#my works 𓍼ོ

[cassioo]

ashes, ashes, time to go down

ooh-ooh, honey, do you want me now?

can’t take it anymore, need to put you to bed

sing you a lullaby, where you die at the end.

[chleem]

masterlist

˙⋆𓍼ོ last updated: 12/14/2024

have fun reading my works <3

────୨ৎ────

- Drew Starkey:

Flashing lights; (series) index!

Not a big deal; (miniseries) 5 parts!

Is it casual now?; (oneshot)

Hallow's eve; (oneshot)

Work from home; (oneshot)

Rest of my life; (oneshot)

Close to you; (oneshot)

'Stache; (oneshot)

Mistletoe; (oneshot)

- Jeon Jungkook:

coming soon

[keouil]

you can be king again: a dethroning

some internal musings i don't want time and bitterness to swallow on what has been the most emotionally challenging yet oddly cathartic work i've written so far.

YCBKA january 2024 — october 2024. 47k. single pov. jujutsu kaisen. physical disability, emotional codependency, trauma

𓍼ོ 𓍼ོ 𓍼ོ

it's tokyo in january: the temperature is the coldest i've ever felt on my skin as someone who thrives on sunny weather, the language is familiar but too fast for me to comprehend, the faces are new and my social anxiety is at an all time high. i want to say writing this was easy and came to me in a half-baked dream at 3am in the morning when, as all virgos know, hypochondria and overthinking hits and you have no place to carve it in. but it wasn't, and to this day, i have complicated feelings about starting a fic during particularly vulnerable times i know i will tend to project even more than i already do. but something something about how every piece of writing is self-referential in a way even if you don't mean it to be and you can't unspring yourself from a body of work you spend so long inside of and to be gentle with yourself as you move through this world trying to understand it better and your place in it.

so tokyo.

it was my first time living completely alone in a foreign country where i had no one but myself to depend on: the penultimate horror made real of every youngest asian daughter. i had to do big girl things in a big girl city, scraping together what loose japanese i remembered from beginner classes, and having to translate everything twice in my head in fear of offending someone (social anxiety!) or not getting my point across the way i want it to (virgo!). you want to connect, in a big city. you want to feel corporeal, in a big city. you don't want to lose yourself to the ether of loneliness and isolation disguised as a fancy exchange program. only you don't understand how limiting language can be when you're in a position you can't even channel your mother tongue. as a writer, this just disarmed me completely. and unassumingly. i have no problem expressing myself in english when the situation calls for it, but there's been a few instances where, i'd face a fellow exchange friend and instinctively slip into a colloquial expression that i don't realize i'm even doing when the expression i'm greeted with is just utter but polite confusion.

i did it again, i thought. i homeseeked.

but for ycbka specifically, i just. i don't know. the idea seemed so fantastical and grand in my head. just imagine it: a blind gojo. a blind gojo. of all people to strip away the sight of and knock down a peg. i wanted to write it so bad but always told myself to wait until i was ₊˚ʚ mentally stable ₊˚ʚ enough because the source material needs a steady hand to guide it through completion. i can't fumble blind gojo. i have to make blind gojo epic. i have to make this into an even bigger thing than the material calls for because blind gojo. but one especially sad day™ coming back to an empty dorm room with the lights still streaming in and tokyo on a full friday beat: i basically said fuck it.

i think it's partly why ycbka reads so angry sometimes.

sometimes i think that i hate that it reads like that and have had to console myself with the fact i trust my writing, i trust my story, i trust my characterization: all of these things have led to each scene for a reason. i trust gojo to get me there and maybe if he felt a little angry at times, that was exactly what he was supposed to be feeling. it was as much a surrender to the craft as it was to the narrative i felt gojo was being pulled towards that i know i could always get him out of, but maybe wouldn't have served the story if it was too easy.

i myself am not a particularly angry person, so i actually found it a little surprising how a common running theme i sometimes got in my comments is the appreciation for how cutting my writing is. is this where my anger has bled through without my knowing, i wonder? i'm trying to be gentle. i just always want to be gentle. and yet, now with the added lens of a third party to survey my writing with, reading over it again i do see it: the shrapnels.

why is she so angry? why is she always using slashing motifs? why do i always need to bring it back to the soul, to the heart, to the vein? must it not be enough to just let gojo be blind without adding myself to his despair?

i don't know.

i go through intense grieving periods with this fic in particular. i've finished it now and breathed the biggest sigh of relief that i did, but, all the same: it's complicated. when i hate it, i hate it and just barely stop myself from scrapping the whole thing and deleting it's existence—this proof of such authorship vulnerability—off the internet. i hate the way the words string together and the offbeat pacing and the non-linear narrative and think about how i could write everything so much better if i wasn't just so greedy when i started it a time i really shouldn't have.

but ycbka is served best as a love letter.

a really open, tug my heart out and choke yourself with it, display of exposure. i didn't want to sacrifice the integrity of the story just because my relationship with writing has taken such a tumultuous turn. in a way writing and so, never die which is without a doubt and no room for debate the actual hardest thing i've ever written was so much more simpler. it's only grief, darling, i told myself as i cried into the google doc. you know it. you've lived it. i give you as much space as you want to take up in the world to express it. everything i've ever written will always find a running twine back to grief because it's the foundation of all my writing and everything i do.

but. really. just.

for ycbka: everything felt too serious. granted, it needed to be, because canon will tell you short of an apocalypse coming there is nothing worse than gojo being blind and i wanted to instill that sense of urgency, this impending doom, this near catastrophe always lying in wait. i don't know if i achieved it exactly because i wanted to gentle the pages, still, for gojo and shoko. i wanted it to be both a mix of urgency and yet mindful in honoring the time they're in; the unprecedentedness of it, the irony that it's only then they can have all the time in the world to heal from past and present wounds. i wanted gojo not to keep rushing his healing because that was the direction i felt he was leading me into the story, why that whole confrontation scene in chapter 5 is what i consider the peak of their development/realizations in such a contained story.

the other thing is i think i didn't quite expect the (tiny!) influx of attention ycbka got and that tripped me up a bit. all of my stories live inside my head for so long and i think not engaging with any form of fandom platform has tricked me into believing no one gaf (which has been fine otherwise i literally would not be writing so much at the volume that i do). it's partly because i suffer such strong moments of vulnerability fatigue after publishing anything and why i've strayed so far from fandom spaces is to protect my own peace with it. so this whole thing has just made me go into imposter syndrome mode, made me question whether i deserved all the nice words and surely these people could be spending their time reading something leagues better and actually worth it than what i was offering? but kindness, i've found, goes both ways: i wanted gojo to be kind to himself and it wasn't fair if i wasn't doing the same.

(i'm still struggling with this.)

(but i am trying.)

now. writing long form.

this is the part that's really put me in a spiral if i'm being honest. i can make decent one shots but i cannot, just completely blunder, with the idea of stringing a few choice scenes together and somehow building them on top of each other all the while making sure each and every one contributes to the bigger overall picture. what the fuck. i love the containment of one shots and can write my way out and into one ten times out of nine, but long fics? goodness me. can i just write you ten fics altogether. i can't read the earlier chapters for this reason because the stringing was just so shit, i don't know who was writing that, she needs a better editor and maybe even open herself up to the idea of a beta to make her life easier. but i'm a stubborn perfectionist virgo and i don't know moderation and it's going to be the death of me (!!!)

this is also a major departure from my usual writing style which lends itself a little more sentimental i think, less feeding the story to the reader and more allowing them to fill the gaps themselves; but i just thought, for this, for gojo specifically: we needed to live inside his head and process everything with him as he does. it's a little too literal for what i'm used to and even prefer writing, but i was trying something new for an entirely new project i have no experience with because why not. i'm not sure if i prefer this over my usual prose but i'm glad i challenged myself to change up the wording/structure/narrative elements a little more as i learned so much about actually crafting a semi-linear story. hopefully my next long fics are a little more systematically polished.

gojo then.

i'm still processing everything i've done to him in this. it'll take a while to even reach the ballpark on that, but maybe one day, when the wounds from and so, never die don't feel as raw anymore or the lingering resentment/resignment i have for jjk in general fades enough i can be objective about it all.

i had to really, really dig deep into gojo's character ethos and pathology in a way that i don't think even he was considering himself in canon. gojo is introspective, far more than he's ever been let on, but i found a weird sense of stepping on his shoes about putting words in his mouth on a situation we've been led to believe wouldn't even be a thing to consider. it felt like grasping at straws at first, trying to get ycbka!gojo characterization down and similar enough to canonverse it wouldn't be jarring.

(but.

i will be the first to say even he was a little too angry at times.

a product of poor writing or just inconsistency, who knows? all i know is i probably wrote gojo's more emotionally tense moments at a time i needed to project and he was a pliable vessel. is this also me, the author, using him as a body to be bodied? maybe. authorship only goes so far and i'm convinced some of us might just actually know gojo better than gege does (i am entirely kidding). )

edit: i don't agree with the above anymore but for posterity purposes and loving all versions of yourself the good and the bad and the in between, i'm leaving her in.

i go back and forth between hating the ever loving fuck out of this as all creators do with their brainchild while also being wordlessly proud of myself for actually finishing it. chapter 5 in particular is some of the best writing i have ever done in my life and i, at the and of the day will at least have that.

Gojo wants to choke. He wants to reach into the chambers of his heart and rip them open, splay them out on the dinner table bloodied and sputtering, and say to everyone, "Feast." Because this is what unravelling looks like to a god. This is what his fall from grace has succumbed him into. This is how he was at exactly where he is: just a body of bones and wires.

speaking of revisting words i love and loathe in equal measures. i can point exactly, literally exactly, the scene that started this all (spoiler alert — it's on chapter 5!):

Gojo gets his breathing to settle first, before searching for the words, words he can’t say at the peak of his anger.  "I'm. I'm not.. enough. Now." He feels—more than sees—her eyes taking him in. "And which voice is saying that? Yours or Yaga's?"

and my personal favourite:

"I've told you since the beginning," Shoko breathes out, also winding herself higher. It’s been years in the making, her ire, it makes sense it’d blow up in his face now. "To get a fucking life outside those eyes."

this whole behemoth of 40k word vomit can be blamed on these two exact scenes in particular. this is the polished version, the one i went over with a fine-tooth comb hundreds of times; but it had started out a jumble of words and just a feeling i wanted to cut across. it didn't look as pretty as it does now but i felt such a rush penning it down and that's when i just knew. this has to belong in a long, slow-burn, angst, hurt, comfort fic that explores grief and humanity and humility.

what didn't make the cut and i think would have shifted, at least tonally, the entire resolution in the last chapter:

So they can have those conversations later. They will be having those conversations later. They can apologize later, scream at each other, debate on each other's psychoanalysis write-up that is two decades in the making and argue over how accurate or inaccurate their deductions are for each other.  They have time. They will make time.

anger!! again!! i don't know. i've healed a lot of emotional wounds writing this making it, despite everything i've said, mostly a cathartic expression of my complicated emotions vis a vis writing, loneliness, fandom, gojo, etc. if anything it's given me the confidence to pursue writing more long form fics because i've gotten myself to a point i can actually do it and the fear was, as is the case most of the time, just all in my head. so i'm sorry to the jjk fandom but i might just come back and terrorize you with some words once again.

but, in sum, this is i think what best contains all the messy and lovely and overwhelming emotions i feel about this fic as a whole: i'm glad a story like this exists for gojo and i'm glad a story like this exists for my writing to take space in.

[awgenties]

𓍼ོ ׂ  ׅ ⊹ ‎ ‎𝔁innie 、twentie, them ノ her. argenti's briar rose ♡ i welcome you to my hsr-centric multi fandom writin' blog、would you like some tea ? 🫖 c: 's honey lavender !

𝐛yf . . not spoiler free + dabbles in both sfw and nsfw works, so minors please do not interact! if selfshipping, aging up characters, and dark content isn't your cup of tea this isn't the blog for you ! ! interacts from : @cubtales ( selfship & personal ) ❤︎ 𐔌 tales ྀི ノ dailies ྀི ꒱

𝓻ecent tales . .

[zeninprincess]

📨 blog directory

noelle ❔️

she/her | 17 | animanga + vgs 🎐

very NSFW be very careful when opening and reading, may contain DARK FICS so handle with love and care. don't like? please block.

#𝐙𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒 on ig and twt

જ⁀➴ all characters belongs to the respectful authors/company. everything i write is fiction and not based on anyone, any similarities on events are unintentional . . .

I DONT EXCLUSIVELY WRITE DARK FICS. I WRITE NORMAL, FLUFF, GENERALLY OKAY FICS TOO. 𓍼ོ

multifandom 🌊; requests are not open unless stated otherwise!! rules and masterlist below.

꩜ rules . . .

character x fem!reader only

don't like? block and ignore. don't report my blog/tumblr

yes to: cnc, dubcon, non con, faux incest, incest, yandere, kidnapping, obsession, gangbang, canon type, violence, baby trapping, misogyny, dbf, age difference, pervy, etc.

no: scat, gore, farting, underage, raceplay, lolicon/shotacon

requests are closed for now

꒰ঌ ⋆｡𖦹 masterlist . . .

JJK TKR KN8 WINDBREAKER (ANIME) SNV/ROR BLLK HAIKYUU KNY SNK DUNMESH BLEACH BSD JJBA VINLAND SAGA BLUE PERIOD

LAD WUWA GENSHIN IMPACT HSR MLBB FE3H P5 FF(VG)

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

©️ zeninprincess 2024. reposting, plagiarizing, translating, or claiming my works are strictly forbidden.

[onlygarden]

it’s fine if others do not know me for who i am, as long as you do 𓍼ོ

hi ☘︎ i’m vi!!! i’m 21 years old, and i write for enhypen (majority of the time, jungwon). my specialty, and what i enjoy writing the most, is hurt/ comfort or angst. i do write smut quite often, so feel free to req! : )

i do also have two anime related works!!!

iwaizumi & megumi

[cassioo]

When the day burns out and fades into darkness..

..when the dark night comes, guests, guests come home..

..play, play musicians the sultry rhythm for us, your legs are eager to dance, dancing til dawn.

[cassioo]

“tashi— i am real, goddammit! why aren’t you listening to me?”

“...because she died five years ago.”

[cassioo]

SOPH. 20. genderfluid (they/she). queer. a beginning writer. MDNI (i am not responsible for the content you’re consuming).

cannibalism as a metaphor for love and devotion; deviant behavior; inevitable perversions; occasional violence; religious images; undeniable hunger for information and too many ideas with no way out; theatre kid; yapper at heart, reserved in person. i won’t start any fights if your opinion differs from mine.

📌 i reblog whatever comes to my mind, so my blog isn’t strictly for gay/straight audiences. don’t come at me.

HYPERFIXATIONS: “yellowjackets”, “the penguin”, “the substance”, “raw”, “challengers”, “fallout”, “heretic”, “house of the dragon”; gore, horror movies, music, musicals, psychology, arts.

LINKS: playlist

[cassioo]

“Drown.”

Tashi Duncan x fem!reader

TW: angst; reflection; inner monologue; feelings-thoughts-feelings about thoughts-thoughts about feelings; endless circle of self-consciousness and self-hatred established into ourselves from that tricky thing called genetics. Fuck genetics. wc: 1,3k Author’s notes: I’m drunk and in my feelings rn + listening to Russian songs that don’t help the cause. English isn’t my native language, for that matter. (Something short to let out after a shitty week.)

If anyone ever told you two months ago that THE Tashi Duncan would let her eye fall upon you, a mere mortal that was just entering the field of sports—tennis, precisely—in this myriad of chaos and chronic prostration, you would’ve let out a laugh of the week from how impossible and absurd the thought sounded aloud. Because what the fuck? Have you seen Tashi? Have you seen yourself? No, but really... when was the last time you really looked into the mirror and saw something more than the reflection of the person you remember was running down the halls of the middle school, gossiping about boys who you totally ‘didn’t’ like—what was there to like about them?—or the halls full of voices that didn’t give you a migraine or two from just needing to spend another second thinking,

Am I the only one who doesn’t want to know anything about all of this? ...about all of them?

What was your life about if you were not thinking, weighing your options, thinking about the options you weighed, weighing if the options you weighed were even worth weighting, or if it was in your damn head? Always your head.

Head... where was your head exactly when you graduated? Tashi liked to joke, ‘shoved up the crevices of your ass, apparently,’ which wouldn’t be so far away from the truth, considering all of this started because of your head. Not your heart, no—because you didn’t have one.

Remember when your mom used to say you were meant to do something greater than where you are right now? What was that greater exactly now? Slipping into the covers with the wife of your best friend? Seeing their friend, Patrick, stealing drunken kisses and leaving sweaty marks on Tashi’s latest Gucci—she could not deserve anything less—cashmere jacket, and then grabbing those calloused, manly hands and guiding, sliding, them into your underwear, while judging Tashi’s dishonesty? You were anything but truthful, and less to your own self.

What was there about ‘friendship codex’ which you heard years ago in one of the bathroom stalls when you first kissed your friend’s ex? Seems like a pattern no, doesn’t it? Thought you learned the lesson even though your eyes always seemed to strike away from Art’s? Out of pure respect or utter guilt—unknown.

What is good? What is bad? What is correct? What defines it? Humans? The engrained morals we’ve been carrying within ourselves since the origins of our birth? Was it what our parents used to yell into our faces when we would ‘accidentally’ let out a curse or two to our teachers under our breaths and they would ‘accidentally’ overhear them? Was it the recognition that the apple, indeed, doesn’t fall far from the tree? No matter how hard you might try and fail, over and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and...

What are we if not sinners meant to work for what we did in Sodom and Gomorrah? Was it fair if it happened centuries ago when humans couldn’t possibly imagine if they were gonna be able to survive, and to procreate for more masses that would eventually lead to this?

“Swallowed your tongue?” You remember Tashi asking you one day after yet another strenuous practice in which the ball hit your head so hard that you must’ve forgotten who you were talking to if the first thing leaving your mouth was,

—Patrick told me you two had broken up.

The following silence was accompanied by a feeling that you couldn’t properly describe now, but it was something akin to when your parents pushed you into the water so you would learn—by sheer instinct—how to swim. The utter panic. The terrific realization that you are, indeed, falling into the pit that was about to drown you if you don’t move your ass and fucking do something. Was it a dream? Another example of your overdrawn imagination that you never lacked, even when you were alone? When weren’t you? Don’t we come alone and go alone in this life? What was the point of trying to make friends if anything was meant to end like this... with Tashi staring at you as if you’d disappointed not her�� her entire line of thinking that was practically built around both of you these two months that you knew were meant to end. What hasn’t ended if this life is all about the natural order of things: creating — ending it.

“I’m just thinking,�� you told her in the most sincere way you could manage through the gathering tears that you wanted to scratch out of your eyes, because what the fuck, weren’t you enough,, haven’t you done enough to deserve this tone thrown into your face like the bag that you saw was pushed under Patrick’s feet with Tashi’s heel? After all, we all are dispensable and meant to be thrown away, isn’t it? It was good while it lasted... right?

“Why’re you looking at me like this?” Gosh, you sounded pathetic—get it together, girl; were your trembling hands, your prickling eyes, your thrown to the brim feelings, the seemingly unstoppable sensation of trying to make your way out of that water that seemed to grow hands and claw their way over your sinking body worth it? Your overcompensated circle of victim-victimizer: ‘I’m not worse than Tashi if she does the same’?

And blurting out, unthinking, really, “I haven’t done anything you wouldn’t in my place, too. Weren’t it us from the beginning?”

“You were never in the equation.” Okay, shoot her, it would’ve hurt less than whatever the hell Tashi just straight-up shitted in her face. “You want to feel special, want to be part of something?” That questioning hm felt like a finger being put on the trigger about to be shot, and not just anywhere. At you.

“Then play like you are something; I have no interest in playing with a person who can’t see their own worth.” The way Tashi crossed her arms and tilted her head felt like a mother disapproving of a child who just said they haven’t studied in the time given for that same purpose— but Tashi wasn’t a Mother Theresa, nor was she a lifeline, or the hand that you saw blurry waving out of the water for you to grab. Help yourself yourself. “What worth can be there if you can’t even focus on something as basic as not sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong?” she muttered the last part to herself. Ouch, for fuck’s sake.

“You wanted to be alone? Felt overly confident in your strengths, saw an opportunity and struck like the snake that you always were? I taught you this, after all, I should probably feel proud ‘n shit—but the only thing that comes to mind is that I want to choke you right now.” Your eyes could only watch how Tashi grabbed that cursed bag with big cursive capital “Art” sewn into the fabric, before throwing it over her shoulder like it weighed nothing. It probably didn’t in comparison to the weight that was left on your shoulders, leaving you grasping the doorframe as if it would’ve saved you from the undone damage. ‘No, it wouldn’t,’ whispered your consciousness, ‘you started this — now watch her finish it.’

“Please; be fucking alone.” Tashi never said a mere thank you to you, so to hear a simple please felt like everything you had and couldn’t have.

You could have if you had a heart, which you don’t.

[cassioo]

“Don’t judge a book by its cover, or a person by their appearance.”

for @lambilegs!! i hope you like it <3. thank you for giving us so much of your creativity and time.

[cassioo]

THE PIRATE CODE ARTICLE 1 The Sea Calls to Us All Everyone is welcome on the Sea of Thieves regardless of age, gender, sexuality, nationality or creed ARTICLE 2 The Sea Unites Us as One Community Outside the heat of battle or piracy on the high seas, all crews shall bond together as a community of like-minded souls ARTICLE 3 Disputes Are Settled upon the Waves None Shall quarrel or overly dissent against another crew, let every engagement be settled by sword, pistol and good seamanship ARTICLE 4 All Crewmates Are Equal Let each crewmate be respected as equal and free to follow their own bearing, speak openly and vote in affairs of the voyage ARTICLE 5 The crew Bond is Sacred Those who betray their crew and ship through griefing or trolling shall be sent to the brig ARTICLE 6 Respect New Pirates and Their Voyage Ahead May the old legends help to forge new ones treat new pirates with respect and share their Knowledge ARTICLE 7 Those Who Cheat Shall Be Punished Pirates who show bad form and cheat their crew or others shall surely face bitter hardships and punishments

p.s.: i was so inspired by @theresascove’s 𝔖𝔞𝔭𝔭𝔥𝔦𝔯𝔢 𝔖𝔢𝔞𝔰 that couldn’t pass up this opportunity. i hope it’ll be to your liking, love!

p.s. 2: shout out to my gem @hgstuff, as i used her caitlyn icons to make the moodboard. dividers: @sweetmelodygraphics

[cassioo]

In stench-soaked Paris / Under the decay of gnawed walls / Among those begrudged by fate / A child of changes is born

But instead of a criminal for the people / An angel descends from the skies / And nobody can judge him again / The son of god abandons his cross

Like a ray through heavy clouds / Like a spear sticking out of his chest / Everything on Earth seemed to him to smell of ash / But her track is like the flowers of morning

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: 𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐀𝐩𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐢𝐧 “𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐮𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐫” (𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞 “𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐮𝐦𝐞: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐌𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐫” (𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟔))