ene ｡♡

your (silly) unhinged fic writer | skk brainrot | kitsunepilled | BEAST has my soul | ao3: AngelitoBloodsherry pfp: @meowmeow_eepy pfp2: @ardeidae-e banner: @laugandraws

[bloodsherry]

Hi, I’m Ene.

Just a girl (she/her | adult) who completely loses her mind over the things she loves. I write about blorbos in love, spend a lot of time on ao3, and have a soft spot for hurt/comfort, angst (with happy endings!), beast, yokai/hybrids, and omegaverse. Yes, those are my favorite tags!

⚠️ I write mature content and dark themes.

You can talk to me in Spanish & English (asks and DMs are open!) I’m shy at first, but once I’m comfortable, I won’t shut up—I love yapping, rambling, and screaming about skk/bsd (my current hyperfixations!).

ao3

twitter

bluesky

strawpage

transformative works policy

I’m open to any transformative work (fanarts, cosplays, translations, edits) as long as you credit me and let me know.

I don’t give permission for y’all to use my fics in ChatGPT or any other generative AI.

useful tags [under construction]

#ene fics | #ene shorts | ene ficlets | #ene drabbles | #ene hc

I accept writing prompts, feel free to send me a line/prompt (#prompts) or a word.

Want to chat? Or to tell/ask me something about my fics/wips? Use my ask box (#ene replies)

If you want to stay up to date on my wips, this is your tag: #ene updates

additional information

interests: bsd, alnst, trigun, wb, vnc, jjk, reading, writing, yapping with my wives.

anti-censorship & anti-harrasmant

minors dni 🔞

dividers by: @cafekitsune

[bloodsherry]

I miss being active here

[bloodsherry]

mi amor mi amor ＼(^o^)／

here's my word 'cherish'

“I cherish you,” Dazai murmured, tracing a lazy path down from Chuuya’s chest to his navel.

Chuuya sucked in a breath and threaded his fingers through Dazai’s brown hair. He didn’t pull him closer or push him away; he simply toyed with the soft strands, and Dazai smiled against his skin.

“You’re an idiot,” Chuuya muttered, nervous, his voice rough with sleep. Not because of the desire coiling in his lower belly and stirring the ocean of blue in his eyes, still slightly hazy with sleep.

Dazai pouted and curled closer, resting his head against Chuuya’s flat stomach while his fingers traced careless patterns along his hip.

It was early. The curtains did little to keep out the pale morning sunlight slipping through the cracks, but neither of them had anywhere to be. For once, the world wasn’t on the verge of collapse. For once, they could pretend they weren’t standing on opposite sides of the board. That there wasn’t a crimson scarf draped over the back of a chair, and no wanted notice hanging over Dazai’s head.

Just for a little while.

“Osamu?”

Dazai answered with a soft hum. Suddenly, staying awake felt like too much effort; the warmth radiating from Chuuya was dangerously comforting.

When Chuuya didn’t continue, Dazai wrinkled his nose and pushed himself up onto one elbow.

The breath caught in his throat.

The calm before the storm. A constellation of stars and tongues of flame.

Chuuya was devastating.

“You know I love you, right?”

His heart stuttered.

“Looks like Chibi’s gone soft with age.”

The redhead narrowed his eyes and made an attempt to kick him, but he couldn’t hide the blush blooming across his cheeks any more than Dazai could hide the love tightening in his chest.

They’d both gone soft over the years.

And really, could anyone blame them?

[Word Drabble Challenge]

[writrsblock]

has there been a “send me the first fic you read by me, favorite fic, and what you like to see in my writing” ask games yet??

[bloodsherry]

Beastchuu, chained up, his heart torn to pieces and “poisoned” by something that feels like Dazai’s ability but worse, makes a deal with a mischievous spirit. Revenge in exchange for his soul.

It’s a shame that the spirit takes the form of Dazai and decides it might want to satisfy a different kind of hunger.

[chuuyaspinkmotorcycle]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Rating: T

Warning: N/A

Chapters: 4/4, 17k

Relationship: Dazai Osamu/Nakahara Chuuya

Tags: Soulmates, Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - College/University, Kitsune Dazai Osamu (Bungou Stray Dogs), Kitsune Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs), Armed Detective Agency Member Dazai Osamu (Bungou Stray Dogs), Armed Detective Agency Member Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs), Prince Dazai Osamu (Bungou Stray Dogs), Knight Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs), Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, Fluff and Angst, Domestic Fluff, Headaches & Migraines, Fever, Nakahara Chuuya Needs a Hug (Bungou Stray Dogs), Dazai Osamu Needs a Hug (Bungou Stray Dogs), Soft Dazai Osamu/Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs)

sooooo very late to post this but this was written for the lovely @bloodsherry back in october for the soukoku tumblr server exchange!!! please enjoy skk being obnoxiously in love for 17k hehe 🩷

[anticidic]

headcanon chuuya has more corruption scars than b!chuuya since chuuya has lovecraft+dead apple over b!chuuya

[dilf-din]

The most important thing you can do in this life is write hyper-specific fanfiction for you and six other people. Don’t believe anything else you read.

[ryethe]

…how soft is it…

[anyanary]

Paint-over of a drawing I did like 2 years ago!

[bloodsherry]

After everything that happened in Meursault and Yokohama, before they could finally go home and their paths split apart once more—Dazai would have to lie low with Sigma for a while—Chuuya lingered in the bathroom doorway.

They were hiding out in a rundown motel, waiting for Mafia to send reinforcements.

Dazai glanced up from a ridiculous book he'd found lying around and arched a brow.

"What is it?"

Chuuya hesitated. He scratched the back of his neck and looked away. His cheeks burned.

Something soft flickered across Dazai's face. Fondness, tinged with sorrow. With a long sigh, he tossed the book aside and motioned toward the bed.

"Come on, stupid slug. Spit it out."

"Cut my hair."

The smile froze, not because of the request itself. It was unusual now, but once it had been commonplace, back when they were partners in the Mafia.

No, it was the sadness dimming Chuuya's steady gaze that made something crack inside him.

Chuuya only cut his hair when he was mourning.

To remember.

To carry the weight of loss a little longer.

Dazai nodded.

His throat tightened around all the things he couldn't bring himself to say, all the words that remained lodged somewhere deep inside him regardless.

Chuuya crossed the room and sat down in front of him.

Close, but not close enough.

He wasn't that kid anymore—the one who used to sit between Dazai's knees in dingy apartment bathrooms, face streaked with tears, clutching a pair of cheap scissors.

Carefully, Dazai gathered his hair back. His fingers brushed the nape of Chuuya's neck.

Chuuya shivered. Or maybe Dazai did.

He couldn't see his face, he couldn't meet his eyes, but when the first lock of hair fell, Dazai felt the weight of Chuuya's grief settle somewhere beneath his ribs.

"You can't get mad if I butcher it," he said lightly.

The joke landed flat beneath the ache in his voice.

Chuuya scoffed.

"I'll cut your balls off if you do."

Some things, at least, never changed.

When they were done, Chuuya immediately started looking around for a mirror. Dazai hated that his broken leg kept him rooted where he sat.

He hated that he couldn't cross the room, he couldn't wrap his arms around Chuuya's waist.

He couldn't pull him close and hold him there.

"Chibi," he called, forcing a grin back onto his face, "you owe me a box of strawberry Pocky."

[bloodsherry]

I need to take things a little easier and accept once again that my writing pace isn’t what it used to be, and that it’s okay if I now need more time to finish things, or if I choose to watch my spouse play a game, or just lie on the couch and read or watch something

[bloodsherry]

mi amorrrr （*＾3＾）/～☆

today's word for you is 'splendid' which fits u imo ( 〃▽〃)

The chain swayed between his fingers, and the ring hanging from it caught a splendid glint of light.

He swallowed against the sudden tightness in his chest. It was his shield—a familiar weight hidden beneath layers of bandages and gauze over his heart. Unnoticeable, an intrinsic part of him, until he had to take it off, and then he became a puppet with its strings severed.

His lips pressed into a thin line, and the tangled mess of emotions he refused to examine too closely tightened the knot in his stomach until it made him feel sick.

He forced a smile. His mouth stretched upward in something almost comical as he clung to that careless attitude, the one he had worn like a second skin for so long he no longer knew who he was without it, and turned just before the door cracked open.

Ranpo looked at him with one brow arched, no trace of amusement on his face, and gestured with the lollipop in his hand.

“Are you ready?”

“For the show?” he joked, but the words came out strangled. He twisted his mouth and tried to recover, another quip already forming on the tip of his tongue—something about obedient, sleeping dolls—but the detective cut him off by holding out his hand, palm up.

Dazai fell silent.

“You want to hold hands?”

It sounded pathetic, even to his own ears. Yet, for some reason, Ranpo didn’t laugh.

“Give it to me.”

The seriousness in his voice irritated him. It was childish, playing dumb when the clock was running against them and Fyodor was pulling strings from behind the curtain.

But the weight of the chain between his fingers made him reckless. He was eighteen again, his chest swollen with indescribable feelings, with fire, stars, and the ocean cradled in his arms.

“Dazai,” Ranpo warned, and Dazai wanted to lash out, to turn defensive. “It was your plan.”

Dazai deflated like a balloon leaking air.

Ranpo’s expression softened.

“I’ll take care of it for you.”

And who will take care of its owner?

Dazai tightened his grip on the chain and nodded, bittersweetness coating his tongue. He handed over the chain, the ring flashing once before the flip phone followed after it.

“Mr. Fancy Hat will snatch it.”

They weren’t talking about that, but neither of them had needed to say the words until now.

Dazai looked away and blinked hard, trying to chase off tears he had long since forgotten how to shed.

“You’re giving that shorty way too much credit.”

[Word Drabble Challenge]

[bloodsherry]

isn’t corruption an act of love? chuuya gives himself completely to dazai every time he releases arahabaki, and maybe that’s why in beast, dazai makes sure chuuya never has to use corruption.

[bloodsherry]

Hi Ene,

this isn't a prompt or anything, I just would like to say that I love your writing.

That's all, I hope you have a lovely day!

Iris, you’re going to make me cry!

Just in case, you can send me any prompts you want! it’ll probably take me a while (mixtape and eyh ending are my priority), but I will write them!

Maybe it’s silly, but your message and your cookie made me really happy, and it felt like “hey, you, keep writing and don’t listen to the intrusive thoughts.” Sometimes writing is hard, especially with this heat and work leaving me completely exhausted.

Thank you! <3

[bloodsherry]

i hate him /aff

[bloodsherry]

I AM SO NORMAL RIGHT NOW GUYS