#those are such a WIP lol not even edited ;--;

[iona-xiv]

I was tagged for WIP Wednesday @aethermimic (Thank you! )

I'm currently crafting the backstory and (modded) attire for my husband's latest character. It's amusing how he 'borrowed' my character Rue's (Ruewena) name for her—seems he's quite the admirer of my Au Ra girl.

a new AU in the Dawntrail setting, this character is a daring sky pirate with plans to abduct Iona and adventure ensues.

It feels very Ghibli (castle in the sky) to me haha. There will be lots of laughs and tenderness with his character.

Tagging : @vivalatora, @chadhunkler, @mai-takeda, @marilyn-maeve, @odyssiaquinlan, @wyattsminne, @thewarfist, @zhauric, @sarnai-dagra, @aethergazing, @ishgardmuffin, @sie-sharp, @jujuna-ffxiv. @airis-ray, @acutelittlebox, @koijikido, @elfie-kitten, @gravemisstake (and of course anyone else who feels inspired to share! <3)

[coridallasmultipass]

Personal vent and ugly mental illness symptom talk

So, I should unpack this with my therapist, but shit's embarrassing, so I'm just gonna vent it out on the public internet lmao.

I was typing out a whole thing about how I KNOW I'm aromantic, and despite that, still have moments where my brain gaslights me into believing I'm in fairytale love.

I should preface by saying I have not officially been diagnosed with either additional mental illnesses I believe that I have (B.P//D and AD//HD [which lol being on AD//HD meds since antidepressants didn't do anything has given me some notable improvement, but I'm still without a diagnosis], nor Au//tism) DESPITE repeatedly asking multiple therapists multiple times and a psych like 100 times to give me a definitive yes or a no.

But holy shit. So I'm typing about how I've 'Favourite Person'-ed multiple people at multiple points in my life across all ages, and I'm like, okay, it's been a hot minute since I refreshed my definition of that, I should make sure that's still a thing and not something I just made up or has been dropped from the symptoms or whatever the case. I wanna make sure I'm using it right in this rant about how falling into Favourite Personing people in the past has made me believe 'wait, maybe I'm not aro, this HAS to be like the deepest truest love in existence, despite my years of knowing I'm aro.' Like, I'm so aro I once calculated out the date, months in advance, I was gonna tell someone I was dating that I loved them, only because it seemed like a socially acceptable amount of time to say it. I wasn't thinking about what I actually felt lmao. (And that was probably not a FP relationship, too, so I know that was absolutely an aro incident.)

Anyways, so I'm reading a couple articles to make sure I articulate my points about how it's conflicted with being aro, and I read about how people falling into having a FP will even hate that person for the slightest perceived wrongs. (I knew this, I just was thinking about the love incidents since that's what was related to my point about being aro.)

And holy shit. That just. Unlocked a memory I have about when I was an older kid, like probably 9ish (and older), I HATED my best friend of many years and who would continue being my bff for more years. Who was my everything. I couldn't stop thinking about how much I hated them. I would lie awake at night (insomnia too tho) thinking about how much I hated them and I couldn't understand why I didn't just stop being their friend and start hanging out with old friends more instead. I just couldn't do it, I wanted to hang out with THEM. I was so sick and feeling jealous of them whenever I found out they'd been hanging out with someone else one-on-one and I wasn't invited. Even when it was their own family. One time they brought me a plate of cookies by surprise for (before) a holiday that they'd just made with their cousin or something. And I felt so sick about how I wasn't there for that, it felt like an insult. I couldn't have put this into words, unless I just now read that point in an article and made a connection. It was so confusing, because usually the people who hated their 'best friend' was like, the mean girl kinda character who intentionally does it to hurt the innocent main character or something, but I was the one who felt wronged every time those feelings would come up. And this wasn't just a 'man it's so annoying when they do this specific thing.' This was active stewing, in a slow cooker, all day and all night kinda thing.

I was never romantically or sexually attracted to that person, but I probably wrote all this off as either unrelated sexuality or gender bullshit when I figured that out later. But knowing now that there was definitely someone (actually, I'm thinking of WAY more people as I'm typing this, and just realized why I stopped loving a band and started hating them 'for no reason' wow lmao) that I FP'ed who I definitely WASN'T attracted to, suddenly convinces me that I was probably right in suspecting B.P//D. (Or, y'know, maybe I don't have that specifically, and it's the symptom from a different facet of mental illness or whatever.) I've been so hung up over how I'm aro, sometimes ace, and then this 'only' happens towards people I am attracted to. Like, 'maybe it was love and I'm just terrible at it.' (No! It's not! Aro is correct! That's just the brain manipulating me to get another hit of dopamine off a FP! It's just easier to happen to someone I'm attracted to!)

It's no fucking wonder why I always worried about people hating me in secret, and it's because I was absolutely making myself insufferable because of that worry. I know for a fact that some people definitely did hate (or. Lmao. Shut up. Like, 'resented' maybe fits better) me for demanding constant attention that was never reciprocated by anyone I've ever met in my entire life.

I probably wrote-off so many symptoms as 'I was a moody teen and kind of an asshole.' Except it happened before and after I was a teen, too. I would have excused everything that happened during and before high school, when I should have been looking for these patterns I kept following for years after. It doesn't help that my first relationship was wildly toxic (mostly against me in this one case), and while I didn't feel particularly bothered by it after I got over the nightmare breakup, I just kept going 'What if it was the sole cause of all of this and I'm just repressing that?' Well, phew! No, it's not, that was thankfully just a toxic embarrassment, and not the source of all my problems. I was already on the shitstorm trajectory. That's a major relief. If you can call it that. I really don't like discussing that one, but not in a trauma way, more like a, you don't really wanna discuss pissing your pants on accident kinda way. Unpleasant to remember, wildly embarrassing to talk about, but ultimately not a life-altering event.

Ughhhhh. Maybe I should bring this (the mental illness not the relationship) up to the therapist. But like, I haven't been close friends with anyone in like 6 years or so, so I don't have any current or even recent examples about how being in friendships has always turned out Russian Roulette for me. My therapist doesn't seem to believe how bad it was for me to be in friendships where I was unintentionally FP'ing someone. Because besides the depression and anxiety (and mild OCD), I'm a totally normal person to her who's just dealing with shit health problems and grief (and frustration from being trans and not in a safe place to transition). Y'know, normal life problems most people will feel at some point, just chronic in my case. I may be weird, but I'm obviously far from the worst she's seen. I'm not uniquely mentally ill.

((Except the whole 'treatment resistant depression' diagnosis bullshit from the psych, but I'm learning it's not just mental issues I have that are treatment resistant lol.))

I tried talking to her about a small part of all this before, but IDK what I did wrong, she took it 100% as me being the one unintentionally wronged and not setting MY own boundaries (lmao), so like I don't know how to word this in a way she'd understand that most of my problems in this area were my own fault. (I mean that both negatively and neutrally, because it's an ugly side of mental illness, but not one I chose or know how to help.)

Not being in close friendships with anyone has had an understandably sane-ifying effect on me (barring the, y'know, depression/anxiety/OCD and baseline weirdness), which has gotten me trapped for the 5th time in 6 years of making my therapists believe I'm better off than I actually am. (I've done this to every therapist I've ever had before that, too.) But like, again, at least for the past 3 therapists and the latest psych, I AM actually better for not having close friends lmao. Only one therapist ever had one visit of me wanting to address these concerns specifically while they were currently active, and by the next visit, we had to shift exclusively to sudden new grief lol. (What a shitshow. It somehow always ends up that whenever I wanna treat an illness, it's like opening a can of worms, except the worms are firecrackers and I didn't set the can down and step back a few feet.)

Like, it obviously feels safer to not have close friends at all because there's no fear of abandonment if I have no one to begin with. And, genuinely, I operate better when I'm alone. But now that I've known safety, it's hard to imagine throwing myself back into the roulette wheel, hoping I don't land on red OR black. But fuck, man. It is lonely.

And being aro? It's freeing, and validating too, to have a word for it, but I'm not gonna mince words here, I hate it. I wish I could feel romantic love. Like normal, not mentally ill ""love."" I feel platonic love all the time, like for friends (not FP) always. I love saying 'I love you' to friends and meaning it. But I want to feel romantic love. I just don't. I just feel friendship, Favoriting, and/or sexual attraction sometimes. Probably why I'm so into shipping and fanfics. I got a lot more "probably why's" but I don't wanna go down that in this already vulnerable post lol. (I already made a whole post about one of the why's back in like 2013 or 14 lmao, without connecting it to this.)

Anyway, I put this whole mental illness and relationships deal into ugly imagery in a current fic WIP I'm working on, since recognizing I was aro took living through FP'ing a few 'romantic' relationships, before I even first heard the term FP. I only saw my experiences as 'I don't think I've been experiencing love' and that by itself felt like it fit. I didn't realize there was anything wrong, even as I outwardly said shit like 'I don't think I'm fit for being in a relationship' to the few people who asked me out, even when I wanted to say yes.

And then I kept trying to make relationships work lmao. I don't know why I even bothered. I just wanted to be wrong about being aro, especially when it was a point of contention (aro and ace separately) with some of the relationships.

I'd probably have to meet another aro person of the exact same flavour of aromanticism to make it work, but even then the mental illness would just be a ticking time bomb. No one wants to be the recipient of FP 'affection', except maybe sometimes the fictional people in a certain fiction trope that winds up being fetishistic, even if it's not intended to insult real people (but sometimes it is). And it's just a reminder of how I was probably a big source of toxicity for probably half the people who have ever been close with me, if it's even half of how fiction portrays people with this symptom.

I dunno where I wanted to end this vent, so here's probably a good place. Just wanted to get this off my chest, because it just now felt like a pretty big revelation that my problems weren't related to romanticism, I've had purely platonic instances of this dating back to being an older kid, and more during high school, and I just never connected the two before now.

[washedoutwings]

yeah so uhhhh we’re always permanently low on motivation so umm yeah sorry but we are doing one of those note things

20 notes: we will try to take our meds more consistently

50 notes: draw at least something once a week

70 notes: eat something for breakfast every day (at least an apple or protein drink)

100 notes: start keeping better track of our delusions/hallucinations

150 notes: tell our therapist about 2 of our headmates

200 notes: start a system journal

300 notes: tell our therapist about 5 of our headmates

500 notes: tell our therapist about all of our headmates

700 notes: tell our doctor about about our chronic pain

1000 notes: eat something medium for breakfast at least three days a week (like a bowl of cereal)

1500 notes: ask our closer friends to use she/her less (they know that we’re trans)

from here on it’s more about just good habits that we don’t have much motivation for instead of self care type stuff, so less important

2000: draw every day (when possible)

2500: finish writing one of our wip stories/fics

3500: start working on an art commissions portfolio

4500: start working on a writing commissions portfolio

6000: set up art commissions

8000: set up writing commissions

sorry, we feel really guilty about this but we really need some motivation for this stuff. honestly we don’t expect this to even get to 20, but that’s fine! no deadline, ummm if you really want to spam idc, feel free to tag people. i’m not gonna tag anyone, i don’t want anyone to feel pressured

edit: WHAT THE FUCK where did yall come from???????

edit 2: damn i was offline for like 2 days and it was barely at 300 and we log back on to 500+ uhhhh thanks ig lol

edit 3: well we’re almost at 700 so..i guess i’m gonna add a couple more?

edit 4: the gimmicks got to us…also added some more

[phyrestartr]

Divine Favour | Sukuna x Kitsune!Reader (Pt.1)

W/C: 3.5k #full is NSFW, mild yuuji/reader, yuuji and gang are v early 20s, heian sukuna, male reader, typical kitsune shapeshifting, mentions of abuse, canon typical violence, morally grey reader, sukuna has FEELINGS but is BAD AT FEELINGS, unhealthy relationships, power imbalance, dubcon elements, soz if anything is clunky asdkjf; i can only reread the same fic so many times for editing sadge

A/N: Decided to separate this into parts since I'm dying to post some of it lol I've held it in a chokehold in the shadows of my WIPs for too long, some of it has to come out before I explode o(--( there is more to come!

tag: @nyanwko @kamote-kuneho @better-imagination-9

The scripture was incomplete, worn away by age.

…herein lays the God...imprisoned...by...Disgraced One…

Yet the society felt this, the coffin uncovered decades ago, could be an invaluable asset. The vessel was decrepit and ancient, yet still stood strong against the test of time and the wear of nature. Seal papers, no doubt left by a monk of sorts, covered the entirety of its surface, hiding away rotting wood and rusted bands of metal from modern sorcerer's curious eyes.

Few knew why the higher ups kept the vessel under lock and key. Fewer knew why they kept it at all; however, those few understood the importance of such a relic. They'd been the ones to seek it out, to steal it away before malicious forces took it for themselves, warping the supposed deity inside for their own, malevolent purpose, whatever that may be.

And with Ryoumen Sukuna's fingers being found one by one, they could not allow anyone to possess humanity's failsafe: you. A great being imprisoned by the devil.

“Anything?” Gojo trilled, patting Yuuji’s shoulders frantically as he stood behind him and beheld the wooden tub covered in sigils. 

“Uh…” Yuuji tried to focus on Sukuna’s presence inside of him. He didn’t seem intrigued or frightened, nor did he seem too bothered with the idea of them trying to smite him down with a sealed god–he was, however, annoyed that Yuuji continued to poke and prod at him. 

Piss off, runt. 

“Yep. Nope. Sukuna doesn't care,” Yuuji sighed. “He's getting all pissy now that I'm bothering him, though.” 

Gojo laughed and patted Yuuji's shoulders a few more times before all but twirling towards the bound box. “Well, that's a pretty good sign that he's not the one that did this, then! In that case,” he started, walking up to the seal papers keeping everything locked down, “let's pop ‘er open.” 

Before Yuuji could even wonder if that was a good idea, the white-haired witch used an overzealous amount of cursed energy and disintegrated every scrap of seal paper. 

Yuuji braced for impact. Surely something terrible like a bankai or a spirit bomb would send them flying once the coffin came undone. Surely they'd pay for this, for unleashing whatever godly spirit laid locked up for far too long, only to release it back into the modern age and–

“Huh. Weird.”

Yuuji cracked open an eye and saw the dull shine of tattered onyx fur, and his control slipped with a blitz of vertigo. 

Markings flared across his skin as he stormed toward the coffin, heart howling with thoughts and memories crashing through a shared mind; a face he didn't know but knew so well bloomed at the forefront of it all, eyes framed in pointed scarlet, skin bathed in ancient, dappled sunlight.

They reached the edge of the coffin and gripped the edges, splintering the wood as they took in the sight; crimson and curse decay pooled around a figure, curled up and half-submerged. Several black, tattered tails spilled free from the tub, no longer crushed from the force of the lid sealing them inside, but they were bent awkwardly and matted with whatever tincture lay at the bottom.

Then there was the so-called god in the middle of it all–you. Still. Quiet. Curled up in a haori far too big for you. Eyes closed. Almost peaceful.

Confusion tore at Sukuna while nausea ripped through Yuuji; he couldn't bear to look at such a morose scene.

So, Sukuna pushed him aside.

[Heian Era]

You were never supposed to be anything more than a trinket. 

You were a gift from some family trying to show off for Sukuna, so much so that they offered him a delicacy, something he surely didn't have yet–a yokai. A kitsune, to be more exact. One with peculiar black tails. 

Sukuna found it interesting, and similarly desperate, to be brought such a creature as tribute. Certainly, it was meant to be seen as a high honour, yet somehow it felt…off. Why would humans give up something so powerful? 

Unexpectedly, it'd be you who told him. 

They submit me for the sake of convenience and mockery, your withering voice whispered where no one else could hear. You sounded weak. Tired. Maybe afraid, yet brave enough to reach towards the king and unveil the intentions of the men who brought you before him. 

Sukuna's eyes flicked to you, his feigned interest in what the sorcerers said falling straight into dismissal. You were much more intriguing. 

“Oh?” Sukuna asked, a smile creeping onto his face. The speakers ceased their jabbering and stared at your back with fierce intensity. Sukuna grinned wider. Oh, how he loved the way fear twisted mortal faces. 

You didn't shift or crumple into yourself under the eyes of so many, however. You pushed on with what little energy and life you had, so intent on dragging that clan through the mud. 

What I say is true, you assured simply. I expect to die today–

“Speak so everyone hears you, fox,” Sukuna commanded.

“--so I–I–” you coughed and cleared your throat, trying to rid your voice of the scratchy, weakness it struggled through. “I wish to not die with regrets.

"They have rendered me ill and unable to produce children, they see the black of my tails and regard me as an ill omen; yet they bring me to you, daring to spin sweet tales about the value of such an offering. But they lie,” You hissed. Your eyes glinted with molten malice, and Sukuna fell captivated.

“They throw me to you as they would diseased meat to dogs.” 

The courtyard fell silent, and Sukuna basked in it. You really were such a little troublemaker. A quietly chaotic force of nature. 

The king stood, rolling his shoulders as he did, and his pride flared as you dropped to your knees before him in respect. He walked to you and patted your head as one might a child's before appraising the sorcerers stood before him. 

“What a disappointment,” Sukuna sighed, raising another hand. The couple took up position, pooling their cursed energy in hopes of fending off the monster standing before them. The effort was quite cute. “Here I thought your clan might actually earn my mercy.” His hand dropped as the two lunged. Then, the two clansmen fell, too, both in neat, vertical halves. Quite overkill, yes, but he had a point to make. 

Where he expected a reaction from you, he got nothing. Only panting and poorly-stifled coughs came from you, racking through the entirety of your skin and bones frame. Sukuna could see it up close now, the way your body trembled from fatigue, the sickly greying of your skin, the scent of disease clinging to you. 

That wouldn't do. Sukuna liked his things to be in good shape. 

“Uraume,” Sukuna droned as he stared down at you, “fix this.”

It took some time, but you managed to recover. It was an unnerving experience, with the way Uraume tended to you with sincerity. Perhaps it was genuinity born from their devotion to Ryoumen Sukuna, but you greedily soaked it in, filling your stomach with the care they offered you. 

Sukuna didn't bother much with you, not that you really minded; you were much more content to be fed and forgotten than hunted down by the creature that supposedly took ownership of you without enforcing it. If he didn't cause harm or good, if he simply existed somewhere else and forgot you breathed the same air as him, you'd still be at peace. 

But he was more intrigued than you gave him credit for. 

“Ho? So this is where you scamper off to,” Sukuna hummed, leaning over you as you dozed in the nice little spot you'd made for yourself in the garden, right under the crimson cover of a maple tree. You jumped the slightest bit, your daydreams and sunbathing interrupted by the brute’s silhouette eclipsing the sun, but you settled again quickly. The beast of a man wasn't a cause for panic in your little world, after all. 

“Does it displease you?” You inquired, fixing your hair and straightening out your robes. 

Sukuna held onto an overhead branch of the tree as he looked down at you. “Pets are supposed to play in the yard, aren't they?” He smirked as you pursed your lips and flicked your tail before calming it with hasty pets. “What, you don't like being my pet?” 

“I would not refer to myself as a pet,” you countered as the man sat down with you and leaned against the tree. The king's presence calmed you. With him, you knew you were invincible. 

“Pft. Then pray tell what your damn role is around here.” One set of arms folded behind his head while the other set crossed over his chest. “Pets are freeloaders. Pretty sure that's exactly what you are.”

You huffed. “Freeloader. Tch. How rude.” 

“Lookit that. You're copping an attitude now that you're fat and fed. Used to be so much more polite.” 

“Fat and–I am not fat.” You headbutted his side lightly, something that would make more sense had you been in your fox form. You grinding your forehead against him suggested this was more of a human move, however. “I am perfectly normal now. I was brittle and nonexistent prior to now. This is a grand improvement.”

Sukuna scoffed a laugh and looked down at your head pressed up against his side. “Thanks to me,” he boasted. 

“Yes,” you agreed. You held onto his haori and looked up at him, placid and intense. “It is thanks to you. I would not be here if not for your mercy and intervention.” 

Sukuna raised a brow as he regarded you. “Hm. And what will you do to repay me?” 

“My very presence grants you luck, good fortune and fertility.” You tilted your head. “I already repay you by being here.”

Tch. But the gardens and surrounding lands did look more lush and lively since your arrival, he couldn't deny that fact. But he was a king; he could always ask for more and expect to get it. 

“What more?” He prodded.

Your tail flicked as you thought. “What would you ask of me?” 

“Something you haven't given another,” Sukuna replied. Ugh, your flowery, poetry-y, bullshit speak was rubbing off on him. 

You stared at him, gemstone eyes glinting with earthen hues and shards of gold in the yawning afternoon sun. The leaves bristled just perfectly, letting in dapples of citrus sunlight as if trying to make this moment something special, as if to burn your ethereal presence into history for all eternity. All this, just while you thought of what to give him. Perhaps a riddle is what you wanted. Perhaps purple prose suited your fancy. Perhaps it was something else. 

You sat up, carefully raising yourself onto your knees before leaning up towards the hulking king. He turned his face to you in interest, feeling a sort of natural energy begin to pool around the both of you, reaching from the far depths of the earth and the wide stretch of the sky to converge on your existence as you framed his face with gentle hands, and placed a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth. 

It lasted only a second. But a second was long enough to catch the scent of petrichor and petals on your skin, to indulge in the heat of wildfires raging in your soul, to feel the blasphemy of you against him; then, you parted. 

“For now,” you murmured, and Sukuna swore he saw your single tail fan out into nine, “I give you my divine favor, Ryoumen Sukuna.”

You wondered if your favor was enough. He'd been gone some time, off to accept a duel from the snotty shitheads Sukuna had received you from. Apparently, having two of the eldest boys murdered rubbed them the wrong way. Sukuna was glad for it, you knew–the man lived and breathed for a fight. 

Of course, you stayed put. Uraume assured you'd be fine on your own, and Sukuna reminded his staff they'd all be eaten alive by the king himself if anything uncouth were to take place in his absence. It was more so that Sukuna didn't like the idea of idiots touching his stuff than it was the notion you were important to him, from your understanding. 

Regardless, the time alone left you restless. That king made you invincible. Without him, you were nothing more than the scared kit locked away in darkness, never to emerge lest your stubbornness trick them. But things were different here. Everyday was filled with unknowns and uncertainties when the two you'd forged fragile bonds with fell absent. 

So, you thought of how to repay Sukuna. Your divine favor would only do so much, after all–you didn't think a man like that really needed the extra luck, but he seemed more than intrigued by the manner of delivering the blessing; you remembered how he looked at you, eyes half-lidded, shielding you from the inferno burning out of control. He grumbled something low in his chest, just loud enough that you heard: 

You better be here when I get back.

“Ah–” The thrill those catastrophic words gave you nearly led to stabbing yourself with the needle. You tutted and regained focus, continuing to carefully embroider the sleeves of one of Sukuna's many plain black haori.

You learned how to sew and embroider from watching an elder from that clan work her magic on old, tattered clothes. She never spoke to you nor regarded you, but she never turned you away the rare times you watched her fix garments; you thought it was beautiful–the art of turning something mundane into something meaningful.

Though you wondered if Ryoumen Sukuna, the most powerful sorcerer, the most feared man alive, had a desire for anything useless and meaningful. 

The answer came quickly. You'd found yourself void of confidence when the monarch returned to his palace after (obviously) winning whatever duel he'd agreed to; you weren't sure if you were to congratulate him, celebrate him or something more. On top of that, he'd eventually find that haori you'd slaved over for days, and you weren't sure you could take the heartbreak of dismissal. 

However, those fears were quashed when, from a new little secret garden hovel, you spied the man donning the very haori you slaved over; it wasn't a flashy piece, you didn't want to subtract from the marvel that was the king of curses, so you opted for using black, shimmery thread to weave intricate twisting trees and blackened blooms along the sleeve. Only if the design caught the light would one be able to notice it. 

But that was enough for you. Knowing he accepted such a meaningless gift was reassuring of your place in his world. 

So, you finally let Uraume convince you to stay in the room they'd prepared for you. 

“No need to be nervous,” you hummed, that undying urge inside you to take care of something helping you soothe the young woman's nerves. You fixed her hair, your deft fingers carefully slipping strands into place before sliding a decorative pin in to hold it all together. You took a step back to appraise her, Sukuna's latest concubine. 

“I–thank you.” Sachiko blushed fiercely and bowed the slightest bit, not risking a deep bow for the fear of her hair falling loose. “I can see why all the girls love you.” 

You laughed, low and warm. “Well, it's hard not to love someone who takes care of you, no?” Gently, you tilted her chin up and leaned in, carefully examining the red lacquer staining her lips. The colour matched her kimono and the gems in that exquisite hairpin keeping dark locks at bay. “But I'm glad. I know it's difficult to find respite in these times.” 

Sachiko held her breath as she looked over the natural paint of crimson adorning your eyes. “I-I, um–yes, I do agree.” 

You hummed and carefully fixed the smallest smudge on the corner of her mouth. “Mh. So I hope you do your best to please him.” 

“I will!” Sachiko promised. “But–I wish to–may I give you something?” 

“Of course.” 

She gathered her kimono up in her hands and leaned up toward you. You leaned down, expecting a secret or hushed words, but perfect red lips pressed against your skin instead. And you were dumbfounded; you'd never been kissed before. You'd never had a lady show that interest in you. 

Sachiko got down from her tiptoes and hid her mouth with her sleeve. “Just for good luck!” She squeaked before bowing and hastily running through the doors where Sukuna would no doubt be waiting for his woman for the evening’s events. 

You looked at the doors sliding closed and caught a glimpse of Sukuna stood before the young woman, his frame swallowing hers as you looked on. And you caught a glimpse of his eyes, his stare of shock and utter vexation–clearly, he'd seen the short woman give you a kiss for good luck. 

You turned away, choosing to abandon the girl to her demise as your fingers ghosted against your lips in wonder. 

He showed up in your chambers later that night. You were still awake, quietly embroidering another haori; this time, it was for Uraume. They insisted they didn't want to burden you, but they crumbled under your more insistent insistence, and accepted the offer on the condition it looked subtle and muted. 

Sukuna padded toward you, hardly bothering to announce himself or ask to join you (ugh, how annoying) before plopping himself onto the futon beside you, sighing as he laid down. 

“I see you finished early,” you commented, jumping the littlest bit when large hands caught your flickering tails. He didn't hurt you, no; he was simply an overgrown toddler with a penchant for examining whatever wiggled before him. 

“That woman kissed you,” Sukuna answered, unhelpful. “Ruined it.” 

“Ah. Well. I didn't expect it either.” You cleared your throat, feeling an unexpected bubble of embarrassment rise in your chest. “I have…I've never been given a kiss before. Not from what I can recall, at the very least.” 

“The hell are you talking about?” Sukuna grouched. “You planted one on me in the gardens.” 

“Giving is not receiving,” you corrected, flicking your tail so as to hit his face. “I've never given a kiss on another's lips, regardless. Though I find myself wondering why I–” 

You yowled when he yanked your tail like he meant to rip the thing off, and you whirled on him, eyes drawn into slits and chunky fangs bared as you dug your nails into his wrist in an effort to make him let go.

Yet the king looked unfazed. He sat up and  tugged you closer by your tail, yank after yank, ripping an impressive collection of vexed noises from you until his broad hand caught you by the throat. You clawed at his wrist and forearm, scrambling to find purchase, idly wondering if he'd finally had enough of you and sought to put you down after dirtying one of his concubines–

But he kissed you instead. His lips were warm and dry, not quite soft yet not unwelcoming. Sukuna knew what he was doing, too; his tongue licked at your bottom lip before pushing inside to finally taste you and taint you from within just a little bit. 

Your grip on him laxed the slightest bit, and you even eased into his hold as he, too, refused to harm you further. If you weren't aware of his malevolent spirit, you might've thought him gentle in that long, simple moment–a special brand of “gentle” that was wholly Sukuna's. Kind, but jagged around the edges. 

He started pulling back, though, and you followed after his touch like a bewitched maiden chasing after the lips of a lover. You nipped at the air like that'd do something for you, but soon settled on leaning into the hand holding you still, even if your throat scratched and ached because of it. 

You found Sukuna's calm stare watching you when you opened your eyes a crack. For once, you thought he looked content; the cruel, mocking lines of his face had smoothed and relaxed, and that annoying, cocky smirk he'd been born sporting had been replaced with a placid, normal lilt. Even the inferno blazing in crimson depths eased into pools of yawning embers–warm and spirited, yet contained. 

The sight relaxed you despite the confusion it brought to your rationale. 

“That,” Sukuna said, so odd and quiet, but powerful and judicial. “Is your first.” His thumb stroked against the side of your neck, pausing to feel the pitter patter of your heart thrumming under his mercy. “It'd serve you to remember that.” 

You nodded shallowly. “Of course.” 

Pleased, he let go of your quite breakable neck and moved like he was about to get up. You grabbed at his hand and pressed his palm to the side of your face like he was cupping your cheek. Your insistence on touching gave the beast pause, but he settled again, content to let you keep him hostage for as long as you wanted.

And you indulged in the simple favour. You nuzzled into his palm with a very fox-like chitter as a bassy, quiet trill of a purr lazily rolled through your chest, eventually reaching Sukuna himself. It somehow had him feeling content. Relaxed. Like he was basking in the warmth of the sun. 

“I request another,” you chirped, and Sukuna quirked a brow. 

“Another?” 

“Kiss.” 

Sukuna twitched a smirk. “It'll cost ya.” 

“Oh?” 

“Give me another blessing.”

And you agreed.

[writersdrug]

Ghost x Reader x Konig: I Don't Need You (Ch. 10)

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Summary: Thankfully, things have been resolved between you and Konig. You start to settle in more with your team, and Roze shares a few thoughts with you over a smoke. The memories are still there, but just like the winter around you, they're cold and unwelcoming. You and Konig open up to each other a bit more, more than you had ever opened up to anyone.

WARNINGS: implications of masturbation, cursing, angst (if you squint?), plot building, graphic depictions of animal torture and death (PLEASE CONSIDER ALL WARNINGS BEFORE READING THIS, I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE MEDIA YOU CONSUME thank you kindly)

Notes: Yes! Hello! I exist!! I've been in a slump, and I really do apologize for that. Many of you have been very patient with me and I love and appreciate you all for it! I had to intake as much CoD literature as I could in the past few weeks to get me motivated, which helped a LOT (not to mention I discovered no fewer than ten works that currently have a hold on my heart). But it's here! I forced myself to write over half of the following chapter so that it would be less daunting to finish up. I also plan to make a wip post for yall, just to share will everyone what goes on in my rat brain.

This was edited at 3 am (god it's 4 am now, i just saw that), so if there are any grammatical or spelling errors you have my full consent to call me out on it! Please enjoy!

(sidenote, I completely didn't research how old you need to be to become a navy SEAL, so reader's age is a bit inaccurate in regards to that. pls ignore lol)

(last sidenote then you can read, does anyone have tips for customizing the layout of their fics? I see so many cool ways to style the font and cute banners and errything but I have no idea how nor what to do)

- - - -

The sky hung low with a blanket of gray. It looked like it was about to snow, although the threat was soon dismissed when noon came around and there wasn’t a single flake. The air was cold and dry, forcing me to zip my jacket up all the way and tuck my nose into the collar. I blew steady, warm breaths into my jacket and tried to soak up the heat into my bones.

It was as if the incident had never happened.

Konig and I ended up driving to the liquor store, which was a blessing, since I had run out of Yeungling (and I didn’t understand enough Turkish to converse with the clerk, nor did I have any of the appropriate money – Konig was graced with both of those necessities). We talked like there had never been a week and a half of silence between us. He talked about how he had nearly forced Ridgeback to drag me out of my room and into the common area, “… but it would have been too early for that.” He commented. That, and I would have rather died.

So life went on as normal: dreary, aside from shooting people and getting shot at. Nonetheless, it was normal, and there was a peace to be found in that.

I leaned against the building to the training room, with Roze to my left. I had intended to come out and soak up whatever natural light I could – when I saw her standing there, possibly trying to do the same, I felt the instinct to play it off as if I was just leaving the building. But she cocked her head in a greeting, and a part of me took an interest in her worry-free aura. Out of everyone, she always seemed to be the least-stressed person in the room, even in the middle of a warzone. It was the balm to my anxious mind that I never knew I needed, but gratefully stood by.

We remained together in a comfortable silence (one I would most definitely would not have been comfortable with a while ago), staring ahead, watching the indecisiveness of the brooding clouds above. I wondered what the rest of the world was doing – if they might have been as calm and carefree as us, or if they were in some kind of peril, and the horrors of it were blocked out by the clouds.

I was drawn back to the present when I heard the click click click of Roze’s lighter. I turned my head and watched as she shielded the weak flame from the wind, lighting the cigarette that hung loosely from her lips.

“You smoke?” I asked.

“Sure do.” She replied nonchalantly. “Want one?” she extended her pack of cigarettes towards me.

I glanced at the box, feeling a sour taste in my mouth.

I lay on my stomach, my muscles still twitching and shaking as I tried to even out my breaths. Ghost had tossed a thin blanket over my lower half. I hadn’t even moved from the position he had ruthlessly fucked me in – my body ached too much to even try, and my mind was still recovering from the past hour.

I watch Ghost as he reclined next to me, pushing the bottom of his mask up to place a cigarette between his lips. It was the first time I had seen any part of his face all day. He grabbed his lighter from the pocket of his pants that were discarded on the floor, lighting the end of the cigarette and inhaling. He tossed the lighter back down to the floor as he tilted his head back, exhaling a long stream of smoke. I watched it swirl in the lamplight, settling in a cloud around us. He continued puffing, staring at the wall across from the bed as I lay beside him, although I felt worlds away from him.

He'd started off the night with a mountain of stress from a mission gone sideways. Instead of the usual slow build, where he would run his hands under my shirt and kiss my lips slowly and tenderly – he had walked in and immediately demanded I remove my clothes while he began stripping out of his. I had assumed tonight was going to be a passionate one, until he threw me onto my stomach and shoved my face into the pillows. It wasn’t the first time he’d been rough with me, but it wasn’t just rough – it felt dehumanizing. An hour of constant, merciless thrusts, and a hand around my neck that restricted both my blood flow and my oxygen, and I had fallen into a state of shock.

But, in the end, I was happy to be caged in by him again.

I was happy.

He turned his eyes towards me, seeming to sense that something was off. He exhaled another puff of smoke. “Everythin’ alright?” he asked, completely void of any genuine concern.

I met his eyes with my own. I felt like I shouldn’t have to answer the question, and it stirred up a bitterness in me. But I didn’t feel like arguing with him, and I certainly didn’t want him to leave – so I nodded my head, slowly blinking my eyes. “Just tired.”

He hummed and faced the wall again. He brought one of his knees up and rested his arm against it. “Want a smoke?” he asked, still looking away.

I shook my head as much as the pillow beneath me would allow. “No.” I replied.

He sighed disappointedly. Apparently, my lack of enthusiasm after being used like an old fucktoy was irking him.

To be fair, I never spoke up about how I felt.

He grunted and rose from his position, snuffing out his cigarette in the ashtray by my bed, and picking up his clothes and pulling them on. My heart ached slightly as I watched him slide his shirt over his torso. I felt the threat of tears sting in my eyes as I wished his hands were holding me instead, keeping me warm and grounded. He pulled his jeans on and fastened them, buckling his belt rather quickly; and all while he faced away from me.

“Well, I know you probably need some alone time.” He muttered, sliding the skull attachment over his mask. “So I’ll get going. I’ll see you around.”

He grabbed his tactical vest and jacket and slung them over his shoulder. He paused by the door. “Thanks for tonight.” He mumbled, before finally leaving the room and softly closing the door behind him.

My eyes lingered on the ashtray with the half-smoked cigarette. A thin trail of smoke plumed into the air – I wanted to throw the tray across the room and shatter it. But it was Ghost’s, so I couldn’t; I couldn’t regardless, because it was a piece of him that remained with me, even when he left.

That, and the smell of smoke.

“Nah, I’m good.” I replied, facing the cold, empty base ahead of me.

“Good.” She said, pinching the cigarette and blowing a stream of smoke. “Stay that way. Did you know these bastards give you cancer?”

I chuckled into the collar of my jacket. “Do they, now?”

She hummed affirmatively, sucking another breath in through the cancerous bastard. “Who would’ve thought…”

We fell back into silence. I continued watching the stillness of the base, trying to see if the sky would follow through with its promise to fall. Now that my free time wasn’t spent holed up in my room, it somehow felt like there were fewer ways to spend it. With another mission on the horizon – a simple recon, yet dauntingly close to a heavily-guarded compound – no one was out and about when they usually were. Finding Roze outside and seemingly not worried was usual, however, and a warm sight, compared to how the rest of the team was on edge. Even Askel seemed grumpier than most days.

I hadn’t been seeking out someone to spend time with, no… that I would never do (or admit). But talking to a familiar face provided a comfort I had grown to need over the past couple of months. And, frankly, I felt like Konig might be getting tired of how much I ran to him when I craved social interaction. Though he had never said anything about it, I felt like I needed to branch out to other team members than just my Colonel. One might think I was trying to kiss his ass (I knew the accusation had already crossed Juno’s mind, but the young soldier was good at holding his tongue – when Konig was around, at least).

“You ever think about how ‘little girl’ you would react to this?” Roze asked, and I turned to face her. She had her nose scrunched, and a tinge of pink dusted over her cold cheeks. “Guns, war, no playdates or days at the beach…”

I sighed. “Probably would have cried.” I replied, allowing my freezing nose to poke over the collar of my jacket. “Especially if I had known that being a princess now adays meant spending more time worrying about becoming a hostage than anything else.”

Roze chuckled. “It’s a good thing we didn’t know then.” Her face was mostly blank, but I thought I noticed a hint of bitterness in the way her gaze landed on the ground. I watched her flick her cigarette with a bit more aggression than usual. “I would’ve tried to convince my entire family to run away to Scotland, live in hiding and pretend the rest of the world was a dream.”

“Scotland?” I asked. Soap’s cocky grin and heavy Scottish accent stirred in my mind, but it felt like nothing more than a small cloud of dust.

“Yeah – heard it’s fucking gorgeous over there.” She waved her cigarette in no particular direction. “Now, I don’t know how peaceful it is in terms of politics and war, but it’s pretty spacious. Simple, too. I feel like if I talked about throwing all my shit away and becoming a fisherman for a living, I wouldn’t get people trying to talk me out of it like I would in the States.” She took another drag, and laughed out the smoke.

“Fisherman?”

“Yeah.” She chuckled, a hardened smile gracing her lips. “I don’t know why it sounds so appealing… it just does.”

I hummed and looked back out at the compound. I wondered about Roze’s past; she had never said or done anything to indicate that it was particularly rough, as it was for the majority of us (us – I still wasn’t used to including myself, but it was becoming more of a habit each time), but the weariness in her eyes when she spoke about her younger self made me question what that girl had been through. Maybe it was just nostalgia. A yen for simpler times. Roze seemed to appreciate the simple things in life.

“You know Askel goes ice fishing?” she said suddenly.

I smiled underneath my jacket. “Seems like something he would do.”

“Every winter.” She continued. She dropped her cigarette to the floor and crushed it into the gravel. “He takes about three weeks of leave, if we’re lucky enough to get it, and goes to Norway. Sits on a frozen lake for hours a day, just waiting for a fish.”

“You make it sound like he’s never caught one.” I point out, my eyes lingering on the cigarette.

She shrugged her shoulders. “So does he. Every time I ask him what he caught, he just laughs. Says he’s never expects to get a bite.”

I closed my eyes and hummed in response. It was easy to picture the scene – Askel, sitting on a thick layer of ice, nursing the hoppy beers that he and Konig loved so much and waiting for a fish to bite. I wondered if he even bothered to reel the line in when he did catch something. Or if he even went fishing at all. Maybe he just went out there to get a sense of peace, to pretend that war and death didn’t exist.

The motion of thick, heavy snowflakes falling from the sky caught my attention. They landed on the skin of my nose, resisting the warmth for a few moments, before they eventually melted into trickles of water. A sudden gust of wind blew a flurry of them towards us, making the both of us flinch.

Maybe fishing doesn’t sound too bad.

- - - -

The shooting range was mostly silent, save for the occasional conversation between me and Konig. The lights were low, easily illuminating the gunpowder and dust swirling in the air. Konig and I stared at the paper target as we analyzed my shots. A few hit dead center, although most of them were clustered around the lower left of the bullseye. My lips were pursed into a scowl as I glared at my sub-par aim – it wasn’t typically so awful, but of course it was while Konig had been watching.

“Eh, are you sure you didn’t lie on your paperwork about being a sniper?” Konig asked as he stood behind my left shoulder, taking the target from my hands and looking at it closely. “You weren’t even ten yards from it. This is very poor marksmanship.”

I scowled in embarrassment, taking my pistol to the counter and pulling out the mag. “Rough day.” I answered bluntly as I started packing more bullets into the small compartment. It wasn’t a lie – I had barely gotten any sleep the night before. I was in the middle of a rather interesting dream involving me and Ghost, until my alarm woke me up before anything of importance happened.

“Very bad…” he mumbled to himself. I clicked my tongue in annoyance.

“Y’know…” I grumbled, loading the mag back into the gun and shoving it in my holster, “I don’t like stereotyping, but the boot really does fit you.” I walked past him and out into the hallway, not waiting for him to follow.

“Hmm?” he made an indignant noise, momentarily stuck in his spot, before he came jogging after me. “What does that mean? What stereotype?”

I chuckled. “Haven’t you ever how Germans are extremely blunt?” I asked.

“Austrian.” He retorted. “Do I need to brand that onto my face for you?”

“Wouldn’t do me much good, with the mask ‘n all.” I replied.

He laughed – rather snorted, as usual – “Ah, you’re right. Maybe I am blunt – just as much as you are defensive.”

I stopped at the end of the hall, right in front of the exit. “Defe-“ I turned on my heel to scowl at him. “I am not defensive! Where did you get that idea?!”

He stopped behind me, his eyes widening. He gestured an open palm in my direction. “This.”

I huffed, turning back around to punch the door open. The snow from earlier that day had ceased, blanketing the base in a thin layer of white. The moon seemed that much brighter against the crystalized ground, and the yellow lights scattered across the compound made parts of the snow look like sandy dunes. My nose tingled from the nip of the chilly air, and I pulled my jacket tighter around my body as the door fell shut behind me and Konig.

“Well, what am I supposed to say when you call me defensive?”

“You could agree.”

“But I don’t.”

“Which proves my point.”

I huffed in frustration, despite the smirk curling on the edges of my lips. “So, either I have to agree with you, whether I really do or don’t, or you’ve corralled me into a paradox.”

I can practically hear the gears turning in his head. “A what?”

“A paradox, like a – y’know, never mind. It’s too difficult to explain.” I let him fall in step next to me, although he was the one who needed to slow down to match my pace. “We can just agree to disagree, how’s that?”

“Agreed.” He nodded, and I chuckled. “It won’t change the fact that I’m right, you know.” He added.

I bit my lip and tried to keep my smile from growing ridiculously larger. I looked up at him and patted his shoulder – he looked down at me, and the corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled back. A stray, reddish-brown curl poked through the side of his balaclava, and I found the miniscule detail warming my heart through the cold air. He felt real, and in this moment, too human for this kind of life.

“Why did you choose the military?” I asked, turning back to look at the ground as we walked.

He hummed. “Isn’t that every boy’s dream?”

“Well, yes – but most of the time, it never becomes more than that.” I responded.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, mimicking my own position. “I’m not really sure what made me push so much for it. I almost didn’t make it, for obvious reasons.”

I chuckled. “Size does matter, huh?”

He looked down at me with a deadpan gaze, one that I refused to meet. “It almost did, in a bad way. And I almost backed out before they could be the ones to turn me away. But, of course, they knew they would find some use for my size – so they took me in.”

“And what did they do with you?” I asked, looking back at him.

“A ‘human battering ram,’ as my superiors had so nicely called it.” He framed the description with his hands in the air, as if it had been written on a plaque. I laughed and looked back down at my feet.

“Seriously?” I asked. “So they just had you breaking down doors, and then what?”

Konig laughed with me. “Well, I still had a gun, so I was able to shoot, thank goodness. And I had a bit more gear so I wouldn’t break my bones against the doors – I still dislocated my shoulder a few times, however…” he rolled his left shoulder, as if there was still a lingering pain from how often he had thrown himself at doors. “It was actually during a period of recovery when I proved that I could still be a sniper. My shoulder was still healing, so I had to give up being a battering ram for a while. I was sat with Horangi on the side of the mountain to give him cover. Of course, he was ambushed – he had to fight the Arschgiege right when we were given the order to shoot, so I had to take position behind the gun.” I noticed that his chest was puffed out a bit from pride. “That really knocked their pants off.”

I chuckled, choosing to ignore the inaccuracy of his phrase. “Did it now?”

“It did.” He replied, then looked at the ground. “For a moment. I got a good earful for overstepping boundaries that day, but it’s what ultimately landed me here – so I’m grateful for it.”

I nodded and hummed. “What was Horangi picked for?”

Konig shrugged, his hands now back in his pockets. “He never said what he and Commander had spoken about in his office. But, even if he wasn’t chosen – I like to think we come as a package. If I go, he goes, if he doesn’t, I don’t.”

I felt my heart warm at his words. The memory of how Juno had described Konig couldn’t be farther from my mind. It almost felt like I was talking to someone I briefly crossed paths with in my youth – not a war criminal, not the bloody and stiff soldier who had stepped onto the heli after our first mission. I envied his ability to separate his work stress from the time he had in between missions.

“Why did you decide to join?” He asked, catching me off guard.

It was only fair that I opened up to him, since he was so willing to do the same. Always the one to go first, too. But I had to be careful. I didn’t want this to turn into a pity party, and I didn’t want to dig anything up that I had worked so hard to bury deep beneath my subconscious.

“I was… a weird kid. Like you.” I said, making Konig scoff and roll his eyes. “Looking back now, I hate my younger self. I was so sensitive to what people thought about me, and I just wanted to be independent and strong. I wanted to be a ‘different girl.’” I gritted out the words that left a sour taste in my mouth. “I think I just wanted attention at first – of course, when I heard how everyone said they hated how annoying teenage girls were, and how gullible and weak they were, it just – it made me change. I wanted to prove everyone wrong, it wasn’t just about being different anymore. So, as soon as I turned old enough, I enlisted. Didn’t get to Navy SEAL right away, of course… but I joined every program I was allowed in until I could submit my application.”

I sighed, then chuckled. “Thought my family would say they were proud, that I was successful, that I was doing a good job… they were just angry. Said I was throwing my life away for business that didn’t involve our country.” I opened my mouth to say more, but I ended up scoffing and closing it once again. I felt like I had shared enough.

I looked at Konig, expecting him to acknowledge what I said. “That’s how the story goes…” he would say. But, when I met his gaze, I only saw concern. His brow was creased with what I imagined was pity, and my stomach churned. It was the exact opposite of the reaction I had hoped for. I only wanted to share stories with him, and now it was… this.

“I think you made the right choices.” He said, and I looked away.

“You don’t need to make me feel better, Konig. I appreciate it, but-“

“I’m not just trying to make you feel better.” He said, his accent slightly thicker from his exasperation. “You’re good at what you do. Your parents are just probably worried for you, and they don’t know how to show it.”

I bit down on my tongue, my eyes settling on the building in front of us with a hard expression. If only.

“Maybe that’s it.” I muttered, hoping he would drop the subject. He seemed to understand, and turned to look ahead with a disappointed sigh. My heart sank the tiniest bit at the sound, and I internally scolded myself. Still a people-pleaser, apparently.

We continued walking in silence, the buzz of the lights above us mimicking the static of a communication system that had been severed in a time where it was needed most. The edge of the barracks appeared into our view, just around the corner of the arsenal sheds that stood between us and our destination. I continued to stare at the ground, pretending to watch my steps and try to not slip on the snowy asphalt. My heart twisted with each second of silence that sat thickly between us. It wasn’t technically a fight, but somehow, it felt worse. It felt like the first time I had pissed him off, the first time we had spoken to each other – and god, did I already hate myself for the way I had acted towards him during those first few weeks. I didn’t want to drive another wedge between us, not after the ones that had already been worked back out.

I exhaled heavily through my nose. “Sorry.” I mumbled quietly, but loud enough that I knew it reached his ears. “Sensitive topics.”

He flitted his eyes in my direction, but didn’t bother to move his head. He sighed, and I nearly jolted when I felt his wide hand on my upper back. It rubbed back and forth, and it took me an embarrassingly long time to realize that he was comforting me. Or, trying to, at least.

“I know.” He said, and his hand rested on my shoulder. “I’m sorry for pushing you.”

I didn’t know how to respond. I was stuck on the feeling of the roughness of his palm, which I could gleam through the fabric of my jacket. How his fingers squeezed gently and released twice. There was no hidden meaning, no forced contact or any kind of attempt to put context into the touch. It was… natural. Warm, comforting, and it spoke a thousand words that I wouldn’t have been able to stomach if he had said them. It broke past my self-hatred and walls of ‘don’t be weak’ that I would have used as my defense if he had tried to verbally convey any sort of consolation. It was the first time I didn’t feel awkward about being so close to him, let alone when he was touching me. I wondered if he did this on purpose, or if he had no idea what he was doing at all.

I let myself stand nearer to him, almost tucked under his arm. I looked up and smiled as genuinely as I could – not that it was hard for me, but because I wanted to make sure that he really knew how much I appreciated the gesture. Although, if he knew that this simple act of comfort would pierce through my outer shell, was it really necessary?

“Thank you, Konig.” I said.

He looked down at me and smiled. That damn smile. I wondered how much more refreshing it would be when he wasn’t wearing his mask. It was already too much for my soul to bear when it was just the crinkling in his eyes that I could see.

“Anytime, Bonnie.” He replied, patting my shoulder before tucking his hand back into his pocket. I grieved minimally at the loss of the touch, but I was happy for what it was. “And I mean it. Anytime you need to talk – or not talk, and do that empty staring that you do – just come find me.”

I quirked an eyebrow in his direction. “Anytime?” I asked amusedly.

“Mhm!” Konig replied, his eyes on the ground as he watched his steps. Then, the realization hit him, and his eyes went wide with panic. “Oh- well, eh- I guess, not anytime-“

“You gonna tell me when?” I joked, and he laughed. “You need an open/closed sign on your door.” I jogged ahead, trying to reach the door to the barracks before he did.

“How about this?” he called out, and I could hear the grin behind his mask. “I’ll nail a chalkboard to my door, and if I’m busy, I’ll draw a stick guy jerking off in his bed!”

My cheeks burned after I heard him. “No!” I shrieked, laughing nervously. “You’ll traumatize Juno!” I quickly tried to pin this on someone other than me.

“Juno, hah?” Konig teased, and I had half a mind to run into the building and leave him on the quad. “I don’t care about him. Kid needs to be traumatized.”

I laughed and threw my head back, turning the corner around the arsenal shed. “That’s not very-“

Immediately, my heart leapt into my throat, and I gasped. Konig nearly ran into my back as he skidded to a halt.

Sick, sick, what the fuck, I feel sick-

“Stimmt etwas nicht?” he asked, concerned. “What- oh, scheisse-“

We both stared at the bird on the ground. A crow from the looks of it, though it was hard to even decipher that it was a bird in the first place, due to the state it was in. Its belly had been cut open, entrails and bloody bits pulled from the abdomen and strewn to either side of the bird. Its wings were stretched to their full capacity and most likely beyond it, crushed and missing a large number of feathers. Both of the legs appeared to have been ripped off and tossed to the left of the crow. Its beak was the worst of it all: pried open, the jaw probably broken from how wide it was spread. A haunting look of terror in the crow’s red, glossy eyes made a violent shiver run up my spine.

I exhaled shakily, my eyes still glued to the horror. “Holy shit – what the-“

Konig quickly walked around me and knelt in front of the crow. I shifted to look over his shoulder, still fearfully curious, but he held a hand out behind him, urging me to stay in place. With his other hand, he pulled at one of the bird’s wings, stiff and heavy. Whether it was frozen from the cold, or this was the effects from rigor mortis, I couldn’t tell.

“How – did a fucking fox do that?!” I asked. Are there even foxes in this area? How the hell did one get on base?

“Nein.” Konig replied, still looking at the corpse. His gaze fell upon it with a sense of… familiarity, maybe? “Not a fox, no.”

“Then what? It – whatever it was didn’t even eat-“

“I’ll take care of this.” Was all Konig said. He stood up and marched past me – I was barely able to catch a glimpse of his furious expression. His eyes were hard and narrow, and as he walked away, I noticed that his shoulders were tense and his hands were balled into fists. I didn’t dare say anything to him; he almost looked the same way he did after our first mission together, except this time, his anger seemed to be directed at something, instead of just a post-mission adrenaline high.

“I’ll see you later.” He said over his shoulder. There was an obvious fury to his words, and although I knew it wasn’t intended towards me, it still made me freeze where I stood – almost as if I might anger him more simply by taking a step after him.

Whatever it is… I thought, watching him disappear into the compound, he’s sorting it out. I can take care of myself. Although, with such an abrupt and tense departure, I was at a loss on what to do next. I looked back at the bird; its terrified eyes locked onto the sky above it, frozen in its last wish to fly away from whatever horror it endured.

A shiver ran up my spine, prompting me to look away.

- - - -

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Sanji Vinsmoke x f!reader

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

A/N: bit ooc Sanji? At first I had in mind anime!Sanji but it's a bit of personality hybrid between anime and opla,I tried lol also this is my first smut I actually posted and you can NOT change my mind that Sanji is a service bottom

And yes, I am late as always, had no time to proofread it but I did edit as much as I could

A/N2: the lovely pink MDNI banner is from @cafekitsune and I love their work, definitely check them out and give them some love too

+I have some more Sanji fanfics in WIPs

Words:  2,7K

Warnings: unintentional aphrodisiac use, oral (f! receiving), hair pulling? (Sanji receiving tho), overstimulation, fingering, multiple orgasms,

The Strawhat pirates loved adventures and causing trouble while experiencing them but sometimes their adventures turned into a life or death situation quite easily. It was actually more common than most would think. And that brings us to the situation at hand, all of you running away from what at first seemed like a fun little island which turned out to be home to man eating plants around the size of Thousand Sunny. 

In the end, when everyone boarded the ship and you were far away from the cursed island, you all had to agree on one thing, the stop was much needed. The crew had been on the sea for some time now and the supplies you got from the last town were stretching thin, it had little to do with your long journey, the fault lied with your captain and his midnight raids on the kitchen. But thanks to the island you were now happy to be as far from as you could get, all of you had enough to eat for at least a month, well, according to Sanji, who was not only in charge of the kitchen but also of its protection from your gluttony of a captain.

Speaking of Sanji, you always had a thing for the handsome chef, even though you knew of his habit of flirting with every woman he saw. There was just something about him that didn’t let you sleep at night. One of your favorite activities involving the cook was watching him create various wonderful dishes for the whole crew.

And whatever he was cooking now was smelling delicious, the smell filling the corridors leading to the kitchen, Sanji’s kingdom itself. The whole kitchen smelled of herbs you could not recognize, similar to rosemary but not quite, you of course knew no matter with what Sanji works, he always makes the best dish out of it. And there it was, in a tall metal cooking pot was  the source of the delicious smell, a rich stew full of potatoes and tasty looking meat. You were sure Sanji wouldn’t mind if you had a spoonful before he was done with dinner. 

“You can be the first to taste my new dish if you want.” Oh, speaking of the handsome devil. Turning around you were greeted with quite the sight. The blond cook was casually leaning on the doorframe watching you with a smirk.

“So, I will be the first one to get poisoned from those strange herbs?”

“Oh, you hurt my heart, sweetness. You know I wouldn’t want to poison your or our captain.”

“I don’t think Luffy can get poisoned from anything at this point and anyway, we're talking about your cooking, there is like zero percent chance that it would happen.”

“Well aren’t you sweet. Would you then do me the honor and try my new dish, please sweetheart?” The blond seemed pretty adamant about you trying his dish and since there was no escaping his pleads you decided to grant his wish. After all, you, yourself were already itching to have a taste yourself.

“Of course.” You could clearly tell that Sanji was trying to act nonchalant about the whole thing but was eagerly waiting to see your reaction upon eating the dish.

Holding up a plate so you wouldn’t let even drop escape onto the kitchen counter, you took one of the spoons that sat on it.

“Oh, that’s my-” Sanji didn’t even get to finish before you already put the spoon with the broth in your mouth. “I don’t mind.” Your words seemed to resonate with him and by the look of it had a particular effect considering the bloody nose he was trying to hide. For some reason reactions like this, especially from the pretty cook, seemed to boost your confidence quite a bit. It felt nice to know you had such an effect on him, even though most ladies did too.

A moan ripped out of your throat, the broth was rich, the little bit of meat you were able to fish out onto the small spoon was smooth and just right on the fatty side. He did it once again, created something absolutely sense shattering out of almost nothing. Day and night you were proud of Luffy for getting such a capable cook on his crew just so you could selfishly eat only the best dishes in the world.

There was something different about this whole feeling though, you felt warm but not in the sense you usually did with his food. Sanji was capable of making dishes that would decimate the cold stuck to the crew’s bones after every winter striked island. However the warmth you felt soon turned into a flame in your lower belly.

“Is it good?” The cook was still anticipating any kind of review, a compliment maybe, with a shy smile, he was unsuccessfully trying to hide.

“Yeah-,” you were breathless, struggling to comprehend what was happening but you still moved closer to the young cook, “could I get-?” You motioned to the still bubbling pot, the plate and spoon held up for Sanji to take from you.

“Yeah, of course.” He smoothly took the plate and spoon from your hands and in one swift motion filled the plate for you. “I mean, dinner is soon but-” he held the plate for you to take again “, anything for you, sweetheart.”

His words woke up something in you, the flame turning into a blaze in you. This was starting to be embarrassing the more apparent was your state to him but still you tried to hide it. You knew you couldn’t take the plate from him, your hands were too shaky and sweaty, you were afraid the plate would fall to the ground the moment it left his hand. 

Speaking of his hand, had you always been so fascinated with it as much as you were now? You couldn’t help but trace each vein, his strong grip on the white ceramic or the ring he always wore with your eyes. The moment you started shamelessly and openly pant, lapping on the air around you, you knew the illusion of nothing happening was shattered.

 “I feel hot.” Your gaze started to fog over, still you could recognize Sanji’s confused expression. For a moment he stared embarrassed at your face before he turned back to the pot muttering something about spices and if it’s still cooking.

“Is it that spicy? Maybe the herbs contain too much capsaicin.” He was huffing under his breath, angry at himself for serving you something that was not completely perfect. He was sure he tasted it before letting it boil a bit, he was waiting for the taste of each ingredient to combine. However, he truly did not anticipate such a change in flavor, especially such a drastic one.

“No.” There was a certain weight on your chest and drops of sweat started to appear on your skin. But then you finally recognized the feeling.  “That’s not it.” You couldn’t help but clench your thighs together, the feeling too strong to ignore. It was lust all along.

The atmosphere in the kitchen was thick, you knew Sanji saw right through you the way he stared so shamelessly at your chest before quickly looking up at your face. His embarrassment from his failure to deliver tasty dish soon too turned into something completely different.

“It's your problem too, you caused it!” The heat was spreading now, the tips of your fingers were tingling and your head felt like you were standing in a fog. The feeling was overwhelming you, almost paralyzing your brain. Simple thoughts were starting to be hard to produce.

“So do something about it.” It was also starting to be difficult to speak, to think at all and those words were the only thing you could muster enough power to say. You muttered them under your breath anyway. 

“Wha-what?” His eyes, previously and again stuck on your heaving chest, finally met yours, widening at the realization of what you meant. 

“Ok-okay.”

You never thought you would get into such a situation, especially with the cook. It was not like you didn’t find him attractive, he was. Blond shiny hair, muscular back and strong hands, there was nothing you wouldn’t like. You liked him too much on some occasions, just like this one. 

Your throbbing heat was met with another rough thrust of his tongue interrupting your train of thoughts. You could already feel the bruises forming from the way his hands were gripping your hips, where his long fingers were holding you still. The only clothing still on you was your shirt, pushed over your chest with bra already missing, and pants still holding on to the ankle of your right leg, otherwise you were completely bare for the world to see.

Sanji was all over you, he was everywhere. His hot kisses were still present on your skin even with his mouth already preoccupied with your pussy. Your skin sweaty, beads of it rolling down into the now wet sheets, but there was no thought in your head of the uncomfortable feeling of the bed sheets sticking to your skin. 

Your white shirt was pushed up over your breasts, giving Sanji the perfect view he could ever ask for. Seeing your hard nipples and tasting you was heaven on earth for him. Pulling on his hair to the point you were sure you would rip some but you couldn’t stop, he made you feel too good, your next orgasm was quickly approaching. His hands slowly traveled from your bruised hips to now the globes of your ass, gripping between it and halfway on the way to your thighs. He squeezed your skin once again, enjoying the moan it ripped from your throat, he could only smirk.

He could feel your release coming, your walls tightening, pushing his tongue out but he was going to win this battle. Spasm over took your body, squeal leaving your throat. The overstimulation was too much for your body but too little for what was happening to you, you needed more. 

”I got you, don’t worry, sweetheart.” His tongue dived deeper than before, continuing his ministration of your insides. His motion slowly released tension from your muscles until the next spasm hit you again.

Panting, the words you had on your tongue slipped away into darkness. There was no thought in your head and if there was, it was all about how the young cook was making you feel good and how needy you were for the next release. You were completely gone, moaning, squirming wreck in painful ecstasy. Sanji made you see stars just with his mouth. 

There was an intense stare, unmoving from your face that was full of pleasure, he couldn’t simply look away from you. And then you saw it, his own face wrinkled in pleasure. The only thing the young cook needed for his own lust to explode was your own pleasure and you loved it.

But he was not done with you and so was not your body. The moment you came down from your high the heat was already spreading out again, the never ending cycle continued and you begged for another touch from him. 

“More, Sanji-” another moan ripped from your throat when he pushed you thighs over his shoulders, sinking right back into your cunt, devouring you again”- more!” He wanted to bring you close again but his jaw was getting tired. He needed to rethink his approach so he would be able to give you as much pleasure as possible without getting tired too quickly.

“Can I-?” You knew what he meant, you could feel his finger tracing your outer lips, gathering all the slick it could. Your legs pushed even higher, your pants finally slipping from your right foot on to the ground. Slowly pushing one of his fingers in, he moved his mouth to your clit, giving it attention it deserved. 

This was the feeling you needed to graduate your state, to get closer to another release faster. The motion of his finger pushing in and out was increasing in its speed before Sanji slowed down again, earning him another tug on his hair and displeasing grunt from your lips. But it all had a reason, Sanji made sure to kiss your clit before slowly pushing another finger into you. Carefully stretching you out with two fingers he moved his attention back to your clit. One kiss turned into small licks before his mouth was attached to it again, vigorously sucking while he started to pump his fingers into you with no mercy. He could feel your velvet walls tightening once more, almost sucking him in before another loud shout escaped your lips and your body started to tremble.

The young man had to stop for a moment, the white ring that formed around his fingers that were plunging into your cunt completely hypnotized him. Not wholly aware he curled his fingers inside making you squeeze him even harder, another orgasm approaching fast. If heaven exists, Sanji was sure this was his, this was his holy paradise and if it weren’t for the tears, which he was sure was not entirely from how good he made you feel, he would wish for this to never end. But you were in pain and there was no place in Sanji’s world where he would overlook it for his own pleasure.

He already drew two orgasms from you but the ache in your lower belly was not ending. At this point you were sure you were going to die. You were going to die like this writhing sweaty and moaning mess this gorgeous man made you. It’s like he was made to give you pleasure, to make you feel good. Sanji knew exactly where to touch you to weaken the pain in your core. 

With each orgasm given to you, you would think the ache would be substituted only with pleasure. However, there was no exchange, your body still whined for touch, his touch. You couldn’t move, all your energy was drained in the process of your satisfaction. And even though your limbs turned into jelly at least your thoughts started to finally clear with the last silent scream he could push from you. You had enough energy only for the silent scream, the air already left your lungs, leaving you panting once again. However, there is something delicious building up in your belly, toe curling and brain scraping feeling and if your mind could still function you would know this was the big climax and the end to your suffering and pleasure.

One last push just mere seconds later from the end of your last high resulted into another one. This time you were completely spent, exhaustion slowly overtaking you, still you couldn’t help but smile at Sanji who was giving you adoring looks from between his now messy stuck in eyes hair. If it was not the feeling you experienced this evening that you would remember forever, it would definitely be the sight of Sanji on his knees between your legs. 

Soon it was too hard to stay awake, even though you wanted to. You wanted to stare at Sanji while he slowly got up and went for something to clean you up with, you wanted to stare at his blush painted cheeks and sweat stained hair now sticking to his forehead or the way his dress shirt cling to his sweaty chest but your eyes soon shut completely, just like you shut down the world around you and welcomed the needed sleep.

But if you did stay awake you would know how he slowly cleaned you up before pulling the covers over your exhausted self and if you stayed awake even longer it wouldn’t be only your subconscious deciding to catch his hand before he left, tugging at him as if you wanted him to hold you in your sleep. And for one moment Sanji was selfish and did so, he crawled under the covers next to you, wrapping his arms around you and holding you like the most precious treasure. He knew, in the morning he would confess his undying love to you anyway.

Thank you for reading. :)

Bonus??: Sanji didn’t mind he was still painfully hard, from all he had witnessed and done, all it mattered to his stupid mind was that your lust was extinguished for the moment and nothing could change his mind.

Well, maybe except for your slick stained panties laying on the floor right in his line of sight while he was blessed with holding you in his arms.

[graysparrowao3]

2024 Writing Reflections

Thank you @little-paperboat, what a nice tag to receive, really interesting to reflect on these questions. I'm not sure who may not have a tag, here are some no pressure ones if you would like to join and an open invitation (no seriously, I really like this one I want to tag everyone lol)💛 @wakacreations @thylyre @faetouchedfool @barbwillbrb @lolliputian

What's been your biggest learning point this past year?

To embrace the joy of writing. This meant trying new things or putting them out there or just writing what spoke to me. Writing "easy" and not worrying about my prose - if I just wanted to write fun dialogue with the same damn dialogue tags, then go for it babe, let those blorbos yap. If I wanted to put in the most cliche, in-your-face metaphor, smack that literary device on the arse and send it out! If I had a short idea that I thought was fun, I could share it as a fic, or a post, or even just a message amongst people who like similar things. The more I embraced the joy of it just for its own sake the less anxious I felt about it.

How has your writing developed this past year?

Writing sexually explicit content. I'm very cautious about the explicit content I consume for my own psychological comfort, and it was quite liberatory to be in control of the writing and know what was going to happen, and definitely allowed my writing to grow in depth, gain a new skill, and explore more heavy and intimate themes.

Bad writing habits?

I get impatient and want to be done with something even when I know the editing isn't quite finished and then spend the next hour frantically making edits after it's uploaded.

Favorite thing you wrote?

I feel like this changes every time I reflect on it, probably because I like them for different reasons.

For now, I'm going to say Part 10, the main "concluding" part of the NB series. I was absolutely exhausted after I wrote it.

I'll also say chapter 10 in The Elturian Prodigy, because in it Rolan begins to figure out the events of Descent into Avernus, and I was proud to be able to come up with how he might do it that didn't seem super obvious but that an intelligent character could reason through.

Biggest win?

Finding support and kindness that uplifted me to such an extent that it has changed the trajectory of my life. I'm part of the many folks who have found their joy and creativity again thanks to fandom writing and the overwhelming and unexpected kindness of people in the online community spaces. I even had some people in real life remember I was trying to write again and ask how it was going and I had to not be a big emotional mess about it. Thank you online writing friends <3

Your favorite words of the year, aka the words you check each chapter for, making sure you didn't repeat them 788 times?

Everyone is always breathing in various ways. Lots of deep breaths, huffing, snorting, air catching in throats. Or chuckling in various dry, wry, ways. Or brows doing various things; raising, creasing, cocking.

This is a ridiculous sentence, but I had to take a moment in the middle of the NB series and check I wasn't overdoing twat, bastard, and feck and turning it into a caricature. (There's a part where Rugan says "Every other word out of your mouth is 'feck this' or 'bastard that'" which was absolutely me calling myself out lol).

Goals for the new year?

I think I responded to this elsewhere, but in this moment I am thinking...

Just don't stop reading and writing, keep practicing and growing.

Always remember the kind words of internet friends that have made you have faith in yourself.

Keeping working on the ongoing WIPs.

I think, if I'm being honest, I would really love to finally get something original self-published or close to it by the end of 2025. As the saying goes, the best time to plant a tree was 20 years ago, but the second best time is now.

What are you excited for in the new year?

Well I'm in the middle of a couple of interviews, so getting hired would be good because life has thrown a lot around recently that won't be letting up any time soon. Fingers crossed.

I got some books for Christmas and my anniversary before that I'm looking forward to reading. Just finished the First Law trilogy.

Getting through some more of my fic WIPs and moving towards completion of those projects.

Some more cheeky tags because this is a great tag game if you are interested @vera-king-hrfl @beesht @ashprince-of-bel-air @alpydk @dutifullylazybread

[lagomorphics]

how do you choose the colors for renders? theyre always so pleasing

i set my canvas' background colour to reflect the 'mood' im going for, usually a nice desaturated colour; it helps me see even the slightest shift in value

and then its a game of "eyeballing it" really, i make test palettes off to the side to get a feel for what colours Exactly i'd like to use, but i'm often just eyeballing based off of reference images

heres a compilation of my lamb renders (three are wips and ones finished lol forgive me on that) up next against my actual reference, i hope this helps give a visual for what i mean? all of the colours i use register as being my lamb, but what colours im using exactly differ based on the overall 'mood' im setting

this does mean that a lot of my renders tend to be very soft or look a little desaturated, but its nothing a little colour balance editing cant fix. plus; it means i can have more fun with lighting

i dont often do backgrounds, since rendering those is a pain, but when i do i also often have a few reference images to help me out. but it's also still a game of just eyeballing colours

^ another wip im working on that has a background, lots of trees so i figured out the general colours for them and now im going in with finer details (not too much tho, since they arent the focus of the piece)

[vesanal]

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊The 18th Day of Writemas₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

Hey y’all! This winter season for me is suuuuuper hot. Currently it’s like 20 C which is absolutely insane! I guess there won’t be a white Christmas this year(just like every other year). In November it was super cold, getting down to maybeee -1 C which again, still isn’t THAT cold but for here it very much is! Anyways I won’t keep ya here long so here is the invite post if you need a  reminder of the rules and here are the prompts I’ll be using today!!!

Prompts used:

Narration: Light fought the dark, and finally, dawn broke.

Setting:  A home + Emptiness

Hurray! More Melinaaaa. WOW! 2 boss bitches who run towns in a row!? It really is Christmas! It’s too bad Melina doesn’t care about the people of Elares or just anything there in general. Like at all. Especially the prison. ANYWAYYY. I’m going pretty far back into her past for this one, and shedding some light on her ambition for getting the fame and power(that of which she wasn’t given by being born) before she gave it all up a few writemasses ago. Hope y’all enjoy younger Melina and the cunning little rat bastard she is. :). She might just learn from her mistakes one day in the future, wink wink.

Read about the WIP here!!

Hope ya enjoy!!

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Melina popped open another bottle of alcohol to celebrate such a momentous occasion. It wasn’t every day that you sign a deal that large. Well, maybe for Melina it was.

Taking a sip from the burning dark blue liquid filled her with as much warmness as the satisfaction from getting just a little more into her grasp. She sat down on top of the desk and picked up the parchment papers to stare at the contract drawn. Right there in ink stated all of the words she needed to hear. It was hers, all hers. Completely. She could just kiss the paper, she was so happy. 

Oh, so much money! Just for a few senseless crooks. I could bathe in gold for years on this.

“Such a pleasure to do business with you. Now, I must get back to work. I’m a very busy woman.” Melina said as she ushered the well-armored man out of her office, throwing the door back onto its hinges before he could even open his mouth to say more. He didn’t mean anything now.

Hurrying back inside her room and looking out the intricately stained window, she watched over the hard at work city. Her empire. She had great plans for it. And now that she signed that deal with those shiny, Haukrosen living, castle dwelling, used to the heat, Queen-ass-kissing magic freaks to hand over all of the prisoners held within Elares, effectively dissolving the founding principles her family based the city on, she can bask in all the future glory it will generate for her. So, in her room, devoid of anything else, she stood alone to see the light creep onto the city’s streets, solely responsible for it’s existence. Without her, they were lost, and completely nothing, just fools who lived under another fool’s law. 

Light fought the dark, and finally, dawn broke. Across the horizon of Elares came new plans, huge plans. Melina was quite happy to be their benevolent mayor. She was executing the will of the people by transporting those criminals to the capitol. They always wanted for her to remove the prisons and free the people inside, that is specifically why she campaigned for it in her reelection. Melina did exactly what they asked, she freed them from damnation in the Elares prisons. She giddily poured another drink and watched the reflection of the city expand, refracting its silhouette into something better. For her own pleasure. And taking another sip of the drink was just another dip into the pool of greed she created for herself from the tears of others.

For a second, emptiness left the room. But it always comes back, starving for more. Melina knew it.

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(PLEASE tell me if you wanna get added to a tag list here because I genuinely don't know who to tag lol. I'll edit this and add you in!! <3 )

TAGLIST SO FAR: @sunflowerrosy @seastarblue

@thebookishkiwi @viridis-icithus @corinneglass

Our wonderful host <3 → @agirlandherquill Have a lovely day everyone!!

[hermiola]

Writer's Meme, 2024 Edition

I've been tagged by @turquoisedata 💜

-------------------------

How many works do you have on ao3?

14. 6 Good Omens + 8 MCU, but we have to go back to 2014 and 2016 for those. I also used to publish on an Italian fanfiction archive where I have 70 more fics (I went back to check and count them after approximately two thousand years and HOLY SHIT, I didn't remember them being so many! My first fic is more than 20 years old WTF).

What’s your total word count?

150.000 words on AO3. But I'm guessing it's waaay higher than that (the Italian archive doesn't show the word count 🥲).

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

My GO fics have the most kudos (given the popularity of the fandom + the fact that they're written in English and not in Italian). I have 6, so the top 5 is basically all of them:

Take a Little Love From Me (Pretty Woman AU)

Final Breakthrough (Now!) (Post-Season 2 Fix-It)

Crazy Little Thing (Called Love) (Non-S2-complying silliness)

When Hell Freezes Over (Human AU with magician!Crowley and critic!Aziraphale)

Let There Be Rock (First meeting after 1967)

Do you respond to comments? Why/why not?

I do! I don't get that many, so it's not overwhelming, and I just like to respond. As I said somewhere else, my experience in the GO fandom has been mostly a solitary one (recently not so much though!) so I just like to interact whenever I can.

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

I'm going to consider only the GO ones because I feel like the others have been written by another me entirely (also I'm not sure I even remember them).

So it's definitely Let There Be Rock.

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

I'd say all of them, but Take a Little Love From has a proper epilogue and everything. I guess their happiness has more space there than elsewhere.

Do you write crossovers?

I have in the past, but not anymore.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not that I know of.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Not really. I LOOOOVE reading smut (especially in those chonky slow burn fics), but I can't bring myself to write explicit smut for some reason. I love describing the tension and the heat of the moment (I love UST so much I'm going to marry it tbh - like nothing makes me happier/hornier than two people who want to fuck each other but can't for some reason - am I edging myself? IDK) but when it comes to my own writing I feel like spelling out the details just ruins the moment. I do think it's my ace showing in some way. But, anyway, I read the filthiest filth so this definitely doesn't apply to reading. And who knows, maybe one day I'll try! I'm not ruling anything out.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't think so?

Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but I used to translate HP fics back in the day (from English to Italian). We're talking 20 years ago. And it's funny when you think about it, because I translate novels for work now 🤣

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes, always back in the day with HP. I'm still friends IRL with the girl I wrote them with (we actually met because of HP) (this is as good a time as any to say FUCK YOU JKR).

What's your all-time favourite ship?

This depends on the hyper-fixation of the moment. I cannot multitask with my OTPs. If I get obsessed with a new one, I retire the previous one. Like I could split my life into different time periods just based on my OTPs. Ron/Hermione has been my personality for YEARSSSS, but now I can barely think about HP without cringing. Another BIG ONE was Clint/Natasha from the MCU (which explains my look here on Tumblr), but the MCU as a whole has gone a bit stale for me (with few exceptions). And now it's all about Crowley/Aziraphale - it's so bad I had to unretire from fanfiction writing after almost 10 years LOL.

(I like many other ships but not to the point of *obsession*).

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

The only one I can think of is a Clintasha Actors AU, but I don't think I have it anymore, and I wouldn't finish it even if I had.

What are your writing strengths?

Dialogues and banter are my favourite things to write, and I think it shows.

What are your writing weaknesses?

English is not my first language, so my writing lacks variety I think. I feel like I have always the same phrases stuck in my head, so it's probably kind of repetitive, especially when compared to some of the fics I read. (But when I started writing my first GO fic in English I wasn't even sure I could *actually* do it, so I'm proud of myself either way!).

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

I think it's okay! I personally would ask a native speaker to help me (if possible) instead of going the Google Translate route. Being Italian and watching/reading almost exclusively in English I know how silly it sounds when the characters start speaking your language and they're saying nonsense (but no harm done even in this case, imo, especially in fanfics. In movies, though, it's just lazy!).

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

HP, back in 2004 (welp).

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

None, thankfully. If I'm writing fanfic it means I'm in the late stage of hyperfixation and I don't wish that on myself if I can help it. Like I used to read 50+ books a year before GO S2. It's bad!!!

What's your favourite fic you've written?

Take a Little Love From Me mainly because it's the one I've spent more time with.

Tagging some people if they feel like doing it (but no pressure at all!): @beerok23 - @sabotage-on-mercury - @gaiaseyes451 - @leviosally

[alicentrasers]

For the WIP game, I'd love to know more about Command Chat. That's two of my favourite things rolled into one.

Mine too!

All the ones that I find are super short or abandoned- and that's why I am so hesitant to post mine lol!

Command chat is pretty much exactly what you think it is.

For the first chapter, Players consist of: Cody, Rex, Keeli, Fox, Gree, Wolfe, Alpha-17, and Ponds. People are added and removed in further chapters, but I'm not going to spoil those.

Like Landline Across the Galaxy, this fic touches on all of my Posted works and WIPs from the perspective of the commanders. More Crack treated Seriously energy.

And memes.

You can't take my memes away.

Here's a section that I have deem Safe for Public Consumption:

"[FinneganFox is now Online.]

FinneganFox: Guys

[GreenIsOkay is now Online.]

FinneganFox: this fucking jetii won't KaRkInG lEaVe!

GreenIsOkay: Dar

FinneganFox: Thorn even talked to it, AND IT STILL WONT LEAVE!

GreenIsOkay: have you tried taking his lightsaber and throwing it so he has to fetch it like a Massiff

FinneganFox: no i have not...

[TheTrashman is now Online.]

TheTrashman: 9/10 would not recommend

TheTrashman: I tried that with mine and he just looked at me with sad Tooka Eyes

TheTrashman: And then Waxer brought it back all excited

GreenIsOkay: Interesting

GreenIsOkay: Why is it only a 9/10?

TheTrashman: Cause sometimes he actually chases it"

I'm in the final phases of editing this fic, so it was actually a little hard to find a decent section to show off here. Went with something goofy from early chapters, instead of one of the longer more serious sections. Names should be self explanatory from context lol

This is one of the few Fics that I've been able to consistently work on, as of late. I'm hoping to be able to post it soon.

[yinyuedijun]

hii not sure if this has been asked before but how do you plan for your stories? do you do story outlines or just ruminate over what you want to write? you've been such a huge inspiration for me to write (i loooove how vivid your fics are and how you use recurring motifs to drive home that - oh this dude is traumatised or conflicted or smt else. it's like wow this person's trauma is so deeply ingrained into their character that to be without it they'll be someone totally different) and as a fledgling writer who wants to start on her maiden story i'm having a really hard time with like planning and pacing what i want to write in each like chapter and how detailed my planning should be so i can start writing. ahhhhh sorry for this ask being so long 🙏🙏🙏

HI ANON... sorry this has taken me so long to reply to aglgkqkdjakds I hope that you have already started your journey with your maiden story since sending this ask 😭

in terms of written outlines, I personally don't find them necessary for shorter fics or fics with simpler plots (for instance, I didn't write an outline for translation). conversely, I rely on detailed outlining a lot for longer fics (anything like bluebird or dabi hell fic). however, regardless of the length of the story or whether or not I'm outlining, here are some things I keep in mind:

I ruminate a lot for any fic to storyboard out key scenes, plot developments, and literary motifs. even if I don't write it down, the sequences of events for the overarching story usually exist in my head LOL. if some of the scenes/details that I brainstorm are REALLY striking, I will whip out my phone and dump it into my outline or WIP document - both so I don't forget it and also so that I can plan around it

this feels counterintuitive, but usually I need to start writing the story BEFORE I do any real outlining (or even too much ruminating!). if I write some passages freely (usually scenes that have been haunting me nonstop), it'll give me a sense of the style, pacing, tone, and motifs that are going to define the story. I can then plan the rest of the fic around those starting points.

for every chapter, I try to figure out roughly how many scenes there will be and what I want to accomplish with each scene. this gives me a general idea of what the pacing and length of the story will be. it is very normal for things to change during the writing process though! even my most detailed outlines often change in the process of writing lol

finally, and I think most importantly - it really helps to have all or a huge chunk of the fic written before I start posting. with my writing process, I often notice potential motifs or key moments of characterization emerging within the story as I write. then, when I go back and edit earlier passages in the fic, I can alter things to more clearly set the stage for those key moments later, or place the recurrent lines wherever necessary. this also allows me to assess the pacing of the fic in its totality and kill/add scenes as necessary. (if I ever post something that feels super polished, it's because I took the time to do this LOL)

I hope this helps!! and also - thank you SO so much for your kind words about my fics, and for reading them in the first place! 🥺 it's super mindblowing that you find them inspiring and I really hope this helped in some capacity haha. please don't hesitate to share your fic here if you ever think you'd want to!

happy writing!!!!

[wyked-ao3]

Writerly Questionnaire

About Me

When did you first start writing?

Started shortly before my 22nd birthday I'm 23 now...I had done a few attempt's before that but never posted them.

Are the genres/themes you enjoy reading different from the ones you write?

i love a variety of genres and hope to branch into other soon..I'm working on my first original story currently

Is there an author (or just a fellow writer!) you want to emulate, or one to whom you’re often compared?

everyone has their own style no two writers are just alike. I could list dozens of author's both published and not that I look up to. I have not been compared to anyone that I'm aware of.

Can you tell me a little about your writing space(s)? (Room, coffee shop, desk, etc.)

usually the couch. With my dogs and a blanket since I'm often cold.

What’s your most effective way to muster up some muse?

play some music or read something. If that doesn't work then I go back to what I have written and go okay what you crazy character's up to now

Did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and places you write about?

🤔🧐

Are there any recurring themes in your writing, and if so, do they surprise you at all?

i tend to give traumatic backstories to at least one character in my books but usually it's a game of find the one who doesn't. I'm also prone to writing family drama 0_o

Do they surprise me? Not particularly since they are usually the characters I like most in a tv show

My Characters

Would you please tell me about your current favorite character? (Current WIP, past WIP, never used, etc.)

Oisìn for this book. Oisìn is a kind person with a bit of a quick temper, he is sarcastic but usually level headed unless you mention his hight Jade is the MC for the second book and my current favorite it might be the kicked puppy factor 0_o

Which of your characters do you think you’d be friends with in real life?

Adoh or Jade both are quiet but in different ways...

Which of your characters would you dislike the most if you met them?

0_o that be a long list lol, without giving spoilers Kia, Rhiannon, Nereza

Tell me about the process of coming up with of one, all, or any of your characters.

I think about what the storyline needs and they start knocking on the door and more show up as I write. Only a handful were planned out in great detail in advance and they kinda blew that out of the water, which is why I had to make new charts yesterday.

Do you notice any recurring themes/traits among your characters?

tragic backstories and loyalty with found family aspects.

My Writing

What’s your reason for writing?

i started writing my first fanfiction when I had a head cold I also edited and posted it during that time...it was what built up the confidence to post something lol, I can say that the next time I posted, I about had a nervous breakdown but now I'm not so nervous when I post. I suppose the reason I write is it is a form of connecting with other people and a escape from reality in a way.

Is there a specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating coming from your readers?

I love all comments i get even constructive criticism, as it tells me where I need to work on improving next.

How do you want to be thought of by those who read your work? (For example: as a literary genius, or as a writer who “gets” the human condition; as a talented worldbuilder, as a role model, etc.)

😵‍💫 nope just nope, social anxiety activated by a question

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

dialogue

What have you been frequently told your greatest writing strength is by others?

humour and dialogue

How do you feel about your own writing? (Answer in whatever way you interpret this question.)

I have improved a lot over the last few months but I still have a lot to learn :) I accept the fact that practice is required to get there, although I'm aware no one's writting is absolutely perfect although some are closer than others.

If you were the last person on earth and knew your writing would never be read by another human, would you still write?

yes. I like the stories I tell.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely what you enjoy? If it’s a mix of the two, which holds the most influence?

its a bit of a mix but mostly what I enjoy reading but I do add way more punctuation for the readers. My writing style would probably cause people to have a breakdown, since it's mostly quotation marks for when they speak and nothing else perhaps a comma here or there if it seems to long. Then I go back through and edit it after I have finished writing the storyline.

Open tag from @the-golden-comet then tagged by @kaylinalexanderbooks adding in @ink-flavored (I'll fill out the other one soon I like the questions) @thecomfywriter

@sableglass

+open tag

[yet-another-aoex-account]

Thanks for tagging me @wojtekaneko ❤︎

Currently reading: Nothing at the moment really, started reading Dracula by Bram Stoker last semester but i left it unfinished

Favorite color:

Grey, orange and blue, but i like grey the most

Last Song I Listened To

Against the kitchen floor by Will Wood, i actually want to make a Reigen edit with it someday haha, who knows if i'll ever make it but it exists in my head

Last Movie I Watched

Puss in boots 2! Really really good, i never watched the first one but people in tumblr recommending it (along with some friends) convinced me and it was great, loved every second of it

Sweet/Spicy/Savory?

Mainly savory, i like sweet flavors but i have very little tolerance for them, i can't even handle a full piece of cake lol

Currently working on

Nothing other that homework sadly, it's my last semester at uni to finish my credits and one of my teachers is kind of an asshole and his assignments have been giving me a lot of trouble cause he's very strict with the requirements and also doesnt seem to be aware that we have other assignments other than his u.u and i dont wanna fail any assignment since i've fallen behind on uni and I don't want to take another year to graduate.

But! the last personal thing i got to work (?) on before all this was a pinterest board for my DnD character

Tagging:

@belowdek

@sometimes-lifesucks

@the-book-smiled-at-me

Thanks for tagging me @disasteroulik! It's so fun to do these :D

Currently Reading

I'm slowly getting through my long fic list, and few manga series I'm trying to catch on (tbhk, noragami, bsd) oh and I recently started omniscient readers viewpoint!

Favourite Color

Lately it's been sort of desaturated warm green. Also dark blue as always is up there c:

Last Song I Listened To

Nightingale by Queen Bee. Great song on great album, I highly recommend ^^ (fav song on the album is currently Kakitsubata)

Last Movie I Watched

Everything, Everywhere All At Once. It was really interesting to watch, but I think I still have a lot to discover about it!

Sweet/Spicy/Savory?

Mainly sweet, especially cakes and cookies! I'm a sweet tooth to the core!

Currently working on

I'm doing some illustrations for a language book, so I'm trying to focus on that because it's most demanding. But I'm trying to do stuff for myself, like fanarts and aus! Im still holding onto the mp100 stuff strongly, but I'd like to do more for the other fandoms I'm in!! Here's some wips:

Tagging:

@yet-another-aoex-account

@silversaucekai

@birdmenmanga

@the-fourth-one

[chairofchaos]

Evening friend!

You bring chaos to my life so here is a little chaos for you

2, 3, 5, 8, 19, 26

And just for fun because I know it will probably hurt me 40

Feel free to answer what you want and ignore the rest 🤍

GOOD EVENING.

Thank you for letting me bring chaos to your life, and for bringing me some in return. In your honor, I will answer all. Seemed like the most chaotic thing to do. I considered making separate posts for each question but then again that was a lot of work so just... bear with me. This is a long read, but hopefully, you will find it worth it.

2. Anything that you'd like to write but feel like you're unable to?

Yes. I am currently bouncing around multiple Greek/Roman tragedy adaptations of our beloved ACOTAR and TOG characters. I do not feel prepared to write these yet. I want to do them justice. That semester of studying tragic plays of the ancients has stuck with me.

3. How would you describe your writing style?

I don't even know how to answer this, but my best shot is this:

The vibe must be chaotic.

It must be written as fast as possible.

It should be entirely unplanned.

If it is planned, it should be entirely overwhelming and likely a bigger project than I should ever take on *cough cough* LETTERS *cough cough*

It's not a style as much as it is entirely based on my whims. And that's not always great. In fact, it's something I don't really enjoy about myself (comment on this and I will edit it out of this post so fast I SWEAR).

But I enjoy the product. I think there are at least a couple of you that do, too, so hopefully we can all enjoy that little piece of chaos together. If not, I'll just enjoy the pain I create on my own like a good little fanfic writer.

5. What's a tag you never want to use for your works even when it applies?

I don't think such a thing exists. I don't like surprises? Idk, this doesn't really make sense to me. Clearly I have no problem tagging things Dead Dove so we all know what I'm up to lol

8. How slow is a slow burn?

Somewhere between 100 and 100k words. I genuinely do not care. Depends on the medium? The pacing? A slow burn described in a poem is going to look very different than a slow burn in a fic the length of The Iliad and the Odyssey. Or Wheel of Time (that's a long series, right?). I don't care. It's all great. I love slow burns. Haven't written one because I think those characters should be enjoying each other romantically on page 1, but I LOVE reading them.

19. Share a snippet from a wip without giving any context for it.

UNANSWERED STARS YOU BEAUTIFUL HUMAN. Is this what you expect to hurt (I haven't looked ahead at the other questions I'm doing this straight through, no edits, no takebacks. Welcome to Chaos- you get two.).

Eris was no saint, either. Cauldron knew he kept his mate up some nights. But the Cauldron also knew Azriel would get out of bed in the middle of the night and take off into flight, not returning until he knew Eris would also be awake. After the first time, they would rarely talk about where Azriel went or what he did. Instead, Eris would press a mug of overly sweet coffee into his hands and they would sit together in silence on the front porch, Azriel’s head on Eris’ shoulder and their hands clasped together. - {Working Title is Coffee and Psychotherapy. THIS ONE IS ACTUALLY FLUFF YOU CAN THANK DUSK-MUSE AND NINTHCIRCLEOFPRYTHIAN}

And maybe more along the lines of what you were expecting:

Azriel found the most enjoyment in the training and teaching of others. In his time as spymaster, he regularly found time to work with young soldiers, for which many have since thanked him, crediting him with saving their lives by instructing them in his limited spare time. In the years since the war, Azriel enjoyed collecting books from all over the world. The collection he amassed was the instigator for a library to honor his mate. - Death, and All That Follows (This may or may not be a sort of extended epilogue to something I wrote recently.)

26. What would you describe as OOC?

This is possibly a wild take: I don't think I care what is out of character for characters I write. It depends on the fic, sure. But I think perspective forms our understanding of characters, and seeing them in a new light can often bring a different, even "OOC" type attitude to fics which I often enjoy. I am very much an advocate for "Don't Like, Don't Read" not only for plot points but for characterization as well. If you don't enjoy the way someone writes your favorite (or your least-favorite!) character, don't read it. The beautiful thing about being a part of a fandom is the diversity of experiences within it.

I did not read Nesta's journey the same way you did, or the way your friend did, or the way my best friend did. I brought my own perspectives, my own experiences, to my interpretation of her actions, words, and thoughts. I came out of the other side loving her, and loving the way she loves. I recognize myself in her. I know I'm not alone in that. I know that there are a great many who do not like her in the slightest.

ACOSF Nesta was presented very differently to ACOTAR Nesta. (For the purposes of this argument, we are removing the debate about The Author Herself because I simply don't care at the moment and that's a much larger topic.) I don't think that anyone's interpretation of Nesta is "wrong" or "bad" because we all bring a pair of glasses to reading, and that glass is made of our experiences. That's the filter through which you consume the work. My glasses are different from yours. That's okay.

Little tangent while we're on the topic: I don't care if your glasses are different. But if you break those glasses to use the shards of glass for the purpose of hurting other people, that's a problem. I have a problem now, and so do you. Because of the inclusion of the argument above, it needed to be said, and so here it is: Don't hurt others because of your glasses. Theirs are different. Please learn to recognize that, and that it is okay to view pieces of media differently. Tangent over.

So TLDR on OOC: I don't care. If you want to write a piece where character canonically named Bubblegum Sunshine Princess because of her (in-canon) overwhelming joy and love of the outdoors and her kingdom's candy trees is a murderous assassin filled with rage and the destructive flame of a thousand suns, go right ahead. There's a very good chance I would love to read it.

40. Write a 9-word fic.

Title: This is a Thing [REDACTED] Learned. The title will be longer than the fic itself, and that's the beauty of The Thing [REDACTED] Learned. Thanks.

A/N: (Stars. My dearest friend. You expect pain here? Now I want to prove you wrong...)

Pairing: Your OTP. Or my OCs. Or is this about my life? Or yours? Who knows. I'm not currently well lol

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

Knowledge came with no promises, no love, no you.

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

All the love, Stars. You're the best. <3<3<3<3<3

[true-blue-sonic]

6, 13, 14 ^^

13. What's a character or ship you haven't written/drawn yet but would like to some day?

From what I can remember, I've never made any official Sonilver drawings; I did doodle a bit of the two of them today, though! But any full-fledged drawings or silly comics like I've done with Espio and Silver before, I haven't yet done for them. I'd definitely be open for it, but first I need to figure out how Sonic's stupid top-most quill works when drawn in the Sonic X style😩 (I keep making it too big lol)

14. Is there a character or ship you were so sure you would never write/draw but now you've changed your mind?

Hmm, none of them pop to mind so quickly... I've written an AU Sonilver fic for a friend before, and years ago also one wherein they celebrated Christmas, so it's not a ship I'm surprised I've begun liking more, haha. And as for Espilver: the reason New Beginnings became an Espilver fic was because a friend encouraged me to, but I was privy to the ship before that and I liked it as well (just not as much as I do now XD). But other than that, I think not really!🍀

6. Show us a bit of a WIP!

I've been fighting for my life trying to get out a second chapter of Change of Heart. I need to do more with Sonic and Silver making up way earlier in '06👀👀 I've got almost everything worked out plot-wise, but it involves what's kind of A Fight Scene, and those are not my forte. So it might go into a few more rounds of editing first!

☆☆☆☆☆

“We did it,” Sonic smiles.

Quietly Silver stares at the grandiose window placed in the even more grandiose white walls of the princess’ palace. Yes, they did do it: Elise talking to more people crowding together than Silver has ever seen in his life is the testimony to that. Palpable relief resounds in the voices rising from the group, the princess herself nodding and getting fussed over and altogether drowning in the sea of attention. “I’m glad we did,” the blue hedgehog besides him adds, more pensively himself.

“Hm,” is all Silver responds with. There’s too many people here… and yet, though a part of him had expected Sonic would have loved mingling between them, the speedster had taken mere seconds to join him in this quiet corner of the massive hallway just outside the room Elise is in.

Green eyes look him up and down, Silver glaring back. “It’s busy, huh?” the other muses, gesturing to a half-opened door all the way at the end of the hall. “Let’s go to the terrace, get some fresh air.” And with that he’s already bounced off, Silver grimacing as he drags himself towards the exit as well. If anything, Sonic’s sheer inability to not do everything fast had been beyond exhausting, if comforting in a way. They hadn’t dawdled a single second this whole adventure, and Silver can’t help but appreciate it. Their efforts have paid off, after all.

As Silver shambles onto the balcony Sonic’s already leaning over a barrier equally ornate as the rest of the palace, the blue sky stretching out in an endless expanse above them. Quietly the grey hedgehog joins him, eyes drifting over it all. The orange of the setting sun, the peach of the clouds, the way Soleanna glimmers underneath it all…

Now Elise gets to enjoy it again too, after everything that had happened, and he cannot tear his eyes away from it either.

“How are you doing?” Sonic speaks up first, over the waves that crash into the island and the distant mutters of the town far underneath them that the wind carries up. Silver can only shrug back; he has no idea anymore. But the blue hedgehog merely smiles, as if he understands. “It’s been quite the trip. But a fun one too, right?”

“Fun,” Silver huffs back. How could it have been fun, with the safety of the whole world and Elise’s life being the things they had to protect?

And yet, he had been amused with Sonic. Rarely, but he had. And he had laughed, just once or twice too, at something particularly funny occurring or being brought up. And he had marvelled at the world and all its beauty, and Sonic had been there to tell him about it all, and they had saved a person…

Which means the conditions Silver had set have been met.

Turning around slowly Silver swallows. This is it; this is what he’s been working towards. “I need to go back to the future,” he speaks up, “but first…”

“First part with me as unlikely acquaintances and maybe even friends?” Sonic smiles- before it falls right away as Silver bares his teeth.

“No. I am going to kill you.”