I am just a silly lil enby foxy witch (he/they/she)
This is my personal account where I share my interests, memes and fav fics. Please check my writings on my writing blog! I dream of becoming a real writer~
LINKS
More about my identity
My writing blog / My AO3
My Thinking&Reading blog
My photography blog
My Art blog (still working on this lol)
Habit building by my bestie
Link to my BSD OC account coming soon...
CURRENTLY INTERESTED IN...
Bungo Stray Dogs (BSD)
Writing & Reading
Mahjong
Arts
CURRENTLY WORKING ON...
mental health
writing my stories/works
working out / eating healthy
bsd oc creation
REQUESTS?
I can image search anything for you or create an icon lol
I am already fed up with Bach and Mozart,
and completely fed up with that happy, easy-going jazz.
I am living like an iron bridge under a cloudy sky after rain.
I am pressed by things forever desolate.
I am not completely quiet in the midst of that desolation.
I am seeking something, always seeking something
in the midst of this terrible immobility, but also terribly impatient.
For the sake of this, my appetites and lusts are as nothing.
- Nakahara Chūya, “The Voice of Life” from The Poems of Nakahara Chūya
Catching up on art posts, very honored and proud to share this oil painting which went live this past Friday, a work created for Elliot Lang's 'Character In Context' show at the A.R. Mitchell Museum in Trinidad, Colorado. Opening is June 5th (sorry, I will not be there) Link to the on line catalog with the few dozen talented artist's contributions with preliminary studies and final paintings in the comments below.
Precipice
20" x 16" Oil on Panel, framed, 2026
A part of my series of works in dialog with our mythological fascination with space travel and our place in the universe.
CW: Fluff, kissing, established relationship, will give you diabetes
Word count: 1,229
First fanfic ever, so pls be nice to meeee
You entered the small library. Your gaze was fixed on the floor as you moved, as if in a trance that deepened at the piquant yet gentle scent of old books and aged wood. The familiar smell was a soothing balm to your soul, a memory of peace and innocence.
Perhaps reading books in your childhood has equipped you to find moments of respite in this modern world—full of human melancholy and fabricated urgency.
As you finally raised your eyes, they widened for an instant, then your lips faintly curled into a small, happy smile. A quiet figure sat on a sofa, a heavy book in hand. The pale man made no sign of acknowledging your presence, yet you knew it was unnecessary; he was always aware of everything.
You decided not to disturb the silence, punctuated only by quiet breaths and the occasional flip of a page. You sat near him, close enough to feel a comfortable shared warmth, yet preserving his solitude. And then you proceeded to read your own, lighter book.
This quality time was perfect for both of you; there was no call for frivolous words or undue touch. Physical desire was not a necessity for either of you, though there was nothing wrong with it. To some extent, at least. You started to long for his touch.
At first, you simply fidgeted, trying to suppress the urge and distract yourself with reading. It was no use. Fyodor's presence was alluring and deeply magnetic—a mystery to be solved with a delicate touch and careful observation.
You sheepishly glanced at the Russian. Still engrossed in his book, his face was serene and undisturbed, his cheek supported by the knuckles of his slender hand. His tranquillity was frustrating, almost mocking your growing desire.
The inner conflict had been slowly brewing, but before it became visible, you chose to take action: you put your book on the armrest and leaned slightly towards Fyodor, putting your weight on your arm propped on the sofa.
You pursed your lips and carefully looked at him, "Fyodor..." you whispered shyly, "can I... lean on you?" you almost pleaded.
Fyodor gently lifted his gaze from his book to look at you. He was silent for a moment, his gaze steady on your vulnerable expression. His face didn't change, not even a millimetre, yet his composure offered no discomfort.
"Yes..." Fyodor finally murmured, "Yes, you may." He returned to his reading, but not before shifting his body to offer you space to lean on comfortably.
The Russian man's permission filled your chest with warmth and swelling joy; you couldn't help but smile softly. Ever so carefully, you moved like a cat towards Fyodor. The moment your cheek met his shoulder, your eyes closed and your heart melted.
You both stayed like this for a while, in a shared, comforting silence. The moment felt like a warm blanket draped over the two of you, a peace only a true couple could share. The soft breathing sounded like a distant melody, and your heartbeat—steady and real—grounded you in the beautiful reality of the moment.
Before slumber overtook you, you sensed Fyodor shifting. You lifted your gaze and it was met with his. The man was staring at you, like a specimen of wonder. You wanted to ask him what was wrong, but you couldn't. You were mesmerised by his cold, deep purple eyes. You could have sworn those eyes had soaked in all human emotions—both good and bad—and now they sharply reflected his deepest understanding of humanity.
Suddenly, he asked, "Can I touch you?" His voice was calm.
You froze at his abrupt question, your eyes wide in disbelief. Then you chuckled into your fist. You found his directness and curiosity adorable, a delightful contrast to his usual reserve.
"Touch where?" you teased him with a pretty smile.
At first, Fyodor blinked, as if unsure he heard you correctly. Then he chuckled lowly, and you immediately joined him.
"Are you insinuating at something, dear?" he then asked with a small grin, barely visible.
You shook your head gently, then smirked with a tilt of your head, resting your palm on your collarbone. "No, not really, Fyodor," you replied. "I simply asked because some parts of my body are sensitive—like my upper arms…" you pinched the soft skin of your arm to demonstrate. "…Or my cheek. My thighs and shoulders, however, are not so sensitive and are perfectly fine to touch."
The man gently grabbed his chin and hummed in mock thoughtfulness, as if listening intently to your explanations like a scholar reviewing a complex thesis. A faint smile curled the corners of his lips.
"Is that so?" Fyodor murmured, which almost sounded like a purr. He then leaned towards you just an inch closer and asked, "In that case, may I touch your nose?"
Your breath hitched at the unexpected request. You stared at Fyodor for several seconds before letting out an amused huff. You found his playfulness utterly charming.
"My nose?" You lifted one eyebrow, a lopsided smile playing on your lips. "Sure, you may touch my nose, my dear." You then leaned forward, presenting your nose for his touch.
Then, something startling happened.
You expected Fyodor's hand to reach for your nose, imagining his cold finger gently tapping your cute nose.
Instead, Fyodor leaned even closer to you. Your mind blanked at the proximity of his face, leaving you petrified in place. His face was inches away, getting closer… You squeezed your eyes shut and then…
And then, you felt a tender brush on your nose.
You opened your eyes and… saw Fyodor gently rubbing his nose against yours. You noticed that you were holding your breath, so you let it go slowly. Soon, Fyodor leaned back with a satisfying smirk.
You were quiet for a moment, taken aback by his actions, then you asked him with a raised eyebrow: "Did you just... Eskimo kiss me?"
Fyodor's smirk grew, slightly exposing his teeth. He settled back, leaning his weight onto his knuckles propped against the sofa's back.
"I did, indeed, my dear." He replied and tilted his head playfully.
His response baffled you but soon you burst into a soft chuckle, stifling it with your middle knuckle. Your laughter made you feel light and happy in your chest.
Meanwhile, Fyodor was admiring your happy scene. His eyes almost surrendered to the softness of the scene and your endearing display.
"I can't believe," you tried to compose yourself, "that our first kiss was an Eskimo kiss!" You smiled widely now, clearly not disappointed and utterly happy with the new progress in your relationship with Fyodor.
Fyodor hummed, as if he was actually thinking about your declaration. "It's a progress," he glanced at you confidently, clearly still teasing you, "small yet a significant one still."
You finally managed to stop your laughter, wiping tears of joy from your eyes. Then you looked fondly at Fyodor, with rosy cheeks and eyes full of love for the Russian man. You weren't aware but the way you looked so lovingly that it almost made Fyodor catch his breath.
"And there are many more to come~" You purred and leaned on the back of the sofa, your cheek squished adorably. "I will remember this, our first kiss, for the rest of my life."
(P.S. CHAT, I am so cooked. I only imagined this moment for mere minutes, who knew this imagination would take THIS MUCH TO TYPE, HOLY—
Anyway, I hope y'all enjoy it!!)
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