Hello! My old intro got lost in the void so I'll just make a new one.
I'm Emmy or Em, I'm just here to practice my writing and improve my style! I used to have another blog but moved to this one.
I'm currently obsessing over One Piece/ Resident Evil so that's mostly what I'm writing for right now! I don't really have any select fandoms I'm writing for; just kinda doing my own thing. There are mega anime/manga spoilers on this blog!
The tag #my writing is how I usually tag all my writing stuff!
I also follow from uhohitsemmy
You guys can send stuff in any time, I like seeing people's ideas.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
"I've wanted to tell you how I felt for so long," you murmur against his skin. Against the blue. You love it, really. The mutant part of him, the otherworldly part. It's stark, contrasts with every other aspect of the world, like his very being rebels, whether it is up to him or not. Like your own mind does.
"But?" Kurt's voice is soft, almost shy. As if his world has paused.
You ponder the words, wonder if you should finally allow yourself to speak the thoughts that have plagued you for years. The ones that constantly floated in that dark presence, haunting your every move, every moment. The ones that controlled your very being.
The ones that made you feel as if nothing you did was right. Every seed planted, rotting in its wake.
"But," you poke his chest. A funny, little prod. You swallow. "I felt as though I didn't deserve it."
Nails. Every part of the sentence feels like nails puncturing your skin. Your very being. It's one thing to hear your inner thoughts. To hear the smaller part of your voice talk. But your outer voice, no matter how quiet, will always be the loudest.
"It's easy to think that," he replies almost immediately. As if he's felt those very same words stab into his soul. "Easy to believe yourself the villain in every person's story." He flexes the three fingers on his free hand, the one not on your back, tracing patterns. "You feel your soul is too full of evil, too full of sin."
Your eyes sting. You sit up, and he follows right behind you.
"But you are not your sins. Those can be forgiven." Two fingers caress your cheek. "That's the best part of love. It overwhelms the bad, creating more good." He pauses, considers his words. "It will take more than a few mistakes for the walls of it to crumble, liebling."
"i don't comment on ao3 because i don't wanna be annoying or weird" skill issue + you greatly underestimate the power dynamic here, writing multi paragraph comments is like feeding a bunch of deeply insane and possibly starved ducks at the park and watch them go completely mad over having received a piece of bread
Modern!Shamrock, noticing a very familiar motorcyle parked outside your apartment, and trying with an enormous amount of strength to ignore it.
Modern!Shamrock, knocking on your door, only for the shade of red he's known his entire life to answer instead. The stems of the flowers he brought crumples in his iron grip.
Modern!Shamrock, who sighs through his nose with slight relief when he realizes his twin's clothes are still on, and behind him, your pointed glare is towards his brother and not to him.
Modern!Shamrock, who watches with amusement dancing in his eyes as Shanks saunters away with an odd charisma as if he's already won. He shakes it off.
Only to see a bouquet of flowers, white as pearls, already in a vase against your window. Fresh and wet, as if you had just watered them a few minutes prior.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
JULY POETRY PROMPTS ··· a collection of poetry prompts steeped in July’s golden delirium, where love ripens too quickly, the afternoons drip like honey, and every heart learns to bloom beneath the ache of heat.
1. love found me where the garden met gin
2. our romance: rare print, sun-damaged, and worth everything
3. orange peel & epilogues
4. you came with champagne and a warning
5. in another life, I stayed for the second glass
6. laced in linen, I learned to feel again
7. aperol and afterthoughts
8. you were the fiction I wanted to believe in
9. a novel’s worth of glances in one long dinner
10. limoncello and longing
11. midnights scented like citrus & you
12. we lived like a Fitzgerald draft
13. I was too loud for their lawns and too lovely to leave
14. madness looks good in white linen and pearls
15. they wrote me off before they read me
16. holiday house never stood a chance
17. happiness was found in the condensation of your glass
18. somewhere between verse and vermouth
19. I am not your almost—I am your always
20. you love me like I’m the story you've always known
21. I stopped writing about you the day I truly felt happy and loved
22. you are not a villain in my story — you are a footnote
23. I am too in love with my now to mourn my then
24. I’m in my iced rosé and soft linen era
25. I’m sun-warmed, barefoot, and finally whole
26. a list poem: all the ways I chose warmth instead
27. love notes hidden between the pages of a hardbound first edition
28. honey, saltwater, and champagne
29. I dream in grainy polaroids and your july laugh
30. july ended, but the epilogue smells like you
For someone with hands as giant as boulders, Katakuri's touch is surprisingly tender as he rubs the aloe vera into your skin. The clear ointment rubs against the old burn mark on your shoulder blades, and it feels as if someone has begun scraping sand paper against your bones. When you let out a groan, he stops for a second as if to let you settle before continuing.
"I'm sorry," he murmurs, his voice muffled from his scarf. You wish for him to remove it, especially when it's the both of you. His many rows of teeth do not intimidate you. It breaks your heart that your constant reassurances don't qualm his insecurities. "I know it must burn."
"I'm used to it," you reply, holding the bar at the end of the enormous bed you two share. It accommodates his size, but it is a little silly. "I had to do this by myself before we met, you know."
"You mean before my mother wed us," he grumbles. You try not to smile at his prickly tone.
"Yes, dear, before that. But I like to say 'met' anyway. Makes it less..." you struggle to find the word.
"Less forced?"
"I suppose, yeah."
The gel finds a particularly tender area, and you hiss out a bundle of swears. "Dammit."
"I didn't hurt you did I?" Katakuri's voice is gentle and rushed. Worry laced.
"No, don't worry," you tell him, gritting your teeth slightly. It brings back memories of when you first received the wound. Of when you had to twist your already torn and sore muscles, of when you only had water and a small towel and your own blood on the floor as your company. "I didn't mean to snap at you."
"You didn't." He said it confidently. "Besides, your words aren't as sharp as some people I know."
You let out a huff of air. "We have that in common."
"I bet we do."
As he finishes applying the aloe vera, he holds up the thin bandages you always keep around your middle. "Would you want fresh ones?"
You frown at the sand and dark red colored tissues. They used to be bright white, fresh, and clean. Now they were dirtied with your wound, your own life force oozing from the burns. Perhaps it was a metaphor of your life, your encounters. How once you were full of wonder and innocence, so desperate for knowledge, only for that desparity to lead you to your doom. To something you'll never forget, even if you filled yourself with enough ale to drown a man.
You took a deep breath while still staring, almost glaring at the bandages. "I suppose. It's odd, I almost hate to part with them. They have been with me for..." Your sentence fizzles. "Sorry, that seems strange."
"No," your husband shakes his head. He kneels to meet your eyes, his own filled with an emotion you want to assume is sorrow. The two of you haven't been married for too long, a few months, but you want to assume the intimacy between the both of you is different than most married couples would have. The wounds you both know and carry. "I understand." He doesn't need to gesture to his scarf for you to know he's talking about it.
He leaves to fetch a fresh bound of white bandages, and you find yourself staring in a tall mirror. One built for him, you imagine.
Your complexion is different. You're not as thin. Your eyes don't hold the heavy weight of sin as they did prior--but it's still there. It probably will forever be.
You turn around so your back faces the mirror and take a deep breath before craning your head to look. The skin is shiny from the recently applied gel. The slave mark of the Celestial dragons is a rust color now, scarring over in an odd manner. It never healed properly, and you wonder if it ever will heal fully.
Like your soul.
Your husband returns with fresh bandages and you shutter away from the mirror. "I was...reminiscing."
For someone who is so wildly feared, he appears the exact opposite as he takes in your form. "Would you like help?"
"No," you shake your head. "I don't think I can handle you staring at me like that any longer."
"I will leave you to it then."
"Thank you for helping."
"You don't need to thank me. I would've done it even if you hadn't asked."
You gesture for him to come closer, to kneel once again so he can properly face you. He obeys, the floorboards creaking beneath. You tug his scarf down gently, and he lets you. Your lips touch his. A gift. An action filled with a thousand words you could never convey. As if you want your soul to touch his, in the way his own touched yours.
honestly one of my favorite things about fanfic is when you can see the canon influences come out in really subtle ways. like a canon line thats mentioned once as a throwaway is suddenly the entire premise for a fic or it influences the characterization or something. its just so cool to see how people weave their ideas around a source material, especially if its not a detail i'd thought about before
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
