of readers and writers who genuinely support each other.

People there don’t just leave comments; they leave thoughtful comments. They ask questions about your characters, tell you their favorite parts, and cheer you on with every new chapter. It feels like finding a creative family, one that gets how vulnerable it is to put your stories out into the world.

And honestly? I wouldn’t have found the courage to even try without my best friend. She wasn’t just my beta reader and editor — she was my creative lifeline. The one who reminded me that I had something worth sharing, something worth reading. I sometimes just kick me in the ass J

Why I’m All In Now

Will I win the contest? Who knows. That’s not what matters anymore. What matters is that I took the leap. I stopped letting fear and self-doubt hold me back, and I let my stories have their moment in the sun.

Now, I’m looking at my hard drive full of unfinished drafts and thinking, What else can I share? Because here’s the thing: the joy of writing doesn’t just come from creating — it comes from connecting. From knowing that something you wrote touched someone else.

What I’ve Learned (and What I Want You to Know)

If you’re sitting on stories, art, or anything else you’ve created, wondering if they’re “good enough” to share, let me tell you this: they are.

It’s not about being perfect. It’s not about winning contests or becoming the next bestseller. It’s about letting your work exist in the world, where it can find the people who need it.

For years, I kept my original stories hidden, afraid of what people might think. But now, I know that sharing them isn’t just about me — it’s about the readers who connect with them, who see something of themselves in my words.

And if you’re lucky enough to have a best friend who believes in you? Hold onto them. Listen to their encouragement. Let them help you take that leap. Because sometimes, all it takes is one person believing in you to change everything.

Your Turn: Take the Leap

If you’ve ever hesitated to share your work — whether it’s writing, art, or anything else—here’s your sign: just do it. You don’t have to be perfect. You don’t have to have it all figured out. You just have to start.

You never know who might read your story and love it. You never know what doors could open when you finally let yourself be seen.

For me, publishing on Inkitt started as a whim, a shot in the dark. But it’s turned into something much bigger — a reminder that my stories matter, that I matter, and that it’s never too late to put yourself out there. (I admit, my therapist also help me see this.)

And most importantly, it’s shown me that creativity isn’t a solo journey. It’s a collaboration, a community, and sometimes, a shared dream between you and the people who love you enough to push you toward it.

So take the leap. Let your stories find their way into the world. Because if I can do it — with a best friend cheering me on, twins climbing all over me, and a heart full of doubt — you can, too. And trust me, the joy of being part of a creative community like Inkitt is worth every second of vulnerability.

Your stories deserve to be read. And who knows? You might just shock yourself with how much people love them.