#here I am writing a novel in the tags as usual

[galacticglitterglue]

I hate that my ex just called me and of course I answer and her voice is shaky and the first thing I ask is “are you okay?”

she just called to tell me an insane story about my old neighbor (she still lives there) but then I remembered if I called her she wouldn’t even consider answering

she didn’t ask me if I was okay like the last two years of our relationship, and yet here I am making sure she’s okay almost a year after she broke up with me because she fucked and fell in love with her coworker and now he lives in the apartment that I built our old life in

why am I such a fucking pushover and why do I give time to people who wouldn’t pour water on me if I was on fire

[brickmvster]

please don't go (i'll eat you whole) | L.K.

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

synopsis: you make love to leon before he leaves you.

word count: 1,906

warnings/tags: established relationship, smut with feelings, angst, pre-spain or just pre-mission in general, some light fluff if you squint kinda (i'm sorry), p in v sex/penetrative sex, unprotected sex, aftercare

author's note: i'm gonna be honest. i am a little nervous. more so than usual bc this is my first time writing for leon! i love him so much, he's definitely one of my comfort characters, and i wanted to write something angsty but also kinda bittersweet like this for a loooong time and i finally got around to it. i really hope you guys enjoy, comments are always appreciated <3 this has been proofread more than once, but just in case, any and all mistakes are mine! also, just fyi, i wrote this with re4r leon in mind, but you can imagine whichever leon floats your boat if you really want to lol.

p.s. it's not written in here but pls pee after sex 😭

minors do not interact, please and thank you!

You clung to him for dear life; as if he was going to disappear in front of your very eyes.

You were above him, peering down into his deep eyes. His eyebrows were knitted together in pleasure and his lips, which were currently rosy and swollen after the frequent kisses you had given them, were ever so slightly parted as soft groans emerged from his throat. His large hands never stayed still for longer than a minute – he gripped your waist before sliding them down to your ass, kneading the soft flesh before moving them up toward your breasts, squeezing gently, before bringing them back to your waist, where he helped with guiding your languid movements. You moved your hips like an expert, riding him as if you’d never have the chance to again.

With the rain pattering against the window and a sliver of moonlight filtering through the room, it was almost like a scene from an erotic novel. The room carried the scent of sweat and sex and was filled with the noises that spilled from your lips non-stop. You didn’t even know how much time had passed – but you knew it was late. You knew Leon had to be up in the morning. But you wanted to prolong this moment with him for as long as possible. Leon wanted to as well, as every time he got you close to your peak, he slowed down, dragging out your orgasm in a way that was almost painful, but you enjoyed every second of it.

You were growing tired, your legs beginning to shake as your rhythm became a bit off-kilter.

“Leon…” You moaned, his name coming out so softly it almost wasn’t audible. But Leon, ever so attentive, heard you loud and clear, and he knew what you were trying to tell him.

He flipped you over with ease, while he was still inside of you, spreading your legs further apart and starting up a steady pace. All you could do was grip the bed sheets, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as he drilled into that spot that made you see stars. He wasn’t aggressive or rough, but his thrusts were certainly hard-hitting and relentless, and you knew you only had a few minutes.

At some point, you closed your eyes as you tried to focus on your impending orgasm, feeling as if you were in a complete haze – but Leon’s voice pierced through your foggy mind.

“Please look at me.” He said, his low voice sounding a bit strained and even a little desperate; who were you to deny him of what he wanted?

It took a momentous amount of effort, but eventually you were able to open your eyes and keep them open, looking up at him. Leon lowered himself a little, allowing you to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders. The slightly different position made his thrusts feel even deeper, and you cried out into his neck, your fingers going into his shaggy blonde hair.

“Keep looking at me. Please.” He said softly, and so you did, maintaining eye contact with him the best you could as he continued to piston his hips into you. Suddenly, Leon was becoming blurry; you could feel the wetness on your face as tears began to fall. Leon often made you cry during sex – he was a fucking god in bed after all and usually made you feel so good that he’d leave you sobbing from the intense pleasure after multiple orgasms. And while that was definitely the reason you were crying now, you also knew that there was an underlying reason for your tears. Leon knew the other reason, too.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” He asked you sweetly, still keeping up his quick pace. All you could do was nod fervently, digging your nails into his back. He always loved when you did that.

“Yeah? My sweetheart is gonna cum for me?” He urged, and the pet name that rolled off of his tongue only made matters worse.

“Fuck, Leon–please, give it to me.” You said, your voice trembling. You felt all of the telltale signs. There was a tight coil forming in your lower stomach, ready to pop like a balloon. Leon could sense this, could hear it in your voice and could feel it in the way your pussy was squeezing around his cock. He raised himself just a bit, lowering his hand down between your legs, using his thumb to rub your clit in circular motions while he continued thrusting.

Leon’s name emerged from your throat so loudly that you even drowned out the rain. Your eyes squeezed shut, your back rising off the bed in a beautiful arch, your climax hitting you in waves. You felt like you were in heaven, the tears falling even more freely from your eyes now. Leon just ogled at you like you were a work of art. In his mind, you were.

He was also close, and mere seconds after your orgasm his own came crashing down on him too. With a few more sloppy thrusts he found himself stilling inside of you, his release filling you to the brim. The feeling of being so full of him was one that you would never grow tired of.

Eventually, you came down from your peak, your limbs feeling like heavyweights. All you could do was lay there and cry some more, letting every single emotion overtake you completely, your sobs shaking your entire body. Leon was comforting you in an instant, pulling out gently and lying next to you, allowing you to bury your head into his chest. The two of you laid like that for several minutes, with Leon cradling your head and rubbing your back.

You did calm down after some time passed, and that’s when Leon tried to get up, but you clung to him again.

“Please don’t go.” You said, your voice small and hoarse. “Don’t go, Leon, please.”

“I just wanna clean you up, okay?” Leon replied, wiping away the wetness on your cheeks. You didn’t even care that his cum was leaking out of you and making your thighs a mess – you just wanted him to stay by your side. But you knew he was just trying to take care of you, so you reluctantly released him.

Leon kissed your cheek before getting off the bed and going to the bathroom. While you waited for him, you tried to keep your eyes open. You didn’t want to sleep, because falling asleep meant that morning would come quicker, and truthfully you didn’t want the morning to come at all. You knew it would be coming no matter what, though – but goddamn it, you tried to prolong it the best you could, even when your eyelids were growing heavier by the second.

Leon came back, now clothed in his boxers (that you didn’t even notice he had thrown back on), a small washcloth in hand, and a glass of water that he set on the bedside table. He pushed your legs apart yet again and wiped you clean, touching you so gently as if you were some kind of porcelain doll. It only made your heart grow fonder. You were going to miss these moments of tenderness.

He made you sit up, just enough so you could drink the water that he had prepared for you. You took a small sip, to which Leon encouraged you to “drink a bit more, sweetheart,” so you did, and when he was pleased, the glass returned to its spot on the bedside table, and shortly after he was crawling underneath the comforter with you.

The warmth of the comforter and Leon’s body next to yours made it even more difficult for you to stay awake. Leon saw you struggling, catching the way you would doze off and then immediately wake yourself back up.

“Please, rest.” He muttered into your hair. You hugged him tighter.

“Do you have to go?” You asked him, even though you knew the answer.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Was all Leon could say in response.

You felt a lonely tear roll down your cheek yet again. But you were far too exhausted to cry some more. Instead, you sat up, looking at Leon intently. He returned your direct eye contact, sitting up himself to lean against the headboard and match your height.

“Promise me,” You started, holding out your hand. Without hesitation, Leon held it, locking your fingers together and giving your hand a slight squeeze.

“Promise me you’ll come back home.” You asked him, like you always did before he left for a mission. Every single time, he would give you the same answer.

“I promise.” He replied firmly. You knew deep down that asking Leon to make promises like this was unrealistic. He never fully understood what he was getting himself into until he arrived at the mission location – and you knew that despite his skills as a trained government agent, accidents always happened, and there was no way to know when things would go awry when he’s out in the middle of nowhere. But hearing him utter those two words before he left eased your worries just enough.

Trusting Leon was always easy.

“I love you.” You said softly, fitting back into Leon’s side perfectly, like you belonged there.

“I know, sweetheart. I know.” Leon replied, before tilting your chin up with two gentle fingers and kissing you with a fiery passion. You two lazily kissed each other until sleep started pulling you into its dark embrace. You didn’t fight it this time, resting your head on Leon’s chest and drifting away to the sound of his steady heartbeat.

The next morning, the two of you shared one last breakfast. You mostly sat in comfortable silence. You asked a couple questions about the mission, but didn’t get straight answers – it was confidential. You knew that already but always liked to ask questions anyway.

Right as Leon was about to walk out of your door, you stopped him. You took a few moments just to stare at him – he was as handsome as the day you fell in love with him.

You brushed some hair out of his face, kissing him slowly, savoring the feeling of his lips on yours for these last few minutes. When you pulled away, you were sporting a warm smile, feeling your eyes sting as tears threatened to spill. You kept them at bay.

“Don’t you dare–” You paused, your trembling lips making it difficult to speak. When you collected yourself, breathing in and out, you continued.

“Don’t you dare ruin this jacket. I love it on you.” You said, referring to the brown leather jacket that Leon had bought himself recently and was currently wearing. He had a tendency to ruin clothing items on his missions, and you hoped this one would survive.

Leon chuckled. The sound immediately filled you with warmth. You were going to miss that sound; God knows how long you’d have to go without hearing it everyday.

“Copy that.” Leon replied, a laugh bubbling out of your throat.

You shared one more embrace. The final hug was one the both of had trouble ending. But it had to come to an end eventually.

And then, Leon was gone. All that was left was a memory.

[screamingatanemptyroom]

Screaming at an Empty Room -

Reintroduction/Update

Hello everyone! Probably too late to do an intro, given that I've been writing on this blog since 2017, but since I've returned after a few years away from writing, I wanted the opportunity to talk about my blog and projects completed and my upcoming plans!

I go by Avaleon everywhere else on the internet, but respond to pretty much anything, including Screaming, hey you, etc! Started this blog in my mid 20s, and aged normally into the early 30s from there. I love writing, have always loved it, but between work and life, it's definitely something that I mostly do late at night and on weekends. I love hearing from people, but I usually answer asks in bunches, and typically right before I post writing. Love hearing about other people's projects as well!

I write short stories, novellas, and occasional full length novels. I am not published, but actively working on self-publishing some of my full length works. Everything I write is posted online, I enjoy sharing my work. The main reason to self publish for me is to have physical copies for myself or anyone who might want one!

My short stories can be found under the #writing tag on my blog. As for the long completed stories, I'll post them below the cut!

Love you Tumblr, happy to be back!

A. Full Length Novels (100,000+ words)

Please Fix the Story!

Description:

I don’t know who I am. I don’t know why I’m trapped in this never ending cycle of rebirth. All I know is that I wake up inside the worlds of unfinished stories, with a mission to accomplish the author’s wishes and stabilize the worlds now headed for destruction. I do my best, hoping, praying that maybe if I complete enough missions, I’ll be able to remember my past and return to my home.

It’s just fixing stories, it should be simple enough.

So can someone explain who this random villain is who keeps following me to each world?

Masterpost linked here

2. I Can’t Eat Love

Description:

Lenora did not have a wonderful life. After her engagement to Prince Ronan is broken, she loses everything… her reputation, her home and her family. Starving on the streets, she dies angry and bitter at how her life unfolded… only to wake up in her old bed, fifteen again, five years before her death. 

Now she must struggle to change her fate, and the fate of the around her. This time she won’t trust in something as flimsy or changeable as love. No, this time she’ll have the power and the money she needs to protect herself. 

Lenora has already lost everything once. She’s not going to lose again. 

No matter the cost. 

Masterpost Linked Here

B. Novellas

I Refuse to be a Named Character

Description:

I woke up inside the world of one of the best selling fantasy book series “Deadly Crown.” Intrigue, handsome heroes, adventure… sounds great, right? Just one problem: all the named characters except the main hero and villain die, are replaced and their replacements die. Being important in this story is a death sentence, so I plan to move to the middle of nowhere, and avoid the plot! 

It should be a fool proof plan, so why do the main characters keep dragging me into the story?

Masterpost Linked Here

2. Living in a Rewrite of my Own Book World

Description:

This is the story about an author who gets hit by a car right before she can finish her bestselling book series. Trapped in the role of a terrible side character antagonist, she must find a way to change the story’s ending. Not just for her own survival, but for the characters that seem just a little too real to be fiction. (30K words)

Masterpost Linked Here

3.Baby’s First Revenge!

Description:

When Charlotte is betrayed and killed by the friend she sacrificed everything for, she thought it was the end. Instead, she found herself reborn as a baby, with her killer still enjoying the fame of stealing her work. Now, she's coming after him, and plans to make him pay... But first, nap time.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7

4. The Supervillain’s Daughter

The story of Erica, a girl who finds out that her brother is the kidnapped child of superheroes, and that her parents are villains. Years later she is the best agent in the Villain Suppression Unit, and hates everything to do with superheroes. So of course she isn’t pleased when she is paired with the strongest man alive, especially because she knows him. But with even darker parts of her past surfacing again, she will have no choice but to join forces and save the world. 

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

Other smaller works and the incomplete ones can be found on this page

Thanks everyone!

[fantasy-things-and-such]

Intro Post/Masterpost

These amazing dividers were made by @cafekitsune. go check them out! My banner was made by an IRL friend of mine. if you see this(which i doubt you will but maybe), thank you!

Hello! The name's Enju. This is my introductory post. Welcome!

I'm a aspiring author and poet living in the US. I mainly write Fantasy and am dipping my toes into dystopia.

i have three projects, listed later.

Asks and tags are always welcome, but please please please don't be mad if i dont answer right away. I'm alittle slow on the upkeep + life outside of writing is pain. Ill get to asks eventually, I promise!

Although i treat this like my Main blog, my dumbass made them in the wrong order when I first got here. @i-hate-happy-endings is my main, and its quite empty lmao.

#Sunset things: Related to my WIP, Sunset #Ailan's Legacy: Related to my WIP, White Candy #Frontline: Related to my WIP, Frontline #meet my OCs: A little series where i go into depth about my OCs #Enju's Worldbuilding: Stuff pertaining to worldbuilding(usually tagged with #Sunset things or #Ailans Legacy) #Greeted the Messenger: Replying to Asks

Master list for my WIP posts + taglist

Whenever i make a WIP post I'll make it pretty clear what kind of stuff is in it. CW mentions will always be at the top for mature themes and I'll try to put tone tags as well if i think there's any sorta stuff that might disturb people in there. And Lastly, Here be Dragons. I wont always remember or know what judgement to make, so Here be Dragons is my go-to warning label.

My WIPS:

Sunset: Sunset is a high-fantasy medieval romance series and the main topic of this blog.

White Candy(Ailan's Legacy): White Candy is a mystery novel with solar/steampunk elements.

Frontline(Placeholder name): Frontline is a dark fantasy dystopia with mature elements. Interact at your own risk.

this'll get updated as I do short stories.

An Eternity With you: A short story on a immortal guy and his journey of love

I'm afraid to tag my moots bc i interact with like two of them regularly. but they're all amazing people so here goes: @theliteraryarchitect @garden-of-runar @the-ellia-west @saturnsconstellation @wyked-ao3

@dandelionflowery @mae-occasionally-reads

@themortalityofundyingstars @thisisntrocket

@bookish-karina @elizaellwrites @the-golden-comet @illarian-rambling @a-pretty-damn-good-narrator

@leave-a-message19 @aesthetic-writer18 @rivenantiqnerd @humongouskittentraveler @emilynotfound

@the-alywickd @vyuntspakhkite-l-darling @melo-writes @agirlandherquill @heymacareyna

@poethill @angst-is-love-angst-is-life These are all amazing people and you should go follow them.

Emotional support post

[miso-sopas]

Hi so got any ninjago x reader recs? Ever since reading Wisps, it has affected my brain chemistry and now i crave for more ninjago x reader content but im picky when finding fics, so got any recommendations?

Hello there! I had fun sorting out my bookmarks and history so recommending fics might be a thing in the future?

Just to note, I am not sure how to really curate your taste so most of these are what I essentially enjoyed reading and been a fan of so forgive me if some (or all 😭 no hard feelings though) aren't your thing.

Let's see...

Honestly Wisps is the *best* so far in my opinion! I don't know if this is pure coincidental but I am also hunting for some ninjago fics to feel emotions again lmao! And I tried my best in remembering what I've read or interested in so hope these are all ok for you!

+ Second best in my opinion is the 'Infinity Series' by Joos according to their quotev because at ao3 it's orphaned [ao3; quotev book 1 & book 2 ]

Unfortunately, the author has stopped updating this fic but going back at it was really enjoyable like in the Wisps. The summary according to the first installment 'Infinite Serenity';

"[Name] has died and became reincarnated in a childhood TV show of hers. She is raised as the adopted daughter of Sensei Wu, training as the Master of Infinity. Once the plot of the show really gets going, a being resurfaces from her. They claim to have revived her and can help her unlock the memories from her previous life. Now, [Name] must rely on this being to help protect Ninjago, and discovers how her past connects with her present." TW: Suicide, self harm, child abuse, some gore and swearing (please pay attention to the tags)

Please please heed the trigger warning, I don't remember much from the content but I definitely recall the author tackling those tags in a respectful way. The love interests are Kai, Nya, Jay, Cole, Morro and platonic with Master Wu and her cousin Lloyd Garmadon. Again, second best recommended fic in my opinion.

+ Next one, this is not one series but user Circus4APsycho8 (they have ao3 and tumblr) in my opinion have the best x reader one-shots from the fandom! My all-time favorite work of theirs is 'Secret Someone' [Highschool AU! Lloyd Garmadon x reader]- this one is really sweet ❣️

Here's these links for their ao3 works and their tumblr ninjago masterlist. All simple yet sweet, I love their writing style.

+ The next one is purely Lloyd Garmadon x Female Reader titled 'Butterfly Effect' by samsea at ao3. I think they're still updating and I am a big fan of hero x civilian pairings and just they're cute and in love.

Summary: "If it was up to Y/n L/n, she would read the summer away, lost in history books and adventure novels, finding excitement in their written words. Meeting Lloyd Garmadon changed her plans. Suddenly, Y/n is living a life she'd only read about; summer romances and cotton candy dates. Perhaps this was a new normal she could get used to. But she's been fated - prophesied - to be with the Green Ninja. And where there's a green ninja, trouble usually follows." Warnings: "The butterfly effect has mature themes such as gore, violence, toxic friendships, sexual themes (no smut) and cussing. the butterfly effect is not intended for younger viewers. Trigger warnings will be placed on chapters as they are needed. if you have any questions or issues please contact me."

Again, heed the warnings but the writing and atmosphere overall is really sweet and for some reason all cuddly and sunny. IDK but maybe I am always soft for Lloyd lmao.

+ If you're up to reading only x reader head cannons then I recommend user mouschiwrites here in tumblr. Their requests are closed now but the head cannons they made are cute and entertaining, like I can definitely see this character doing that y'know. Here's their ninjago masterlist

+ Here's some honorable mentions, I believe they deserve some love too!

In the Shadow (Various love interests) by RoseRain at Quotev

Legend of the Lightspirit (Various love interests) by softie at Quotev

Actually, while finishing my school projects I'm also checking out from another user snazzilystoopid's ninjago recommendation. So far, I am enjoying their second recommended which is 'Element of Wishes' by yourfavoritecloud at quotev BUT this one is an Character x OC one so if it's not up to your alley they have few recommendations. Honestly, I am up to anything as long as it entertained my monkey brain.

Sorry for the long post! Hope these works are okay for your taste but the closest fic that gives off the same vibes as Wisps is the Infinite series. And these are all by my own opinions and the fics I remembered catching my eye. I am very much open to other recommendations or shout-outs.

Side note, there's not much Ninjago fics out there that I might let my monkey brain loose and create one myself LOOOL.

Again, thank you for asking ( I feel honored for being asked by this, I'm a fanfic nerd 🤓)

[maddiem4]

Well, I wanna be working on a novel right now, but apparently it's time to make a certain kind of post again, as is periodically necessary, because young queer folk keep trying to reinvent the Hayes Code for a variety of misguided reasons. So you know what? Let me lead with the TLDR, and then give my reasoning. If you DNI stuff like incest, I am not just going to unfollow you, I am going to block you.

Now, if you're the type to make assumptions, you might be surprised to hear that I'm not into incest. Sorry to disappoint. Well, unless you count selfcest, but people don't usually lump those together except by technicality. But incest is really not my thing.

That said, I have mutuals who are into it, and harmless about it. Whether it's fictional, RP, or consensual, it's not my business and it hurts nobody. Get used to those words, they're gonna be a mantra here. Further, I've seen how Hayes Queers (hey, I needed a term for them) talk about harmless members of their own community who give them The Ick. The post I'm writing here is a direct reaction to seeing a Hayes Queer post from someone I followed! Reading that, and the comments on it. And lemme tell you: y'all are very quick to throw your peers under the bus with the exact same logic (respectability politics, personal disgust, "making a bad name for us as a larger group", lurking threat to our moral purity) that the conservatives are using to argue for the mass extermination of queer folk. You are bringing pitchforks and tiki torches to the party. So no, I am not going to give you access to my vulnerable mutuals. That's the heart of it. You are a danger to your community, and I'm going to limit the scope of harm you can do. The broader queer/kink communities have worked hard to define harm more carefully than "well I just personally think it's gross." Scat and piss are gross to me, but my mutuals who are into those things do still deserve love and safety, not to be sacrificed on an altar of conservative family values for imaginary "one of the good ones" points. I have a responsibility to look out for my people. So do you, FYI.

So here's the recipe for living online with people whose kinks aren't your business and hurt nobody: learn to scroll past those posts or block those tags, or even block that person. Be an adult. The world does not exist to be personally palatable to you. You are not being harmed, you're being inconvenienced. If you can't handle that, you're the one bringing real-world (rather than imagined) danger to your community. Fuck's sake.

This also finally convinced me to look up what "proshipper" means after seeing it in discourse for years, these dreaded dangerous devils who apparently must be purged from the internet, and... holy fuck, how is this contentious? It literally just means you can disagree about fandom pairings without harassing people? That's just mature behavior in a shared space. That's what the argument is about? Oh my god. If you're arguing about this in 2024, your Aunt Maddie is fully ashamed of you for real.

The dumbest part is that people get doxxed for saying the stuff I'm saying, and maybe it'll happen to me. Guess I'll roll the dice. Which comes full circle: if you're looking at this post and trying to decide how to punish me for it IRL, you are literally being the danger. Stop and think for 30 milliseconds. Maybe I have a point that you are a bigger threat than two trans girls who like to pretend to be sisters for sex reasons. And I don't wanna hear no trauma excuses from any of you little monkeys, fetishes come from trauma a decent percentage of the time, so a lot of the people you're persecuting are victims of the same kind of assault as you.

This is more words than I ever should have to write about a self-evident topic. I know if you're young enough and still figuring out a lot of life stuff from scratch, it may not be self-evident to you. But hopefully it is now before you fucking hurt somebody. Thanks.

[cuffmeinblack]

Unabridged

Andrew Larson x f!reader

Tags: explicit | masturbation | slight voyeurism

1.6k words

Summary: Andrew's bedtime reading and his roommate's distracting activities lead to something shamefully inevitable.

A/n: I told myself I wouldn't write anymore smut until I finished a chapter of Veil yet here I am. Just one little drabble. I suppose this could be taken as the smut I never wrote for Between the Lines.

⤍ Andrew Larson masterlist ⤎

Whilst he more often than not became somewhat flustered whilst reading novels such as the one currently balanced precariously on his hardened length, he didn't usually feel quite so unravelled as in that moment. The story was thoroughly filthy, detailing from a witch's point of view being seduced and defiled by a handsome vampire in her own marriage bed. Somewhere around the part where various bodily fluids were exchanged, Andrew had truly noticed his predicament. He lay his head back against the headboard to stare up at the wooden slats above his head, but the gentle, rhythmic bowing did nothing to alleviate his lustful thoughts. He abandoned the text altogether and watched the subtle shift of the mattress and the flap of the curtains for a while, ignoring the throbbing in his trousers. It wouldn't go away. His skin burned and his clothes felt so suffocating he wanted to rip them to shreds. Blood raged as his pulse quickened, breaths came short and ragged as if his lungs had forgotten how to process the air. 

Some distractions were harder to ignore than others. External stimuli could be blocked out with a well placed dampening charm or a simple pair of earmuffs. The creaking of the bed above him, for example, was all part and parcel of being a Ravenclaw. Bunk beds. Awful invention, completely unnecessary given the ample proportions of the room. Clearly whoever had furnished them had been well aware of their ability to rob the occupants of any modicum of privacy, but teenagers being what they were, that didn't necessarily stop his roommates from sneaking their sexual conquests back into the dormitory for a little fun. Right above his head. But this he could cope with, if he ignored the way the bed jolted slightly every now and then. Then there was the fact that his mattress lay beside a window and the curtain didn't quite wrap all the way around, leaving his body silhouetted amongst the glow of his Lumos charm, completely exposed to the night sky. Another inconvenience, but unless there was someone flying outside the tower past curfew, it seemed inconsequential and not worth his time to worry about. No, the most distracting thing he currently had to deal with whilst trying to read his book wasn't a sound, a sight or even a smell; it was the uncomfortable pinching sensation currently residing below his waistband as his cock strained against his leather belt. 

Perhaps it would be a surprise to learn that Andrew Larson of all people—prim and proper and thoroughly virginal—enjoyed reading literature of a more risqué variety. Not all the time, mind you. He was quite happy with the classics, ancient and beyond, and more modern works such as Wilde's The Picture of Dorian Gray which had left him bewildered and quite speechless. It was after these that he enjoyed what might be termed a palate cleanser—something altogether easier to digest, devoid of the kind of emotional turmoil that might upset one's stomach. A pleasurable romp. He might not shout about such things at his book club meetings but if asked, Andrew would simply explain his reasoning and point out that every work of literature has its merits and to deprive oneself of the broad spectrum of genres is only to one's own detriment. In other words, don't be such a snob.

Andrew shuffled down a little into a slouch, gripping the sheets with one hand and hesitantly gripping his wand in the other. A flick of his wrist lifted the dampening charm he'd encased himself in, sound finally trickling back into his canopy. Apparently his roommate hadn't bothered with a silencing charm, or it had since worn off, because Andrew could hear everything. His cheeks flushed even brighter with shame but he didn't recast his charm, instead stashing his wand with the book next to him on the mattress. The couple above him were really going for it; breathless and moaning softly into the still night. Andrew's breath shuddered slightly as he closed his eyes and let the wet slap of skin and delicately musky scent envelop his senses. His chest heaved beneath the cotton of his shirt, fingers idly picking at the buttons to free himself of the fabric constraints. He thought of the book he'd read, the forbidden nature of it all; he thought of the unknown girl above him and her gentle whimpers; and most of all he thought of replicating that carnal passion with the object of his desires. She would moan most prettily of all, all soft skin and delicate curves beneath his roaming hands. He wanted every part of her in every conceivable way, yet so far he'd succeeded only in being a coward. Instead of telling her how he felt (or a rather more savoury, abridged version), Andrew had taken to living out fanciful daydreams in his head. He should be thoroughly ashamed of himself, and he was, yet that gnawing guilt paled in comparison to the raging hunger growing in his chest, for the woman who'd lent him that damned book, no less.

He could barely hear the cacophony of lewd sounds over the pounding in his ears, yet the slap, slap, slap was still audible and driving him slightly mad. He was vaguely away of his bare torso as he felt a prickle of moisture cooling on skin and he looked down past the wire rims of his glasses to nearly groan in despair. His impossibly hard erection had forced its way past his belt, twitching angrily against the pale smattering of ashen hair that trailed to his navel. His cockhead glistened, the source of that wetness now apparent in the dim light from the landscape beyond his window. He couldn't very well ignore it now, as painful and angry looking as it was. With a sigh of annoyance that masked his relief, he unbuckled himself with increasingly shaky fingers. Whatever hormones were at work had sent him into a frenzy, desperately craving release no matter what the consequences—and there would be consequences, whether it be the inability to look his roommate or the woman he longed for in the eye again, or the very real possibility that he might just lose his mind along the way and finally admit his feelings, for the sliver of hope that it might one day be her hand wrapped around his cock and not his own. 

Andrew rolled his hips, clenching his muscles to drive upwards into his waiting hand. Fingers wrapped tightly around himself, slick with desire. He followed the rhythm already present in the stifling air, the slap, slap, slap that seemed to stutter with a shift of weight and resume with a more furious pace amid breathy moans. They weren't her moans, though, and they served only to irritate Andrew more than entice him. He picked up his wand to cocoon himself in quiet once again, letting his own imagination lead the way. That was all he needed, really; the thought of her. This time she rode him, exquisitely soft thighs clamped around his hips, jiggling with every bounce on his cock. He squeezed his fingers. You're so tight, he imagined himself sighing as her dazzling smile filled his vision and she moaned in response. Faster he stroked himself, copious amounts of precum filling his palm and easing his way. She would feel infinitely better, softer and wetter, and it could all be for him. Andrew whimpered into the dark before he could control the impulse and his eyes flared wide, but the bed still shifted with the weight above him and had no intention of stopping. 

He was getting close to his inevitable release, half torn-off clothes shoved roughly around his body which glistened with sweat. Gasping and groaning through every pump of his fist, he thought of her tossing her head back in ecstasy as she met her own tremendous climax. All for him. She was beautiful in his mind's eye, even if her naked body was comprised entirely of glimpses he'd had of the soft curves beneath her uniform. Andrew let his glasses slide down the bridge of his nose and hair fall over his eyes as he writhed in pleasure, bucking wildly into his hand until finally he came. His palm flew to his mouth to muffle the groan that clawed its way up his throat; his final cry was lost to the clammy crevices as he pushed down hard on his lips. He felt his release coat his other hand, every knuckle stained in shame and primal want. Even his shoulder wasn't spared. By the time the pulsing subsided and the ringing in his ears had stopped, all was quiet but for the deep breaths both from his own chest and above him in the bunk beds.

He cracked his eyes open and stared up at the slats again, further away this time now he'd somehow ended up horizontal on the bed in a great dishevelled mess, limbs contorted and wrapped in various tangled garments. His hand wrapped around him released, sticky and warm, and eyes followed the trail of his release to the book that lay next to his arm. The black book cloth was ruined, stained. It seemed rather fitting, in a grotesque sort of way. Suffice it to say, he would not be taking that particular edition back to the hidden shelves of the book club’s library. He'd make some excuse and tuck it away somewhere safe, perhaps rip the binding from its case and burn it. No matter what he did, though, he would still remember this; the unexpectedly desperate need; the complete and utter lack of control when it came to her. Whilst he lay half-naked and dizzy in his bed, Andrew vowed to finally summon the courage to tell her how he felt, though the unabridged version of this truth could wait until later.

[tvchi]

TVCHIVERSE: Where Fandoms Collide and Stories Ignite

Hello All. This is the formal landing page of an amalgam of daydreams, fantasies, and imitations brought to you in story/fanfiction form.

Few ground rules.

Please talk back! If you like anything I've written, have a few questions about what may happen next, or even have a few suggestions on what you would like to see, PLEASE LIKE, REBLOG, and COMMENT!!! Your feedback helps me write when I don't feel like it, helps me know what specifically you liked about that particular story, and it helps me get an energy boost.

Please be respectful. I don't walk into your house and open your fridge, go through your mail, or answer your phones. Don't come in here, especially in the comments, bullying, criticizing (not critiquing), or just being mean-spirited overall. I will delete your comments and block you.

Please, don't steal. Not only is stealing ugly, but it's also beneath you. I don't mind people drawing information from my work. However, taking my work and direct concepts of it and passing it off as your own is stealing. That will get you called out and then blocked. With that being said: Do not copy or repost my work. Do not use my work to train AI.

Please be mindful. This is ADULT content ONLY. Minors, new adults, and young adults may be depicted, but this content is for ADULTS ONLY. 18+. Please head the trigger warnings attached to the beginning of each post. Please do not ignore those, it's impolite. We're are very mindful, very demure around here.

Please be patient. While it is an ultimate goal of mine, writing IS NOT my day job. My job is very demanding and high-stakes, and when I'm not doing that, I love to be outside drawing from real-life experiences, reading, or watching TV/Flim. While I am open to requests, please try and respect the turnaround time I have to put these stories out as well as the other ideas I've had. I chose to create this page to showcase my work and push myself to write almost every day. This is supposed to be fun, NOT stressful. I reserve the right to refuse, deny, or allow myself ample time regarding requests. So please... Don't piss me off.

Now that that is out of the way. I definitely want to give some shout outs to people who had encouraged me to write. Again many thanks to @megamindsecretlair , @thecapodomme , and @vivalaorgasm . Love yall. I'm back writing again cuz a writer writes. But I've never felt rushed or pushed by yall. Just nothing but encouragement, good vibes, and great inspo. Also shout out to the entire #TerryRichmondFanfaction #RebelRidgeFanction for waking your girl up. Especially @megamindsecretlair , @hotgrlcece, @sweettea-and-honeybutter !!!

OK....now I don't just write. Like many of you, I have many hobbies some of which include: Reading, Music/Music History, TV/Flim, Photography, and Fashion. So some of my tags are:

#TVCHIVERSE - the universe where all of my fanfictions live. I will also be posting my short prose and poetry here as well.

#TVCHIsTunes - When I write, I usually write to music. My Spotify is riddled with so many playlists and mixes that I should honestly go to DJ school already. Anyway, I'll share tunes that I've been obsessed with here. #TVCHIsRunway - where fashion and fashion history live. Archival posts get reblogged. Occasional showcase some of my own fits and style. #TVCHIsLibrary - Posting and reblogging some great books that I've read. May even do some reviews. Also will be posting some things from my TBR to see whether yall have read it or not and your thoughts about it before I read. (No spoilers, if you can avoid it) #TVCHIsTV - I ultimately want to become a screenwriter yall. For real. I hope to learn from all forms of media, and the easiest for me to start out with is poetry, prose, and novels. However, I do want to be in the writers' rooms. So, with this tag, I'll post my favorite TV shows and films, speak about why I like them, and dissect plot, narratives, and scriptwriting.

#TVCHIsGallery - This tag will be me reblogging or posting art that I think is gorgeous regardless of the subject matter.

#JustTVCHI- Sheer randomness

Alright. Down to the goood shit! As I continue to write, I will be updating this landing page to include all the one-off fics/stories as well as the series that I create. I'm in the process of starting two different series at the same time, resuming another, and writing one-off stories. There's A LOT going on. Be on the look out.

Echoes of Intrigue: Prt 1

Echoes of Intrigue: Prt 2

Veiled Intentions: The Hunt, 1 Veiled Intentions: The Hunt, 2 Veiled Intentions: The Hunt, 3

The Challenge: About Loss The Challenge: About Him The Challenge: About a Challenge

My story is simple...

Anxiety

Fighting Flowers

Perceiving Genuine

Take This Cup

Unititled

Instructions on how to get on the tag list

Thank you all in advance for welcoming me into fandom and holding space for me here. I hope to build community with each and every one of you. Please expect me under your content as well.

[copperbadge]

Usually I post short stories as little tags after posting up novels from the Shivadhverse, and I recently came up with one when I realized that for a significant portion of the next book, Noah's going to be figuring out where he wants to go to college.

I have a pretty good idea of where he's going, but I am introducing, eventually, a very small and new university in Askazer-Shivadlakia, the Royal Shivadh University (currently 78 undergraduates and 15 graduate students). It occurred to me that Noah would be torn between repping for RSU and getting it some international attention, or attending a school with better name-recognition in a country where his stepbrother isn't king.

The central plot of the story is that Noah is taking a poll, and the whole country is basically involved in one massive wank in the comments about where he should attend. So I thought a poll here would be fun. Feel free to get fighty in the comments as well. Presuming he's accepted to these schools...

[trans-femme-fag-dyke]

T4T sEggs Cracking

Sex changes when you transition as a t-girl. New realities come into focus. New turn-ons emerge. A world of novel psychological and physiological experiences are added to the mix, or replace it entirely. Hormones and their impact terraform the ecology into a mycelial divine feminine, replete with new pleasure pathways. In short, it is wild and beautiful, feral and oozing with potential.

What I wasn’t prepared for, though, was how transfiguring the experience of T4T sex would be. Not by a mile.

Degrading Glorification

(What follows is a dual narrative, embellished and made whole by my lover’s own description of our tryst, which may I tell you is really fucking hot. Anyone who finds discovery and meaning in the process of writing has my attention and, most likely, my lust).

Just another day on Grindr receiving unsolicited dick pic after dick pic from people who ignore my profile’s clear insistence on T4T only.

While I don’t avail myself of these opportunities, there is something to be said for the euphoria that comes from being seen by cishets as a girl. Even seeing me as an attractive t-girl, if they’re purely fetishizing that tribal identifier, doesn’t hurt. Having spent too many years in the closet as a boy-modular gay, I am immune to the aggression of those advances and treat it more like a research project, tagging each new appendage into its relevant mental taxonomy: thick, thin, black, white, clean, cum-covered, veiny, etc. Back in the day, these advances were perfectly acceptable — direct, to the point, like the hawking of wares in a saturated meat market. I was less interested in what they were attached to as I was in their function. Emotion and personality were cast aside.

As a t-girl, though, there is a crossing of the privilege divide into an East Berlin of fear and insecurity. Too often, and too unpublicized, are the examples of anti-trans violence that it’s simply not the same fuck economy that it used to be. And anyway, my orientation has changed.

Orientation shift in transition is a topic that could command an entire thesis, so I won’t go into it here. Suffice it to say that almost overnight, as the estrogen moved through my body, I lost my interest in gay or straight men. Perhaps because being with a gay guy, although still on the table before secondary sex characteristics set in and I could stealthily navigate those penetrations, would send a dysphoric signal deep into my programming.

I find myself attracted to trans energy mostly.

Grindr is a numbers game in Los Angeles. There’s so much flakiness you become accustomed to being ignored or conversations end abruptly. Not to mention that hooking up here is so governed by travel times which fluctuate wildly throughout the days asymmetrical commuting times, that the whole affair can be a non-started at the outset.

But she responded. Glorious brunette, with long wavy hair, small pursed lips and an aloofness that immediately activated my pathological desire of the emotionally unavailable. What can I say, my mother fucked me up.

She — let’s call her Adeline — lived about 10 minutes away, so in an abundance of well-heeled politeness cut with impatient lust, I went to pick her up.

Cue the usual slightly coy banter as we both worked each other out during the ride. The dissipation of fear which comes with these Grindr “dates” for traps, which always carry a soupçon of terror to them and see us scrambling to etch a last will and testament into our iPhone notes app and share location with friends as it plays out.

I emerged from the bathroom topless.

Oh fuck, she thought, nipple piercings. The most physical symbol of deviance there is.

We started making out on the sofa and immediately some force took a hold of me. I felt like our bodies were fusing inside a blacksmith’s forge. We were glitching like a hacked mainframe, opening up its secrets to Snowden’s deft digital lock-picking. We were like people who hadn’t eaten in days set loose on a Vegas buffet.

I ran my hands over her back and through her hair, interlocking my teeth around her neck and ears. Almost epileptic in spasms of uncontrollable, uncensored I searched for my frontal cortex and managed to articulate that we should move to the bedroom.

My friend S had told me to expect fireworks in my first T4T experience. Their look of both shock and empathetic excitement registered on their FaceTime framed face.

They hinted at the dynamic’s incendiary force with an elliptical smile, leaving me hanging like a teaser trailer.

“I can’t explain it, but there’s just something to that energy, that vibe. I’m so excited for you. Like fucking excited!”

And Jesus fucking christ, they were right. I can see why they held off on the detail. Language fails.

We made our way to the bedroom where I revealed my kink drawer. There’s a cornucopia of debauchery in this unassuming pine wood piece of furniture: masks, paddles, leashes, collars, nipple clamps and floggers.

We negotiated our limits, settling on consensual non-consent. In short, anything goes.

We couldn’t have been more perfectly matched. When she initially shared photos with me on the app she gave a trigger warning around the bruises I’d see. It just so happened that impact play and relishing in the blues, browns, yellows and purples of corporeal graffiti aftermath was something we shared.

“I don’t care if you draw blood,” I assured her.

“Well ok then, you pathetic little slut,” she hissed, “lay the fuck down.”

I hadn’t fully anticipated how rapidly she would turn on the sadistic domme energy and I didn’t question it. I couldn’t.

Mmmmmmmmm, mama’s hungry, I thought as my crotch began to throb.

I don’t need to pull my punches, she thought, I can really indulge this deeper cruelty in me.

“Yes, mistress!” I responded, getting into role as the slut spit dump I’d soon become.

I lay down.

“Open wide, slut,” she ordered as she spat on my face, all the while positioning her mouth over mine and dribbling long translucent threads of drool onto my tongue and down my throat. She lunged for my neck with lupine grace and hunger, digging her teeth in and unleashing eddies of dopamine and oxytocin. I could feel the fledgling bruises on my neck and knew they’d be difficult to hide but at this point she could have pushed a blade into my lungs and I’d have kissed her while the blood bubbled out of my mouth.

These were feelings I had never felt before.

It was like all my shame, low self-esteem, trauma, alienation, anxiety and isolation channeled a lightning strike turning sand into clear shards of luminescent glass.

It felt both individual and collective, all ruptures and salvation of minority stressed gender fuckery, raining down and being soaked up. An effervescent tribal alchemy of ecstatic release.

The power of consensual degradation cannot be underestimated. I took years of being trodden down by things beyond my control. The abuse of my mother, the deprivation of affection, the laundering of all currencies of love through a front of cold calculation. All of this turned to steam through the act of my submitting to it with someone who also made me vibrate with light. All of those times when I had no fucking say in what happened to me, as humanity depriving as it was and violently unfair, I now took back. I resignified it, reclaimed it, decolonized and liberated it.

She attached the leash to my collar and yanked me onto the floor.

“If you’re a good girl, you’ll get a treat.” She said sternly, with the consummate control of a well-etched domme.

Up until now, she’d only really experimented with this role but now, she leapt up into the saddle ready for battle. From where I crouched, lapping up her girl dick with such an eagerness to please, it felt like she’d been doing this all her life.

In the dawn of her 20s, this girl came with a level of sexual confidence and experience that can only be found in trans circles. It’s like our bodies are always searching for each other with odyssean ardor. Simultaneous electrons suspended in tandem states.

I clambered back onto the bed like a dog and she straddled me, our girl dicks entwined in her hand with a vibrator in between. Edging, foreplay, the beautiful mirage of the female orgasm which rises and falls, ebbs and flows, coming into focus then going blurry as the mind and the body speaks in foreign tongues.

It was the kind of sex you never want to end. Constant punishment, submission, bratty deliberate misbehavior, retaliation, good behavior and treats.

“You told me you were going to cum you fucking whore. Well, are you?!” she cursed.

“Fuck my pussy, mistress. I need something in me so I can cum for you.”

One, two, then three fingers entered me as she celebrated my gaping hole.

“I love how loose you are.”

Ugh, I felt so seen. I’ve been trying to make my ass loose for years. It’s been one of my sexual north stars. I want to be able to get entire cities inside me. Until my neo-puzzy arrives, my ass has been my pussy substitute and I’ve wanted her to stretch until my bud becomes labia and turns from circle into that canal like corridor of floral ingress.

It didn’t take long, with my ass full of her hand, and I reached that liquidless trap climax and lay there panting, dripping in spit, sweat, and a sense of sexed gender euphoria I had waited 39 years to feel.

Who knew that in order to feel my most beautiful, it would take this level of degradation.

We languished, dripping in sweat and overtaken by an exhaustion which was held in abeyance by the relentless motor of sex.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I can’t wait to do that again,” I said, with the last remaining energy and breath left in me.

“We might not be able to. I’m probably moving to Berlin in a few weeks,” she responded with a signature level of matter-of-factness and regret.

Afterword

This is a post from Threads that resonated with me.

@aspirationaltea I think this post is me realizing T4T lesbian is the full explanation of my sexuality at least?

That’s how I walked away from the experience with Adeline. Literally and figuratively changed forever. In one fell swoop a single lover had the power to make me feel seen for the first time in my life.

Now of course any first time has the potential to carry the hyperbole of its impact. But the water that slacks the thirst of the desert stranded is the exact same water we all drink. The difference, however, is life saving.

I would usually chalk up an experience without more penetration as fun but not fulfilling. In this scene I had a few fingers inside me for a few minutes. And yet I lost all sense of time and place, sinking into the experience like feet in clittoral sand.

It was pure T4T lesbian sex, as much connection, edging and build as it was a wham bam teleology. The purpose was communion and connection.

T4T sex transfigures and transubstantiates the entire experience into a physical act. Inside every bite, kiss, spit, yank, finger and curse, was a microcosm of the entire experience of trans identity. Eucharist anointed trap fantasy.

Our shared struggles, estrogen shortages, dirty glances turned our way, rejections. Our alignments, the joyful tears t-girls shed over the smallest things as their emotional synapses reinitiate, our first sports bra. Everything is there, unspoken but enacted ritualistically like the world is burning all around us and we carry on regardless. Which is, alas, what it feels like a lot of the time.

At the core of the experience was the abiding sense of safety which comes from being intimate with someone who knows how important it is to cultivate that in as many spaces, few though they may be, as possible.

In addition, the dimension of kink/BDSM brings its own magnetic locus of individuation and resignification. We find submission, abjectification, degradation, and pain paired up with consent, control, compassion, negotiation, communication, and transcendence. We recontextualize experiences which in every other life domain are precursors or consequences of socially aberrant behavior or undesirable hierarchical role playing.

Whether the sub is in control or the dom is, just as with tops and bottoms, is a question for the ages. The person under the thumb, in so allowing it, arguably possesses some power over the person they artificially and consensually elevate to that position. When you have nothing to lose because you have relinquished it, you can only be net positive existentially.

The point is the horizontal socialism of the trans lesbian experience. No one person controls. All are equal and the roleplay is merely an enactment of the end of dominion by external forces.

For what baits the enemy like getting back on your feet or smiling in their face? As blood streams out of your nostrils and you turn to face your captor ready for another beating, you demonstrate an unwavering faith in the ultimate form of the Golden Rule: if your enemy strikes you, turn the other cheek and ask, “Have I been a good girl, Mistress?”

[detta-pica]

Fanfic Writer Interview

This should be a nice way to wrap up the year.

How many works do you have on AO3?

11. I was actually surprised when I checked. It feels like I’ve written 6 at most.

I started writing fanfic in 2013, then took a really long break from posting. I still wrote (mostly unfinished novel-length stories) and read a lot, but no fandom pulled me in enough to publish my own stories. Until JJK in early 2024.

It’s the tragedy, I think. It’s not that I want to fix canon, I love it for the pain it’s caused me, but I am strongly motivated to write happier outcomes for my ship.

Your top 5 stories by kudos/likes:

The Darkest Deluge - Kingdom Hearts series, Strifehart & Soriku, 123k words (unfinished, on hiatus)

This is a plot-heavy soft sci-fi story with a big cast and four major POVs. At first, I managed regular weekly updates, but then life happened and I took longer and longer breaks. I still intend to finish it. In fact, everything except for the final battle and dénouement is already drafted. The second my JJK obsession fades a little, I’ll sit down and finally get it done.

Born to Die - JJK, stsg, 40k words

My first JJK fic, a plotty, vaguely futuristic vampire AU. I got to play with very interesting themes in this one. I’ve promised a sequel and I will deliver, though I’m not sure when.

So far from you here next to me - JJK, stsg, 25k words

The first part in a magic realism/witch AU. I expected the series to get barely any traction, since it starts with the unresolved romantic tension tag. Each installment is a self-contained case fic, which is my favourite genre, centred around a theme. For this one, it’s grief.

Wisteria, sufficiently looked at - JJK, stsg, 23k words

Part 5 in the same series, themed around forgiveness. This is where the romantic tension finally gets resolved.

Unknown-C - JJK, stsg, 2k words

A silly, fluffy getting together fic. Technically canon compliant, but I’m always hesitant to use that tag when writing about a non-canon ship.

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Every single one, and usually in a timely manner. I also try to match the commenter’s energy, so I’ll leave a long reply to a long comment, and respond to an emoji with an emoji. I want to make sure that each commenter feels appreciated and knows how grateful I am, but also, the reason I write and post fanfic is that I want to be an active participant in my fandom, to be a part of the community. The best way to achieve that, I think, is to interact with people.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

There he is, happy - it’s a canon compliant stsg fic with the MCD archive warning 🤷‍♀️ Alternatively, it’s The Deep Well, but I’m not saying why.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

I’m not sure. I guess Unknown-C is the most lighthearted. Aside from the two stories mentioned above, I haven’t written any properly bad endings, but I mean… I’ve been focusing on themes like death and grief. I can’t claim those are happy fics.

Do you write crossovers?

No. I just don’t find the idea compelling. I might do a fusion someday, though. Specifically, JJK characters in the world of Stardew Valley.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not once. I have a small audience, so the likelihood of getting hate is really low for me.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Since September this year, yes. What kinds of smut are there? I guess I’m not super interested in writing penetrative sex? I’m a switch/vers shipper focused on mlm ships (unfortunately; I hope to get hooked on a wlw ship some day).

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I sincerely doubt it.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Also nope. I’d love to try it, but as a discovery writer that plans primarily in themes, I imagine I would be horrible to work with.

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Listen. I don’t have an all-time favourite anything (except maybe Assam tea, but I haven’t tried every variety out there, so this could very easily change). I go through phases, come back to old ships after years and years, and just generally follow my whim.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I have a bunch of WIPs for the early Assassin’s Creed games that I will definitely never finish. They are a decade old.

What are your writing strengths?

Plot? Despite planning in themes, I think my stories are usually plot-driven. I’ve been told my characterisation tends to be true to canon, though that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s strong… Oh! I think I’m good at echoing the original material in different ways, usually through AUs, to explore canon themes from new angles.

Also, worldbuilding. I mostly write AUs, so it’s kind of a given, but I think of myself as a worldbuilder first, writer second.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Action scenes are definitely one. I find the choreography of a fight horribly boring (to read and to write), so I tend to fast-forward through them.

Character voice. I’ve seen people do absolutely incredible things with POV characters. I want to be that good. I will probably never be that good.

Originality of structure, if that makes sense. I think fanfic is an incredible medium for trying out new formats, pretty much without any constraints. But even though I really want to do fun things with story format and structure, I end up falling into safe habits.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

It can be great if it serves a purpose. Sometimes, hiding information from the reader/achieving vibes over understanding is the goal. It can also be useful for settling the reader more firmly in the POV. But it’s the sort of tool that should be used very sparingly, or else it will become frustrating.

What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?

The Old Guard’s Joe/Nicky. Maybe when the sequel finally comes out? Also Arcane’s Silco/Vander. Unfortunately I can only do one fandom at a time, and I haven’t yet been released from my current obsession.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Oh wow. Hm. I’m gonna say Born to Die, because it was the beginning of my writing journey in a new fandom and it got me out of a fanfic writing slump that had lasted years. Also, it was my first, raw attempt at working through my JJK-related feelings, so it’ll always be special to me in that way.

Thank you @hollow-lime-green for tagging me! This was fun :)

Tagging @poolnoodling and anyone else who’d enjoy doing this!

[astolfofo]

deja vu, Jamis vu

BSD beast au x reader. Based on the end of the beast movie.  AUTHORS NOTE: SO. ITS FINALLY DONE. ITS 4AM I AM ON IPAD TUMBLR AND UHHHH… I tried to edit this. but. TUMBLR WAS BEING AN ASS. and the two hours I spent editing this went down the drain. Mere words could not describe the grief I felt at 3:37 in the morning. I would have screamed if I weren’t so zombieified. Then, I tried to be paitent and edit it another time, but tumblr was like: haha no. so it didn’t save. I swear it’s not my fault if you have a stroke while reading this. I sacrificed my sleep for an entire week to do write this. Please give me some credit for my suffering. /lh

Also keep in mind. I have watched the DA movie and the beast movie a whopping total of 1 time. It’s probably very off from what I was trying to communicate, cause I legit have no clue what goes on in the light novels... spare me the slander. 

Last thing, I tried something new with this one, so there’s weird ahh switches between first person and 2nd person in this. Idk how good it is, lmk if i should never do it again.

Tw: head injury, murder, blood, suicide, yeah I think that’s about it.

word count: 6.8k  

To all the Chuuya enjoyers out there, I’m sorry for being a disappointment.

Tags: @redeemingmygloryintopurgatory

I’m wet.

Im standing outside his door, knocking as it rains outside, without an umbrella, cold, and of course, drenched.

Helplessly, I knock on his door, hoping for a response from him. I know it’s pointless, by now. I should cut him out of my life by now, I should… leave him. He’s not a good person, he’s part of the Port Mafia, for the love of god… I’m scared of him. He could crush me at any moment. Hell, he breaks into my house so frequently, and even though he’s done no harm… he could kill me at any moment. So why am I here? Shouldn’t I be relieved that he hasn’t shown up at my apartment for over a month now? I… just can’t…

Lightening splits the sky in half and the sound of thunder cracks in the air.

Your fist slides down the window pane of the door. It makes a terrible sound, and you wince in pain from the sting of the friction. You should just go home. It was obvious Chuuya wasn’t even home, he never was. And if he wasn’t even home, how would he even answer the door? You regret coming here in the first place, you didn’t even know why you chose to. Was it out of worry? Was it because you had to say something to him? You couldn’t remember by now, it was all on impulse. 

Chuuya had broken into your apartment countless times. Still, no matter how many times you’d snap at him, how many times you’d emptily threaten him, or try to push him off the balcony, he still came back the next day, unphased. You couldn’t get rid of him, no matter how hard you tried. And after many days, you had learned to accept that someone could break into your home at any given moment.

And you had no knowledge of how he knew you, let alone knowledge of how he even got your house key. Or maybe he picked your lock. You couldn’t be sure and you really did not want to know. 

Every day, you’d come back home from work, and Chuuya would be sitting on your couch, drinking your wine (much to your own distaste). You’d usually give him a dirty look, and he’d glare in return but you’d say nothing. You preferred not to talk to him, and Chuuya wouldn’t raise conversations by himself. He always sat in the corner of the room, observing… scrutinizing every move you made. On the rare occasions when you had managed to start a conversation with him, it was always painfully awkward.

You once remember asking him why he was here, what he wanted from you, and his true intentions. Chuuya looked at you in an amused manner and stared out the window. 

“Why I’m doing this? You’ll find out yourself when the time is right.”

By the time you had woken up, he was always gone. As if he was never there in the first place. The only thing he’d leave was the wine glass he’d drink out of, and your clothes you had hauled back from the laundromat messily folded, in your drawer. Occasionally, when it warm out, he’d leave the window open. They were small actions. Meant to be noticed, but not returned.

The splashing of rain intensifies, as you stand on Chuuya’s porch. He’s not home. You can’t stand here forever. You have to get back home before it’s too late.

What a great way to spend my time off work.

But you wanted to try one last thing before you left. Maybe his door was unlocked the entire time. Although you would doubt it, it was worth a try. It was so stupid to do this, all of it was. But your curiosity is getting the best of you, and you desperately wanted answers. Answers only Chuuya could give.

So, you grip the door handle and twist the doorknob. Much to your shock, the mechanics of the door click, and the door opens.

Chuuya had left the door unlocked. He forgot to lock his own door. You take a step up, and stand in the doorway. The rain is still hitting your back, and you groan realizing that you’re dripping water onto the floor. Quickly, you step in and shut the door. You twist the lock, ensuring that no one else would come in.

You sure hope Chuuya wasn’t going to come home tonight. The thought of it made the hair on your neck stand slightly. 

You take off your shoes which are drenched in water and stare in the mirror. You’re soaked to the bone. Your clothes are completely see-through. You’d need to change them. That could wait, though. If the rain stopped, you’d go home as soon as possible.

Okay. Quick in and out it is. I need to find my spare key, and I need to find what happened to him after the explosion in the sky that day. The one that happened on the top of the… port mafia building. You shudder. I wonder what happened. It was so bright that it looked as if the sky exploded for a second. The next thing you know, everything is back to normal… except it isn’t. A dead body is found at the bottom of the building.

Followed by that, I never saw Chuuya again, but many people that were close to me have been avoiding me. When asked why, they avoided my question. There isn’t a strong connection there, but I think… that all of these events are connected somehow. Chuuya never appears again, and the fact he works for the Port Mafia, definetly does not help. 

Additionally, the Armed Dective Agency sent me a letter to be wary of Chuuya. With no additional information. There’s something going on here. Something is wrong. Something terribily wrong.

And I’m scared.

Apprehensively, you take several steps inside the house. You keep getting the feeling that you may get caught. But you don’t hear anything at the door. It’s a painful paranoia.

You inhale and exhale.

I’ll start looking for hints first. I don’t need an answer right away. One hint will be able to give me lots. I’ll start from his room, that’s where people are most likely to hide things.

You walk as quickly as possible across the empty corridor in the house. His house is eerily empty. There isn’t much in it, just a lot of furniture, a shelf of wine, messy papers and a few books placed sparsely across the rooms.

You walk up the stairs, which slightly creaks under your weight. You try your best to ignore any noises and try to stay focused. As you reach the top of the stairs, you see his bedroom, which is the first room at the end of the staircase.

You walk towards the room, you open the door and look around. Chuuya’s room is surprisingly fuller than the rest of the house. There is a dresser, with several items stacked on top of it. It has drawers, which you assume were full. His closet was also filled with clothes, with various hats on the shelf above in his closet.

Chuuya’s bed was neatly made, giving the impression that he had not been home in weeks. Unoccupied, cold, and abandoned. Yet you felt a temptation to lie in it either way. Your eyes dart to the dresser again, and you look at the various items spread out on it. None of these are of much use to you. Besides the gun that seemed unused.

Your hands move to the drawers and you begin to search them. In the first one, there was nothing. Just a bunch of stationery, and papers, some of which had blood on them. You shudder in disgust and move on.

You struggled to pull the second drawer. After a moment, it slides open and you look at the inside contents. You stare at it, wondering if you open it. There is no address on it, and it isn’t sealed. 

You have a bad feeling about this, but your hands move faster than your brain. You pull out the piece of paper and read its contents.

The letter is addressed to you. It doesn’t include much. Just A single sentence that holds an address. 

And then it hits you.

Chuuya had been planning this for a long time. He had purposely left the door unlocked, left his house empty, and left you because he knew you would try to find him one day.

It infuriates you more than you expect. But you can’t stop here. You’ll go to a specific location. 

Just to be sure, you look in the third drawer, you see your spare key, as well as a lock cutter. 

Its dark now. It’s still pouring. You have no choice to stay here for tonight. Begrudgingly, you curse yourself for dragging yourself into this. Still, you were in too deep to back out now. Whatever happens, will happen.

-

You wake up. 

You're lying on Chuuya's bed, in his clothes, begrudgingly. Your own clothes are discarded onto the floor, dried during the time you had been asleep. Still, you don't exactly feel like changing into them. It felt too gross to wear them. 

You shake your head. Now's not the time to be thinking about that. You sit up, and stretch your arms. Then, you walk towards the desk again, and look at the address. You take note of the address, and take your spare key. Before you go, you flip over the paper, ensuring that you didn't miss anything. There's another sentence scribbled on the top of the paper.

I know you're reading this. You want to know why I'm gone, and why I did this. The address that is provided will help you, but it will not give you the answer, nor will I be there. 

…What? 

You read the sentence over and over again. The words sink in, making you feel conflicted. You knew you were getting yourself into a certain kind of danger by doing this, but you didn't expect it to be this risky. Hell, you didn't even know where the man was now, and not to mention… the location…

You look at the location again.

It's on the street where the explosion happened. And you're no fool. If it was on that street, it meant it was that building. There were no other possibilities. You doubt it would be any other one of those tall skyscrapers, anyways. The one where the explosion happened was the only building Chuuya had any affiliations with.

Which was going to be incredibly difficult to get into. Let alone, to the top floor. You'd be dead even trying to set foot into the door. It wasn't worth your life for this. You should forget about it and go back home.

You look through the paper again, hoping there might be something more to help you. Sighing, you came back with nothing. I suppose I really have to go through with this, don't I? There's no turning back. 

-

The walk to the Port Mafia's building was rather short, if you were being completely honest. It was located in the heart of Yokohama, and was one of the tallest buildings there, if that told you anything. 

You stand outside the building, as the apprehension and fear build up inside you. You had never felt as much of a need to run from anything, as much as you did now. The doors, despite their grandeur size, and large glass design, looked uninviting. Almost like doors to a bank vault; the kind of doors that told you, you wouldn't be able to get out, as soon as you stepped in. And from various things people has told you throughout the years, the Port Mafia keeps people it's had come into contact with. It's more powerful beyond belief. 

It doesn't need to control you. You'll be forced into being pliant for them, simply by fear. No one can betray them. Death is almost a guarantee if you do.

And recently, they had also become violent as well. You might as well be walking yourself into a death wish.

But your feet remained rooted into the ground, and part of you remains determined to see this through. So you take a deep breath and walk into the building. 

You try to remain calm as you push through the doors, into the lobby. You pray Hou won't be swatted with bullets as soon as you enter, but much to your own surprise, there's no one in the lobby. It's completely empty.

It doesn't feel right. You wonder if what happened. Well, it's not your business anyways. You couldn't care less. You just needed to find whoever Chuuya's office is and-

"Who are you?"

shit. you curse under your breath. "I-I'm," you turn around to face the person talking g to you. As soon as you do this, the man's eyes widen, and you acknowledge away slightly. "Sorry… um… do you know where Chuuya is?"

You had never felt so idiotic and out of place in your life. You can physically feel your heart pounding inside your chest, as you pray you don't look too suspicious. You can't mess up here. Though the man you are currently talking to isn't holding any firearm. That may just as well mean he has even worse methods to kill you off.

"He's not here."

of course, he isn't. You think to yourself. He wrote that in his own letter, or whatever you call it. 

"He's been arrested." The man looks you directly into your eyes, and as on instinct, you look down, too scared to actually look at him. A few moments pass in silence.

"Can you… perhaps tell me why?"

"After the previous Port Mafia executive committed suicide, Chuuya was forced to lead the Port Mafia. He hated the job greatly, and he eventually…" He stops himself.

"Go on." You mutter.

The man tilts his head and looks at you again. "Are you sure? If you want to see him… it's better just to see for yourself." He stops for a second. 

"No… please tell me. Tell me everything that you possibly can."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Fine then. If you insist."

"Chuuya lost his control over himself. He slowly became more, deranged, if you will, as time went on. After the old executive killed himself, Chuuya had no one left. Or at least, that's what we saw. His orders became more and more irrational, often just resorting to killing everything, and slowly, he eventually broke. He went on a rampage, as you've probably seen, Yokohama is not safe with him around. He almost destroyed Yokohama in its entirety, and it took serveral organizations to stop him. I don't know the exact details after that. He remains locked up underground."

You feel as if you had been doused under cold water. You didn't only have your question answered, but that also explained several other things as well. You try to recollect your thoughts while figuring out what to do next.

"By the way, you look familiar."

"How so?"

"I don't know, to he honest. You look like someone who used to work here. Maybe my mind js tricking me, though. You look too weak to be here."

"Yeah," you force out an awkward laugh, "I could never work here for the life of me."

"Figures."

another awkward pause, as you stare at the man.

"I assume you need Chuuya's location, don't you?"

You nod.

"Here." He hands you a piece of paper, with an address messily scrawled onto it. "Although, I don't recommend going to see him, tell the guards you are a relative of his. Hopefully, it will convince them enough to let you in. Though, if you want, I'm sure you can attempt to knock the guards out. Chuuya's well… very restrained so he won't hurt you."

"Ah… thank you."

"Don't mention it."

You bow and leave.

"Hey wait-" the man calls out, his voice echoing through the empty lobby. He seems hesitant to ask something. You stop and turn around. "Yeah?"

He looks down, and awkwardly avoids eye contact for a second. It's at this moment you realize he's a man with short, white, hair, as well thick bangs that were cut into a slant. He’s rather short, and he’s wearing a long jacket.

He looks… familiar. I wonder why.

“What’s your name?” 

You stare at him for another moment before answering. “It’s Y/N.”

You could have sworn you had seen a face of surprise from him for a second, but it could have been your imagination because the next instant you blink, it’s gone. “I see,” he says slowly. “Be careful then. He’s not the same as what you may remember.”

As… I remember? What….

“Nevermind. Forget I said anything. Just go to the address, and everything will make sense.”

“Hey wait-”

He’s already turned his back and left on you. You’re left with so many more questions than you started off with, and dread creeps up you again. There was a warning tone in his voice, almost as if telling you to do this was a terrible idea. That you were going to be landing yourself in scalding hot water, and you wouldn’t be able to get out. You knew the risks from the start, but…

You quickly unfold the paper, and look for the address. Once again, the address is written in the center of the paper. You carefully look around for any other writing on the paper.

It’s completely white. Blank. Except for one sentence on the bottom: It’s never too late to back out. 

And you stare at it, and think about the several cryptic warnings you received from this man. So… you’re telling me, that after that explosion happened in the sky… a dead body, the previous executive was found. Then shortly after that, Chuuya became the executive of the Mafia. He hated it. But he had no choice and was left alone to do it. Eventually, he lost his sanity and mind and the Mafia… I guess? Because very corrupt, violent, and unsafe. It took many people to stop him, and how he was arrested in an underground cell. At this address.

It’s clear he’s cutting something out. He said to be careful. Of course, if Chuuya has lost his mind, I need to do that. But he empathized that I should be wary of him. Also, he said I looked familiar, and he also looks familiar to me. He mentioned something about… me remembering? Have I known Chuuya for longer? 

But he also said that only Chuuya has the answers to all my questions. So that means in other words, he knows what happened during the explosion, he knows that Chuuya has been breaking into my apartment and he knows more about my entire predicament now, than I do.

Just… who exactly is he? How and why?

You cut yourself off from those thoughts. 

Ugh. this is ending up being so much more complicated than it was supposed to be. You thought in bitterness. So basically, I’ll go to the address, and get the answers to my questions. Sounds simple enough. There’s no need to overthink this. Maybe i’m just being paranoid. What’s the worst that could happen?

Well, a lot. But I’ll just ignore that for now.

You turn around and walk towards the door again. To be honest, you don’t want to know what might happen once you see him. You were already nervous from the implications the man had told you moments ago, and you were coming to realize there were some things that you noticed when you were in Chuuya’s house. Things that you maybe weren’t supposed to know about or see.

In the bottom of the drawer… there were documents. Documentation of everything that happened on the day of the explosion. A bright light illumined the sky, followed by the dead body found; the previous port mafia’s executive; Dazai Osamu. The two closest people to the explosion were a member of the port mafia, Atsushi Nakajima, and a member in the training of the Armed Detective Agency, Ryounouske Akuwatagawa. They are believed to be the cause of the explosion.

No one knows the exact events inside the Port Mafia on that day, except for the individuals involved in the actions that happened. According to the Armed Detective Agency, Akuwtagawa had barged into the Port Mafia to challenge the Port Mafia Executive. He accordingly, fought many individuals in the Port Mafia, a body count is yet to be determined. Data from thereon forth is unknown until the individuals reach the top of the building, where the most notorious event stated above occurred.

Additionally, after thorough examination of the body of the previous Port Mafia Excuetive, it can be concluded that he had committed suicide by jumping off the building. 

The document ends there, and the paper is ripped in half.

-

It felt like every meter you travelled towards that location was walking towards a terrible, yet inevitable fate. The drive there, dragged on and on as if mocking you for your choices. You find yourself counting down the seconds until you can arrive at the location given.

Oh, how you wished you had stayed at home instead of seeking him out. If only your morbid curiosity hadn’t gotten the best of you.

You’ve lost track of the time you’ve spent on the train, only waiting for the loudspeaker to announce your stop. The location you figure you were given led you to a rather remote area, likely in the outskirts of Yokohama. If not further. The man had told you he was locked underground, completely isolated from everything.

You found that part the most unsettling. If they needed that many security measures to keep him in place, it was likely he was completely gone. Gone beyond saving. If he had succumbed that much to his own grief and madness, it would be a question of whether he would still remember you or not. 

You look out the window again, enjoying your last moments of peace.

This is the eerie calm before the storm, isn’t it?

Moments after you think that, the train halts to a stop at the last station in Yokohama, and you get off. Your heart is pounding wildly in your chest, and you’re not sure if you can stop it.

You try your best to remain calm. Force yourself to keep going. He’s special to you. You can’t lose him, even if you hate him. You need him. He’s the only one who still cares. 

And above all, he’s the only one who remembers you at all.

And so, you go. You take all the correct turns. You try to walk as quickly as you could, to arrive at the destination. You keep going, and going and going until…

You’re here.

It’s one of the better buildings on the outskirts of the city, yet… it looks incredibly unsettling. It’s a mundane building, one made from standard concrete, and glass. Yet. As you stand so close, you see cracks in the building. The door is partially cracked as well. 

Well, I’m here already. Whatever happens, happens. I may die in there, still, before I die, I have to know the answer. The answer… why can’t I remember? Chuuya. I want him to tell me, what he did to me. Why he came to my apartment every day. Why he’s… he’s…..

Oh. My hands are shaking. Surely I cannot be this terrified can I? I will do this even if it kills me.

You pull the door open and enter the building. The piece of paper told you that it was on the lowest floor. Your footsteps echo in the empty building, and it feels creepy no one is here.

Huh. Gives some Deja Vu, doesn’t it?

You proceed towards the elevator at the end of the hall, and press the down button. Almost instantly, the elevator makes a “ding” noise, and the doors open. You quickly step in and look for the lowest button. With a deep breath, you push the button, and the door closes.

You stare at your face in the mirror. You look terrible. Pale and your hair is completely dishevelled and a mess. If you didn’t know any better, you’d look like you were sick. You had been extremely anxious about this for an entire day, after all.

The elevator doors once again slide open. 

Here goes nothing. You sigh. I’d better hear you talking today, Chuuya. You have a lot to tell me. And you’d better tell me it all.

You step outside the elevator. There’s nothing. Absolutely nothing, and no one here. The halls are empty, and the strong scent of stale air, combined with dust fills your nostrils. You feel like coughing for a second, but you hold yourself back. You didn’t want to make any noise to give away your presence. You take another step.

Despite what the man said, it was clear that there was no one else there. No prison guards, no other cells inside. It was clearly a floor made, simply to detain one individual in particular. Isolated, and secure enough that they’d never be able to escape. Deep enough underground that they’d never even know where they were.

Your footsteps tap loudly against the concrete and echo everywhere around. As you walk down the hall, the lightbulbs behind you light up. The man had told you it was in the deepest part of the prison. However, what he didn’t account for, was that you had no idea how this floor was organized. 

Not to mention it was starting to get creepy really quickly. Although there should be nothing else in here, you were starting to get the sense that there was something dangerous that might lurk in the air. You tell yourself it’s probably just the dark and your own fatigue and you were imagining things.

The emptiness of the entire building creeps you out. It’s eerie. It feels like you were lead into the wrong location, and you were walking into a dead end. It almost felt almost like a trap that you had been lured into. And every second, the floor grew significantly more eerie. The lack of any presence and the darkness despite the very few lightbulbs attached to the ceiling enhanced that. 

I should be getting close now… right?

You were. You could see a light at the end of this hallway, which was illuminated with an orange light. It must have been where Chuuya’s cell was. There was no other place as illuminated as this, and there was no reason for it to be.

You had gotten this far. There was no reason you should be stopping now. Should you? The answer… you had always looked for, you could get it now.

Chuuya always hid something from me. He has never answered once, one of my questions. He’s never told me why he comes to my house every day, he never told me once why he was gone. For as long as I remember, I’ve been coming back from my job, and seeing him there. But one day, he disappeared. No reason why, no reason of how. He just did.

But apart from my job, there’s another piece missing to this puzzle. There’s something else that I’ve always wanted to ask him besides why he’s gone missing, and the explosion which I already had the answer to. He knows me, better than I know myself.

What was I before all of this happened?

I know there’s something before all of this. It just doesn’t add up. The man I saw in the mafia looked familiar. The building itself was in a place that I had felt I had been in at some time before. There’s deja vu there.

But when I first walked into the apartment, the first day before I saw Chuuya, I had jamais vu. A familiar place, that I didn’t know. And consequently, I couldn’t remember much before that. So what-

“I know you’re there, (Y/N). You’ve been standing there for quite some time.”

Shit.

Your thoughts are cut off by that voice you instantly knew. Chuuya was indeed, there. But his voice didn’t sound the same as you remember. There wasn’t any of the snarkiness, or egotistical attitude in his voice anymore. Instead, his voice was laced with aggression, and a malice that made you hesitant to even come forward.

You open your jaw to speak, but almost if Chuuya knew, he spoke before you. “I know what you’re thinking. You want to know why I left you, don’t you? I assume that someone has already told you about what happened on the day I stopped seeing you, and I’m sure you know all about the aftermath of that.”

You feel like you are doused in cold water. How did he know? Did he plan all of this. You want to open your mouth and tell him to slow down, but he continues, anyways.

“And you’ve been having deja vu for several days, too. You feel like you know the Port Mafia building, you feel like you recognize everything you saw, including my home.” Silence, as he pauses for a second. “So why don’t you… come and face me, and I’ll tell you what actually happened?”

“Chuuya-”

You hear no response. You sigh and walk towards his cell. You’re not ready to hear this, and you’re not sure you can face him.

He’s different. He’s not the same anymore. He sounds more violent, his composture is much less controlled than it was before. What…what happened to him?

And then you approach his cell. He’s got cuts everywhere, specifically the gash on his face. You instantly feel the need to run away, to get this image out of your mind. He was thin, his face was significantly more gaunt than it had been the last time you had seen him. And the most unsettling thing was how he was kept. Both arms were harshly chained to the ceiling and the wall. The chains were wrapped around his arms several times (you would assume most likely to stop him from breaking free), and they cut deeply into his arm. Then his body was also tightly bound to a chair, and his legs were bound to the chair’s legs. His body you noticed, was bound so tightly to the chair, you wonder how he still managed to breathe. Still, nothing would be as unnerving as to look at as his eyes. They were not dull per say, but they were empty. Not in the hopeless kind of way, but in the tormented sense that he had been tortured so badly that it would be unlikely he ever saw the light of day again.

Truly, he was a lost cause. You could only describe him as tortured and traumatized, as you couldn’t glance at him a second time.

“Hey. You done oogling yet?” His voice came out as almost an aggressive snarl, and you instantly look away. “Look at me.” You do your best to look at him, while trying to avoid looking at any part of his face in particular. You didn’t want to see it. Truly, you don’t want to look at him in any way whatsoever. So you settle on looking at a corner of his hair. The only thing that was still familiar to you.

“I said look at me. In the eyes.”

You don’t want to.

Chuuya sighs. “I know I probably look terrible right now, but please. Just do it. For the sake of me. Just look me in the eyes. It’ll probably be the last time I see someone for a long time.” He draws that last sentence out for longer than you expect, and you start to feel uneasy again, but you try to ignore that and ask him the question. The question you had been dying to ask for an undefined amount of time.

It’s a second before you can really bring yourself to ask it. “Chuuya. Where are my memories?” your mouth tightens… “Who am I? Why did you… do this?” You take a deep breath, to stop yourself. “Just tell me. Please.”

There’s another stretched-out pause before Chuuya responds again. “I knocked you out.”

“You… you what? N-no… you’re kidding right?” Your voice wavers slightly, before seeing Chuuya’s face again. He’s dead serious. “Why would you do this?”

“You were in danger. I couldn’t help it, alright?” He yelled, and you flinch. He takes a deep breath in again, slightly more calm, and continues. “Let me explain.”

“You were part of the Port Mafia, (Y/N). In fact, you, me, and Dazai used to be assigned to the same team all the time. Of course, it was always despicable working with Dazai. He never told us about anything, instead only telling us what to do, while he schemed about whatever he damn chose.”

“You can’t be serious…”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Do you think I’m joking right now? That I’m making a story and pulling it out of thin air for fun? You wanted answers. I’m giving them to you right now.”

“Right. Sorry.”

Chuuya ignores you and goes on. “Out of the three of us, you were always the weakest one, without a strong ability, nor any supportive abilities, however, we always had to drag you along anyways. To every mission gaven to us. Dazai would always make a plan, and we’d have to follow through. And if any of us ever messed up, we’d always get into trouble.”

“I bet you wanted to know how you got that bruise on your arm, that’s never healed, huh? Well, it’s cause you messed up one of the missions, and one of the higher-ups broke your arm. It never completely healed, and it was a warning that you should never mess up again.”

You look at your arm, where the ugly purple bruise marred your skin. It had never healed, and you couldn’t do anything heavy with it. Although it made a lot more sense than the reasoning you were told, you found this all too unreal. There was no way you were a mafia member. You were always weak. There would have been no reason for you to join. But even past the static buzzing in your brain, you could make out everything he said feeling familiar. As if your memories were just behind a wall you couldn’t break through.

“Still, I wasn’t able to do anything at the time, and Dazai didn’t care too much for you. The damned bastard treated everything and everyone like a chess piece, and played them as he wished. You were constantly treated as the runt of the three of us, and often used as the punching bag when missions weren’t successful. But, over time, you managed to become more ‘competent’ and not ‘drag us back’.”

“Of course, that all was, until the Dragon Head incident. All you need to know was that it was a bloody fight, and most of us were sent to deal with it.”

“As always, we were sent to deal with the mess. Dazai and I were obviously vanguards during the entire ordeal, and you were backup. When we had found the person behind it all, I used my own ability to kill him. We had won, but just barely.”

“You had managed to find the location of the man first, but you didn’t notify us. This person later told us that you actually refused to tell us. Ultimately, you botched Dazai’s plan, and almost destroyed an entire city, because you didn’t follow his instructions. Of course, Dazai was disappointed, even if he didn’t say anything. He essentially dismissed you, and planned to go back, and remove you from the Port Mafia. But, I didn’t want that.”

“So after a very long fight with Dazai, I managed to make a compromise with him. You would not be killed for betraying the Port Mafia, however, you wouldn’t be allowed to go back. But if I told you this, you would have rather accepted death, since the Port Mafia is the only thing you have ever known. You couldn’t go into the real world since you have no identity there.”

“So later that night, while you had looked like you were at least, partially asleep. I had no choice… but to give you severe head trauma, which would make you lose all your memories.”

There’s an unspoken silence between the two of you. You had always been told that your head was fragile. When you tried to think about your childhood or teenage years, your head would fill with static and it would hurt. Never had you ever expected it to be… this…

“You must be shocked. You probably think I’m not being serious, or that I’m joking. Well, I’m not done yet.”

“You were in a coma for years after that. For about two or three years, if I remember correctly. I had to make sure that you wouldn’t remember anything, so I bashed your head, pretty hard against the concrete. I brought you to the hospital after that, and told them that you had been injured badly, because you had attempted suicide. A balatant lie, but I couldn’t tell the doctors any more than that, otherwise I would have been detained.”

“For several years, you stayed in the hospital, completely unconscious. I’d visit you everyday, and see if you would wake up. At one point I had considered just giving up. But eventually, you did wake up. But, you didn’t have an identity in the real world, let alone education, or anything that would let you survive. When you were discharged, I paid a company to forge you a fake identity, which is what you live by now.”

“I’ve watched over you for so long, (Y/N). You once asked me what you needed to be protected from. I didn’t answer that question because I didn’t think it was the right time to let you know the truth. Alas, you’ve come searching for the truth yourself. The Port Mafia was after you for a long time. I had to constantly monitor you, you were constantly on my mind every day. And even when you were discharged from the hospital, I still had to watch over you while you slept. They wanted to kill you. I didn’t want you dead, in fact how could I?” Chuuya laughs in bitterness. “I loved you for a long time. I did all of this to make sure I’d be able to see you happy, for once. And you were. You moved into society rather nicely. You were simply not meant to be part of the Mafia, despite the potential in your ability.”

“You have the gun I left on my desk, didn’t you? You knew you had to take it because you might have been in danger.”

“Chuuya… stop.” You’re still in shock, but you know you’ll never properly remember any of your memories now. You can only trust him. Whatever he says, you have to believe. He’s not lying. He never was lying.

“That was Dazai’s gun. The gun he left before he killed himself.”

“No… please. Stop. Chuuya. Don’t do this please…”

He chuckles. “I have no merit in my future, I am simply left to rot and die here. You wouldn’t understand, (Y/N). I spent so much time in my life for you, that it would have been simpler to just kill you. But I can’t do that.”

“But in a life where you don’t return any of that to me isn’t worth living either…”

“CHUUYA,” you scream. “Stop this. Don’t…”

“So shoot me please. I know you’re dying to do it. You brought the gun with you, you wanted to kill me. I know you do. Why? You’ve reached into your pockets serveral times while I was telling your past. My life is hopeless, completely doomed. I’ve lost everything I once had, except for you. And I can’t even see you now.”

“So kill me. Put me out of my own misery.”

He smiles, in a twisted sort of way, expecting you to shoot.

“You won’t regret it.”

And it’s true. You were planning on killing him, but you don’t want to now. But if what he said was true, you were also ruthless as he was. You had to make a choice, quickly.

Your hands move faster than your mind, and you can’t stop yourself.

You shoot once. Once at his chest.

You can’t bear to see what you did.

But you also can’t see control what you were going to do next. You hear another gunshot being fired, and you weren’t if it was from yourself, or maybe someone else in the floor.

Your vision stops and you feel yourself falling to the ground.

[robinswrites]

About Me

Hi! My name's Robin, and after years of writing and posting fanfic (on a different account, which I will be continuing with), I've decided to start trying to get my original fiction published. I am A Trans who doesn't much care what pronouns/gendered terms you use for me as long as you're not being deliberately insulting. The various stories I'm writing or want to write vary in genre from fantasy to science fiction and horror, but they're all queer (in different ways, because queerness isn't necessarily approached in SF/F cultures in the same way as in our own, and they don't necessarily fit the often very romance-focussed conventional ideas of what queer rep looks like, but it is present in everything I write).

I am an adult, and my writing is aimed at adults (I've noticed a few people getting their stories labelled as YA when they're really not aimed at that audience at all, so I thought I'd make that clear right from the start), but I'm not writing anything so explicit that I'd object to someone under 18 following me if they're interested in my stories. I will use tags and TWs on my posts--feel free to let me know if I forget.

WIPs

My three main WIPs are novels that I intend to publish (I'm an incurable WIP-hopper and have been alternating between writing bits of each of these for years...), so I'm not going to be posting the stories themselves online, but I will be sharing character and setting info, discussing progress, taking part in the usual writeblr ask events, etc. One is a deliberately over-the-top space opera sci-fi, one is a modern-day fantasy, and the other a mediaeval fantasy. At some point, they might even have titles. Wouldn't that be wonderful?

I'm also sometimes going to be writing short stories and submitting to anthologies and magazines--I'll post updates on where to find any that get accepted.

And at some point soon, a free short story will be going up here as a taster of my work!

I'm also currently doing a major rewrite of the plot outline for a webcomic I initially plotted out as a teenager--once I've got the story to make sense, I'm hoping to start drawing and posting some stuff for that.

What else?

I'm hoping to use this account to follow and get to know other authors, to follow and interact with publishers, take part in any writing events that look interesting--and also to some extent for general blogging.

You'll probably see some reblogs of gifs of films I like, and other mostly-on-topic reblogs (I'm not going to use this account for random memes).

I might share music I've been listening to, or sometimes post about anything interesting I've been doing/places I've been going. I do aim to stick to interesting stuff--I'm not going to be blogging about what I ate for breakfast, but if there's something that I think really would interest SF/F fans and writers, I might do a blog post, especially if I got some cool photos, instead of getting home and thinking too late "I really should have taken some photos of that [supposedly haunted secondhand bookshop / sword I was tempted to buy in an antique shop / whatever]".

Fandom stuff and other "general nonsense" posts and reblogs will stay on my other account.

Looking forward to sharing what I do here on writeblr and getting to know more original fiction writers in this community!

[justallihere]

2024 Fic Writer End of Year Roundup ✨

Answer and then tag three or more creators to keep the game going!

I was tagged by @skyfallscotland!

1. How many words did you publish on AO3 in 2024?

AO3 says 391,280 but I think that includes the entirety of sitq, so we can probably knock 40 or 50k off of that.

2. How many fics did you complete this year?

8!

3. How many in progress or ongoing fics did you start this year?

Everything currently posted is complete! I do have one still in the drafts though.

4. What was your favourite thing you wrote?

storm in the quiet, hands down. I love that fic beyond words.

5. What piece was your most experimental or different from your usual style?

Probably flower bud in concrete? It tackles topics I didn’t expect to touch but I ended up liking it a lot.

6. Did any fics surprise you - either while writing or their reception?

somehow i still love you more is one of my most kudos-ed fics, which is insane since it’s less than 1k!

7. Do you have a fic you wrote and loved that went under the radar? (This is your sign to reblog/repost it!)

Always and forever my beloved void of all composure. I don’t care that it’s rarepair and a threesome I LOVE HER.

8. Who is an artist that inspired you?

Anyone who’s doing not-AI art is always an inspiration! I unfortunately don’t keep up with too many artists 😭

9. Who is an author that inspired you?

@skyfallscotland literally kept me going and writing some days. I wouldn’t have survived without her. @widebrimmedhatsblog always makes me want to push the envelope and write something different.

10. Who is a new author you discovered?

@caeli0306 is amazing!

11. Did you do any collaborations? How did it start?

Sure didn’t!

12. What accomplishments are you proudest of?

Finishing storm in the quiet. Just being here. Writing and creating when it was hard.

13. What did you learn about writing or creating this year?

Take a break!!! It doesn’t go anywhere.

14. Any advice you’d like to share with new or aspiring writers?

Write for you. You have to love it first and forever.

15. What are your creative goals for 2025?

Mostly just to keep creating. I’d love to finish a complete draft of one of my original novel ideas.

I think this has made its rounds with basically everyone in our tiny little fandom and I am (as always) slow, so no tags, just leaving it open to anyone and everyone!

[tailsbeth-writes]

Happy Wednesday poppets! The Quinn fic is almost done, pray to the fic gods I'll get it out by the weekend. So I shan't be sharing anymore from that but I'm sticking with the sexy side of things.

Scooch in a bit closer here: now I'm not a smut writer. I've done like 1 explicit ficlet. I am all for fade to black. But I've wanted to dip my toes in for a while and I fully blame my Quinn subscription for giving me the confidence to do this (See above fic mention, duh). And where I feel most comfortable doing this is from a trans Alex perspective. When trying something new, you write closer to what you know after all.

This first bit isn't explicit but that will come, maybe 2 times if you're lucky.... (I'm a bisexual, bad puns are all we can depend on):

‘I don't usually put out on the first date sweetheart.’ Henry pushes Alex against the wall, his lips surging up his neck. The stubble makes him giddy.  ‘I do hope you'll make an exception.’ Henry replies before kissing him, Alex’s teeth grapple with Henry’s plush lips. When Henry moans, Alex swears every nerve ending in his body sings. He wants to hear more. He must hear more.  Reality claws at him, and he can't deny it anymore. Henry has made his way down to Alex’s collarbones, painting them beautiful colours that Alex secretly wishes were permanent. Alex puts a hand in Henry’s hair and pulls him up. He feels bad when he sees Henry's expression, it reminds him of some little lost orphan boy straight from a Charles Dickens novel.  ‘Baby, please, quit it with the face. I need to talk to you.’ ‘I was rudely pulled away from devouring you, what do you expect?’

Tag You're It: @onthewaytosomewhere @taste-thewaste @thighzp @run-for-chamo-miles @royal-chandler @judasofsuburbia @seths-rogens @porcelainmortal @priincebutt @emmalostinwonderland & open tag 💛

P.s. sending lots of love to my US peeps especially ✨ my inbox is open if you wish to vent or want a distraction 💛

[plantoyoon]

New experiences. part 1

I am writing this because I'm actively thinking about it and writing it seems like it would help to get it out of the depths of my brain. (I think I mostly wrote it in second person, haven't proofread it, I don't know how much sense it makes)

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Synopsis: You need someone to help you with your needs

Genre/Tags: First time meeting, Friends with benefits, maybe soul bound

Mostly inside talks, then some fluff, not much action though... it will follow soon

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This is the most stupid thing you’ve ever done! An improper way to say hello, but if you're actively thinking about me in your goblin ways, please stop! Message sent.

Voice 1: Why have I done this? Should I delete the message? I still have time... but I'm sure he already saw it. Why isn't there an answer? Am I being that insane?

Voice 2: Well, probably yeah... because you just sent a text to a dude you stopped talking to more than a month ago. In a kind of crazy way. Let's cover it up for a bit, shall we? So I know that in those periods of talking or not talking, he told you that every time you texted him, he was always thinking intensely of you. Given the kind of relationship you had and the person he was, it was smutty thinking. I might sound like I'm actively judging, but it was the same for you. Texting him when you were so close to touching yourself or after, depending on how needy you felt that day. Therefore, my insane message!

Alright, he's typing... Typing... still typing...

You're a nervous wreck at this point, still uncertain if you should delete your message. That would be even more insane now!

"Hi! Maybe I am. Would that be so wrong?" came the answer, dry and flirty. As he usually does, but the lack of honesty bleeds through... he would usually write more, not be that mysterious.

"Not wrong, but..." In your usual style, you overthink what to write next. Should you say: "Yes, stop! I need to work, not think about you," or "I miss your hugs and you," or "I am a dumb thing who needs to get her shit together. Sorry for writing!" But you don't. Your fingers go flirtatious and say, "Not wrong, but I know you could do better than just manifest me into your couch."

"What do you mean?" The conversation feels strained, but you go further in your stupidity and inquire, "Text, ask, and receive." Wow, so bold! You clearly don't recognize yourself; it's like you never left being his go-to friend with benefits for six months.

Looking at the messages, your mind starts thundering with anxieties. Did he get a girlfriend? Is he upset? Does he hate you? Does he think you're so lame for texting him like this after the last time he refused your meeting request? You wisely put your phone down, put on some music, and close your eyes, trying to ground yourself for a moment... Why did "Drowning" start playing? The universe is aligned with your personal saboteur.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

You drowned in a similar moment in your life, having the same urges and desire for connection. It was hot outside, the AC being your only hope, but it was an old one... so there was still a need to lay like a starfish on the bed to properly cool off. But your life was another thing—working part-time, doing this and that, and just focusing on your health, hobbies, doing some sports, painting... you know, trying to enjoy life.

According to your friends, you lacked a boyfriend. You denied it strongly until recently, when all those couples' activities started to creep onto your wish list. The fact that all the novels you were reading also contained a relationship here and there put even more pressure on you.

But as much as you'd like to stick to the novelty of it all, the reality was simple. You were horny, and your hands and toys couldn't keep up with your appetite anymore. So you did what every girl not in her right mind does... went to dating apps.

You said to yourself: We're just doing some friends with benefits, not a relationship, so we can be as picky with looks as we want.

So you set up your account and started swiping. Lots of lefts, until someone caught your eye... Dark hair, fair skin, an artistic pose, and another one in the mirror with a camera pointed towards it, where his hands seemed like the main attraction. Long and elegant fingers, yet strong with prominent knuckles. Have you ever had a thing for hands? you ask yourself.

Swipe right and matched. Oh, that was fast, considering you made the account less than half an hour ago.

You try with a bit of conversation so you wouldn't be the direct asshole you usually are. You had prior experience with dating apps, so you expected the conversation to drift quickly to the action part. But this time it didn't. The conversation was quite smooth and cute, getting to know each other, talking about photography. As enjoyable as the conversation was, you had a purpose, so for the first time, it was you who moved the talk to meet and fuck.

Always a smooth talker, but this was your moment as a weird robot who suddenly had needs and needed to focus on her purpose. After a few hours, you managed to have him at your door, inviting him in and playing the part where you present your house with him complimenting the size of your apartment.

He is cute, you thought. Longer dark hair, dark eyes, whose emotions played between curiosity and reservation, and dark clothes. You definitely need some wine to gain your confidence in this situation.

"Wine?" you ask, at which he confirms while checking out what was running on TV. It was a Star Wars series that you've been watching recently. You've kept it running in the background for some months until now, so you kind of forgot to change it to some music or something more appealing. The atmosphere between you two was a bit strange, not knowing what to say, what to talk about. He seemed uncomfortable. You cringe for a moment, but who would have thought that Star Wars was your saving point because the awkwardness disappears as he starts to talk enthusiastically about watching that as a teenager, his memories around it, and the impact it had on the world. Of course, he enjoys Star Wars; now it feels less intimidating.

The conversation runs smoothly and a few hours go by unnoticed, laughing, talking about random aspects of films and how life correlates to them. It felt nice and natural to talk to him, sharing quirky thoughts together and even throwing some jinxes in there. At this point, even though you were still horny, you would have been happy with this night. You notice the wine left in the bottle, so you pour all the remaining content into the glasses and drink it. You feel how this last sip got you more dizzy, and you feel more comfortable with the silence and just look in his eyes with intent. He reflects the lust simply and surely, getting closer to you, placing both hands on your hips, closing the distance between you two while slowly pecking your lips. He feels smooth, his lips perfectly matched over yours. His perfect hands start to move on your body, his fingers pressing harder into your skin. He takes a breath to look at you with big eyes for a second then crashes his lips against yours, his tongue licking your lips eagerly and you grant access, slowly feeling out of breath and dizzy of desire.

The way his tongue dances with yours feels completely like him, balancing between assertiveness and shyness, between wanting to engulf you and protect you. You're having so many emotions in this moment, that it's starts to creep on you that you just met today. I think he senses something is clouding your mind, slowly pulling away from the kiss to look at you, caress your hair with one hand and cup your cheek with the other. The look of understanding he gives to you, brings so much reassurance and makes you take the lead in the following kiss.

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