liminalism

(bea) i write sometimes.

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sfw

✧ Genshin Impact ✧

✧ Attack on Titan ✧

✧ Harry Potter ✧

note: written for academic exercises and
strictly before the author's transphobia came into light.

✧ Tomorrow x Together (txt) ✧

✧ NCT Dream✧

✧ Seventeen ✧

nsfw

works rated E (explicit). relevant warnings and tags will be listed.

✧ non-rpf fandoms ✧

✧ rpf fandoms ✧

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writing samples (non-rpf)

excerpts lifted only from SFW works unless otherwise stated

attack on titan

(eren / armin)

(word count: ~300)

Eren curls up on himself, small and wretched, like a millipede that’s been kicked out the front door, terrified of being squashed underfoot but helpless against the rest of the giant world anyway.“And I don’t want you to forget about me either. I want you, I want you and Mikasa to be happy, I really do, but I want you to think of me every single day, when I die.” He squeezes his eyes shut tight.“I don’t want to die,” he confesses brokenly. “I want to be with Mikasa. I want to be with you. ”Like this, Eren looks so young. So weighed down. Nothing like his Titan form, any of them. No matter how much he tries to fight, no matter how much he thrashes about and defends himself, there is no escaping the slow, inevitable death of being downtrodden and crushed. Like this, Armin imagines Eren as a tiny insect, a new species of ant; loomed over and peered at like some sort of sick new discovery, forced to hold up weights that far exceed its own and only just barely managing, only to be disposed of once deemed to be too troublesome to keep, or once it no longer serves any purpose. In the end, pests are pests, no matter how fascinating, nothing but vermin to be exterminated.Armin thinks he and all the rest of them aren’t any better. They’re all scattered on the field, only twitching bits and dismembered pieces, and he falls to his knees beside his oldest and dearest friend. The anger gushes out of him like toxic black sludge, leaving nothing but an empty and ailing hollowness in the cavern of his chest.“Don’t give up,” he says, mouth numb with a sudden gripping despair. “We’ll find another way—”“No,” Eren says. He still hasn’t moved from his position. Armin yearns to save him. “I’m sure none of them wanted to die, either, so how… how could I ever be forgiven?”

— excerpt from “in you everything sank”

stardew valley

(sebastian / player)

SFW excerpt lifted from an NSFW piece

(word count: ~250)

This is what you tell Sebastian now, as you trace patterns into the skin of his arm. He wasn't wearing any of his signature hoodies, just a loose black shirt he goes to sleep in, and he was wearing loose pajama bottoms. Paired with the light flush on his cheeks and the nervous look in his eyes, you privately thought he looked utterly adorable.“But I’ll ask you again, Seb. Are you sure? A hundred percent, fully committed, sure?”He smiles at you. “I married you. I’m sure.”Your heart seizes in your chest and you can't help but lean forward and wrap your arms around his neck. You touch your forehead to his and try to sound normal.“Can I kiss you?”He settles his arms around your waist, pulling you in, close so you have no choice but uncross your legs and place them on either side of his hips.“I’m saying it now. You can keep asking, but my answer for tonight will always be yes.”You laugh, your breaths mingling in the air between you. It's so hot, all of a sudden. “Okay,” you breathe, before finally, finally, you press your lips to his.His lips are soft, plush, a little dry but that's nothing a few kitten licks from you won't fix. That's for a few kisses from now, though; for now, you want to savor the moment. You press harder, wanting to be as close to him as possible, and he sighs and opens up for you, tilting so you can slot your lips together better.

— excerpt from “like real people do”

genshin impact

(bennett & venti)

(word count: ~730)

Bennett summons his trusty sword and turns to face the horde of monsters. Alright.First things first — he has to make his way to higher ground. In order to do that, he has to at least make his way to the base of the tower from where the monsters were camping, and in order to achieve that, he has to evade as much of the hilichurl attacks as he can, and defend against those that he couldn’t.A quick survey tells him he is facing one of the more formidable mobs — there are, of course, the melee hilichurls, swinging at him with their torches and their fists; there are shooters on each level of the tower, Electro and Pyro energy crackling on the docked arrows of their crossbows, but they will be easy to evade once he reaches the structure’s base; there is a samachurl, waving its staff menacingly as it charges up its perversion of a Hydro-blessed rainstorm; and there is the mitachurl, easily the largest and deadliest Bennett has faced. It wields its axe as easily as if it weighs nothing more than a dry stick, and it is angry.The mitachurl leads the charge, roaring in fury, and Bennett has to keep all the monsters in mind as he hacks his way to his goal, jumping and sprinting and twisting in mid-air to avoid the attacks. He knocks a hilichurl out of the way, slashing at it to incapacitate and flinging its discarded torch at the samachurl that snickers and prances just out of reach. The flaming torch hits its target, successfully toppling the creature even as the fire fizzles and dies out, but before Bennett could even feel any fleeting sort of triumph, a deafening roar almost blasts his eardrums in and he freezes, stunned, for a single crucial second —“Duck!”Some sort of pressure knocks him down, hard, and Bennett is forced to catch himself on his hands and knees in order to avoid toppling over. Just in time, too, as an instant later, he hears the whoosh of the mitachurl’s Pyro-infused axe whistle above where his neck had just been.“Up up up! You’re almost there!”Bennett scrambles to his feet, rushing forward and wasting no time — he infuses his own sword with Pyro and swings as hard as he can, successfully managing to topple over the hilichurls that were still standing by the tower. Little bursts of wind now came to his aid; they would fwoosh into existence, controlled flares of pure Anemo energy, and knock the shooters from their spots on the wooden platforms, toppling them to the ground. Bennett could hear arrows flying past him, but even as he turned to look, he couldn’t see the person shooting them very clearly. All he could conclude was that whoever it was, they had an Anemo vision.Had Sister Vind already managed to call for help? That was fortunate; maybe today wasn’t so unlucky, after all. Unless this person was a civilian, in which case — Bennett would have to work even harder to protect them. Archons above, he hopes this wasn’t the case!“Dear adventurer, close your eyes!”Huh?Abruptly, there was a rush of wind, so strong it almost sucked him into its gales. Bennett manages to brace himself against the force of it, but only barely — through slitted eyes, he could see pure elemental energy, wild and powerful and wholly unlike anything Bennett has ever witnessed. It pulled at everything around him: all the hilichurls, their weapons, their horns, their masks and scrolls and arrows. Bennett watches as one torch, still alight with Pyro, flies into the vortex and lights his entire line of vision on fire a mere second later. It incinerates the grass, the scattered wooden crates, the very air in his lungs. He watches as the mitachurl gets trapped in the sheer, unstoppable force of it. The massive creature collapses to its knees, struggling for breath, and for a single moment, one eternal second, Bennett feels the true power of the wind and what it means to wield it.He watches as the vortex dies down, and the being responsible for it ambles casually into view.“Whew! I almost didn’t have enough energy for that one! Good thing you had your sword, huh?”Bennett stares at the person before him, surprised that he recognizes him. It’s the bard, Venti.

— excerpt from “Plausible Deniability”

harry potter

(sirius / remus)

note: written for an academic exercise and
strictly before the author's transphobia came into light.

(word count: ~280)

V. May/June 1993Remus is running. He can hear Hermione screaming upstairs, he’s running as fast as he can, he’s here, he’s here, he’s alive…He bursts into the room, quickly taking in the situation – Harry, Hermione, Ron, his leg mangled and the scent of his blood staining the air. The boy is clutching at both his leg and his rat, and that leg is certainly something to look at, but at this very moment Remus couldn’t care less, because there, lying crumpled and bleeding on the floor in front of Harry, was Sirius Black.He clamps down on his emotions and quickly disarms everyone in the room. The sight of Peter’s name on the Map is still seared into his mind’s eye.“Where is he, Sirius?” His voice doesn’t break. Sirius’s face is blank as he raises a finger to point at the rat in Ron’s hand.What? “But then… why hasn’t he shown himself before now?” Think, think, think… “Unless —” Ah. “Unless he was the one… unless you switched…” Don’t falter, don’t break. “…without telling me?”Something in Sirius’s emotionless eyes splinters at the question, and Remus supposes, in a vague, indistinct sort of manner, that he was unable to get the slight bitterness completely out of his voice. Sirius nods.A pause, and then suddenly – Remus has no memory of moving – the only thing that matters now is that Sirius is in his arms. The body he is holding feels nothing like he remembers, too thin, abused and malnourished and filthy, but Sirius is clutching him back, stuttering breaths and incoherent phrases sounding in his ears, and Remus holds him like he’s never letting go.It’s the first time in twelve years Remus has ever felt truly alive.

— excerpt from “Temporal Cartography”

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writing samples (rpf)

excerpts lifted only from SFW works unless otherwise stated

nct dream

(jaemin / renjun)

(word count: ~400)

Do you believe in the supernatural?When Jaemin was in grade four, slambooks of all themes and types took his school by storm. Little personalized journals for friends to answer, usually three pages per person, with spaces for personal information and questions and fill-in-the-blanks that were designed for the writer to leave their mark in the journal owner’s memories. Jaemin himself wasn’t really one of the more popular kids, opting to stay with the safe group of friends he’d made within his class, but of course everybody wanted theirs to be filled up with answers, so Jaemin still ended up answering a few.Kuya Mark, one of his busmates, had entrusted his own spooky-themed slambook to little wide-eyed Jaemin, with instructions to answer it first himself and then spread it to his other classmates.Jaemin, who couldn’t quite believe he was being given such an important task by someone so well-known around the school, could only nod.“Do it discreetly, Jaemin,” his Kuya had emphasized. “I’m not sure if the teachers think slambooks are some harmful gimmick but still, better safe than sorry!”Jaemin, eager to do as his Kuya asked, set to work on answering the page meant for him. Do you believe in the supernatural? Do you believe in ghosts? Would you rather meet a kapre, a duwende, or a manananggal? He’d tapped his mechanical pencil against his lips, deep in thought, weighing which answer Kuya Mark would appreciate more. Coming to the conclusion that Kuya Mark would rather know the truth (he was cool like that, Jaemin thinks), Jaemin had scritched “yes” to both of the questions, and “duwende” for the multiple choice.As a fourth-grader who prided himself on being logical, he’d rather meet something smaller than him, a tiny being he could ward off with a simple “tabi-tabi po” and appease with choc-nut, than encounter a creature that could potentially kidnap him or force him to smoke, or a creepy disembodied woman with claws and wings and her entrails trailing after her in the night sky.For some reason, in his twenties and staring up at the moonlit silhouette of a winged half-body as it loomed over him, poised for action with sharp claw-like nails glinting in the darkness of his room, this little childhood anecdote is the first thing that springs to Jaemin’s mind.He’d always thought there was something weird with his roommate, Huang Renjun.

— excerpt from “the manananggal in p. valenzuela street”

tomorrow x together

(yeonjun/taehyun)

(word count: ~330)

Taehyun gets the sense that the older kid was trying to distract him, and it was working. “Okay, hyung. Thank you.”Yeonjun grins, bright and all of a sudden. “That’s the first time you called me hyung!”Taehyun stares at him for a second, eyes wide, and then shakes his head. “No, it isn’t. I called you hyung earlier, when I fell.”“Oh, that’s true… Whatever, both times are special! I’ve told you to call me hyung before but you never did and I thought you hated me!”“That’s not true either…”“No take-backsies, okay? I’m your hyung forever. I don’t have any younger siblings at home, only older cousins, so you’re my first dongsaeng! Come look for me in school, okay? If anybody bullies you I’ll take them down for you!”Which was funny, Taehyun thinks, as looking back he’s the one who took up defensive sports, but the offer stood regardless.He never forgot the way Yeonjun looked when he realized he’d been accepted as someone’s hyung. The delight in his eyes, the huge smile that spread all over his face at a simple word. Hyung, hyung, hyung.He liked to be dependable, Taehyun’s Yeonjun-hyung.(They’d kissed, once, when Yeonjun was a high school senior, poised to graduate and take flight, the first of the five of them. Just to see. Well, their pretense was that Yeonjun had joked that he didn’t want to go off into the real world without having had any practice with kissing, and Taehyun, lump in his throat, heart trying to beat its way out of his chest, had offered, carefully, jokingly, to help him out. What shocked them both was that Yeonjun had agreed. It was short and awkward, and they’d both been surprisingly raw for a few days following it.They never brought it up again, and soon afterwards Yeonjun just started kissing other people too. Taehyun never talked about it to anyone, and just kept the memory of the kiss close to his heart.)

— excerpt from “hydrangea love”

tomorrow x together

(soobin/beomgyu)

(word count: ~450)

“Soobin!” Beomgyu calls out instead, watching Soobin’s head snap up and his eyebrows furrow when the lack of honorific registers. “–hyung,” he tacks on, mouth curving into a smirk.Soobin’s expression flattens even more. “Yes, Beomgyu-yah?” There’s none of the overly sweet, wheedling tone that typically laced his voice whenever they bickered like this, which makes something in Beomgyu’s chest drop. He’s really going about this wrong, huh. Against his better judgment, defensiveness curls around Beomgyu’s throat. It actually stings.No matter. If there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s annoying people into paying attention to him.Beomgyu holds up the ribbon he’d slipped from his hair, the one Yeonjun had tied around his neck earlier.“Come here,” still purposefully drawing out the end of his sentence before finishing it in polite speech. Well, Soobin can’t flat-out refuse a request from the birthday boy, can he? Beomgyu grins in success when, sure enough, Soobin rolls his eyes but gets up and makes his way towards the table anyway.“What do you want,” he says, monotone.“Tie my hair up? Give me a proper apple hairstyle, please.” Beomgyu reaches his hand out, where the ribbon is entangled around his fingers. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, honestly. He just doesn’t want Soobin to ignore him again, not today when it’s his birthday.(Not ever.)Soobin looks like he’s restraining himself from rolling his eyes again, but takes the ribbon anyway, his fingers snatching away from Beomgyu’s hand as quickly as possible. Beomgyu holds back a frown at that; part of him held the thing out like that because he wants Soobin to slip their fingers together. But anyway, he’s still getting what he asked for.Soobin moves behind him and wordlessly gathers a bunch of his hair. It’s quiet, Beomgyu hadn’t noticed but the maknaes have made themselves scarce, and Yeonjun is sprawled on the couch Soobin himself had abandoned just a few minutes prior, engrossed with something on his phone.In this moment, it’s just him and Soobin, him holding as still as possible, Soobin and his long fingers deftly carding through his hair, gently fixing and re-fixing the bunch he has gathered to make for the neatest, bounciest little apple sprout. It’s so silly, is the thing. Beomgyu doesn’t even know why he asked for this, but he also doesn’t know why Soobin agreed, so he figures it’s quits.He has to admit, though, that having Soobin’s fingers in his hair feels… nice. Makes him feel nice, being prettied up like this, even if it’s silly.(Even if, or because, it ends up feeling really intimate, and if Beomgyu quietly relishes in having Soobin’s attention on him like this, it’s not like he’d admit it to anyone.)

— excerpt from “paint me in trust (this night just can’t end)”

tomorrow x together

(yeonjun/beomgyu)

SFW excerpt lifted from an NSFW piece

(word count: ~350)

“Hyung. Hyung, Yeonjun, hyung, stop for a moment.”Yeonjun snaps his mouth shut. What is happening?“Hyung,” Beomgyu says, low and serious. Yeonjun only now notices that Beomgyu had made his way back on the bed, is kneeling in front of him, and that the other boy is fully clothed while he still only has his shirt on. He shivers at the look in Beomgyu’s eyes, and his mind is both sluggish, unable to process anything, and going at a hundred miles a minute.“Answer me with a yes or no, okay?” Beomgyu pauses, lets the meaning of his words sink in. Yeonjun is helpless against Beomgyu when he’s like this. He nods.“Do you want me to leave?”The world stops, freezes, crashes and breaks apart and then reforms itself back again, all in one singular moment.Yeonjun, honest, raw, vulnerable Yeonjun – what choice does he have in the face of someone who can shatter worlds and bring them back together like that? Beomgyu is looking at him, brows furrowed and eyes intense, ablaze.Yeonjun shakes his head. No.Please don’t leave me.Something in Beomgyu’s face blooms.In the next moment, Yeonjun is being hugged and kissed so furiously he falls back to the bed with the force of it. Above him, Beomgyu giggles, breathless as nothing short of what looks like pure, unadulterated joy lights him up.“Beomgyu…?” Yeonjun’s hands have automatically moved to their place on Beomgyu’s waist, and as the younger boy leans down to smother his face again with kisses, Yeonjun feels almost like an idiot, even as his arms move to wrap around Beomgyu’s neck and back and loosely hug the other boy against him.“Make it really clear to me, Choi Yeonjun, use your words,” Beomgyu tells him, eyes alight, face resplendent. “Did you fall in love with me?”The question jolts Yeonjun back into control of his body, his senses. Oh.“Yes.” It comes out as a croak, and he clears his throat and tries again. “Yes. I did.”Beomgyu laughs. It’s the best sound in the world, Yeonjun decides then and there.

— excerpt from “be still, my foolish heart”

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