Hello! I love to write fics about Yakuza, Hitman, and OutsideXbox RPF. My current favorite ships are Kazumaji, BloodyMary, Diana/47, and Jane/Andy and I like to write whatever inspires me. 😊
I often enjoy writing mission fics and/or romantic stories. My latest fics are below:
The Star of Your Sky (Explicit)
Summary:
Grace fears his time with Simon has come to an end.
I’ve created a variety of one-shots and a few series—you can find everything else below the cut!
Dungeons and Dragons: Honor Among Thieves
Mark of Yendar (Teen and Up)
Iron Lung/Project Hail Mary (Film) Crossover (BloodyMary)
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In every way this is set up to be a joke like any other short video, it even uses the trope of main character in a wig to represent their mom, but it isn't funny at all. It's just sweet and nice
Yearning is such a strange thing to describe. A quick search of the term leads to a variety of posts and expressions, some of which I understand, some not. I think it’s easy for some to confuse yearning with a general sense of desire, and by that I mean that some may consider yearning like an itch they suddenly need to scratch or a passive craving for something—like a sexual urge for physical intimacy or being in the mood for a good burger. It doesn’t make that desire any less important or meaningful, but I think the impact of it pales in comparison to what I know as yearning.
The yearning I experience has always been there, I think. I feel it in my mind, in my body, as a weight in my chest I carry often. Sometimes it’s a gift, sometimes it’s a burden. It’s in the words I write, it’s in the actions I take, it’s in the relationships I have, had, and will have in my lifetime. It’s a strong natural sensation to me, as unthinkable to do and feel as the act of breathing, and just as important to continue my existence.
My yearning is full of longing, full of passion and pain and hope and beauty. It’s a dichotomy, a blessing and a curse, a searing heat when it’s fulfilled and a craving for warmth when it’s not. It’s an intangible thing wanting tangible results, wishing for a person, for memories, for love and validation and a level of grand devotion equal to my own. It’s the certainty of uncertainty, of asking questions that may never be answered, of dreaming for things that may never be but fueling my hope for adventure on the horizon. It’s lightning in a bottle and for better or worse, I’m the vessel protecting its charge.
I really love exploring intimacy and the different ways it can manifest. I’ve wanted to write something like this for Diana and 47 for a long time and I think I’ve finally captured the scene as I’ve imagined it. It’s a moment between agent and handler, without sex yet with an electric undercurrent that feels perfect for them. I hope you enjoy! ❤️
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Fandom: Hitman (Video Games)
Relationship: Agent 47/Diana Burnwood (can also be read as platonic)
Rating: Teen and Up
Summary:
Diana and 47 have drinks while waiting for extraction. She asks him about his gloves.
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suburban women on september 15 1967 tuning in to star trek and seeing fuck-or-die mode spock getting in a sweaty man fight with captain kirk in amok time
It's hard to breathe, but he makes it harder so. He squeezes Kiryu to his torso, to his legs, uses every inch of every limb he possesses to anchor the dragon to him like his life depends on it, and maybe it does. A sudden hard thrust would normally make Majima weak, make him pliant, but tonight is the exception. He rakes his nails down Kiryu's back at the fullness, hears the answering hitch of Kiryu's breath in his ear as he cements his claim on his skin. The scratches run so deep that Majima feels blood on his fingertips and he shivers despite the heat. The air is thick with sex and sweat and iron and for the first time in years, the Mad Dog feels less mad. The evidence is right on top of him, inside him, under the very claws that searched and struggled for purchase for so long.
It's real, this time. He can't be without him again.
Yearning is such a strange thing to describe. A quick search of the term leads to a variety of posts and expressions, some of which I understand, some not. I think it’s easy for some to confuse yearning with a general sense of desire, and by that I mean that some may consider yearning like an itch they suddenly need to scratch or a passive craving for something—like a sexual urge for physical intimacy or being in the mood for a good burger. It doesn’t make that desire any less important or meaningful, but I think the impact of it pales in comparison to what I know as yearning.
The yearning I experience has always been there, I think. I feel it in my mind, in my body, as a weight in my chest I carry often. Sometimes it’s a gift, sometimes it’s a burden. It’s in the words I write, it’s in the actions I take, it’s in the relationships I have, had, and will have in my lifetime. It’s a strong natural sensation to me, as unthinkable to do and feel as the act of breathing, and just as important to continue my existence.
My yearning is full of longing, full of passion and pain and hope and beauty. It’s a dichotomy, a blessing and a curse, a searing heat when it’s fulfilled and a craving for warmth when it’s not. It’s an intangible thing wanting tangible results, wishing for a person, for memories, for love and validation and a level of grand devotion equal to my own. It’s the certainty of uncertainty, of asking questions that may never be answered, of dreaming for things that may never be but fueling my hope for adventure on the horizon. It’s lightning in a bottle and for better or worse, I’m the vessel protecting its charge.
Yearning is such a strange thing to describe. A quick search of the term leads to a variety of posts and expressions, some of which I understand, some not. I think it’s easy for some to confuse yearning with a general sense of desire, and by that I mean that some may consider yearning like an itch they suddenly need to scratch or a passive craving for something—like a sexual urge for physical intimacy or being in the mood for a good burger. It doesn’t make that desire any less important or meaningful, but I think the impact of it pales in comparison to what I know as yearning.
The yearning I experience has always been there, I think. I feel it in my mind, in my body, as a weight in my chest I carry often. Sometimes it’s a gift, sometimes it’s a burden. It’s in the words I write, it’s in the actions I take, it’s in the relationships I have, had, and will have in my lifetime. It’s a strong natural sensation to me, as unthinkable to do and feel as the act of breathing, and just as important to continue my existence.
My yearning is full of longing, full of passion and pain and hope and beauty. It’s a dichotomy, a blessing and a curse, a searing heat when it’s fulfilled and a craving for warmth when it’s not. It’s an intangible thing wanting tangible results, wishing for a person, for memories, for love and validation and a level of grand devotion equal to my own. It’s the certainty of uncertainty, of asking questions that may never be answered, of dreaming for things that may never be but fueling my hope for adventure on the horizon. It’s lightning in a bottle and for better or worse, I’m the vessel protecting its charge.
One of the most common complaints about Star Trek I saw growing up was “why don’t they use the holodeck more? If you were living in that time period and you could just make anything you wanted anytime you wanted and live out fantasies forever, why aren’t more people addicted to the holodeck?”
And then generative ai was created.
And now I get it. I get why nobody on Star Trek spends all their free time in the holodeck. I get why all the crew are putting on stage plays, and holding music recitals, and building models, and playing poker. I get why everyone was so skeptical and mean to the Doctor on Voyager. I get why the ONE TIME we see someone obsessed with the holodeck it infringes on people’s likeness rights and permissions.
Because fundamentally at the end of the day we are human beings and we ENJOY working with our hands and making REAL human connections. A person who learns to play an instrument is always going to be viewed as an artist over someone who asks the computer to generate music for them.
Even as recent as Lower Decks they were making fun of the fact that the crew were putting on amateurish plays and holding music recitals. But after living with Ai for so long and seeing how detrimental it’s been to the world… I’d much rather watch my friends put on a stage play than “participate” in a holodeck movie.
What’s most amazing about this is that it was completely unintentional. I do not for one second think that the writers of the time in the 90’s were really thinking about the larger issues that generative ai and chatGTP would cause. How could they? Text to speech back then was still robotic as heck. More likely they wrote that stuff in because it was cheaper to film on sets the owned than try to build, film, or rent out different locations each week.
That’s the down to earth logistical real reason Data is reciting poems about his cat or Riker is in a play put on in ten forward. It’s just cheaper to do that than to build a whole new set or move production to a new location.
Yet at the end of the day, I think that unintentionally speaks to a very human need that ai is making more and more prevalent to us day in and day out.
And that’s the fact nobody wants to deal with generative SLOP.
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My BloodyMary smut fic is here! I was so excited to write this, this crack ship makes my heart sing and I’m so happy to add a fic into the growing list of amazing fan creations for these characters. You can read my fic at the link below—I hope you enjoy! 🥰
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Fandoms: Iron Lung (2026), Project Hail Mary (2026)
I finally found time to write again! Had an idea for a crack fic that turned an old anime/manga trope on its head, and the best person for this idea was dear Goro Majima. It’s got some Kazumaji themes to it, but this is a sexy self-love fic with some humor. Enjoy! ❤️
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Fandom: 龍が如く | Ryuu ga Gotoku | Yakuza (Video Games)
Oh, okay. I see. You think this has nothing to do with you. You go to your closet and you select out, oh I don’t know, that gaslight gatekeep girlboss meme, for instance, because you’re trying to tell the world that you think modern feminism has been co-opted by corporations. But what you don’t know is that that meme is not from Instagram, it's not from Twitter, it's not from Tiktok, it’s actually from Tumblr. You’re also blithely unaware of the fact that in January 2021, Tumblr user missnumber1111 posted, "today's agenda: gaslight gatekeep and most importantly girlboss." And then I think it was a-m-e-t-h-y-s-t-r-o-s-e, wasn’t it, who reblogged it with an image of the phrase edited over a piece of "Live, Laugh, Love" wall art? And then gaslight gatekeep girlboss showed up in the feeds of eight different Twitter repost accounts. Then it filtered down through Instagram and then trickled on down into some tragic “alt side of Tiktok” where you, no doubt, fished it out of some clearance bin. However, that meme represents millions of notes and countless Tumblr users and so it’s sort of comical how you think that you’ve made a choice that exempts you from Tumblr when, in fact, you’re wearing the meme that was selected for you by the people in this room. From a pile of “stuff.”
It's hard to breathe, but he makes it harder so. He squeezes Kiryu to his torso, to his legs, uses every inch of every limb he possesses to anchor the dragon to him like his life depends on it, and maybe it does. A sudden hard thrust would normally make Majima weak, make him pliant, but tonight is the exception. He rakes his nails down Kiryu's back at the fullness, hears the answering hitch of Kiryu's breath in his ear as he cements his claim on his skin. The scratches run so deep that Majima feels blood on his fingertips and he shivers despite the heat. The air is thick with sex and sweat and iron and for the first time in years, the Mad Dog feels less mad. The evidence is right on top of him, inside him, under the very claws that searched and struggled for purchase for so long.
It's real, this time. He can't be without him again.
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
It's hard to breathe, but he makes it harder so. He squeezes Kiryu to his torso, to his legs, uses every inch of every limb he possesses to anchor the dragon to him like his life depends on it, and maybe it does. A sudden hard thrust would normally make Majima weak, make him pliant, but tonight is the exception. He rakes his nails down Kiryu's back at the fullness, hears the answering hitch of Kiryu's breath in his ear as he cements his claim on his skin. The scratches run so deep that Majima feels blood on his fingertips and he shivers despite the heat. The air is thick with sex and sweat and iron and for the first time in years, the Mad Dog feels less mad. The evidence is right on top of him, inside him, under the very claws that searched and struggled for purchase for so long.
It's real, this time. He can't be without him again.
