#i really need to work on commissions though so i might not post for a minute! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

monstersandmaw · 1 year

Text

Male fox spirit x female reader (nsfw)

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

___

Commission #4 in the list of 5! Thank you for trusting me with your prompt: female reader saves a dying fox on her way home from work, who turns out to be a fox spirit. I hope you like it!

Contents: Fox suffers a spinal injury when hit by a car (not the reader’s); there’s some magic; some domestic fluff; oral sex, fingering, him coming on her; and a sweet, fluffy ending.

Wordcount: 4400

Driving rain greeted you full in the face as you shoved open the main doors of the building and burrowed down into your coat, drawing the hood tight around your head in a vain attempt to keep the weather out. Nights like this — cold, damp, and at the tail end of winter before Spring took a proper hold on the land — were truly miserable.

Your fingers were half frozen by the time you had fumbled the keys out of your pocket and clambered into your car, and you fired the old thing up with a hopeful grimace that it would start. It coughed to life and you uttered a little prayer of thanks to whichever gods or spirits out there might be listening. “Now if only you could do something about my pathetic love life as well,” you said to yourself as you reversed out of the parking space and headed towards the main road. “Wouldn’t that be perfect?”

Half an hour outside of town, your headlights flashed over something lying on the side of the road, sprawled halfway across the white line, and you swerved instinctively to avoid it. Mercifully there was nothing coming in the other direction, or you’d have caused a serious accident. Adrenaline spiked through you and you slammed on the brakes.

The flash of golden-red you’d glimpsed had told you it was a fox, but it had had its head raised and it had been looking at you with its eyes flaring yellow in the headlights, but the expression on its face had struck you to the core. It had looked… resigned. Like it knew you were going to hit it. Like it knew it was going to die.

“No,” you said through gritted teeth.

You had some old work gloves in the back of the car from when you’d taken a load of stuff from the garden to the dump a week before, so you put your hazards on and slid out of the driver’s side door and into the worsening storm. You cursed softly, squinting amid the stinging rain as it struck your face like little iron nails in the gusty night. You cleared a space in the trunk for the fox, spreading an old picnic blanket out and grabbing those thick leather gloves. No need to get rabies if the thing bit you before you could get it to an animal clinic in the morning.

You knew it was a stupid thing to do, that cars hit wildlife all the time, and you really weren’t equipped to deal with it, but you couldn’t just leave it there when it had looked so sad; black ears drooping, eyes wide, mouth slightly open.

Making your way along the edge of the deserted road with only your phone torch to light the way, you found the spot where the fox was still lying on the asphalt, and crooned softly to it. “Hey there,” you said, feeling a bit silly. “It’s ok. I’m not going to hurt you. It’s alright. Let me help you out… Let me take you home and see if I can take you to a vet in the morning…”

When your light found its back legs though, your heart sank. They lay limp and slightly twisted to one side. Its back had been broken by the impact with a vehicle.

“Oh baby,” you said, fighting sudden tears. “It’s going to be ok…” you lied.

Was it like with humans? Should it not be moved with a spinal injury? It would probably die anyway, or they’d recommend putting it down. You could at least take it in and keep it warm for its last few hours. When you knelt nearby, it just laid its cheek down on the cold tarmac, defeated, and let out a long, broken whimper.

“I’m going to pick you up, ok? Please don’t bite me. God, this is such a stupid thing to do…”

The fox licked its shiny black nose and just blinked slowly at you.

When it made no move to attack you or snap at you when you got nearer, you scooped it up and marvelled at how light it felt in your arms, its lovely, russet fur damp and matted.

“There,” you said, cradling it in your arms as you carried it back to your car. ‘Him’, not ‘it’, you saw when you set him down on the blanket and stroked his head and neck. He murmured softly, the sound almost a purr, and you swallowed thickly. He was so weak, you wondered if he’d even survive the journey home.

Five cars overtook you as you drove on after that, all beeping and honking their horns and flashing their lights to get you to go faster, but you absolutely would not be bullied into making this last car ride hell for the little, injured fox.

It didn’t take very long to set up a cosy den of blankets and towels in the kitchen by the radiator, and when you were satisfied that it was as comfortable as you could make it — and that any mess would be contained in an area with tile floors — you went back for him. He was still lying on his side, exactly as you’d left him, but his eyes seemed brighter and more focused, and his ears pricked up when you opened the trunk up and gazed down at him.

“Alright?” you asked and he gave a soft snuffle that was half-sneeze and half-chuckle. “You’re awfully perky for someone who’s just gone head-to-head with fast-moving traffic, buddy,” you smiled. “Maybe you will be alright. Ready to go inside?”

You had your gloves on but it didn’t feel like you really needed them, and when you settled him down on the veritable blanket fort inside, he heaved a great sigh and nuzzled his cheek against the fabric with a rumbling moan of contentment.

“You hungry?” you asked. “I don’t have much that’s fox-friendly, but I think there’s some ham in the fridge. Let me check.”

You offered him a saucer of water first, holding his delicate head up as he lapped steadily at it until he’d had his fill, and then you fed him little slivers of cooked ham which he took from your fingers like an absolute gentleman. “Aren't you dainty,” you chuckled as his small, sharp teeth pulled the next piece carefully free of your gloved hand.

He fixed you with such a flat, patronising look that you had to laugh.

The fox flicked an ear and looked away.

“Oh I’m sorry,” you said in a baby voice. “Don’t be grumpy with me, you precious thing… Here, have some more…”

He sneezed, then looked back at you and opened his mouth, head tipped back like a baby bird awaiting a worm.

“You’re not going to take it? You want me to feed you?”

He just stared at you without moving.

“Fine, your highness,” you said. “Anything for you.”

You let the piece drop into his tilted jaws, and then chucked him affectionately under the chin with your finger after he’d chewed and swallowed it.

He caught the leather of the glove’s fingertip in his teeth in a move that was so fast you didn’t even see it, but then tugged gently, insistently.

“I’m not taking this off,” you frowned. “You could have rabies for all I know.”

A tiny, rattling growl, like the world’s tiniest chainsaw, rumbled out of him and he folded his ears back indignantly before pulling on the glove again. Then he let go, his ears pricked about as far forward as he could get them, and he stared expectantly at you.

“No way, friend,” you said, and stood to put the empty ham packet in the rubbish bin.

With your back to the kitchen window, a golden light flooded the room, and for a wild moment, you thought someone was driving straight at the house, headlights blazing. When you whipped around though, you froze. The light was coming from… from the fox.

“The fuck…?”

Your heartbeat started to race, and you weren’t sure if the ringing sound was coming from your own blood pounding in your ears or from something else in the room. The brightness reached such an intense crescendo that you had to look away, shielding your eyes with the crook of your arm until the chiming noise stopped and you lowered it cautiously back down, blinking.

There, standing in the centre of the room, was a man.

You took a step back, fear crashing in on your senses.

You looked around for something you could use as a weapon, but a warm, gentle voice said, “Wait, I won’t hurt you. I swear it.”

Again, you went still, and after taking a steadying breath, you turned to face him again, wide eyed and shaking. “What the hell?”

“Not hell,” he smiled, and you saw that he had warm, tan skin and dark, golden eyes. His hair was a russet colour, and it fell in soft waves around his ears to the nape of his neck. He was slender, not especially tall, and he was quite possibly the most beautiful human being you’d ever laid eyes on. Except… there was still a kind of glow around him, like an aura, and his clothes looked like they belonged at a Ren Faire or something, though the dark green, belted and embroidered tunic was finely tailored and his dark brown boots looked soft and well worn. Tiny points of light, like fireflies, twisted slowly through the air surrounding him before vanishing into a miniature, glittering starburst.

“You’re not human,” you said, despite how crazy it sounded.

“No,” the man replied with a smile. “No, I’m not. But you didn’t know that when you took in an injured fox and cared for him.”

“You’re the fox,” you blurted without thinking.

“I am. Sort of,” he smiled, and you saw that he had perfect, white teeth, with slightly more pointed canines than humans usually did. “I’m a fox spirit. There are all sorts of us, and we’re known by many names all over the world, but the most famous is probably the ‘kitsune’ thanks to modern media.”

“Oh,” you said, only half aware that your vision was darkening around the edges until it was too late. The blood roared again in your ears and your knees went out from under you. The last thing you saw was a flicker of a frown on the man’s — kitsune’s — face before he lunged towards you with hands outstretched, and the world went black.

You stirred and found yourself lying on the sofa in your sitting room, with your feet raised about a foot or so off the seat cushion, and a stranger in green standing over you, holding your legs up by the ankle. The kitsune. The fox spirit.

“Got to say, that’s the first time someone’s actually fainted because of me,” he said with a smile, lowering your legs back down and stepping back. “Are you alright?”

“I fainted?” you asked stupidly, pushing yourself upright and swinging your legs slowly off the sofa and onto the ground. You swayed a little, but didn’t pass out again.

The fox spirit nodded, his lovely hair shining with strands of bronze and copper in the low light of the room, gold eyes glowing as if back-lit. “Thank you for saving me,” he said in a quiet, earnest baritone.

“Did I, though?” you asked, staring openly at him. “I mean… you’re… magic, right? I saw the way your legs were just… Your back was broken…”

“If you’d hit me with your car, or simply left me there for the next driver to do the same, then I wouldn’t have survived. We’re tough, and our magic can heal most things, but not that.”

“Oh.” And then your cheeks went hot and you looked at the carpet, “I’m sorry I baby-talked you like you were an actual animal.”

He laughed; a beautiful, bright sound like dry autumn leaves in clear sunlight. His head tipped a little way back and he looked truly delighted. “You weren’t to know,” he said, still chuckling. “And you’re not the first.”

“Oh,” you said, like a broken record.

From where he stood nearby, the fox spirit smiled at you and then inhaled deeply. “I… should go,” he said, his golden eyes turning a little sad. “Let you return to your life…”

“Wait,” you called from the sofa as he turned away. “What’s your name?”

He cast you a look over his shoulder and the smile he gave you was wry and amused. “You may call me Rowe.”

There was a nuance there that you weren’t understanding, but you told him your name in return, and he inhaled suddenly as if you’d struck him.

“You would part with your name so carelessly?” he whispered, brows pulling together into a frown of utter confusion. “You…” and then his expression cleared and his shoulders dropped. “You have never had dealings with the fae, have you?”

“The… fae?” you stuttered. “Like… fairies?”

The smile that replaced the frown was patient and amused in equal parts, and he sighed and shook his head. “Well, here’s your first lesson. Never tell your true name to a fae.”

Again, all the sound that escaped you was a dull, “Oh.”

He exhaled and approached you, and you tried not to lean back, to lean away from him. This whole night had gone from bad to utterly bizarre in the blink of an eye and you felt a little sick from the whiplash.

To make matters all the more confusing, the strange man knelt before you, sweeping his long, otherworldly tunic out of the way as he sank down onto one knee like he was going to propose or something, and he bowed his auburn head. “You saved my life without thought of debt or repayment, and in recognition of the gift, I give one of my own. I bind your True Name to my heart and hold it there in silence. I may never speak your True Name aloud unless you give me leave so to do. This I swear upon my spirit and my magic and my own True Name.”

The air in the room prickled like static and you had to fight the urge to see if your hair was standing on end. Goosebumps flickered along your arms and legs, and you drew in a shallow breath. “Anything else I should know about?” you asked faintly.

He looked up at you and shrugged. “We’re allergic to iron,” he suggested. “And we’re overly fond of cream and sweet cakes…”

“Sweet cakes,” you repeated thoughtfully, eyes drifting towards the kitchen where you’d bought a strawberry sponge cake just the day before, and an idea half-formed in your head.

Rowe smiled and your heart slipped sideways in your chest for a moment. He was so beautiful it was almost hard to believe he was really there and really standing in front of you. Well, technically he was kneeling like a knight in a fairytale. Fairytale indeed, you thought.

“You don’t have to go,” you whispered.

You were afraid of sounding childish, that if you spoke too loudly, he would think you desperate and would laugh at you, but all he did was tilt his head to the side the way he had done as a fox, and he nodded once. “Alright,” he said.

“I mean, don’t feel like you have to stay either,” you babbled, making a rather pathetic, flapping gesture in front of you with your hands. “I just meant… you’re welcome to stay if you want to. I was going to cook some dinner and watch a movie… eat cake for dessert. I thought… I thought since you’ve had kind of a rough day, you might like to just… chill out with me for a while.”

“May I help you cook?”

“If you… If you’d like to?” you said, standing carefully and holding your hand out to him to encourage him up off the floor.

He slid his warm fingers into your palm, and got to his feet with the grace of a prince, and offered you another smile. “I’d like that very much.”

Rowe stayed with you for a week. You explained that you had to go to work or you’d get fired, and when you came back on the first day, you expected him to have gone, leaving you wondering if the whole thing hadn’t been a hallucination brought on by the combination of a stressful week of work and the awful weather. But no, Rowe was there that evening, curled up as a fox on the impromptu bed you’d made by the radiator while the rain hurled itself at the window pane above him.

“Rowe, you don’t have to sleep on that!” you gasped, dropping your bag by the door and making him startle awake, ears pricked, tail fluffed up in rather adorable alarm.

In a flash of gold light, he was human again, standing beside the bed and smiling at you. “I don’t mind,” he chuckled. “It’s comfortable, and when I’m a fox, I don’t think in quite the same way as I do when I’m in this form. That’s how I got hit by the car in the first place… Please, don’t fret.”

You scowled at him, but relented, and asked him about his day. It seemed he’d spent most of it in his fox form, either out and about in the woods near your house, or sleeping by the warmth of the radiator.

“Didn’t you get bored here?” you asked.

“I could have done the housework for you,” he smirked. “But I thought that might have been an intrusion on your privacy.”

You laughed. “Thanks?”

After three days of sharing your space with him — he sleeping contentedly as a fox on the pile of blankets and you upstairs in your bedroom — you cleared your throat that evening as you sat together on the sofa like old friends, and said, “You know… uh… I… I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to come upstairs with me… I don’t want you to feel like you have to sleep down here like you’re a…” you trailed off, flushing hot with awkward embarrassment.

One russet-brown eyebrow climbed a little higher than the other. “… a what?”

“Like you’re some kind of pet… you know…”

Rowe laughed and, as it always did, your heart skipped a beat. His cheeks dimpled and Adam’s apple danced in his exposed throat and you ached. It felt like a long time since someone had touched you; since you’d been held, let alone kissed. He had a beautiful mouth, like he’d been made just to tempt you.

Some of your thoughts must have shown on your face because the laughter died in his throat and he fixed you with a look that was all concern. He murmured the name you’d given him permission to use when it was just the two of you and asked, “What’s wrong? I’m not upset about the animal comment,” he said, reaching for your forearm and trying to reassure you, but you shook your head. “Then what?”

Tears came unbidden to your eyes and you turned away. His hand felt hot through the fabric of your hoodie, but his grip was feather light. It would take nothing at all to pull yourself free, but the thought of it seemed overwhelming. “It’s nothing,” you choked, pressing your lips together and hoping he’d let the matter drop.

He didn’t. His eyes flared bright gold and he scowled at you when you risked a glance at him. “The fae can always taste a lie,” he said with the slightest growl to his voice. “And I can tell you’re hurting. We were laughing, and then… you weren’t. What changed?”

“It’s —”

A short, animal growl echoed in his throat but he bit it back, shut his mouth with a click of teeth, and glared at you.

“Ugh, fine,” you huffed, standing up and pacing across the room. “It’s been a long time since it’s been this easy around someone, ok? And it’s not every day that a handsome, cute guy with a great sense of humour shows genuine interest in me. I just wished, for like half a second, that you might be interested in me, but I get it. You’re not even human. I was nice to you. You probably feel obliged to stay here. You… You should probably go soon anyway.”

His expression turned from concerned to carefully neutral, and he stood. “If that’s the way you feel,” he said, “Then I can leave. But you should know that I’ve had a wonderful time with you, and…” he swallowed and took a breath, “I think you’re beautiful, through and through.”

“Please,” you scoffed. “Don’t bother trying to spare my feelings.”

“We can taste a lie, but we cannot tell one,” he said evenly. “I could not tell you that your clothes are yellow when they are not, nor that the sky is green, nor that you are not beautiful.”

You turned slowly around to look at him, and found him glowing gold again, those points of light spiralling lazily in the air around him. The slight shape of fox ears seemed to be picked out in two, brighter lines above his copper hair and behind him you saw a golden tail swaying back and forth. His eyes blazed bright like burnished bronze, and he was staring directly at you as he spoke.

“Oh.”

“I would very much like to stay with you, and share your bed, and, if you would let me, I would bring you pleasure too.”

Your breath hitched and you licked your lips. He even spoke like he was out of a fairytale. “You mean it?”

“Yes.”

“Ok,” you smiled.

Together, you tidied up the sitting room, and he followed you upstairs, still glowing softly, as if he were utterly contented and couldn’t help it.

Rowe undressed with you in your bedroom, baring a body like polished bronze; all lean lines and languid muscle, and you almost couldn’t look away. He asked if he could shower with you, and gently washed you and touched you, cupping your breasts and trailing his hands down your sides with reverent care. He passed his thumbs over your hardened nipples and kneaded your breasts until you gasped and tipped your head back, eyes closed. He teased between your legs with his fingertips, and then when you turned the shower off, he kissed your forehead. In a rush of magic, both your bodies were completely dry and your skin glowed softly with a thousand, dewy, golden sparkles. You beamed up at him, and he kissed you.

When he drew back, he led you by the hand into the bedroom and you lay down on the bed, heart racing. He knelt between your parted knees and you stared openly at his beautiful body. He looked like a statue come to life, and his cock had been more than half-hard ever since the shower, even as he turned his attention wholly on you and skimmed his palms up your thighs. You parted your legs a little wider for him and he bowed forward to kiss along your inner thigh until you shivered and lay back on the pillow behind you with a gasp.

He kissed you and tasted you, moaning softly before letting his tongue sweep up over you. He took your sensitive clit between his lips and kissed you there as well, and then he slid his arms under your thighs, lay down on his front, and you lost yourself to the pleasure of his mouth.

You lost count of how many times he made you come that night, with his tongue and with his fingers, but he never asked for more than you were ready to give.

“Come on me,” you murmured. You had no idea how well your current contraception would withstand a magical fae, but you were pretty sure you were safe with that, and when you asked, he nodded.

His fingers were slick from where he’d made you come, again, and he closed his hand around his cock with a low groan that dissolved into a gasp as he brought himself to the brink. He glowed gold again and you saw those ears made of light and the tail gleaming vividly behind him just as he spilled over your stomach with a muted grunt and another beautiful moan.

The golden light suffused the room, and you watched his expression as he came — open and vulnerable and achingly beautiful — and wished more than anything that he would stay.

When you woke in the morning, you expected to wake alone, but the warm pressure of Rowe’s body pressed against your back and the weight of his arm across your waist drew a little inhale of surprise from you. Apparently that was enough to wake him, because he kissed the back of your head and mumbled a sleepy good morning into your hair.

He was hard too, you realised, and you deliberately rocked your hips back against him.

Rowe let out a grunt and his hand shifted to your hips, drawing himself closer to you with a languid, answering roll of his hips.

“I don’t know if the fae have weekends,” you said, “But today is Saturday. I don’t have to go in to work…”

“Good,” he said. “I’m not sure I could let you go anywhere today after last night.” He said it with a laugh that told you he would let you do anything you liked, and you rolled over to face him. The softness in his smile brought one of your own to your lips, and he slid his hand down over your breast and then down between your legs.

Your eyes fluttered closed as he slipped his fingers easily inside you, and you rolled onto your back as he started a rhythm that would end in the kind of pleasure you had only ever dreamed of before him.

He smiled and kissed your cheek without his fingers once faltering, and whispered in your ear, “I’ll stay with you as long as you want me.”

You gasped and bucked, and almost missed his promise.

“I’ll stay with you forever.”

Thanks for reading this story, and I hope you’ll consider reblogging it (as well as leaving a like) if you enjoyed it, since that will help others find it.

Take care, and I hope you have a lovely day/night wherever you are, and whenever you read this.

Masterlist | Ko-fi (tip jar) | Library/Story Archive Blog

#kitsune #male kitsune #male fox spirit #fox spirit #fox shapeshifter #fae #shapeshifter #male kitsune x female reader #female reader #male fae x female reader #fae x reader #exophilia #monster boyfriend #kitsune boyfriend

1K notes · View notes

kimsokol · 5 months

Text

After lo these many years my commissions queue is completely clear for once! (As of Dec 7, 2023). Seemed time to make a new post; if you get on now, I might even be able to get something for you in time for a Christmas gift! I do a lot of Star Wars OCs, and I'm always happy to, but I'd also love to get some more fantasy-type characters to work on! :)

If you want something more complicated than above:

These are my terms for character commissions specifically. If you're looking for a scene with a background, prices will rise pretty quickly, as putting together a whole illustration is a different process! Also, these are for personal use only, not for publication; I'm a full-time illustrator, though, and always looking for professional work! Get in touch!

Availability & Timing:

I don’t have a slot system and usually don’t open and close commissions (unless I get REALLY busy) but I’m a full-time illustrator so if you contact me when I’m booked up, there may be a delay. I can let you know and get back to you when I’m available.

I aim for 3 weeks for rough / 3 weeks for final; if things get busier than I expect it may take longer but I’ll communicate. (If you have a deadline, i.e. it’s a gift, let me know. If you need it very quickly and I have the availability, we can work out a rush fee.)

Will Draw:

Human and humanoid OCs - fantasy, sci-fi, historical, etc

Portraits of real people - ONLY with hi resolution, well-lit reference; commission may be turned down if reference provided is not enough for a good painting.

Won't Draw:

Furries/anthro (just bad at animal heads!)

NSFW

How To Get One:

Contact me via email (kim at kimsokol dot com) to let me know roughly what you’re looking for, and I’ll let you know if I can take it. You don’t need to send a long description with reference in initial contact, but at least give me a general sense of what you want.

Once I accept, I'll send you a form to get your character information and make sure we're both clear on terms

Send payment via Paypal, and I’ll get going on your rough!

#commissions #art commissions #open commissions #commissions open #artists on tumblr #illustrators on tumblr #fantasy art #star wars #signal boosts appreciated!!

220 notes · View notes

writingquestionsanswered · 2 months

Note

How many words is too many? I have written over 80,000 words already and don't have a computer to edit properly. I've already decided to split the story among multiple books. But how many should each be? I am aiming for a basic novel to a little bit longer, but as a first-time author, I don't want to write something too long and not get anyone to read it.

Finding Your Story's Target Word Count

"How many words is too many" depends on what you're writing. Every type of story and every genre has a different word count range, and the specific ranges vary depending on who you ask. Here are some general ranges you can target...

Story Type:

Short Stories - 1,000 - 5,000 words Novellas - 20,000 to 50,000 words Novels - 50,000 - 110,000 words Epic Novel - 110,000 words and up (though these are rare)

Age Category:

Middle Grade novels - 25,000 - 40,000 words Young Adult novels - 45,000 - 80,000 words New Adult novels - 60,000 - 85,000 words Adult novels - 65,000 - 110,000

Genre:

Literary novels - 80,000 to 110,000 words Romance novels - 50,000 to 80,000 words Fantasy novels - 90,000 to 110,000 words Mystery novels - 70,000 to 90,000 words

It's important to remember that a book series isn't one long novel chopped up into smaller books. Each book in a series needs to have its own story arc. In other words, a beginning/inciting incident, middle/rising action, and end/climax and denouement. That said, you will need to look at the completed story and identify the natural story arcs that exist within it to figure out where each book should end and the next book should begin.

Something else to consider is your publishing goal. If you plan on pursuing traditional publishing, you might look into writing an in-depth summary of the entire story and working with a developmental editor or book coach to figure out how to best divvy up the story between books. That way, you'll ensure that book one is as strong as it can be, which will increase the likelihood of getting a book deal. After that, if your book sells well enough to warrant the publishing of the next book, you will have some guidance on where to go from there.

If you're planning to self-publish, you can still look into working with an editor or book coach, or even a critique partner, or you can just make the best decision you're able to about how to divide each book. Again, what matters is that each part of the story centers on its own individual story arc.

Something else to consider: if you have a really long story that you want to chop up into pieces rather than individual books, you might look into posting it as a serial on a site like Wattpad, Kindle Vella, Ream, or similar services. Serialization allows you to take a long story and chop it up into sizeable pieces, such as "episodes," and then you don't have to worry so much about dividing it up into books with their own individual story arcs.

One final consideration: Not having the ability to edit properly is not an excuse to publish an unedited work of fiction. No one wants to read an unedited story, even if it's chopped up into pieces. If you want to publish this story, whether online, traditionally, or self-published, you need to find a way to edit it properly and make sure you're putting a tight and polished version of the story out into the world.

Here are some additional links:

Self-Editing Tips Editing Tips Ten Ways to Cut Your Word Count

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

LEARN MORE about WQA

SEE MY ask policies

VISIT MY Master List of Top Posts

COFFEE & FEEDBACK COMMISSIONS ko-fi.com/wqa

#wqaadvice

137 notes · View notes

justladders · 6 months

Text

Hello! I’m Ladders :)

I'm just here stylizing some fnaf characters and mostly drawing the evil green rabbit like an animated villain.

Basically, I always loved animated shows and movies. They're why I started drawing when I was little, and I still watch and pull ideas from that kind of stuff to this day. Classic Disney's my fav, so you might see me talking about it sometimes. Anyways, since villains are my favorite and since I've starting drawing fnaf stuff, it's mainly been art of Springtrap, which you'll see a lot here.

If you're ever just looking for my art, the tag is #laddersarts. More tag stuff at the bottom of the post. Also, love asks, but please be considerate about the ask box, ty.

Do not repost my art anywhere, even with credit. I'm fine with it being used for things like a profile picture/banner as long as it is credited.

vv FAQ / TAG GUIDE vv

Q: What art program do you use? Krita. It's free and it "works," which is all I ask for.

Q: Do you do commissions? This answer will change around: currently, no. I've been meaning to, honestly, but just haven't felt collected enough to make a comm sheet and whatnot. Hopefully I'll be able to update this soon though.

Q: What are your other socials? I currently don't have any others, so if you see my art somewhere else, it's stolen :)

Q: Why do you draw [insert character] like that? I normally get this question about Springtrap, but I like to make designs that lend themselves more to 2D animation, which means simplifying a lot of things and hopefully still being able to get the point across. Too much detail and it becomes complicated very quickly. Fnaf animatronics/characters lend themselves really nicely to stylization because of how simple in concept they are overall. They're also left up to a lot of different characterization potential, not just from their simple designs, but the fact that they don't really get super hard-established personalities. Basically, all of that comes together into me enjoying taking a base concept and turning it into something you could potentially see in some older hand-drawn cartoon. As far as *specific* choices for how I draw *specific* characters, I feel like those would each need their own posts especially for Springtrap since I draw him the most. I know I'll have to make that sometime.

Q: Can I draw fanart of your designs? Of course! I'd just like to be credited and tagged so I can see it and reblog it :D

Tag Guide laddersarts and not my art - arts that I post or ones that I reblog (my art tag is all stuff since I got back earlier this year, art before that I just tagged as "my art") justtalks and talkin disney - indulgent tangents justfrens - things from peeps I know and whatnot answered ask - stuff from the inbox goofies - silly stuff midnight magma things - arts from group canvas drawing fanart for me :0 - fanarts of my designs!!!!! :0 present for springtrap :) - ask series where y'all wanted to give Springtrap something nice (there's a line formed and I just get to them whenever I'm up for it, but feel free to add to it) alt springtrap - art of goofy alternate versions of Springtrap I make sometimes: there's currently Vamptrap, Mothtrap, Jackotrap, and ERRORtrap (suggestive, eyestrain, flashing, gore, and all that stuff some people might not want to see I will hopefully remeber to tag)

#pinned #pinned post

149 notes · View notes

if-you-built-yourself-a-myth · 21 days

Text

I was going to make a whole big analysis post about it but fuck it.

Does anyone else find it odd that the White Death is supposedly just the Dark King’s method of securing an army, but the Lady also uses it to return Visander? And while the army might belong to the Dark King, he didn’t use that method to restore himself or James, even though it would ensure he kept his memories and would make his return much quicker? I would say he needed to be Reborn to keep his power, except Visander is as formidable a warrior in Katherine’s body as he was in his own, so.

Idk something about the Lady’s familiarity with the concept of Returning, combined with the coincidence that the Sun King built his palace over a prison pit perfect for restoring an army, tells me that the Lady and Sarcean might have worked on the White Death together, possibly on the Sun King’s commission.

Furthermore, we know that everyone is still using the Dark King’s magic (the cup, the brand—hell, James connects to Will’s magic to amplify his own). The Sun King surrounded himself with the magically gifted. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Sun King was using Sarcean as his own magical wellspring, striking him down when he realized that Sarcean had the capabilities to overthrow his power.

I really like the idea of the White Death as a weapon that “belonged” to the Sun King because they created it on his order, bastardized by Sarcean in reaction. What if he wasn’t building an army with the White Death, but repurposing a plan already set in motion?

#dark heir #dark heir spoilers #james st clair #will kempen #cs pacat #analysis #listen I know something is up with the Sun King #cs pacat loves to overturn expectations #I still think Sarcean is morally grey at best #dark rise

61 notes · View notes

drabblesandimagines · 3 months

Text

Gift

Clive Rosfield x female reader, 2,856 words Commissioned by the lovely @kianaflame23 who has kindly given permission for me to share with you all x

You’re up before sunrise, which isn’t unusual. There’ll be an abundance of tasks to do in the Hideaway and you’ve never been one to shy away from work, even if some would claim your Name Day to be the perfect excuse to neglect any semblance of responsibility in favour of celebration.

Not for you – you’d never been all too fussed about it, nor the attention that came along with it, not even as a child growing up in Rosalith. Every year, your mother would hold afternoon tea in celebration, though you never had a say in who was invited, or in any gifts you might receive. It was always the same - dresses of fine silks, jewelry, delicate tea sets, fine threads for your embroidery lessons…

When all you really wanted was the freedom to run around in the fields of the duchy, rough-housing with the boys, ditch your needle and thread for something bigger and sharper within the training pits.

The last Name Day you had somewhat celebrated had been years ago now, though in some ways it had proved to be the most memorable one. It started off as the usual affair of being fussed over by noble ladies, some who still insisted on pinching your cheek as if you were still a babe, commenting on how you had grown into such a fine young woman, and how surely a courtship would be announced forthwith.

You’d asked your mother how true that was after the guests had left, wringing your hands together behind your back so she couldn’t scold you for it.

“Don’t worry, darling,” she’d replied with an assured smile. “Such a decision won’t be made without your father present.”

It hadn’t reassured you at all.

That night, you’d clambered out of your window cautiously after your household had retired. All day, you’d gone along with your mother’s whims with no complaint, surely you could permit yourself this – the gift you really wanted. The streets of the Rosalith are quiet this evening, some Shields posted out by the front gate, some by the main castle itself but neither of those are your destinations. You make for one of the training pits that’s nestled away against the city’s walls, near one of the stables. It’s smaller than the main one the Shields frequent. The real swords will be locked away, but the wooden ones would remind in their racks, so what would be the harm of you having a play?

You pick up the training sword and pretend to thrust and parry, trying to recall the few techniques your father had entertained you with years ago when you were young and pulling at the hem of his robes to be taught, just like all the boys were. It’s not as entertaining without an opponent, but you still feel the exhilarating thrill as you pretend. In the peace of the night, there’s a scuff of a foot against the cobbled streets and you spin on your heels, hiding the wooden sword behind your back. Your eyes soon widen at the figure before you, who looks rather startled in return.

“Lord Rosfield, my sincere apologies. I thought-”

He smiles bashfully, rubbing a hand on the back of his head. “No, please forgive me for startling you, my lady. I thought I would have the pit to myself at this late hour, though I appear mistaken.”

“A reasonable thought, of course. I will go.”

“No.” He says, perhaps a little too quickly. “I mean, please do not leave on my account.”

“You have greater need of it than me.” The sentence sounds wrong as soon as you say it. “Not that I mean you’re not skilled in swordplay, you are the First Shield after all, just tha-“

Clive puts up his hand, cutting you off with a smile. “I understand.” He lifts the latch on the gate and enters the pit. “Though I must ask, what brings you here at such a late hour?”

“It is my Name Day,” you confess – something about the look in his eyes makes you truthful. Clive has always been sweet in your limited interactions with him, ever the gentleman, kind with the Bearers of the duchy too. “Mother has started talking of suitors. I wanted to do something that I’d truly enjoy today at least, as a gift to myself before I cannot. I suppose it is childish.”

“Not at all.”

“It is, though. When I was little, I wanted to fight.” You laugh at your foolishness. “There are no female Shields in Rosaria, never have been.”

“Not yet.” He corrects with a smile. “You could be the first, if that is truly what your heart desires.”

“Even if I could find someone willing to train me, it is far too late.”

Clive muses for a moment, before heading over to the training rack and picking up a wooden sword of his own. “You said it is your Name Day – well, I’d be remiss not to offer a gift.”

“Oh, no, I-“

“A sparring lesson – a gift to you as much as it is to me.”

And thus had begun a series of late night pit meetings with one Clive Rosfield.

“My lord,” Ser Tyler murmurs in his ear. “I do believe we are being followed.”

Clive spins on his heels, his knuckles turning white from how hard his grip is on the hilt of his sword, his brow now furrowed. It is his first command, he’s only so far out of the gates and he’s already missed danger? All such feelings of failure are extinguished when he spots the pursuer. Barely obscured behind a tree he sees you, sticking out like a sore thumb.

Clive releases his grip on his weapons and nods to the two Shields. “Permit me a moment.”

“Of course, my lord.”

You remain standing there, sheepishly wringing your hands as he approaches, fearing of a scolding, of interrupting the duchy’s duty as you are not quite able to decipher the expression on his face.

“My lady, I beg you - what drove you to leave the city? It is not safe out here.” His expression turns to one of pure concern, his eyes flitting around you in order to quell any such danger that might be lurking.

“You did not say goodbye.” You pout, feeling childish now you’ve said it aloud. He hadn’t shown at the pit last night and it was only this morning you’d found the reason why – they were to make for Phoenix Gate.

He feels a warmth prickle over his cheeks and hopes you do not spot it. “True. I did not say it… but only because it is not goodbye.”

“It’s not?”

“No, for I will return anon. You have my word.”

You hesitate, wondering if your next question will be out of turn. “How can you be so sure?”

His hand falls to his side then on a dagger Elwin had given him when Joshua had awoken as the Phoenix. Its only value was sentimental – the dagger having been Elwin’s own as a young lad. It is sturdy and deadly sharp still, and though he still favours the sword in combat, it holds a dear place in his heart.

The same very space that you seem to be burrowing into.

Clive offers the blade out to you, hilt first. “Here, for if my lady has my dagger, then I must return in order to retrieve it.”

“I couldn’t.”

“I insist. As a Shield of Rosaria, we swear on our blades,” he pats the hilt of his sword with his other hand. “And for my return, I swear on my dagger.”

You reach out for it, fingers curling around the hilt. You make sure the blade is clear of his fingers before you withdraw, feeling the weight in your hand.

“I will hold you to this.”

“I’d expect nothing less.” He smiles. “May I escort you back to the gates?”

“No. Thank you”, you hastily add. “You have your command – I’ve already held it up. Besides,” you smile as you slide the dagger into your belt. “I have this now, if I am to encounter any bandits.”

Clive’s eyes widen at the idea – a protest on the tip of his tongue. They could still make it back to the gates and then reach the village befor-

Something warm and soft on his skin interrupts his thoughts. You’re stood to his side, standing on your tip toes, having pressed a kiss to his cheek. Stepping back with a grin, you turn and sprint back up the path, back towards Rosalith.

Clive touches his cheek where your lips had pressed.

“My lord, is all well?” Ser Tyler’s voice calls from down the path.

Clive wipes the smitten smile off his face – time to concentrate.

The night of Phoenix Gate changed everything.

It took your father away, the Grand Duke, the Phoenix too perished in the attack…

And sweet Clive.

Your mother was lost when the Iron Blood invaded. Aided by the techniques Clive had taught you in the training pit, the lend of his dagger and some luck, you’d escaped the bloodshed and the city, fleeing the only home you’d ever known.

You’d made your way to Port Isolde, seeking refuge – a new start. Your mother had enjoyed the markets there, so much so you’d often spend weeks staying with some distant uncle or aunt, and you thought perhaps you could seek pity off a friendly face there. Imperial guards had shooed you away at the gate, beggars weren’t welcome.

There had been talk of a tunnel from the Lazarus District into Port Isolde, you vaguely recalled, from some of your older peers. Boys sneaking into the city to escape their parents’ watchful eyes. The place had been all but abandoned when you’d clambered over the wall, deciding to seek shelter for the night before properly exploring for a route in the morning.

And that’s when you’d met Ser Wade and a few other Shields, battered and bruised but alive, trying to regroup – later to become the Guardians of the Flame.

You’re leaned over the map that Wade has crudely put together upon, marking the points of where he plans for simultaneous attacks to be launched on the Black Shields. You hear his footsteps approach – having spent so many years fighting side by side, you’d recognize them anywhere.

“I still think this is a ridiculous plan, especially you insisting on going on y-“

You turn as you speak, but your words die on your tongue at the man who stands beyond Wade – tall, rugged, shaggy black locks over stormy blue eyes that are so very familiar.

Too familiar.

“It cannot be.” Your heart pounds in realization.

“My lady…” Clive’s eyes widen as he takes you in.

To everyone’s surprise, you drop to your knee, fumbling with something at your belt.

“Here,” you remove the dagger, offering it out to him hilt first. “I must thank you for your gift all those years ago – it has saved my life more times than I wish to count. And now I can return it to you, as promised.”

To your surprise, Clive does not take it but drops to his own knee. “I think it is best left in your possession. I would be remiss to separate the two of you now.”

“But it is…”

“Please. In fact, I insist upon it, for what is a Shield of Rosaria without their first blade?”

You swore you fell in love all over again at that moment.

You’d been at the Hideaway a few weeks now – Wade having offered your services to aid with the Cursebreakers a little too willingly to aid with a shortfall in their numbers due to injuries. You didn’t mind, though you knew Wade seemed to have ulterior motives, confessing to you over a pint at Martha’s the night before you left.

“Lord Rosfield was sweet on you – I remember that.”

“That was years ago. A different lifetime, even.” You’d corrected, but to little avail. Though the flames that you had felt for him all those years ago had reignited at your reunion, it was surely not to be.

Clive was your friend and, more than that, he was an inspiration to all those around you, fighting for a higher cause – priorities came first. There was no time for frivolities. Just having him as your friend was enough.

Or so you lied to yourself.

The day passes as it always does – there are supplies to be carried up to the stores, discussions to be had, a ride in Obolus’ skiff to the shore to forage some herbs for the infirmary – the particular herbs only to be found in a place notorious for fiends.

You hadn’t seen Clive that day, but that was not unusual. He always seemed to be pulled in different directions, barely at the Hideaway before he had to leave again.

But every time your eyes met, you were taken back to those nights in Rosalith, a blush heating your cheeks as he’d smile that charming smile of his.

“There you are,” Otto catches your attention as you head to retire to your bunk at dusk. “Clive’s looking for you – down at the pit.”

“Oh?” You look at Otto for more information, but that is all he gives.

You hurry down to the fighting pit – it’s not somewhere you’ve ventured into before, though you’ve seen some of the newer recruits practice. Clive is stood in the middle, shed of his usual leathers but still his laced white shirt. His sword is leant up against the fence and he has his hands on his hips, his eyes fixed out into the horizon.

You clear your throat as your approach and he swings around, a grin on his face.

“Thank you for coming so swiftly, my lady.” He walks forward and opens the latch on the gate, beckoning you forward as he steps to the side.

“I must say I am intrigued.” You walk into the pit, though your heart is beating with uncertainty - what is this all about?

“How could I let your Name Day pass without a gift?”

You blink – your heart skipping a beat at the fact that he remembered, even after all that time, after all that has happened and all that is happening. “Oh, no, that’s-“

“I insist. And as for this gift, well,” he walks over to his sword, “the gift I gave you on the last of your Name Days we shared together seemed to go down quite well - I thought mayhaps you’d enjoy another?”

You grin, reaching for your blade.

“To spar with you again would be an honour.”

It is not a real fight by any means – both of you too wary of hurting each other and receiving a scolding by Tarja. You hadn’t known the healer long, but long enough to fear her anger – but still it is challenging enough, especially as the pit is on the smaller side. The clash of your swords echoes across the blighted waters of the lake, grunts of exertion, sand filling your boots as you step to and fro, entering into some sort of dance as the two of you fight.

You think you’ve bested him, somehow, by the way your thrust sends him off balance and how his eyes widen with the shock of it. He reaches out and grabs for your arm, perhaps to steady himself but failing miserably, only inevitably bringing you down with him, smacking into his chest, knocking all the air out of you for a moment.

You drop your blade as you catch your breath and begin to get up, try to shuffle off of him, an apology on your tongue – though it’s hardly your fault – but the Fire Dominant wraps his arm around your waist as you attempt to do so, holding you in place.

You swallow, not sure if you’ve ever been in this close of proximity of the face that so often haunted your dreams.

“Permit me to give you one last gift, my lady?” He asks, softly – as if the position you find yourselves in is entirely normal.

“Depends on what it is.”

He smiles softly at your response. “Close your eyes and you’ll find out.”

You do – squeezing them tight to not allow a sliver of light through. You feel fingers ghost your face before a hand caresses the back of your head and, suddenly, warm, soft lips press upon yours.

You open your eyes, startled, for a moment, only to see Clive’s are firmly closed as he begins to deepen the kiss. You close yours again, reaching a hand up blindly to cup his face, kissing him back until the two of you have to retreat - breathless and dizzy with emotion.

“I know you are not a fan of your Name Day,” he presses his hand over the one you still hold against his cheek, “but I would be remiss not to celebrate the day that brought you into this world and blessed me with you, my darling one.”

Comments, likes and reblogs make my whole day x

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi/Commissions

#ghostdogwrites #clive rosfield x you #clive rosfield x reader

96 notes · View notes

crescencestudio · 7 months

Text

Devlog #35 | 09.26.23

Hi everyone!

Hope the beginning of Fall has been kind to you all <3 To be Frank, it has not been Kind to me LMFAO. But I'll get into that, so let's dive in yippee!

Before I do, someone liked this post recently, which was such a throwback. It was before the full demo was out and everything!! I was so young and full of life. I'm going to sprinkle some comparison shots of the new assets with the old ones to break up the text and also walk down memory lane with me! (Full GUI not shown as I'm still waiting on the assets)

Chapter Cards (Left: After | Right: Before)

The "Progress"

I'm going to structure this devlog a little differently from the usual template. The main reason being, for those of you who didn't see, I have not been feeling Myself recently.

This month I found myself all out of sorts. While I felt like I was making progress and doing so much everyday read: fighting for my life, when I looked back on things at the end of this month, I didn't feel like I really did much.

On a higher level, I finished fulfilling Kickstarter physical rewards, opened a Kofi shop of the remaining merch, edited Druk's route and continued writing Etza's route, updated assets and code for the updated demo, and then general commission stuff (BGs from Vui, soundtracks from Peter, etc.).

But overall, Alaris felt largely like it was kinda sitting at around the same spot as it did when I entered this month. Which made me a little sad! I had wanted to make So Much Progress on Alaris because next month I won't be able to work on it really. Then, I realized I haven't taken a break from game development since I started it two years ago HA!!!

The Real Progress

Development for me has been back-to-back. Chapter releases every 1-2 months during my first half year of development, Full Demo release shortly after, Kickstarter shortly after, Full Game Development shortly after. When I was feeling burnt out from Alaris, I made intertwine. Then I was Heavily Involved in the development of two games shortly after.

All of this on top of my IRL responsibilities, which include a job, PhD school, and well, functioning as a normal human occasionally.

And then here we are at the end of September 2023, and I'm wondering why even though I creatively want to work on Alaris, I find my brain literally just getting too tired to think.

Etza CG (Left: After | Right: Before)

I think ever since the Kickstarter, I've put a lot of pressure on myself to consistently put out LOTS of updates for each monthly devlog. I don't want people to think I'm not working on things or I'm not committed to delivering after giving me their hard earned money. But now, with two years under my belt, I'm realizing that is... HMM maybe too high of a standard to put on myself for my first game ever. There are many much more seasoned developers than me who don't put that pressure on themselves (which is Good and Healthy).

So this month, I debated scrounging around and gathering all my crumbs to give you all a devlog that you'll be satisfied with. But I decided ultimately that wouldn't be good for me and would honestly not be the most transparent way to present the current process of things.

And so. Here I am. Head in my Hands. Letting you all know that while I'm not "burnt out," I am.... only human LOL (one human at that). And so some months, like this one, will just not have much progress to report. Not because I'm not working on it or any other deeper reason. But because it's physically impossible and unreasonable for me to be continuously pushing out a steady stream of content.

In-Game Sprites & BGs (Left: After | Right: Before)

Next month, I'lll be taking a vacation. It's actually my first Big, Official one in a Long Time! I'm very excited for it. And while I did initially think about working on Alaris while I was traveling on trains or things like that, I decided to respect my own need to be a Human and just take a break for once in my life. I don't even want to say I Might work on things, because that sentiment alone will pressure me to make some progress. So yes. Next month, there will be no devlog or updates. But please rest assured, I am "working on Alaris" by letting myself just Exist and Rest Up!

Not an Alaris screenshot but it is market research that deserves to be included because I played House in Fata Morgana recently and it was Phenomenal!

Thank you all for understanding and your continued support. I'm extremely appreciative to have such a kind and patient community. Hope you all have a wonderful October filled with Fall Treats, and I'll see you in November! <3

#alaris #devlog

81 notes · View notes

cozage · 1 year

Text

Welcome to My Blog!

Hi, I’m Cozage! You can call me Coza. I’m 25, she/they pronouns are preferred, but any are fine. Right now I’m just writing for One Piece, but I’m open to writing for just about anyone within that realm. Please read this whole post before sending a message!

Requests: CLOSED

Pending requests: 50🤭

Masterlist Part 1 | Masterlist Pt 2

Are your requests open?

Not right now! Please do not send me a request when my requests are closed. I ALWAYS delete them, just to be fair. You are always welcome to send me questions and feedback on my writing or ideas for future chapters for my multifics, but please no new requests. Just because I am fulfilling requests, does not mean my requests are open!

Can I request a part 2 even when your requests are closed?

This is where it gets dicey. The simple answer is: no. HOWEVER, you can pop into my inbox and let me know that you really liked a specific story and ask if I'm going to have a part two (respectfully!) and you might convince me. Almost all of my multi-parters have come from requests, and I'm always looking for new multi-chapter fics to write :)

When do you open for requests?

I close my requests when my inbox reaches 20, and then I reopen it again when I get it back down to 5. You can check the status of my requests at the top of this post. Events have separate rules and guidelines, which are always explained in the post. If I have an event going on, it'll be tagged in the announcement section at the top of this post!

What should I include in my request?

Reader gender (if you dont specify I'll just do non-gendered), characters you want (try to limit it to 3 or 4, or else I might pick and choose from the list and omit some characters), the scenario you want, you can also clarify if you want a headcanon list or a short fic!

Edit to add: Just a friendly reminder, the more characters you add to a request, the more overwhelming it is for me (and more likely it is to get deleted! 3 characters really is the sweet spot!)

What requests do you accept?

Just about anything. I do occasionally post NSFW, but it’s always tagged and marked. I have a few hard no’s, though:

Relationship situations for minors/large age gaps, pedophilia, grooming, incest, noncon (that’s not a cohesive list, but you get the gist).

Do you write for polys?

Maybe! Polys are hard for me to write. I struggle making the relationship balance equal and keeping people in character while also doing justice to a well-written relationship w/o being too corny. But! If you send it in, I'll at least give it a shot :)

Who can I request?

Just about anyone from One Piece, and I'll do my best given the scenario. Some people I will definitely always write for and take almost any request you send are:

Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Ace, Law, Kidd, Shanks, and Buggy

Everyone else is hit or miss on if I can imagine their scenarios, but I'll do my best. Some people who I really struggle writing are: Crocodile, Doffy, Izou (And I will not write for Gol Roger ever because I hate him 💕)

How detailed should my request be?

Try to keep it a healthy medium! If there are important aspects you want to be included in your story, let me know :) But try to avoid giving me a play-by-play. That level of detail makes me feel trapped and it's hard to take a creative spin on it. If you have a story you are imagining in your head and you want someone to write it...well, have you considered being a writer? :)

I have more than one request...

Try to limit your requests to 1 or 2, please! We want room for other people to have their ideas to come to light. If you have two ideas, you need to submit two separate messages. Please do not put two story ideas together in a request, or I will just write one :)

Do you take commissions? How can I support you?

I don't take commissions yet, but I think they are in the works. When they do appear, they'll appear on my Ko-fi account (where you can also support me through donations if you so feel inclined!)

What tags do you use (for blacklisting or other purposes)?

Most of my blog is writing, but here's how I tag certain things in case you want to blacklist or follow them:

"cozage" - any type of writing for One Piece I do will have this (just to show it's my work)

"coza thoughts" - May be my daily thoughts/info about writing. No substance though, just me.

"coza asks" - messages that I get that aren't requests. Usually just me responding to people

all the pairings also get tagged as well, so if you were to search "Zoro" hashtag on my page, any fics with him would come up

Do you have an AO3?

Yes! Same name as here. I put a lot of my short multi-chapter fics there (but Tumblr gets all the updates first) BUT here’s a link to it.

Is there anything else I should know?

Please just remember that when you send me a request or a message, I may not always respond to it. I do always read them, though! I just don't always respond because I don't want to clog up my page with posts that aren't content. Don’t get me wrong, I love hearing everyone’s ideas and working together with you all to bring these ideas to life. Send the ask, let me know what you think and how you feel and all of your ideas, but remember that I’m human too! I have feelings and friends and a life outside of writing for our favorite One Piece characters. I look forward to reading your thoughts, and sharing mine with you.

Love, Coza <3

#coza thoughts #faq

277 notes · View notes

happyhappysparkle · 12 days

Text

Spark's Art Commissions

Commisions are: OPEN

What I Draw

All Fallout, all the time. I've played every Fallout in existence (except that Tactics/BoS bullshit) and I love them all - yes, even 76. Fair warning: I'm less well-versed in Fallout 1 & 2, what with it having been a couple decades since I played either.

Interested in non-Fallout art? Doesn't hurt to ask.

Who I Draw

Your Fallout OCs and fave companions. As long as it's a character I can find enough reference for online, I'm good.

Looking for more examples of my work? Here they are.

Prices

More details on what I will and won't draw, what I need from you, and other details below the cut.

Payment is currently only available through PayPal. I'm looking into other payment options, such as Ko-Fi.

What I need from you

your faceclaim(s). If they're not someone I can easily google, I will need a few clear photos from different angles. Don't have a faceclaim for your OC yet? This is a great place to start looking

in-game screenshots are sometimes useful, so include those as well if they look anything like your OC. I will always prefer real human reference though, so please give me a faceclaim!

basic details: height, build, age, hair color/texture/style, eye color, identifying marks, etc etc etc. For companions, give me your headcanons on any details not provided in-game (or if you headcanon something differently), or I'll use my own if you don't have any

what outfit(s) they wear. If it's vanilla/Creation Club/Atomic Shop, just the in-game outfit names will usually do (i'll tell you if I need more)

any personality traits, background info, or quirks you want to share are absolutely GREAT and help me breathe a little more life into a character

if I'm drawing them with a companion, tell me a little about their dynamic

Will draw:

your Fallout OCs

their companion(s) (including ghouls)

weapons

some blood/gore/injury

sfw romantic content

Difficult areas:

curly hair - I'm trying, I'm learning, but it's harder and might take me longer

Super Mutants - haven't tried yet, but it can't be that hard

artistic nudity/pinups: I'm really out of practice, I make no guarantees

Won't draw:

anything racist/queerphobic/transphobic/bigoted/etc

minors

backgrounds. There's a reason this is a serparate, specialized job in animation and comic studios

nsfw romantic/sexual content (I don't have a problem with it, it's just way outside my wheelhouse. I'm learning.)

excessive blood/gore/injury (again, outside my wheelhouse)

creatures (same reason)

IMPORTANT LEGAL STUFF

What you get

high-resolution digital art in PNG format (A4 at 200dpi for busts, A3 at 200dpi for half body and up, suitable for printing for personal use only)

If you'd like me to crop you an isolated closeup of your character for use as a profile pic, I'm happy to do so at no extra charge

What you DON'T get

the right to modify, redistribute, sell or in any way profit from the work or products derived from the work (you can share it on your socials or post it with your fanfic and that sort of thing, but you can't sell stuff or give things away with it). If you are interested in licensing for prints, stickers, or any other digital or physical merchandise (even not-for-profit), please let me know so we can discuss licensing terms. The 'no redistribution' rule does include gifting. If you're interested in, for example, printing stickers with my art to hand out at comic con or something, please contact me.

copyright/intellectual property rights. It's still my original artwork. As such, I am free to modify and distribute it in any way I see fit, including for profit.

#hpysprkl draws #apple pencil mercenary #fallout #fanart #fallout 4 #fallout 3 #fallout new vegas #fallout 2 #fallout fanart #fallout art commissions #fallout commissions #commissions open #fallout 2 fanart #fallout 3 fanart #fallout nv fanart #fallout 76 #fallout 4 fanart #fallout 76 fanart

20 notes · View notes

missbalbaquoi · 1 year

Text

like real people do - hawks/keigo takami

Keigo recalls everything that led up to this moment where you walked towards him in a little woodland chapel on your wedding day. For once in his life, he feels real.

1.5k, sfw, reader is getting married yay, based on a hozier song bc why not right, double posted on a03

Keigo paces back and forth his suite, fidgeting ever so slightly with his necktie, mumbling the vows he is to share with you during the wedding, ever so anxious about the reception, about your family, about the words he might fumble over, and most importantly, about you.

He glances at the clock to make sure he's not late or mistaking the time for something else-- the hero who's too fast should most likely be confident about his time and tardiness, but somehow, he feels the need to check the clock every now and then, as if time would pass him by and you'd leave him at the altar, your legs tired from waiting for him.

Your cousins go up to check on him and offer some consolation and comfort, words of affirmation that didn't really seem comforting at all for Keigo and just managed to spur his anxiety even further.

"She's beautiful, Takami! Like seriously-- you wouldn't recognize her. It's like she was replaced by someone else, lol."

"Literally shut up you juvenile, that's her husband you're talking to."

"Am i not right though? She was hideous to me as a baby-- don't lie ma!"

Your aunt flicks the back of your younger cousin's head and walks up to Keigo slowly, aged lines around her eyes crinkling to reveal a soft and motherly smile that eases some of the tension in the room.

Growing up, Keigo Takami was always alone, no room for family in a life of an industry hero, one groomed, made, and polished to perfection to be the ideal hero the commission trained him to be. Before there was you, there were some people that filled the emptiness in his life for a little while till they eventually and inevitably left him, unwilling to keep up with his job and with his career. Or maybe they didn't understand his need for something of his own, something that wasn't given by the commission-- something that he could call his own.

Call it cliche, selfish, or ordinary, but all Keigo Takami wanted was something real. A sense of normalcy in his life that was so carefully fragmented and intricately crafted, in his world that felt superficial, the world in which he had to cater to rankings, fans, and the commission; a place where he could stop digging his grave for a moment, for something to pull him from the sand, or for something to allow him to be vulnerable and not ask at all about the scars and where it came from, not ask about the wounds and treat him wholly, for something to be patient enough till he showcased himself. In this case, someone.

You made sure he had a place to come back to, even after he made it clear he wasn't looking for a relationship after his last one turned out to be a mess where his previous partner wouldn't stop prying about his wounds; and you made it clear that you didn't want anything with him either, you were doing this as a friend. He often flew into your small apartment while you were working, a boyish grin on his face as he toes off his boots and sets them aside, making a beeline for the kitchen where you'd already have a meal waiting for him now that his visits were frequent.

He would watch you work, nest into your side and try to read the words you were typing or the paperwork you were sorting out till he eventually fell asleep, the fatigue from his line of work getting to him before he could even go to his own place. You would sigh and throw a blanket over him and continue working.

Both of your touches never went further than the slight graze of your fingers when you read together, his hand supporting you as you try to reach up for a condiment in your cabinet, your hands burrowing themselves into his wild, unruly hair as you both watch the same old shit the TV played.

It was funny, a little tragic even, how you both were so oblivious to your feelings before you officially dated. Keigo was hesitant to push too far with you because of his past and how everyone he's been with always makes a big deal of the normal things he never had, and you were scared to throw away a friendship too good for your feelings you thought would never be reciprocated, having been abandoned and used in the past.

Eventually, fate had found its way into your arms, opened your eyes rather painfully, and you took the risk. So did Keigo.

You did not ask him where he came from, he did not ask you; you waited for him to come home, understanding the range of his career as a hero and how much it meant to him, and he treated you carefully, always making sure to show up on your doorstep no matter what. You gave him real, domestic bliss; kissed him like the morning sun kisses the sky, held him like the stars hold the moon, and loved him as deeply as the universe could ever go.

There were some fights that were unavoidable, yes; but that was all part of things that real people do. Your disagreements weren't the end, and you always had positive reinforcements and affirmations to help diffuse the situation.

You'd hold him when he shook in his sleep, caress him gently when he quietly sobbed in front of you as he told you about his past, and you reminded him that you were always going to be there for him, unwavering and unwilling to disappear.

You didn't pry about his past until he felt comfortable with you, and to be frank, you didn't really mind as long as he was and he remained here.

Your family accepted Keigo as their own, and it was the first time he felt the full force of a large family like yours when you took him home for dinner when you both had finally gone out. Your dad didn't have the bad gut feeling as he did with your past partners; your mom didn't stay silent as she had with your other partners, and they felt at ease with the man you brought home. It's as of they knew his intentions with you; the intention to love you whole-heartedly.

"Keigo, dear boy," your aunt dusted off the sleeves of his suit.

"I can hear your heartbeat," she refers to her quirk and looks at him with stern eyes. "My sister is still with your wife, dolling her up as we speak."

Keigo perks up at the mention of you as his wife, easing some of the anxiety he had stored up.

"You love her, right?" Your aunt asks with the voice she used to chastise you with when you were younger.

Keigo breathes out a sigh as he pictures you in a white dress, joyful and bright, and suddenly he feels at peace.

"With all my heart."

Today marks the beginning of a new chapter in Keigo's life, one that he will now share with you forever.

He now waits for you at the altar, his wings neatly tucked behind him, golden locks gelled back, and his written vows stored safely in his breastpocket. The venue looks beautiful, ethereal, even; you've chosen a little wooden chapel in your hometown that gave off a woodland feel, a warm and familiar radiance filling up the space as the sun shines through the stained glass.

The thought of forever lingers in his mind and scares him for a bit till he remembers a wide variety of things such as; waking up next to you every morning prior to today, quietly laughing to himself as he looks at the drool dribbling from your chin, mouth open a bit too wide, and definitely not light snoring-- he snaps a picture as a souvenir to laugh at for when he's away weeks on end. His heart always aches a little bit when he thinks of you sleeping in your shared bed, a tad too big for you to sleep alone in.

He remembers how you got lost in a city where he was temporarily assigned to by the commission to patrol, how you wanted to surprise him with a hearty packed lunch you spent the entire morning preparing only to find yourself lost among the city's port-- your stubbornness refusing to call your boyfriend in fear that the surprise might be ruined, only for him to answer a call from you; huffing and whiny, probably tired from roaming around the port. He finds you sat on a bench facing the sea, phone clutched to your ear as you continue to talk to him, unaware he already spotted you from afar.

He remembers the night you held him close as though you were never letting him go, where he finally felt free and where he finally found home; he accepts forever if it means he gets to return everything you've done for him a hundred more times, forever.

Keigo almost misses the opening of the doors and his breath halts for a moment as he sees your figure, dressed in white, stunning and magical, enter the chapel as your favorite song plays.

So it's true, what everybody says about weddings where the groom sheds a tear upon seeing his bride for the first time, Keigo thinks to himself.

You send him the most beautiful and beaming smile, rivalling the morning sun that surrounded the chapel; your dress glowing heavenly, the light behind you effectively acting as a halo that outlined your body-- how you look divine in his eyes, how he would give the world for you, how he would devote his life to you.

Your trembling hands clutch the bouquet of wildflowers as you try to catch your breath. Your husband looked dazzling and handsome as ever.

You whisper to yourself, knowing that he could hear you from afar.

"I love you."

---

"What's this song?" your boyfriend asks as he settles down the grocery he had just bought from the local convenience on the counter, looking towards the speaker. Keigo had finally snagged himself a well-deserved break for vacation and you both decided to go home to your hometown and show him round the place you grew up in; the wooden house by the sea. Music played from your speaker was accompanied by the soft waves of the sea clashing into the shore, the faint breeze of the palm trees, and the birds chirping in the glow of the afternoon.

Keigo spots you in the middle of the kitchen, golden with afternoon sun, sundress flowing as smoothly as liquid diamond, and my god, were you beautiful.

i could not ask you where you came from

You slowly moved to the music that was playing and smiled widely at Keigo, the sun bouncing off the wooden floors that created a familiar warmth; the afternoon light reflecting off your legs as you hummed to the music.

i could not ask you, neither could you

"It's my favorite song," you sigh as Keigo wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him as he gently guided you into a little dance that had you giggling like a love-struck fool. Well, that made sense.

You nuzzled your face into his chest, your hums sending vibrations through his golden chest earning a low purr from your boyfriend.

"If it's your favorite," he lifts your chin up to face him. "Then it's mine, too."

honey just put your sweet lips on my lips,

He kisses your forehead, tracing the outline of your body with his rough, calloused hands as you lean into his touch; till he finally plants a kiss to your lips. Everything just felt so right, so surreal, so perfect; like this moment was written in the stars to happen, as if you both were lost in the expanse of time, forever etched into his memory.

He felt real. You were real. Not just what his heart has longed and ached for so long; it wasn't the flashes of memories he had before, one where he thought was from a past life; this was real, and so were you.

we should just kiss like real people do.

#hawks x reader #keigo takami #keigo x reader #keigo takami x reader #keigo takami mha #mha x reader #hawks #hozier #based on a hozier song

229 notes · View notes

stevetonyweekly · 3 months

Text

SteveTony Weekly - February 11th - Week

I’m traveling this weekend for my niece’s quinceanera so I’m sharing a list of my favorite fics that I posted on twitter last year. It’s still some of my favorite fics of all time, so this week go show them some love or send me some of YOUR favs, and I’ll be back next Sunday with our regularly scheduled weekly reading.

~*~

Open Field in Front of Him by orphan_account

Steve Rogers's football season is functionally over after a loss to Rutgers, but he finds a distraction in Tony Stark (yes, THAT Tony Stark). A college AU Stony fic.

In Trouble Deep by FestiveFerret, SirSapling

"Whoever did this has a reason, and Stark needs to be with someone who can protect him. He won’t exactly be able to protect himself like this.” Fury looked at the baby consideringly. “No, it’s you, Steve. Besides, he likes you. Suck it up, soldier, you’re stuck with him.”

The Twice-Told Tale by arysteia

For someone he'd hero-worshipped for so long, Steve Rogers in the flesh is a pretty big disappointment. For one thing, he keeps looking at Tony as though he reminds him of someone else, and even if he never says anything, Tony's pretty sure it's his father. A lifetime of not measuring up to Howard's expectations is more than enough, thank you very much, and he's certainly not going to make an effort to live up to any of Steve's. Steve's pretty clearly failed to live up to his expectations, in any case, and that's not hypocritical at all.

Bulletproof by foxxcub

At age fifteen, Steve Rogers had been in love with Tony Stark.

By age twenty, he’d (mostly) gotten over it. And then he promptly became Tony Stark's fuck buddy.

dick drunk by mistymountainking

“I’m going to fuck you stupid,” Steve says, pulling away only a fraction of an inch to say it, a promise as deep and certain as the look in his eyes, “and you’re going to take it. Aren’t you, Tony.”

Tony wants a drink. Steve gives him something else.

Sixpence In His Shoe by scifigrl47

Steve and Tony should really read the fine print on what they're signing. Then again, some mistakes are not really mistakes.

Straight on till Morning by Sineala

Tony Stark resigned his commission in Starfleet five years ago, after a disastrous away mission, and he swore he'd never go back. He just wants to be left alone to build warp engines in peace. But the universe has more in store for him than that, as he discovers when Admiral Fury comes to him with an offer he could never have expected and cannot possibly refuse: first officer and chief engineer aboard the all-new USS Avenger, a starship of Tony's own design. What's more, the Avenger's captain is Steve Rogers, hero of the Earth-Romulan War. Believed dead for over a century, Steve is miraculously alive... and very, very attractive.

But nothing is ever easy for Tony. As he wrestles with his secret desire for his new captain and his not-so-dormant fears, another mission starts to go wrong, and Tony becomes aware that Steve has secrets of his own -- and the truth could change everything.

For the Love of a Dragon by Captain_Panda

If it was between you and your dragon, who would you save?

Deep in the Heart of Me by Finely Honed (jaqen_hgar)

Veteran single dad Steve runs a tattoo shop. Pepper arranges for Tony to get that tattoo he always wanted, and he winds up with the mother of all crushes instead. Jumping out of airplanes is one thing, but love requires real courage. Steve struggles with letting someone into his life. Tony tries to keep his heart intact while Steve works on his issues.

Craving a realistic depiction of a romantic relationship featuring PTSD, mental health issues, and characters who discuss their problems? This might be for you. No magic fixes here but a happy ending is guaranteed!

Never Too Late for Love by Sineala

Steve has always believed that a soulbond is a blessing -- a rare and beautiful miracle, joining the thoughts and feelings of two people forever, from the first time they touch. Steve knows he's not going to be one of the lucky ones. He knows Gail isn't his soulmate. But he loves her, even if they're not soulmates, and he's going to do right by her. After the war's over, he's going to marry her, and they're going to settle down. They'll buy a house. They'll have children. He'll see his family again. Maybe Bucky will live next door. It's going to be a good life. He doesn't need a soulbond. He'll be fine without one.

Then Steve wakes up sixty years in the future to find that his wonderful life has moved on without him. His family is long dead. His fiancée married his best friend. And the only purpose he has left is leading the Ultimates, a misbegotten team of superheroes with flaws too numerous to count. Steve hates everything about the future -- but most of all he detests Tony, flashy and flirtatious, who embodies everything Steve hates about a world he never wanted to live in.

And, oh, yeah, Steve has a soulmate after all: Tony fucking Stark.

Toy Soldiers by copperbadge

When Steve Rogers, five foot four and a hundred and ten pounds, met Tony Stark in a bar, he didn't expect it to lead to a relationship. Or that Tony would find out he's not an art student during a SHIELD rescue mission in Afghanistan.

there are still beautiful things by meidui

The day Tony takes Steve home from the New York Army National Guard is the best day of his life.

I've got you under my skin by sirona

Five times Beijing 2008 Olympics Gold Medalist Tony Stark thinks it's going to be no more difficult a job to get ready for London 2012, than what he has just achieved. That is, of course, before Coach Fury comes to visit, and offers him a once-in-a-lifetime chance to be a part of something much bigger than himself. Swimming AU.

The Foodieverse by copperbadge, scifigrl47

It's an AU where everyone works in the food industry. That makes total sense and is definitely not wildly irrational on any axis.

do you fondue? by calciseptine

Tony has done crazy things in the name of food, but falling in love with Steve Rogers really takes the cake.

Homefront by copperbadge

Steve Rogers is a capable leader, a kind and cheerful man, a good friend, a strong role model, and a loyal soldier. He's also teetering on the edge of suicide.

stress relief by romanoff

They don't love each other. They barely even like each other.

The Jar by Sineala

The Avengers are ridiculously competitive people, and what starts out as a silly late-night team discussion quickly becomes a contest: their names. Not the code names -- the nicknames. Who can go the longest without using them? They pledge to spend a week not nicknaming each other, and they'll pay up every time they mess up. This hits Tony the hardest, and not just financially. Tony's got a lot of nicknames for everyone, but most of all for Steve -- and when Tony can't use the names he's already got, the names he uses reveal feelings he had no idea he had.

Celestial Navigation by sabrecmc

Celestial Navigation: 18 year old Omega!Tony finds himself Bonded to Captain Steve Rogers. He isn't happy about it until he is.

By request, here is CN in one place without other stories and artwork.

ad astra by Areiton

The first time he kissed Tony Stark, the stars danced overhead.

#stevetony weekly #steve rogers #tony stark #stevetony #stony #iron man #captain america #stevetony fic #stony fic #fic rec

30 notes · View notes

writingquestionsanswered · 9 months

Note

Hello there! Do you have any tips for 'kill your darlings' and what kind of scenes to cut from a story? Anything in particular to look for?

"Kill Your Darlings"

The phrase "kill your darlings" is one of the most parroted yet least understood bits of writing advice. Writers too often take this advice to heart, believing they must go through their story and eradicate anything they deeply love... and that's not just immensely stressful--it's wrong.

"Kill your darlings" just means "don't let yourself be so blinded by love of something in your story that you don't realize it doesn't belong." In other words, you may really REALLY love your protagonist's best friend's quirky girlfriend, but what does she actually contribute to the story? What role does she play that's so important that taking her out would make the story fall apart or diminish the reader's understanding of setting, circumstances, character, or plot? If the answer is, "Well, she doesn't really contribute anything other than a little humor. But there are other characters who provide that. If I take her out of the story, nothing changes. The story still works, the reader's understanding doesn't suffer..." Bad news, this character is "a darling" and she needs to be cut from the story. As much as you might adore this character, she's just taking up space on the page and in the reader's mind, which detracts from characters who are actually important.

So, that's what you look for... look first at the things you love best about your story (characters, moments, events, conversations, setting details, character details, descriptions--literally anything) and ask yourself, "Does this really serve a purpose? Is anything negatively impacted if I remove it?" And really, you should do this for every element of your story. It's just that it's most important with the things you love best, because those are the things you're most likely to think are working when they actually aren't.

And don't stress too much about it... Critique partners and beta readers will be sure to spot things that don't work in your story, so even if you miss some things, it's okay. They'll be caught.

Although, the truth of the matter is, if you let the protagonist's best friend's quirky girlfriend slip through even though she adds nothing to your story, as long as she doesn't get too much page time and wrestle the spotlight away from more important things, it's probably not going to ruin your story or the reader's enjoyment. It's just that you don't want too many unhelpful "darlings" running around in your story.

Happy writing!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

Learn more about WQA

See my ask policies

Visit my Master List of Top Posts

Go to ko-fi.com/wqa to buy me coffee or see my commissions

#writing tips #writing help #writing advice #wqaadvice

231 notes · View notes

m-y-fandoms · 9 months

Text

COMMISSION: Kokichi Ouma dating a taller woman (headcanon list + drabble)

Word Count: 1.4K words approximately

Warnings/Details: SFW was requested, so any NSFW headcanons would have to be a separate piece. Expect fluff, romance, and possible unhealthy relationship elements because it’s Kokichi, but still SFW overall.

(A taller woman is defined here as literally even an inch taller than him, all the way up to a major height difference. I’ve dated a man only an inch shorter than me and definitely noticed that inch difference so we have a wide height range to work with here! I personally am imagining a woman at least a good five inches taller than him in my mind, but again, anyone taller than him in any way would work!)

As friends before you two were officially dating (but he had a crush on you):

Kokichi is definitely the type to tease and pick on the people he likes. It might even be hard to tell he has a crush on you because he’s mischievous and obnoxious with everyone. Depending on your personality type, you might enjoy just having his attention so often or, you might think he hates you or is just trying to bully you.

If you respond by liking the attention or teasing him back, he would get super confident and a little more touchy each time. It would become increasingly obvious that he’s flirting with you.

If you responded by pulling away or getting offended, he would become frustrated. In his mind it would be obvious that he likes you. Why else would he be giving you so much of his precious time and attention??? He would be a little whiny when you responded poorly or eventually feel the need to explain that he really likes you, but he would hate having to explain it. His cheeks would get all red, he’d roll his eyes, talking to you like you’re some idiot for not picking up on his cues.

Kokichi lies to everyone, even himself, so even though he acts like his height doesn’t bother him and even might joke about it sometimes, it probably bothers him at least a tiny bit deep down. He doesn’t make it a focus in his life but doesn’t like when people point it out, even if he plays it off and has a sarcastic rebuttal for them.

Therefore, when he finds himself crushing on you, a woman taller then him, he for sure would use your height to tease you. If he’s going to feel insecure, then everyone’s going to feel insecure. He doesn’t want you to think his height matters/is a flaw, so him teasing you will prove he’s confident in himself, right?

You’d definitely hear a bunch on uncreative jabs and nicknames: tree trunk, giraffe, skyscraper, stretch, bigfoot, lamp-post, daddy long legs, gigantasaurus, Goliath, stilts, rooftop, and so on and so forth.

He might surprise attack you, running and jumping onto your back and latching on. Whether or not this takes you down to the ground or you carry him around like a baby sloth matters little to him.

After you two start dating:

Sometimes, he will like to prove implicitly that he is not weak and not to be looked down upon for his size…

When you two are alone, he sometimes will pull at your hair or the collar of your shirt to bring you down to his height so he can kiss you or whisper in your ear.

He likes to put you in physically uncomfortable positions to fluster and corner you. Feeling like he’s in control and can make you nervous excites him.

He will corner you in hallways, push you up against walls and trap you in between his arms.

He’s much stronger then he looks, but like with most aspects of Kokichi, what you see initially, isn’t always what you get.

When you two are alone in his room, he will cage you below him on his bed to kiss you, hold you down, be more assertive and initiate make-out sessions.

If you’re sitting together talking or playing games, he might pull you onto his lap, reassuring you in his own immature, aloof way that you’re not too heavy for him.

The teasing never stops, and certainly not in public. Kokichi isn’t one to bring down his walls and be vulnerable and romantic in front of others. Protective, possessive, or jealous maybe. He reserves his true feelings and mushy moments for when you two are alone, and threatens you with death should you tell anyone.

If he does let out some PDA with you, it’s purposely to fluster you or scare away others that he thinks are interested in you.

Also, he’s very much the “Only I can make fun of Y/N” or “Only I can hold Y/N’s hand” type of boyfriend, especially if you’re insecure about your height already. He gets clingy and jealous even when you’re just being platonic with others.

You were sitting in your dorm room for once. Usually, you found yourself spending the night in Kokichi’s, but he was being rather secretive about his room for some reason this week. You sat next to him on the ground, looking at a splayed out deck of cards on the floor. You often spent the nights like this: with him, either wandering the school grounds and getting up to trouble or in his room where he could have you all to himself. He could be selfish like that, clingy. Sometimes seeing others get close to you made him more jealous than he’d like to admit.

And you could most definitely tell when it was one of his more needy days. He’d be more whiny, showing his true feelings through a furrowed brow here or a scrunched nose there. He sighed, tired of leaning his head onto your shoulder. He wanted more, more contact with you, more of you entirely. Without warning, he grabbed both hands firmly onto your legs and pulled you into his lap. He was sitting with his legs criss-crossed, and with an unexpected show of strength for someone of his size, he sunk his slender, pale fingers into the meat of your thighs and slid you effortlessly into his lap. He snuggled you in and you slotted perfectly into the cavity of his hips and thighs.

You squirmed in protest, gasping a little at the surprise of being lifted so suddenly. Your cheeks warmed up at the close contact and intimate position. He placed his chin back onto your shoulder, nuzzling against it every so often and resumed the game, handing you cards and promising not to cheat and peek at your hand (probably a lie).

When moments passed and you still squirmed about uncomfortably in his lap, he grunted, irate:

“Sit still, I’m trying to get comfortable!” He tilted his head, biting down into the skin of your shoulder in a childish display of frustration.

“Well… Kokichi… aren’t I a little heavily? Are you sure you want me to sit here like this…?” You finally voiced the apprehension behind your wriggling. You were bigger then him, and his frame was so lithe and petite. You felt like a beast crushing it’s prey. It wasn’t that you didn’t like the closeness and his touch, but you couldn’t help but feel self conscious.

“Why would I put you here if I didn’t want it, stupid head?!” He puffed his cheeks out in exasperation.

“It just… I mean I feel like I’m grating your pelvis into dust right now…” He wouldn’t say it directly, but he hated comments like this. Though he knew it was your own insecurities against yourself at work, he couldn’t help but be offended for himself, like you thought he was puny and weak at the same time. You would never say that to Gonta or Kaito, right? Even Kiyo, who was thin as could be would be spared from such comments. Why? Because he was 6’2”. Kokichi frowned at your comment, trying not to take out that anger on you, though he really wanted to.

“If you move even an inch, I’m going to bonk you over the head and knock you out…” he grumbled, wrapping both arms around your torso and crushing you into his chest in a show of dominance. He wanted to prove that he could hold you, he could be strong and in control, he could handle all of you.

You relaxed into his hold, feeling the beating of his heart against your back and deciding to let the topic go for now.

BONUS: In a NON-DESPAIR AU

He gets pissed, crossing his arms and practically steaming when you guys go to amusement parks and people imply that he’s not tall enough for certain rides.

He finds your body super attractive, content to sit back and simply watch you try on clothes without complaint.

He refers to you as his “tall gf” or “huge gf” in many different scenarios, even if you’re just the least bit taller than him.

124 notes · View notes