#on twt i feel a sense of dread

[spacenintendogs]

i hate my anxiety and paranoia.

[tokyocyborg]

you're the star i look for every night

when it's dark, you'll stick right by my side

[chain-peoplebreaker]

Alhaitham in an Art Nouveau inspired style Here's a thread I wrote about this concept on Twitter, below the cut will be a copy of the text, sorry if it takes a weird format on tumblr since it was initially written as a twt thread

This might not make a lot of sense to some of you but before i talk about Alhaitham and Art Nouveau i'd like to talk about Kaveh and Romanticism The connection between Kaveh and Romanticism can be more easily done, specially with characters such as Faruzan calling him a romantic

The Romantic movement, as the name suggest, is very emotionally driven. Its a movement that values individualism ane subjectvism, it's objective is on evoking an emotional response, most comonly being feelings of sympathy, awe, fear, dread and wonder in relation to the world

Basically the artistic view of the Romantic is to represent the world while trying to say "we are hopeless in the grand scheme of things, little can we do to change the world yet the world is always changing us"

In Romantic pieces the man is always small compared to the setting they find themselves in, see the painting Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog by Caspar David Friedrich as an example, the human figure is central but relativelly insignificant to the world

Another thing about Romanticism is the importance of beauty, it's through it that the Romantic seeks to get in touch with their emotions and ituition and its through these lenses that they see the world. The Kaveh comparison should be easy to make with these descriptions

Kaveh's idle chat "The ability to ability to appreciat beauty is an important virtue" just cements to me the idea that his romanticism is closely connected to the artistic movement. He does have an argument agaisnt this connection but I'll bring it up later on the thread

Now that I used the opportunity to talk about my favorite character in a thread that wasn't supposed to be about him let's go back to Alhaitham and how to connect him to the Art Nouveau movement

But seriously, I brought up Kaveh's more obvious connection to Romanticism because the Nouveau movement was created as a direct mirrored response to the Romantic movement, and we all know how we feel about mirrored themes between these two characters

Art Nouveau is about rationality and logic, the movement was used more comonly on mass produced interior design pieces or architectural buildings, it's a movement much more focused on functionality than on art appreciation

They also had a big focus on the natural world but in a very different way, while Romantics saw nature as a power they couldnt contend with, artists from the Nouveau used the natural as an universal symbolical theme for broad mass appeal

Flowers, leaves, branches, complexes and organic shapes are the basis of this style, the logical side of it coming from the mathematics needed to create these shapes and themes in ways that were appealing and also structurally sound

To appreciate the Art Nouveau style is to understand it is a calculated artistic movement (another reason to be salty about an AI generated image trying to emulate it) In short, this style is less about the art and more about the rationality in the mathematics to make it

Another note I'd like to point out is that I love how both Alhaitham and Kaveh have dendro visions while both movements are so nature centric in different ways, Romanticism seeing it as a subjective power and Art Nouveau seeing it as recognizeable symbols

I mentioned an argument against the Kaveh comparison before: the one thing that bothers me about Romanticism is how negative it is in relation to humanity's position in the world and how that related back to Kaveh

In the Parade of Providence it was explicitely showed how much Kaveh dislikes the idea of people seeing themselves as helpless in relation to the problems of the world

People may suffer but there is something he can do to help them and he will do it

It doesn't feel right for me to say that Kaveh fits the Romantic themes because of his suffering, in a similar sense it also doesn't feel right to me to say Alhaitham fits Art Nouveau because of his rational behaviour while he as a character is a lot more complex than that

This thread was done all in fun and love for an artistic discussion, it's not a perfect argument to connect these characters and movements

+ I haven't studied art history in a year, if anyone knows more about these movements please tell me I love learning new things

++ Really sorry if my english is bad or I sound repetitive, it's not my first language and im trying my best here

Thanks for reading

I love you, have a nice day/evening/night

[llannasvsp]

ninjago dragons rising spoilers

if i see a single person being mad that kai learned the rising dragon technique first it's ON SIGHT.

i feel like most people are okay with it an actually celebrate it, but i know on insta and twt there's going to be the annoying fans on the lloyd end of things that whine that lloyd didn't learn it first.

i am number one lloyd kin, defender, lover, stan, protector, ect, but even i am happy that kai learned rising dragon first. firstly, kai is a character who was misused in the 11 minute era. it's nice to have him in the spotlight again. secondly, i am fully convince that if anyone thinks lloyd should have learned it first, that they do not understand him.

lloyd said himself that his panic attacks shut him down and he lives in dread of experiencing another vision / panic attack. he says that he has no calm inside himself. part of learning rising dragon is finding that calm. he literally doesn't have it.

at all.

so like... why would he even logically learn it first. it makes no sense.

LET CHARACTERS HAVE THEIR STORYLINES AND MOMENTS. kai needed to be first for so many reasons, and lloyd needed to learn it last, for other reasons. just. grrr.

this isn't directed at anyone, at all, just me venting at the idea that some of the annoying lloyd fans are like "grrr he's the green ninja why is kai cooler than him now". just like how there's annoying kai fans that still think kai should've been the green ninja.

[pursuitseternal]

“𝓛𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓵𝓮 𝓗𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓷:” Chapter 4 to “Love Me, Hate Me”

Astarion x Tav (Katja) | E | 4.2K

🎨 by @marimosalad 🌶️ version on twt

Summary: A reward awaits Katja’s defensiveness against Gandrel, one that erodes away at her surefooted faith as a Gur.

CW: Enemies to Lovers, Cunnilingus, corruption kink, body worship, feelings catching is in the air, references to Astarion’s abuse, Astarbation

Previous ch | ao3 link | Masterlist

It was time, Katja decided, but not without some… fortification. No weapon, but a few swigs of some mermaid whiskey to steel her nerves would do the trick. Just enough to dull the race of her heart so he couldn’t gloat about it.

About how he affected her body.

Katja glowered as she scuttled in the shadows around camp back towards that pile of rose and crimson canvas. Immaculate on the outside, with its verdant plants and luxurious pillows, its gilded mirror reflecting candlelight light the lounge in an upscale bordello. She rolled her eyes. That whiskey in her gut was helping move her feet forward one at a time; good thing too. She wasn’t one to back down ever. Stubborn as a mule, more thick headed than a Minotaur, her tribe elders used to say. No. No sultry summons to his tent would make her back away. She wasn’t scared of monsters, least of all him.

At least she could think those words, even as her heart beat faster with every stride that ate the distance between her and the glow of light inside his tent.

A shadow, long and almost gangly crossed in front of the candlelight within his canvas lair. He moved back and forth, restlessly almost stalking from within.

Like an animal at the circus pacing his cage.

Tightly wound. Hostile.

As their Gith companion said, ‘Eager for battle.’

Tossing her long, neat braid over her shoulder, she took a whiskey-laden sigh, a prayer for strength in her heart, she clutched one hand around the only nice thing she kept—a Selûnite medal. The only remaining thing she had left of her parents, now her tribe. The metal warmed in her fingers, just a subtle dusting of Selûnite magic, so faint, not even the Sharran had sensed it. But then again, Katja rarely took it out from under her shirt or the wrappings that bound her pert breasts.

A deep breath, a shuffle of the wrap around her hips, and she strode into his tent. Into his glimmering darkness.

He turned slowly, the light kissing the bumps and rises of his scars casting teeny shadows on his back’s pale skin. His face quirked into that leering smirk, wicked and arrogant. His voice was that purr she began to dread… and crave. “Well, here’s my little treat with her cheeks all flushed. Happy to see me, or is it the whiskey in your blood?”

Katja huffed a laugh, swaying to rest her weight on one hip. “Huh, I only had a taste, I swear,” she smirked, repeating a line she knew he had whispered to Shadowheart when they used to feed by the campfire.

A scowl tweaked the corner of his lip for the briefest moment. “Well, you came, even if you are stinking drunk…”

Katja opened her mouth to protest, far from inebriated. But he just closed the distance, reaching to cover her gaping lips with a single finger.

“And here I was half convinced you would… pussy out. Now here you are in the flesh. Shows me.”

The gleam in his eye was downright wicked, maybe even devilish, although Katja had yet to meet a devil. Still, it made her breath catch in her chest, made her press her hand to her sternum to feel the cool tickle of Moon magic against her skin.

“I’m not one to back down,” she fired her retort.

And it only made that rakish smirk twist all the more. “Then please down on your back,” he gestured to the pile of blankets and pillows in the long center of his tent. Her eyes widened in shock at his boldness, making him give another of those looks of false innocence. “Just make yourself comfortable, won’t you?” he purred, settling down. He lounged, long legs splayed before him. As he twisted to reach for the wine bottle, the deep cut of his cream silk shirt slid open.

Katja knew she was staring, she knew she was salivating as her eyes darted from the pale skin of his chest to the supple, full lips smirking up at her. She knew their taste, just as well as she knew the way they spewed his velvet-wrapped heresies.

He took a loud, gulping swig straight from the green glass bottleneck. Those eyes glinted as he looked up at her, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, using that pink tongue to lap up the bright red drops that covered his hand.

She couldn’t look away from it, from the way he licked, that sinuous movement of his mouth as it cleaned his own skin. Fuck. His mouth smiled so wide as the tip of his tongue trailed over the vein-lined back of his hand. She could see fangs as he grinned. “Come on darling, have a seat, and let me thank you properly for today,” he purred, his voice finally cracking her reverie and making her eyes roam up to his.

“There’s no room for me,” she huffed, scanning the small empty spaces around him.

He gave a toss of his sumptuous silver curls and a cold laugh. “You’re a Gur,” he scoffed with a look of deep seated disgust, “aren’t you used to squeezing up to your victims, ready to cut their throat or their purse strings.”

He glared up at her, indulging in another loud, languid swallow of wine. Something flickered in his eyes.

Katja spread her legs and folded her arms over her chest, irritated as she fought to keep her rage at a simmer.

“Oh come now, darling,” he swirled the wine noisily in the bottle, sloshing it around. “Don’t tell me you’re not brave enough to share a bottle with me? After all,” he reached a hand to gently grab hers, “you did save my life.”

There, that look. Temptation incarnate. The angles of his eyebrows, the flexing cut of his jaw—he leered up at her with his dangerous smile and desirous hint in his crimson eyes. It made her heart skip a beat, leaping to slam right under her medal. But even as her pulse thrummed in her ears, she sat in the biggest space of his bedroll, her thigh still having to press against his as she criss-crossed her legs.

Astarion chuckled, perhaps a little mischievously, or a little wickedly. “You act like you’ve never been alone with a man in his private quarters before, my little treat.”

“My experience is not widely ranged, I’ll give you that,” she replied, snagging the bottle from his outstretched hand. Her nose crinkled in distaste, and she ignored the intense and pointed way he watched her lips wrap around the wine bottle.

Then, he smirked.

Gods, as if his shit-eating grin couldn’t twist any more rakishly. “Well, you’ll be thanking the gods mine is by the time I’m done with you…” he purred, one arm unmistakably snaking around her back. His shirt brushed her ass, nothing more, and yet it set off a torrent of heat in her veins. Her hand nearly dropped the bottle as she lowered it from her mouth. “Easy there, clumsy girl, or you’ll make the wrong kind of mess in my bed…”

Katja groaned, unable to hide the effect he was having on her. “Are you having fun tormenting me like this?” she chuffed, flustered and too aroused to be unamused.

There it was again, that smoldering look that had her damning her soul for him. Fuck.

“Why shouldn’t I?” he crooned. “It’s not like your kind is prone to amusements or pleasures of the flesh. Perhaps you’ll enjoy a little debauchery, darling.”

The way Katja visibly shivered only made him salivate more. “It’s a party, a celebration, a… reward. You did take my side against your own people. That must have taken a toll on your self righteous perfection…”

Katja stiffened as his hand brushed her back. “I just didn’t want to lose the chance to… to kill your master and claim my own right as a hunter. Besides, you’re good in battle.” She nodded vigorously, clearly having thought through every last justification.

And he knew it. He leaned in, taking the bottle and licking his tongue around that little glass hole. “Wouldn’t you miss me… just a little bit? My charm, my wit? Or maybe you’d miss staring at my mouth in that way you do.”

Shit, she cursed, her gaze snapping up from his pink tongue to his devilish smiling stare.

He set the bottle down on the wood of his pallet with a thunk. “Hmmm, now, about my show of gratitude,” he rasps, his voice suddenly somehow more silken as it purrs in his chest. “Not afraid of me, are you?”

Her hand wandered to her chest, pressing at something beneath her shirt, and only then did he notice that thin, silver chain around her neck. A single finger stole under that chain, fishing out her little, round medal. “Well, well,” he chided, honey and singsong as he leaned in to crowd her, “a Selûnite medal, if I’m any judge… which I.. am…”

“Was,” Katja corrected. “Now you’re a vampire and a rogue.”

Astarion’s smirking jaw snapped shut. “Be glad, my little Gur, that I’m no longer a magistrate. I’d have you and all your kind groveling at my feet, repenting your lawless ways…” he dropped the necklace from his fingers for it to land in the center of her chest. “And no Moodmaiden would be able to save you from me…” he tilted his head, gaze wandering over the parts of her body that were exposed to the moonlight.

Katja’s breath stuck in her chest, her words dying on her tongue in stilted, little syllables. “I… I… ah…”

“Yes, my treat?” He smirked, pressing his body against hers. “Offering me your supplication? I would be most magnanimous to accept your prayers of submission, of devotion.” His hand captured hers, twisting it softly to bring those white bite marks into view. Those cool, soft lips pressed a kiss over them, smiling as even this far from her beating heart, he could hear its thunder. “Would you allow me a drink? After the trials of the day, it’s a treat to taste you, Katja…”

Her spine tingled, arching as he purred her name, short and sharp as it was, it sounded sweeter than honeycomb on his tongue… on that wicked tongue that lapped its way up and down her vein. “Yes,” she managed to choke out.

He overwhelmed her, his presence, his scent, the way his body slid with undead grace to crowd her. Every instinct in her mortal frame screamed to run, but her body defied it, craving the rush of adrenaline and flood of arousal it was to be this close to a vampire.

Reason… sense… faith… all her defenses were so easily stripped by the way his skin smelled of citrus and his tongue bathed her vein, teasing it to the surface right up until his fangs sang into her tender flesh.

She meant to gasp, meant to hiss in pain and jolt away from him… not press closer against his good-smelling chest and moan.

Fuck.

At the noise, his eyes flashed open as he suckled her wrist again. So lazy and languid. As if he had nothing better to do and no enemies to kill and no tadpole in his brain to remove.

Crawling ever closer, Katja realized the full extent of his strength. His body was lean, composed of all muscle, not one inch of his frame was weak. It was the body of a survivor, a fighter… a predator.

A delicious crush of muscle and sinew, he slowly slunk over her, wrist still pressed insistently to his blood-slick lips. Drops of crimson fell on her own chest as he crept closer. And before fear could take a breath, his body pressed her into the haphazard pile of pillows and blankets, his knee pressing her own, hooking it to spread her wide.

Wide enough for his pelvis to shove into her own, to grind that burgeoning erection against her belly. The more he fed, the hotter and thicker he grew, and despite her limited experience with such things, Katja’s heart thundered in her ears and rapt inside her chest.

But maybe it was the blood loss again.

Nope, no it wasn’t. The moment he pulled from her wrist, her scarlet essence dripping down his chin, every single one of her belly muscles clenched. Nostrils flaring, he gave her that conceited smirk, scenting her arousal as if he didn’t feel it seeping into his trousers when he slowly began to thrust.

“Why, you little heathen, getting turned on as monster feeds from your very life force?” he hissed, dangerously wicked in tone. His crimson eyes went wide, a fake show of shock. “What would you precious Moonmaiden say? Or your elders?”

“I… I…” she stammered, unable to stop her body from rolling her own hips to match the timing of his undulations.

His laugh was low in his chest, she could feel it rumbling against her bound breasts as his blood-stained lips brushed hers. Copper brushed her tongue as he spoke. “A question for another time. Right now, as delicious as you are, I’ve a notion to taste something… sweeter.”

Those cool fingers, that icy tongue and lips caressed their way down her body, a trail of smeared blood his marking on her pale skin.

“What’s happening, what is this?” She whispered, wriggling uncomfortably. That silver around her neck seemed to burn, or was it just her imagination…

Astarion chuckled. “Consider this your reward for aligning yourself with me, for accepting my needs as greater than those hollow legends the Gur taught you about vampires.” His lips whispered against the curves of her belly, the lines of her muscle that rose and fell with increasing speed. He kissed his way lower, his shoulders now pushed her thighs wider… higher. The pads of his fingers lifted the red fabric of her wrap towards her waist dangerously high, a patch of blonde curls covering her mound. “You’ll be crying my name, praying for me to keep going, to show you no mercy…”

That silver on her neck burned for certain, the pendant at her chest weighing heavily. Katja just had to pick it up and get it off her skin. Those crimson orbs caught the moonlight that fell across them, the stripe of light slicing starkly through the gathered shadow.

His nose, his lips pressed at her mound, cool air rushing as he inhaled deeply. “Sweeter than incense, my little heathen. A fine offering for me to taste.” Long, skilled digits slide effortlessly into her slick, drawing it out, pump after pump. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move more than the unbidden rolls of her hips on his fingers as those red eyes stared at her, as his pink tongue lolled out from his lips. He flicked it once over those folds, sending her back arching—the only warning she got before he dove in deep. Lips and tongue coaxed out more arousal, she could feel it dripping, soaking the bedding beneath them. His throat made little hums. Like a predator feasting, he growled and purred as he lapped every inch of her cunt.

That flap of the tent fluttered slightly in the night breeze, the faint beam of starlight and moon glow cut through the dimness of his tent.

Unforgiving, that ray cleaved her in two, a war of light and dark. Her fingers closed around that smooth silver medal, the pendant growing heavier with every sigh that escaped her lips, every moment she didn’t fight against the vampire between her thighs. “Moonmaiden, help me,” she whispered, just loud enough for those pointed ears to twitch as he heard.

A deep, wicked laugh rumbled against her folds. “Forget your goddess, Katja, I’ll have you praying to me,” he crooned. Hands gripped her thigh, speeding her wider, fingers parting those nether lips to expose her slit for proper worship.

Gravity pulled her twitching muscles down to the bedding, her body winding tighter than she gripped her ax, more tense than ever she had felt before. Legs shook, breath caught tight in her chest. That creep wave of warmth and pleasure swirled again. It was happening more and more often each time she allowed him near her… in her.

“Fuck,” she cursed, panting as her vision blurred from blood loss and bliss.

“Fuck, who?” the Vampire sniggered, tongue out and swirling her clit even as he spoke.

“Gods… fuck me, Astarion,” she spat through her gritted teeth as something inside her snapped. That wave of heat tension burst, overflowing and racing down her veins. She mewled like a cat, thighs shaking and squeezing his head, back arching off the messy pile of pillows… and all Astarion had to do was hum and lick and suck the wet from her cunt.

Her high overwhelmed her, enthralled her—a feeling like she had never known. Better than her first kill on the hunt, better than her first stolen kiss, and far better than the first messy time she gave her innocence hurriedly in a tavern once.

This was… she struggled to think, to comprehend what happened. As she gazed down her body to see his glistening chin and smirking lips, she knew then. This was extacy. Rapture. Morning short of a slice of heaven in the middle of their hell of a trial.

And gods, did she want more. Sitting up, she pulled his face to her lips for a taste. Her tang sustained her, but it was quickly overridden by the taste of him, that slight copper of her blood and that sharp scent of citrus from his cologne covering her taste buds. It was a kiss of unbridled need, all those inhibitions and restrictions were long forgotten, left in the mess she had made in his bed. “Astarion,” she growled, half-needy and half-feral.

“Yes, darling?” he replied, tongue withdrawing from between her lips just enough to speak. “What is it?” he purred, as if he didn’t know, couldn’t smell the burning in her blood and couldn’t feel the grind of her hip on his thigh that pushed so conveniently right where she ached. “Needy thing, haven’t all your prayers been answered?” he gloated, pulling back to break their kiss to savor that wanton glow on her scarred face.

“C‘mon,” Katja pleaded, trying to force that gruff edge back down to cover her whine of desire. “You can’t be finished yet…”

Astarion’s brow quirked, those eyes roaming lazily over her bare skin as he gently pulled her skirt back over her cunt. “I’m not finished, but I’m finished with you, for tonight at least.”

“Wh-what?” Katja’s jaw dropped, her scar twisting deliciously as her face screwed in confusion.

A smug grin on his face, and Astarion sat back, grabbing for that bottle of wine once more and taking a long, deep drink. “That’s the thing about divine powers, they can choose when they intervene… and when.. they… don’t.”

Something dark flickered in those red eyes, a shadow he kept inside him, and even though those eyes gaze at her beside him, his mind is a million leagues away… somewhere long gone and yet present in the memories that haunt him.

Katja knew that look, that feeling. And she swallowed, shifting her legs beneath her as she slid her Selûnite medal back under her bindings around her chest. She let him sit there, festering for a moment as she looked him up and down, taking in the sight of his body for truly the first time. For once he was less on his guard, those scars on his back etched across the entire expanse. A gift from his Master, and already she craved the moment she would help Astarion make the bastard pay for such torture.

Tilting her head, she opened her mouth and broke the silence as only she could. “Why are you so thin?”

The question jolted Astarion out of his dark reverie. “Excuse me?” he hissed, the picture of offense. “Has that orgasm stolen your reason, or are you just insanely rude?”

Katja’s blonde brows furrowed in confusion. “Vampires aren’t usually so… lean. All the blood from their victims should make them powerful, it gives them abilities to move with supernatural speed and spider climb up walls and grow claws and…”

“Yes alright,” he snapped, pressing a finger over her irritating lips. His teeth ground together. Eyes flickering with a light, a hint of annoyance as he pursed his lips shut, as if he tried so hard not to let his answer free. Then he gave a huff of a laugh. “Perhaps I am a bit lean, as you say, but that’s because… I’ve had this condition for nearly two centuries and, truth be told, I’ve barely had the blood of thinking creatures. Not until you, little treat. Well you and that Cleric…”

Katja’s body instantly tensed at the mention of Shadowheart… that Sharran that first let him get close enough to bite.

Astarion took note with a lecherous smirk. “Don’t worry, your blood and your cunt give me an extra powerful rush. Nothing like the taste of corrupting a Gur to go from hunting monsters to fucking them.”

Bristling, Katja’s mind still raced, looking over those lean lines of his chest and stomach. So taut but also so small compared to… well at least the stories her tribe would tell. “If you couldn’t drink from thinking creatures then…”

“You really are unflappable, aren’t you?” Astarion snapped, beyond irritated. Vexation scratched at his honeyed tone and made his voice shrill. Almost whiny. How could she not bite at those jealous barbs, those sweet little insults meant to tear her down so he could remake her with sadistic delight… No, instead she wanted to know why he was lean. Astarion laughed bitterly at it all. “Don’t get me wrong, I was sent out to seduce hundreds, maybe thousands for Cazador. Every night I’d bring him a victim, and every night, he’d invite me to dine on a nice putrid rat. That or have us tortured if we refused….”

She uttered some curse under her breath, undoubtedly calling his old master an unsavory Gur name. Katja scowled, her fists gripping into the blanket beneath her. “How dare he,” she ground out through clenched teeth. “Hard to say what is worse, starving you or torturing you.”

In that moment, Astarion was speechless. His mouth hung slack, fangs catching in that exacting beam of light. “Yes…. Well…” he struggled to recover some of that suave seduction from moments ago. “Don’t let it ruin your beauty rest, darling,” he tossed the comment off as if he didn’t have a care in the world. But as Katja stood, fixing her skirt and ignoring the wet squelch her thighs made as she waked, she gave him one last glance.

He looked tired, those shadows under his eyes were a little deeper, those crimson irises dilated too wide as he stared into the ground. His hand absentmindedly grabbing for the wine bottle for another drink, she left him to it.

Astarion waited until her footsteps were gone. He didn’t really care where. Not really. Then, he unlaced his leathers to free the aching, dripping hard erection he had been ignoring. Gods, it tingled and twitched from the pressure and the memory of her taste on his tongue. As he gave his cock a teasing stroke, he laughed. It was so easy to push her and deny her; so easy to make the little Gur pay in little ways for what her kind did to him centuries ago.

What he didn’t account for, as he started beating on his length, up and down, was the memory of her sounds in his mind. So undiluted and innocent. And yet… Fuck, the memory of her concern, that flash of… was it protectiveness… when she asked about his starvation. The memory of that look on her rounded, scowling face brought a smile to his lips as he closed his eyes and fucked his hand.

She was going to be a real treat when they found Cazador, he decided. That will be fun… he thought, his hand working more deliberately, his precum leaking to wet his cock as he beat just a bit slower, just a bit tighter in his grip. By then, she would be a force to reckon with, his force… his worshiper… Thoughts drifted to the way she looked beneath him, frightened and aroused, clinging to her faith and her medal as if anything more divine than him would save her. He could taste the memory of her slick and he could feel the warmth of her cunt… Fuck, did it make this arrangement more desirable or more devious that she was a Gur?

He didn’t have long to ponder that wisp of a thought, not as his muscles ached and tensed and pulsed as he came. That rush of release, making him nearly groan out loud as he erupted onto the bedding.

Now it was a proper mess, he grinned, eyes still shut as he savored those afterwaves of his climax. A smile on his lips that still faintly tasted of her, he held his wet cock as he sighed.

A/N: Mmmmm such spice!

I’m going totally manipulative Act 1 Astarion—cruel and calculating and yet learning.

If Katja seems a bit on the spectrum, that’s intentional. And it totally disarms Astarion’s suave charm at times (which is good for him 😂).

Next chapter, The Risen Road and more spice 🌶️

[cryingtearsofjamjam]

i tend to shift very late at night right before bed but honestly, i dont know if that is doing anything good for me.

during the day i get the urges to shift or i get homesick but i tend to subconsciously force myself to trigger a daydream (by watching my saved tiktok that remind me of my dr or imagine my dr friends/family watching them with me, listening to music, checking out fandom things, etc. this leading to a few episodes of doomscrolling on twt) so i dont feel as far away from my home and the thought of shifting doesnt cross my mind, or even if it doesnt i tend to get this sense of dread and fear

i think that i am subconsciously deciding before i even try that i will fail and that it would just be better for me to trigger a daydream than bother with trying to shift.

the only time where i dont really get that sense of dread is right before bed but then i just keep pushing my attempt further and further becasue i am tired or something is hurting or something is distracting me

this is a problem i have had for honestly years and i dont know how to get over it and its obviously holding me back or making me think of holding myself back or something

[sanchoyo]

been enjoying doing the daily sketches bc 1. Getting back into the routine of drawing regularly is nice after sometimes going weeks w/out it 2. Keeping them black and white is a good challenge bc I feel like…I use colors as a crutch in my art (I do enjoy coloring the most!! But it is also what gets complimented 90% of the time. Which is not a bad thing like I always appreciate when ppl notice how much love I put into coloring. but I feel the other parts of my art atrophying) it’s forcing me to consider values and composition which is. Good to think abt 3. Nice distraction from this entire month and the looming sense of dread and depression I get around my bday TwT 4. Good way to force myself to learn how to do image descriptions which I have wanted to do but was unsure how to until now. I hope they have been serviceable so far, I am trying to improve and make them better (I also keep forgetting to add them and have to go back ahsjdjfk oops) (I’m also considering adding them to the comic site too but that’s going to be a Huge undertaking that I’ll need to set aside like. A full weekend for when I have the energy…)

But anyway for point #2 I am tempted to do some of them in color. There’s a few comic artists styles I’d love to do studies of bc the way they use color fascinates me. So if one of these dailies just pops up in full color and doesn’t match the vibe of the others. Well that’s why 🤠👍

[nako-doodles]

Hello dear! ^^ Do you know any Jin-centric YouTubers?

hello darling, i dont really watch kpop reactors or ‘youtubers’ but the two seokjin channels I keep coming back to when im sad is jinnie eats and bunglie jin for pure wholesome content 

[caramellohigh]

bunnyhybrid!jeonghan x reader

genre: (eventual) smut, (a generous amount of?) angst, fluff, hybrid!au

warning/s: none for this chapter

word count: 1.1k

synopsis: Minghao impulsively adopts a hybrid for you and you hate him for it. But after getting to know your new hybrid, you realized it wasn’t such a bad idea after all. You’ve gained a new friend, a companion and… perhaps more?

a/n: waddup sweet peas. welcome, welcome! how’re we doing after the MV drop, album release and first comeback stage? it's been hours since then but i'm still not over it TT_TT hope y’alls are doing better than i am though lol also hope the first chap’s interesting enough for you to comeback! please leave some feedback if you could. my ask is always open <3

also, i based this whole story off this picture i found on twt but it’s buried somewhere in my camroll :’) i’ll rb if i find it lol

Chapter 1

“You need a companion!”

“No, I fucking don’t!”

You’re pissed, brows furrowed angrily, gripping your phone a little tighter than you should be. You just don’t fucking get it. You and your best friend were just catching up with each other, talking about random things, then he so casually says, “Oh, by the way, I got you a hybrid!”

A what? What the fuck has gotten into him? Why’d he make such a random decision? And without consulting you about it too!

“Well, I already adopted him under your name. You don’t have a choice!” You could only groan. “Gee, thanks a lot, best friend. So nice of you to make decisions for me.” Hao says your name in warning and you roll your eyes even if he can’t see, “I just-- Why would you do that? I literally killed the cactus you gave me a few months ago... How do you expect me to take care of a whole hybrid?!”

“You can, okay? This’ll be good for you!”

Good for you? You have no idea what he’s talking about. How the fuck is giving you more responsibility going to be good for you?

“Doubt it.”

“Just--”

Minghao pauses and sucks in a deep breath. He’s usually a very calm and level-headed person but you really do test his patience sometimes. Clearing his throat, he tries again in a softer voice, “Just start cleaning up now so your place will be ready for tomorrow, alright? We’ll probably get there just in time for lunch.”

You groan again and cross your arms over your chest, phone haphazardly placed between your shoulder and ear, “Whatever. I’m hanging up.” And you do, hearing him shout, “Clean!” into the receiver before you let your phone drop onto your couch.

Your head whips around your unruly living room, which is definitely not the only part of your apartment that is a total mess right now. No, you’re not a total slob. In fact, cleaning is one of the things you do to relieve stress. It’s just that you haven’t been feeling the best lately so your home has been neglected.

A sense of dread floods your system, urging you to heave a deep sigh.

Cleaning your entire place is one thing but your best friend’s little news for you is a completely different story, a completely different headache. Stupid Hao and his stupid attempt to help you feel better. You appreciate his concern for you, you really do, but you don’t understand the need to bring someone in your life so suddenly like this.

“You need a companion,” he said.

“It’ll be good for you,” he said.

Bullshit.

You hate him so much right now you can’t even begin to describe it! But still... you no longer have a choice. It’s not like you can turn the hybrid down and send him back to the shelter. You don’t have the heart to do that...

Defeated, you lift your butt off the couch, scanning the area once again as roll your sleeves up to your elbows and try to figure out where the fuck you were even going to start.

The next day, you wake up feeling grumpy and uneasy at the exact same time, the two clashing emotions creating an uncomfortable whirlpool inside of you. You’re still pissed at your best friend for randomly getting you a fucking hybrid (you don’t even know what kind yet) but you’re also nervous as fuck about actually meeting them.

Just the thought of sharing the same roof with a living being again makes your palms all sweaty. You’ve lived alone for so long you’ve forgotten what it’s like to have someone else around the house. Or more accurately, you’ve just been so used to being alone; period.

You barely talk or socialize with anyone unless it’s work-related or if it’s Minghao so you don’t quite know how you’re going to adjust to all this. “It’ll be fine! No big deal. You’ve had roommates before. It’s fine…” you mumble to yourself, looking at the mirror saying one thing but thinking another, wringing your hands.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Click.

“We’re here!” You let out a tiny yelp at Minghao’s volume. You can hear him lugging something heavy into your apartment, followed by a small thud of another something being dropped on your coffee table. “Shit! Okay, uhm...” Fidgeting with your clothes and hair one last time, you finally leave your bedroom.

“You can set that in the corner over the– Oh, hey!” Hao sends you a bright smile the moment he sees your head poking out the corner. He automatically opens his arms, meeting you halfway to give you a big hug.

You smile right back at him and wrap your arms around him tightly. You want to cry. You want to just stand there and never let your best friend go because as much as you hate to admit it, you missed him so, so much, way more than you expected.

After what you’ve been through a couple days back, his embrace meant the absolute world and you had no idea you needed it until this very moment. Everything you felt prior, the annoyance, the nerves and doubts, seemed to just evaporate into thin air.

“It’s so good to see you, Hao,” you mumble, eyes closing to savor his warmth and comfort. “You too, missy. I’m sorry I can’t visit often...” he mumbles back, hugging you a little tighter. There’s a few beats of silence between you but it’s filled with quiet affection and solace.

Gently, you pat his back and pull away, giving his arms a light squeeze as a way to silently assure him that it’s okay. He sighs, nodding before turning around, “Come over here, Han. Lemme introduce you to your new owner.”

Oh, right… You almost forgot what he’s actually here for.

You unconsciously gulp as you shift your eyes to look at the figure by the door, your new hybrid companion offering you a timid smile the moment your eyes lock. He takes a few steps closer, a box of his belongings in arms. You try to reciprocate his smile but you’re too in your head to actually do it, a whole epiphany unfolding before you.

He’s literally just... a guy with some physical features of his animal counterpart, some dude with floppy bunny ears slack against his head. His bright yet naturally droopy eyes stare into yours, dancing at the sight of you.

“This is Jeonghan, your new bunny hybrid!”

You can’t exactly see it but his tail raises happily behind him at the introduction. “Hi,” he murmurs, giving you a small wave with his adorable sweater paw. You’re not processing much right now but one thing’s for sure: he’s fucking adorable. You actually want to squeal.

He walks further into your home and sets the box he’s holding to the side while you pull yourself together enough to dumbly stutter out your name. He repeats in a soft voice, nn angelic smile tugging on his face.

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[tartagilicious]

snezhnaya does not believe in broken hearts > childe

→ pov: there is no pov i’m in love with another fictional man. I’m a little rusty writing wise because of school, but someone said childe enemies to lovers and who i am i to say no to that 🥴 so, here’s his boss battle with a ✨twist✨

→ ib: this comic on twt, pls go support it i love it and cry whenever someone mentions it. also, like the comic, childe’s delusion form won’t have a mask just so it’s easier to write his expressions!

→ *there are a good amount of lines that are taken directly from his battle in the game, so beware of detailed spoilers!

You can trust him. But, don’t get too involved. The battle he pursues is dangerous; it’s not something a normal person can withstand.

Whether you realised it or not, every moment you had spent with him began to carve out a hole in your chest, bittersweetly wearing away every layer of protection you had unconsciously built up. It wasn’t a well-done job by any means; the edges it left were particularly jagged, but the softness Childe still managed to pull from them left you stunned every time it chose to peek its head out.

“Don’t be so on edge, we’re friends, aren’t we?”

It suddenly became a daily routine to expect him at some point, whether it entailed him coming upon you doing a commission in the middle of the mountains, or you crossing paths in Liyue while some type of street food balanced precariously in his grip.

Yet, what you failed to notice was that most times, he would take care to place another of the same delicacy into your hand, as if expecting to see you. Childe would meet you in the middle of the mountains not by chance, but rather by a sense of curious boredom, wherein your company was the only suitable way to pass the time.

Subsequently, the only question remaining in a scenario such as this, was what the other meant to each of them — were you truly able to push your obligations aside, or were you only getting close enough to have enough leverage to strike?

On any occasion a disarming laugh left his mouth, or he lent you his support without question, you failed to remember that you were pitched as enemies in the first place. You inevitably no longer felt the same wariness towards the harbinger over time, but it only made you that much more guilty to know just how easily you had begun to trust him.

Yet no matter the hopeful sentiments your sputtering heart provided you, you knew one thing to be true that would always remain so: you would never be on the same side.

“You’ve already fulfilled your task as guide, so why do you still linger here? Haven’t you already seen enough trouble for today?”

You had entered the Golden House apprehensively, perhaps hoping even over the Exuvia’s safety that you wouldn’t meet him there. But coming upon it and hearing the one voice you had been dreading, you begrudgingly came to terms with the fact that you would have to face reality eventually.

“Huh?” Paimon is startled by the sudden disembodied voice. “Who’s there?!”

Childe reveals himself by coming up the stairs you had just now ascended, his saunter maddeningly casual. “If you were Fatui, I imagine that you would be entitled to a generous reward from the Tsaritsa yourself.”

The way he tilts his head with such fake amiability grates across you like nails on a chalkboard. “But now you’re nothing but dross -- and you’re in my way.”

“It looks like I was just in time, then.”

Childe laughs. “Although I’m deeply grateful to you for helping me so effortlessly find this secret location… don’t you think that trying to stop me now would only be a wasted effort?”

“Stopping the mora mints, hiding away the Exuvia,” He laughs again, and your hand instinctively makes a small stretch for your weapon. “And sending you. The Qixing are really pulling out all the stops this time.”

“So you were planning to take the gnosis all along?” You ask flatly, your words swallowed by your own hesitation just after you’d barely gotten out the last word. Even though this mishap wasn’t very detectable, shame burns the back of your throat at the honesty of the reflex.

“As one of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers, it’s my duty to see the will of the Tsaritsa fulfilled. And she will get which she desires.”

You shake your head, fully grounding your hand and preparing to draw your sword. “Not if I don’t allow you to get near the Exuvia.”

“I’m not looking for your blessing, ___.” Childe narrows his eyes and takes note of this action, the implications of it drawing up a wanton sense of disappointment he had long been expecting. This varies little from your own dismay, unbeknownst to him. “There’s nothing you could do to stop me anyways.”

“The time for discussion and diplomacy has already long passed. I mean, if it were up to me, I would have skipped that stage to begin with… but, I’m willing to do as the Tsaritsa deems fit.”

“Either way,” An eyebrow arches as an equally intrigued smile pulls at the corner of his lips. “It seems we’re now coming upon my favourite part --  a simple pleasure, and one that I am oh-so delighted to be sharing with you.”

it’s as if a pin drops, and he grins. “The battle.”

You now stand at a fork. Two paths stare at you with expectant eyes, both equally enticing; but the drawbacks of the indulgent solution unfortunately long outweigh those of their obvious counterpart. It’s a decision that must be made on behalf of Liyue, not the hurt of a single heart.

Paimon scoffs, drawing you from your thoughts. “So you’re the type that goes looking for trouble, huh?”

Childe’s laughter rings out, and he throws his head back as if he had heard something particularly funny. “I guess you could say that!”

“When Signora offended the deities outside of the cathedral in Mondstadt, she swiftly left the scene once her mission was accomplished. Instead of confronting you directly, she chose to rely on the snow and ice to make an escape.”

“I would take that as far more than its face value. When she faces a worthy opponent, she will prioritise her mission, weigh the outcomes, and consider the consequences of her actions…” He explains, trailing off with an inexplicable smile. “But as for me, the greatest pleasure of being a harbinger lies in the opportunities I have to cross blades with such opponents.”

“That doesn’t mean we’ll let what happened in Mondstadt ever happen again.”

“Oh? So you do intend to fight me? Good.” Childe’s excitement baffles you and pumps adrenaline into your veins simultaneously. “I won’t kill you, ___, I’ll just play along. To feel the thrill of battle!”

“Besides,” He puts his hands out in an aimless gesture. “You could never defeat me, not even in your wildest dreams. But hey, try to relish in the fight anyways, because if you ask me… without that, what else is there?”

“I could never defeat you?!” His words get the better of you and you laugh in disbelief. “You’re completely delusional.”

He returns the laugh delightedly, igniting a fire of mixed emotions in your chest. “Fighting talk, I love it! Now, let’s see you live up to it.”

You draw your sword at the drop of his last word, taking a step back in preparation for what was to come. Childe, meanwhile, stands watching you with a brewing sensation of glee.

“This chance isn’t easy to come by, so show me all you’ve got.” Arrows infused with water begin to fly in your direction, though you avoid them in haste. “So very few ever get the chance to square off with a Fatui Harbinger, so come now, amuse me. And don’t you dare disappoint.”

You find yourself gritting your teeth at the arrogant words, taken aback at his challenging tone. “You say your colleague has found me praiseworthy, but tell me to only amuse you? That’s a disappointing downgrade.”

A lapse in the time Childe has to shoot gives you enough time to approach him, throwing out a strike of your sword that he catches with his own weapon moulded by water.

“It’s by no means an insult, ___, I’m merely proposing a challenge.” He looks at the way your blades grit against each other and grins. “And it seems you’ve accepted it.” You jump back with the force of his attack to propel yourself. A barrage of geo-aligned magic is summoned beneath your opponent with a stomp to the marble floor.

However, he sidesteps it in a similar fashion, and through a quick exchange of harsh blows, both of you stand back to scope things out. Still, the one aspect that continues to overshadow the rest of your thoughts is the way that Childe’s personality has changed under the scrutiny of battle.

The playful tone he normally sports is long gone, now replaced with a deeper and more realistic one; perhaps even slightly more menacing. It’s as if he’s been flipped into a completely different person.

He laughs maniacally as he uses his hydro vision to drive waves of water out towards you, fully intent on at least knocking you off your feet. The burst of elemental energy ends when Childe leaps back onto the ground. This gives you the leverage you need to go in with another geo attack, this time catching him off guard and launching him to the side.

Childe coughs at the force of the action, his lips curving up into a smile. “Good! No wonder signora was so wary of you.”

His body is encased in an impenetrable bubble of water in an instant, a flash of deep light lashing out from the centre before revealing Childe once again. His swords of water have since been infused by electro energy, and his clothes are darker -- the most noticeable difference, however, is the Fatui mask that had previously been slung over his hair now laid properly over his face.

“Well, that just means I can go all out! Brace yourself, this is about to get tough…” He takes a few preliminary steps. “Show me what you can do against the might of a Harbinger!”

The strikes do indeed get faster. Childe toughens up against seemingly every one of your attacks, dodging most if not all of with even more ease than before. you grit your teeth as you rush to keep up with the frequent blows thrown at you. But, in a panic and reflexive drawback, you retract your sword and desperately block with your arm instead.

Silence entraps the incredibly large room as your sword clatters noisily to the floor. Both the cloth running up the expanse of your arm and wrist piece are slashed considerably, all to reveal a shallow but long gash.

The sensation of electro wastes little time in taking effect, burning up your arm and inducing an inevitable cry of pain as both of you take a step back. Malleable emotion hangs in the heavy atmosphere, waiting to be addressed or otherwise plucked down from their higher place.

Though, his reaction in that split second shows that he might not be just as lost as you’d thought.

Childe has little courage to speak up on any of these topics, but in whatever way he chooses to ignore the berating voice in his head, he can’t push away the sensation of regret swimming in his chest. Watching your face briefly contort in pain you try so hard to hide, yet standing close and being unable to do anything about it -- it’s more real than any understating word his brain could ever feed him.

“What are you doing just standing there?” You suddenly taunt, your voice slightly hoarse as you turn to hide the blood that seeps into your clothing. “I thought you said that you were going to go all out.”

Childe knows that you're right. He had said that, but what would it mean for him to continue? Brawling with you brought the same drunkening high of adrenaline he’s been chasing since he escaped from the abyss all those years ago-- although hurting you wasn’t any sort of intention he’d ever had.

“...I’m only offering a moment to buffer, but I must say -- you’re not bad. Your swordsmanship is quite impressive.” Childe desperately swallows back anything extra that pops into his head and twirls his electrified staff. Personal desires are the last thing he can afford to pay attention to. “But, that’s about as far as you’ll get.”

You sloppily intercept a rough attack that threatens to send you flying backwards, gritting your teeth as you push back with the force of your Anemo power. It goes well for all but the way your arm begins to falter under the stress. Your head naturally follows your body’s trajectory, yet in your panic, the stroke your toed boot makes across the floor leaves a trail of blistering geo behind.

The elements present react immediately, resulting in a blinding explosion. You’re thrown off too quickly and land unsteadily, pain shooting up your arm as you exhale shakily -- you’d never had the misfortune of experiencing a hydro and electro vision working together before now.

“___, are you okay?” Paimon asks frantically, your tiny hands trying their best to locate the heart of the wound on your injured arm. “That cut looks deep, do you really think it’s a good idea to keep pushing yourself?”

You shake your head in dismissal as your eyes move with the clearing dust. “It’s fine, but my sword--?”

Once the haze disperses, you spot your sword almost instantly -- however, you also find Childe’s staff sticking haphazardly into the marble floor right next to it, its owner nowhere to be found.

A laugh sounds from behind you. “I really didn’t think you had that card hidden up your sleeve!”

Your heart drops into your stomach when you whip around to see Childe standing beside Rex Lapis’ corpse, his grin wide like he’d already won the match between you.

“You were just playing us to get close to the Exuvia!”

“Oh, quiet down. Don’t be so quick to judge. You’ve seen this world, you of all people should know...” Childe steadily gathers a ball of electro energy in his palm, the lightning fusing around his gloved hand before materialising. “That this should have been expected!”

The sound is deafening as Childe forces his hand into the Exuvia, opposing elements colliding and responding in turn. “I’ll be taking Morax’s gnosis now!”

Shockwaves come out like tides as the entire room shakes under the pressure of the single action. You’re quick to shield your injured arm from the battering wind, while Paimon latches onto the ornament covering your elbow.

Yet, much to everyone’s surprise, the hand that emerges and unfolds under the glaring light is very much empty.

Childe is taken aback by the particles of light that float from his gloved hand, laughing in frustration as well as bewilderment. “I see. Well, this is most unexpected.”

He turns to look at you through his mask, taking in the equally as surprised expression that moulds your features. But the detail that begins to surface ignites a different, and entirely real type of irritation in him, is the way that your eyes begin to change.

“Morax’s gnosis is far from another old antique,” Ningguang had prefaced this when you had visited her in the Jade Chamber, her words stable and forward. “It is a sign of Liyue’s reigning power, and also a symbol for the people to look towards; as not only a god, but also the keeper of peace. This is not something that would be hidden carelessly.”

“Many people throughout my years as a Qixing have tried to outsmart the layers close to the gnosis, however, none have succeeded. Its protector is someone of utmost secrecy whose identity I must not reveal, not even to you.”

She had sighed, placing a warm yet distant smile on her face. “But, I believe this method will continue to deter unwanted hands, along with you in their capable stead.”

Your eyes widen as you take an instinctual step back. You’d found it nearly impossible when tasked with feeding the Harbinger outdated details, though your heart feels heavy in realising that it had gone to show how much Childe truly did learn to trust you.

But, it had worked, hadn’t it? Because of this, the exuvia was somewhere far away -- in capable hands, as Ningguang had phrased it. Yet you feel little want to celebrate this small victory, immediately reminded of the situation it’s caused as Childe’s vision flares up around him, warping his figure in your eyes.

“You… You beat me to it, didn’t you?” Childe doesn’t miss your sense of victory being quickly replaced by fear, but in a fit of irritation, he takes no time in disregarding it.

He leaps haphazardly into the centre of the room, forcing you to careen out of the way as his electro vision fries the air around you. It becomes stuffy and unbearably hot in the enclosed space entirely too quickly. But, throughout the sudden drastic change in their atmosphere, you can’t help but notice the second transformation that Childe has gone through; yet rather this time, it’s much more drastic.

Once the air dissipates, Childe leaps back to the floor once again, his heavy military boots marking his step indefinitely. The attire he wears is fittingly close to armour -- presenting a deep blue and purple suit that fits like a second skin.

“Not a bad trick,” His spear of water that had since been lodged in the marble floor flies into his hand, twirling to rest on his shoulder as his voice stabilises. “But, this is going to cost you!”

The same weapon is pushed into the ground with overflowing destructive power. It quickly runs veins out like web beneath your feet, electro charge roughly and abruptly breaking the floor to reveal another space below.

You're dragged down indiscriminately amongst the falling debris, roughly colliding with the sharp edges before hitting the ground once again. Your arm, still slightly bleeding and swollen, screams at the harsh impact. Though having landed on your stomach meant that other parts of your body had absorbed most of the shock, natural reflexes had forced you to receive some of the heavier damage in your arm regardless.

There wasn’t a lot that you could do about this, however, other than pick yourself up again and hope that Childe was still too high up to see your pain clearly. Thankfully, lo and behold, a purple light just then begins to descend almost hauntingly through the smoke. It blinks out briefly before revealing Childe again as every messy part of the room is blown away by an incredible elemental power.

You hold up your uninjured arm to combat against the strong wind, wincing as your body is forced back.

“You got to the gnosis ahead of me, didn’t you?” Childe’s staff finally rests in his hand, however, the aura he gives off alone is enough to make you antsy. “Did you simply move faster? Or… did you leak the information regarding the Golden House to me on purpose?”

“...You’ve outsmarted me, ___. But that doesn’t mean the information won’t be in my hands by the time we’re done.” Another electric current fills the room as he moves to make an attack. “So, fight hard knowing there's something of such value on the line.”

Your eyes flicker around the room for your sword as you say, “How do you know that I have any of the information you need? That’s betting a lot on nothing.”

He laughs, the familiar sound chilling.

“You don’t have to be omnipotent to take a best guess. Besides, I’m confident enough in knowing that you’re smart enough to play me, so a battle between friends to determine that isn’t too much of a stretch, is it?”

You spot the sword and take a hesitant step towards it, attempting to return his words as a distraction. “It’s strange to call me a friend and threaten to put a knife in my chest in the same sentence. I thought you said that you weren’t going to kill me?”

Childe pauses, debating his next words carefully. “...Conditions are ever-changing.”

“If they were going to change so drastically, you should have told me earlier. Maybe then I could’ve figured out how to explain something I don’t know the answer to.”

“Don’t play dumb with me, ___.” His delusion’s deeper tone makes even the most playful of his words sound threatening. You stand your ground, though, knowing that no matter what your apprehension presents, nothing will change the fact that your weapon is only a mere step away.

“I know that you can tell me.”

You know I can? The supposedly comforting statement bounces around in your head, creating a ringing in your ears and a painful drumming against your temples. It’s not that simple, you think. There's little he wouldn’t be able to get from you if gone about the right way, however, as long as the information remained important, it would stay unattainable to even him.

You grit your teeth, feet twisting boldly into a position that’ll make it easier to leap in the direction you need. “I won’t tell you anything,” The leap is short and filled with almost too much strength, but you make up for any shortcomings by turning to block the incredibly close blow Childe had thrust out to stop you.

You push your sword against his with the force of all of your irritation, jaw clenched as your words come out in a single breath. “Because I know that I don’t have anything to say to the person that betrayed me.”

Unsurprisingly, words like those are some of the last that Childe wants to hear at that moment. No amount of guilt tripping or humiliation was typically enough to get to him, however, your simple declaration hits him in a spot that he’s long tried to bury.

Childe scoffs, pretending that he hadn’t blatantly hesitated. “You’re not fit to be here if you’re shaken by the betrayal of someone like me. Take it from me and give up while you’re ahead.”

You’re stunned by Childe’s brutal words for a brief moment, leaving him an important window to more easily knock your weapon away, out of your weakened hands. His blade meets your throat with little hesitation, the cool water stinging against your overheated skin.

Childe’s eyes wander to the way your body turns slightly to protect your injured arm, and disregarding the way his stomach twists, he shakes his head. “What’s wrong, ___? The way you are now won’t be able to defeat me.”

He looks at the way you hesitate and the already putrid feeling in his gut turns rotting. You make no more effort to fight back despite your strength, nor move the weapon lying firmly right over one of your weakest points.

“I might end up killing you if you don’t tell me where the gnosis is.” Childe tries to push you further, but is taken aback when your brows knit as if frustrated. You know very well that he’s someone with bad intentions, yet why do you continue to yearn to see the good in him? To see the carefree person you’d known before today?

You don’t respond, unmoving beneath his heavy gaze for all but the way your hands begin to slowly hover up towards the sword pressuring your neck.

Why can’t you stop?

Your shaking hands take the blade lightly in your grip, the vision-adjacent water searing your battered skin. A droplet of sweat slides down your cheek yet all you can focus on is the way Childe’s eyes instantly delve into panic.

“If you’re going to kill me, you should hurry up and save us both the suffering.”

The sudden powerful statement sounds unreal coming from such a weakened person, blood running down your fingers as you force his sword away.

“What makes you think that your death would cause me any harm?” Childe’s heart thumps wildly beneath his clothes as he lets his weapon be redirectioned, but his brows furrow. “I used you. Do you have yet to realise that?”

“You think I’m so inept that I would believe in someone so fast?” Your fingers go to nestle in the fabric of your skirt, the clothing acting as a temporary shield from the pain. “It was no secret that you weren’t someone to be trusted.”

“Then why lead me here if you’re so confident in yourself? Surely you don’t think that picking a fight with me was a sound idea?”

“You came here yourself. I was never looking to fight.” You mumble truthfully, taking your hand away from your skirt to reveal your palms stained with blood. “...I only said what I did because I don't like hurting those I care about.”

Childe stands paralysed in shock upon hearing such honest words, his mouth opening and closing as he rushes to process their meaning. What could he possibly say to that?

You hadn’t left a single mark on him despite believing that you were fighting for your life, whereas he had prioritised outside matters over listening to his internal backlash -- he had hurt you in a simple twisted warning.

“___, you--”

He’s barely able to get a sentence out before you sigh, going up to him with little hope before wrapping your arms around him.

Childe exhales unsteadily, his weapons then evaporating as his torso and arms instinctively straighten up. Moments of complete stillness go by unhindered. But, you wait patiently for any type of response from the man in your arms.

“...___.” He finally mumbles this from above your head, voice incredibly soft. “What do you think you’re doing?”

You’re at a loss as for how to respond, because truthfully -- the answer is mostly lost even to you. All you can do is drown in the silence that you’ve created, heart picking out the worst parts of the way his posture stays tense.

Childe groans abruptly, his delusion slowly beginning to break down to reveal his normal clothes. “Come on,”

As if something restricting him had suddenly been removed, he staggers and sinks to his knees, body going limp at the sudden lapse in support of his vision. Though fortunately, you follow him even while he goes down.

Your arms struggle to support the sudden weight as his chin lulls forward, colliding with your shoulder just as your knees hit the floor. He’s not entirely weak, you think, noticing the way he purposely tries to shift a lot of pressure off of you. Though you don’t know much about his delusion, it seems viable to assume that the form had just exhausted a decent amount of energy.

You feel the heat of his hands hesitantly coming upon your sides, but much to your disappointment, they quickly retract before he mumbles, “You’re a fool.”

“I know.” You whisper. “But, it’s too late. I can’t give up on you now.”

Childe scoffs, the sound muffled by your shoulder as he brings his arms up around you. He embraces you so tightly that it’s as if you’ve struck something inside him.

Those words are so unfair, they almost give me hope.

[yan-twst]

Hi! Would you be alright with writing a HC with dorm leaders, when MC vents to them, sharing their fear for the future? Things like "I am able to return home? And if I regret returning?" or "If I don't get back, how will I survive here? What will I be after I graduate?", etc. Thank you and sorry for my English TwT

riddle rosehearts

riddle will hear his darling out, let them talk as much as they need

he can see why they’re so worried- crowley seems to make no progress on sending them back home, yet promises that it’ll happen, they’re considered half a student and no word on how their graduation would work has been spoken...

he feels a bit helpless- he desperately wishes he had the answers to his darling’s questions to help them calm down, but he doesn’t. there’s no clear cut answer for those questions and he knows it

all he can do is comfort them and promise them that he’ll guide them trough all he can- if they return home, he’s sure they’ll build an amazing life for themselves. if they stay, he’ll help them stand on their own two feet- he can’t promise that it’ll all be easy, but he can promise he’ll do his best to help

riddle’s entire childhood was spent in a rigid schedule, a direct paved way to a future that had already been planned out for him. while it was suffocating, it at least gave him an idea of what as to come; on the contrary, his darling’s future is nebulous, clouded and ever-changing... he can’t imagine how stressful it is for them

he’ll suggest attaching to a routine- sure, it won’t really fix anything in the big scheme, but... it’s the best advice he has; a routine can be grounding, something to at least let his darling feel like there’s a sense of familiarity in the passing days. it’s something he does himself: he hopes he can at least help his darling a little

leona kingscholar

leona worries over his darling, although he tries to not appear overly preoccupied while his darling talks. he doesn’t want them to feel like they are making him worry too much, or for them to stop talking. it’s good that they’re talking instead of bottling it up- he doesn’t want to make them stop

leona has long since given up on the only future he’d imagined- being the king- and he’s just living lazily, seeing where the flow takes him. he realizes he probably isn’t the best person to give advice, but... damnit, he’s not just gonna let his darling go back to living with all those anxieties inside of them

the future... well, it’s scary for everyone, but more for them, huh? he reminds them that, even if their memories from back home haven’t returned to them, that their life is their own; no matter what world they may return, they’ve already proved themselves to be an outstanding individual. and if they stay? if crowley can’t figure out how to let them return? then he’ll guide them through this world

he may feel useless as a second prince, but... well, he’s a prince- he can help them live a comfortable life, he can help them further their education at a school much more useful for a non-magic person... he makes it quite clear that as long as he has a say in it, their future isn’t something they must stress over

leona lives life as it goes by, rarely worrying over things to come; he knows that asking his darling to do that would be rather insensitive, considering their situation, but... hey, it’ll be ok- there, just nap with him... what comes tomorrow comes tomorrow; he’ll be there to do all he can, so there’s no point in overthinking it

azul ashengrotto

hearing his darling’s anxieties, their fears for the future... azul may not appear to be a very empathetic person, but it brings a tear to his eye; his darling, who’s been so strong for so long, who’s helped others... all while holding those worries...

just like he’s let down his walls and pretenses around them, he’ll encourage them to just let it all out; all their worries, their fears, voice them. he doesn’t think it’s “overreacting” or “exaggerating”- he knows how powerful and consuming dread can be

they’re scared and anxious, and he can see why- now, he wants to know how he can help. fearing regret from going home, fearing being here forever... he’ll do his best to express how strongly he believes his darling can thrive either way

the future is what they make of it, isn’t it? look at him- he was an useless crybaby octopus, and he’s come so far, hasn’t he? no matter what the future brings for his darling, he knows they can come out of it shining

of course, if for some reason they were to remain here in twisted wonderland, they have nothing to fear. he knows crowley will sort something out- he better- and it’s not like everyone has magic, there’s plenty of jobs and opportunities for people like them! they can count on azul’s charm and wit to open any door to any opportunity they may need; he swears he’ll do all he can to assure them a good life

kalim al-asim

kalim has rarely, if ever, worried over his future- it’s not as if he has his path set in stone, but... well, he lacks no resources to ruin his dreams, and he has a pretty good job set ahead as the heir of his family’s trading business. so hearing his darling vent their worries... he’s at a loss, at first

just because he’s a cheery and highly optimistic person doesn’t mean he doesn’t know how to listen or be understanding of problems he might not relate to. kalim is known to listen to students’ problems and comfort them- of course he’ll do the same for his beloved!

it’s a very complex situation, and he knows as much; is a return to their home even possible? do they want to return home having no memories of how it is, or would they rather throw that all away and remain here? he won’t bluff and act as if he knows what the correct answer is, but he’ll be sincere: whatever they end up choosing, they’ll probably have regrets... as well as a lot of joy!

also... well, he doesn’t know when his darling will even have to make that choice (crowley sure seems to take his sweet time even researching where they came from)- but... they don’t have to worry about that part of the future, either. kalim has no problem providing for whatever they need- a house? somewhere to further their education? 

it’s not like he’s telling them to depend on him, although he has no problem with that: he just wants them to know he’s more than happy to help them stand on their own two feet so they can build a life for themselves!

vil schoenheit

when his darling begins to spill their worries, vil doesn’t even hesitate to break out the scented candles, massage creams, and expensive spa-day supplies. if his darling is going to lay their heart bare, he at least wants them to feel relaxed and safe

vil won’t pretend like the situation isn’t difficult, or sugarcoat anything. his darling is... probably the first person in all of twisted wonderland to be faced with such a difficult future, and that’s coming from a land where prophecies and magic exists

everything vil believes in is achieved through hard work; and he believes this is no different. while being able to return or not isn’t a card they can chose to play or not, if the time comes to chose, both options will require work. he’s 100% sure they can thrive in both their world and here- if they put in the work he knows they can

vil will emphasize how much potential his darling holds. can the future be uncertain and messy? oh, certainly. but no matter what life throws at them, they can stand strong and move forward. he knows they can

he’ll also make it quite clear that graduation won’t be the end of the world, even if crowley is gonna have to work overtime to figure out how to give an NRC graduation certificate to someone who can’t use magic. after all, not all fields of work NRC prepares them for are related to magic- for example, nothing stops them from being outstanding at alchemy or history, correct? there’s many jobs that might not even care about magic skills if their other skills are high

and... of course he’ll be there with them for as long as he can. while he can’t promise his help if they were to return to their world, he’ll be with them as much as possible- he himself has a pretty good future set ahead, and he knows he can easily incorporate his beloved into it

idia shroud

idia suffers from many anxieties himself- he knows how he’d like to be treated when he vents his worries, and so he treats his darling that way. a gentle listener, making sure they know he’s paying attention, but not interrupting

he’ll put his darling in an oversized hoodie and give them a warm drink to help calm their nerves- does it help? he just wants them to not feel overwhelmed, after dumping all their anxieties like that...

honestly, idia can’t even imagine what he’d do if he was in his darling’s place. they’re quite strong, to be dealing with all that stuff and still be so nice to others around them, huh?

he feels a bit bad; he... doesn’t have any sort of deep philosophical advice to help guide them down the right path, or any personal story to help calm them down- hell, he can’t even say they won’t regret anything because he knows he’d be lying, but...

... well, he knows his darling is capable of many things. wherever they go, wherever the fates bring them... if they continue being as they are, he knows they’ll be ok- they’ll be able to build a life to themselves. he has no doubt of this

he doesn’t want to make his darling feel like he’s telling them to be with him forever- you know, just in case they... end up returning to their home, but... he’s gonna inherit a pretty giant house back at home- so... if they were to stay... well, he thinks it’d be nice to live there with them; help them set up their life, find a job...

malleus draconia

malleus has seen empires be born and then die, kings rise to power and fall down- to him, the future isn’t a scary concept as much as it is just another reality of life. he feels like a constant in a moving world- a world that’s moving rapidly for his darling

their future... to malleus, it feels like it could happen at any moment: for his darling, a year is a long time, while for him, he’s lived through so many of them he’s almost lost count...

he fears he might not be the best person for this; ancient beings are supposed to be wise, but in this moment, he feels about as wise as a small child as he hugs his darling close and strokes their hair, comforting them as he can

to stay here, to go home... the question of if it’s even possible to return hanging in the air, the fear of regret and making the wrong choice... oh, child of man- there’s no wrong choice, he believes. the fact they ended up here is a mystery in itself: to do what their heart tells them in this scenario won’t betray them

don’t they know? they have the powerful malleus draconia by their side; anything he can do for them, he will. his power is no joke, either; whether it’s magical to aid in a return home, or just the fact he’s royalty and he can assure a good life for them... he’ll do anything for them and their happiness

[leviaju]

𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢  𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝚌𝚊𝚝 𝚋𝚘𝚢!

“𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵,” 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘯, 𝘢 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘥𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘴, “𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦, 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵?”

“𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵, 𝘩𝘮?” 𝘈 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘳𝘬 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘚𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘯’𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦.

“𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶.”

ꜱᴀᴛᴀɴ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ, ɴꜱꜰᴡ

5.7ᴋ+

incl: choking, more degradation than i was expecting tbh, collars and cat ears!, gagging, he’s also kinda possessive, thigh riding, pet names, so much porn oh god i am a sinner, plus some wholesome satan moments, as well as some wholesome brotherly bonding between satan and luci

hey guYS!!! i haven’t read satan’s birthday event so this could end up being totally OOC buT i wanted to write smth for my nerd boy ;;;;;;; also this ended up being way longer than i expected,,, i wanted 2k at most and just porn,,, but i got caRRIED aWAY

anYWAYS it’s all under the cut! hbd bby boy muah

this was also highkey inspired by this photoset by memjioof on twt,,,,, so,,,,,,,,,,,,

Satan was never a fan of his birthday. It was a reminder of his origin, where he came from, and he wasn’t happy about it. Not at all, when everyone is in his face indirectly reminding him that he’s not his own person, that he’s simply an extension of someone else.

‘Never a fan’ is an understatement. Satan very, truly, genuinely, hated his birthday.

That is, until you came along.

In all honesty, Satan dreaded this day more than any other. He’d hoped that you’d just not find out, that he could bypass this day in peace and not have to worry about any frivolous displays, which all became inadvertent reminders that he’s not his own person. 

Satan’s also not an idiot, though. He’s seen you sneak around, whispering to his brothers as the days continue to pass. He’s watched as you’d stop conversations with them abruptly, looking like a kid with their hand caught in the cookie jar. It worried him at first, that you were going behind his back and keeping secrets, that you were being dishonest with him and seeking others to make up for what he lacks. You’re too genuine for that though, he knows this. If you were looking for others, you’d ensure to tell him first and to put an end to whatever the two of you had together now. His anxieties were completely quelled when you began not-so-subtly asking him if he was interested in any new books or charms. Instead, they were replaced with a completely different feeling.

‘Excited’ was a name for it, but it didn’t feel quite right. ‘Nervous’ also worked, but there were a few gaps it didn’t fill. ‘Anticipation’, maybe… or perhaps even ‘restlessness’. Regardless, Satan began feeling jittery whenever he thought about it, whenever he thought about spending his special day with you. It was.. different. New. For the first time in millennia, Satan found himself feeling something other than complete and utter apprehension towards the celebration of his birthday.

Could it even be called a birthday? He was never born, unlike his brothers. Hell, for a good portion of his life, he couldn’t even do anything, only watch through the eyes of the man he loathed the most.  And yet…

He found himself filled to the brim with joy at the thought of spending this day with you. Only you.

In fact, surprising even himself, he’d taken you for walks in the city, watching the gears turning in your brain as you silently pondered what to get for him. He felt damn near giddy, stringing you along like this, watching your eyes light up whenever he showed interest in something. It made him really happy to see you care so much for him. Of course, he did his best to hide it, but even he couldn’t deny that this was the happiest he’d ever been at this time of the year.

And his brothers were terrified.

Usually, when this time began to roll around again, Satan’s already short fuse became even shorter, he was a powder keg about to explode at any given moment. He’d lock himself in his room, and if anyone were to disturb him, they’d have to be ready to bear his wrath, unchecked and untamed. Satan had never once celebrated his birthday after the first time the brothers all tried to plan a surprise party for him, and in one fell swoop, he destroyed the decorations, as well as the room with it. 

Yet… Satan was happy. And smiling. Even humming as he cooked, which never happened. 

“L… Lucifer…” Mammon pushed the door of his older brother’s room open, stepping in like a dog with its tail between its legs. “I dunno what’s going on, but--”

“I know.” Lucifer was sitting at his large desk, elbows resting on the fine wood, hands entwined with themselves. He let out a long sigh, taking a moment to think.

Mammon walked in a bit more, only taking a quick moment to scan the room for valuables. At the feeling of Lucifer’s piercing eyes on him, however, he diverted his attention.

“Well, what do we do? Last time we had a party, it didn’t really… end up well.” Mammon winced at the memory. He’d had to prune his wings constantly for weeks after that, lest he never fly again.

Lucifer closed his eyes for a moment, the usually unmovable demon looking rather shaken. He’s contemplated this a lot, and Mammon knew it was really worrying his brother when he moved over to sit on the edge of the mahogany desk, and Lucifer didn’t say anything. The room was silent, almost too silent, and Mammon began to fiddle with the feather charm attached to his belt.

There was the sound of yet another sigh, and Lucifer’s eyes caught Mammon’s once more. The latter froze.

“I… I may have an idea.”

Mammon sensed his impending doom.

-

Satan knows when his brothers are scheming, but for once it seems he’s not included. Irritating. 

Even so, they’ve been leaving you two alone much more than usual, so he couldn’t find it in himself to complain all that much. Now, with your head in his lap as he reads a tome, he finds it doesn’t bother him at all.

“Hey, Satan?” Your voice pulls him from his book and he looks down to you, a soft expression on his lips. His fingers, rested in your hair, massage your scalp gently. You hum. 

“If you could have anything in the world, what would it be?”

Satan laughs quietly, setting the tome down to give you his full attention. You’ve been asking questions like this all week, and he knows exactly why. Nevertheless, he humours you. A warm blush dusts his cheek as he prepares his answer.

“You.”

Short, simple, but truer than anything he’s said before. He can’t help the growing fondness in his heart as he watches you pause, taken aback by his answer, before the most loving of smiles graces your lips. He’s so, irrevocably, in love with you.

“I-- uh,” you stutter, and he laughs. “That’s not fair! Besides, wouldn’t you like to have a book more? Or maybe something more entertaining...” You trail off as you think, but the red on your cheeks gives away your thoughts easily enough. Satan’s lap grows cold as you lift your head, but his momentary disappointment is whisked away when he watches your face get close to his own, your noses near millimetres from touching. Your eyes are trained on his, studying closely. His own crinkle with joy.

“Nope, not really. A book can entertain me for a few days, but you could entertain me for a lifetime.” Once again, Satan laughs wholeheartedly as you huff, pulling away from him and crossing your arms. You’re so fun to tease.

“But really, I don’t want anything other than you.” His voice quiets to a murmur. “It’s kind of embarrassing to say, but it’s the truth.” Satan’s cheeks are the beautiful shade of red that you’ve come to love, but the look in his eyes is earnest and genuine. Despite still being just a bit frustrated at his incredibly unhelpful response, you lean in, pressing a gentle kiss onto his lips. Satan meets you halfway, smiling into the kiss.

“You’re the worst,” you mumble, feeling his breath against your lips. He chuckles quietly. 

“I know.”

-

Satan’s glad that his brothers have been leaving you alone. As the day of interest approaches, however, your attention gets more and more divided, until he realizes that the only time he sees you is during meals.

“____, would you like to--”

“Sorry brother dearest, I already called dibs!” 

Satan watches with disdain as Asmodeus takes your arm, already pulling you away. An apologetic smile crosses your face, your lips shaping an “I’m sorry” before you’re pulled out of sight. Satan grumbles, fists balling up so tight that he can feel the sharp pain of his fingernails digging into his palms. Everyone who was left in the dining room quickly made their way out, save for Satan and Lucifer, the former who’s doing his best not to burst, and the latter who’s watching him carefully.

“What do you want?” Satan asks flatly, eyes shifting from the doorway to his eldest brother. Lucifer stands from his chair, adjusting his sleeve collars.

“Nothing. My apologies. I’ll be out of your way.” Lucifer’s reply comes out a lot more genuine than Satan had expected, and he’s pulled from his anger to watch Lucifer leave the room, completely aghast. It takes Satan’s usually quick mind a few moments to actually comprehend what just happened, and even then he still just kind of… stands there.

He walks to his room, still in a bit of a daze. He runs into none of his brothers on the way there, with the plan to read throughout the night. With you gone, he has no other way to relieve his stress.

-

Satan would never admit it in a million years, but the knock on his door makes him jump, nearly throwing the novel to the other side of the room. He was too invested in his book. A quick glance at his clock tells him it’s midnight, and the sudden interruption, as well as the lack of you over the past few days, has culminated into a wave of anger that causes him to stomp towards the door, nearly tearing it off its hinges as he swings it open.

“What the fuck--”

“Happy birthday, Satan!” Your smile immediately disarms him and gives him pause, his body a statue as you snake your arms around his waist. He has to pry his hand from the doorknob, now dented in the shape of his fist, before he can reciprocate.

“Sorry if I scared you,” you murmur into his shoulder, squeezing him gently when his arms wrap around you. You lift your head, smiling brightly. Satan doesn’t seem to remember the anger he’d felt mere moments before.

“You didn’t,” he hums, before placing a kiss on your forehead. “I’m glad to see you, feels like it’s been a while.”

“Sorry.” You let go of him, much to his dismay, but he watches happily as you make your way into the room with a familiarity similar to his own. You plop yourself on the bed, before opening your arms and looking at him expectantly.

“I don’t have a present,” you begin, a slight blush dusting the highs of your cheeks, “but if you’d like, I can stay up all night with you doing whatever you want?”

“Whatever I want, hm?” A mischievous smirk crosses Satan’s face, but morphs to a genuine smile when you nod hesitantly. “I see. I want you, then. All night long.” His voice lowers as he draws closer, and he can hear your heart speed up. Satan climbs onto the bed and watches as you stiffen, but lays down next to you, taking you into his arms. Your face is against his chest, and you can feel him trying to steady his breath.

“Couldn’t help but want to tease you, sorry,” he chuckles, and you lift the covers over both of your bodies. The room is silent but comfortable. The two of you get comfortable in each others’ arms, and Satan sighs happily.

You pause, lifting your head to look up at him. He meets your eyes, curiosity in his gaze. 

“... Seriously? This is it?”

Satan laughs, his entire face lighting up. Your chest aches. When he calms, he raises a hand to cup your cheek. 

“This is it. I’ve… I’ve missed you all week.”

You hum, placing your hand on his. He closes his eyes for a moment.

“I’ve missed you too,” you whisper.

Soon enough, you hear as his breath slows and steadies itself. For a bit, you watch his face, a truly open, vulnerable expression that only you get to see. A gentle kiss is pressed to the corner of his eye, before you snuggle up close to him, allowing sleep to take you over.

-

Morning comes too early, Satan thinks. And yet, with morning comes alertness, and when he’s alert he can watch you, cuddled up against him closely, so maybe it’s okay.

He also watches as consciousness slowly sneaks its way into your bones, your eyes crinkling as you try and will yourself back to sleep. He breathes out a laugh. Eventually, your bleary eyes open and meet his, and the sleepy smile on your face is enough to fill his heart for the rest of his life.

He hopes he can see this every morning.

-

The two of you stay in bed pretty much all day, just talking and enjoying each other’s company. Satan is much softer than usual, which is saying a lot, and you’re absolutely eating up all of the attention. As the hours fly by, however, eventually you glance at your D.D.D. and sit up in a panic.

“What’s wrong?” Satan sits up as well, glancing over at you worriedly. 

“I’m hungry!” You seem a lot more panicked than usual, and Satan’s brows furrow. He hums thoughtfully. “It’s dinnertime, you know? We’ve only eaten snacks all day!”

Your laugh is a bit too forced, and Satan immediately knows what’s going on. He grumbles.

“Are you actually hungry?” He asks, situating himself so he’s right in your face. You meet his eyes, and the worry on your face disappears. 

You nod.

“Mhm,” you smile, pecking his nose before standing out of bed. Satan groans dejectedly but eventually climbs out as well. “Fine, fine,” he relents, pulling on a shirt. “But we’ll come right back after, okay?”

“Okay!” Your smile compels him to write sonnets. That has to wait, though.

Eventually, the two of you make your way towards the dining room. As soon as you’d left the bedroom, you’d been jittery. All of a sudden you’d stopped talking and Satan squeezes your hand reassuringly. He knows what’s going on, but for your benefit, he keeps quiet. The two of you turn into the dining room, and he’s genuinely surprised.

“I know you don’t really like celebrating your birthday,” you start, your voice shy. He wants to kiss you right here. “But I hope this is okay!”

The dining room is filled with his favourite foods, all lined up on the large table in the centre. Better yet, his brother’s are all sitting quietly. Even Beelzebub, who seems to be drooling over the food. Best of all, Lucifer is nowhere in sight. Satan smiles, before taking you to the table, pulling out a chair for you before sitting down beside you.

“Happy birthday, bro. Figured ya wouldn’t wanna celebrate, but ______ insisted,’ Mammon smiles nervously, but the look on Satan’s face reassures him. The tension in the room eases at once, and Satan hums.

“If that’s the case, then I guess just this is okay. Thank you.” As soon as Satan reaches for the food, everyone else begins to eat. Beelzebub, who felt like he was being tortured, grins happily as he fills his plate and stuffs his mouth. You glance over at Satan, and the smile is still on his lips.

“I have one more surprise for you,” you say quietly, leaned in towards him. “But I promise you’ll like it.”

“Oh?” Satan laughs quietly, lifting his fork up to your lips. You take a bite of the morsel on the end of it, and his smile grows. “I can’t wait, then.”

-

Your heart is pounding as you make your way towards Satan’s room, having separated from him after dinner. You’d mentioned you had to grab something from your room, and the box was now clutched in your sweaty palms. It’s not that you and Satan had never done anything like this before, but it’s the first time incorporating other… elements into it. You hope he likes it. You’re sure he will, but there’s a part of you that continues to worry regardless.

The door to Satan’s room opens before you get to knock, and your eyes open wide. Satan can’t help but laugh, apologizing for startling you. His attention is quickly captivated by the beautiful box in your hands, a lovely, luminescent green bow on the top. 

He tilts his head, but you walk in without saying much. He shuts the door behind you, and watches your form curiously.

“Do you mind if I open your present for you?” The nerves in your voice are enough to start to worry him, and he simply nods. You make your way over to his bathroom, taking the gift with you, and Satan is left incredibly confused. He watches the door to his bathroom close, and he sits on the bed. He was rather excited for tonight, but the way you’re acting has him feeling nervous. As soon as you step out of the bathroom, however, he understands exactly why you were so quiet.

“Happy Birthday,” you smile gently, an arm crossed over your torso. Satan swallows hard as he looks you up and down, and is completely overwhelmed for a moment. Your breasts are so lovingly hugged by a white lace brassiere, ribbons in the back keeping it snug to your torso. Your matching underwear is attached by garters to thigh-highs, the elastic at the top squishing your thighs just right. Satan licks his lips, craving to hold you. That’s not what captured his attention, however. No, what truly got him excited was the cute cat ears adorning your head, the same colour as your hair, and the bright green collar tight around your neck. You stand there nervous but excited as Satan drinks in your appearance, and the muscles in your thighs tense as he begins walking towards you.

“I’m not one for birthdays or presents, but...” one of Satan’s hands comes to rest on your waist, sliding down to tease the top of your underwear. The other hand coasts up your arm, before he slips two fingers under the side of your collar, tugging gently. “... This is a more-than-welcome surprise.”

Satan feels as if he could devour you in one bite. You look downright delectable, and a part of him is overwhelmed. Where does he start? He’s typically one to savour his meals, especially when they’re as delicious as you, but he also wants to have you as many times as possible. He looks into your eyes as he contemplates, watching the wavering of your irises, and he can’t help himself when he leans down into your lips, still tugging onto your collar.

The hand on your hip grips you tightly as Satan claims your mouth, and you sigh into the kiss. This whole thing was pretty nerve-wracking, but his response is more than happily received. A breathy moan leaves your mouth as Satan bites down on your lip, withdrawing.

“Now, my pretty little pet. Will you allow me to indulge in my present?”

-

With the way Satan is treating you, you could almost believe it’s actually your birthday, not his. With your back on the bed, your hands tangle into his hair, his fingers just barely brushing against your most sensitive area as he licks and sucks on your clit. Already, your body is covered in hickies, from your jawline to all the way down your left leg, where the garter has been torn off and the thigh-high ripped apart and laying in threads on the floor. Once again, his fingers push into you, coated in arousal. His lips pop off of you, and you whine.

“What, pet, have I left you wordless? You’re being so good for me,” he smiles, and if your slick wasn’t coating his chin you’d almost believe he’s being genuine. Still, he thrusts his fingers into you, and you have to gasp for air before speaking.

“S-Satan,” you sigh, your hands moving up to grip the pillow beneath your head. He’s been teasing you for what feels like hours already, and all he’s done for himself is take his shirt off. You crave to feel him, crave to touch him, and yet he won’t let you. Satan laughs, withdrawing his fingers from you to put them to your lips. You open your mouth and he sticks them in, humming happily when he feels you cleaning his fingers diligently.

“What? It’s my birthday, isn’t it? I can do whatever I’d like with my present.” Satan chuckles as you look up at him imploringly. He presses his fingers farther into your mouth, down your throat, and makes sure you gag before pulling them away. 

“You haven’t even let me do anything to you yet.” You sound almost as if you’re pouting, and Satan can’t help the pride that flares up in his chest. You’re so good to him. “Please, wanna make you feel good.” You’d squeeze your thighs together, but Satan had lodged his body between your legs. He takes a moment to think, before smiling.

“Make me feel good then, kitten,” is all the permission you get before he pulls away, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. Quickly, you get up, legs trembling. His fingers and tongue have edged you enough to get you desperate for relief, and yet you still wish to make sure he’s taken care of. Satan can’t help but smile at the thought. You manage to make your way off the bed and between his legs, hands shaky as you undo his belt and pull his pants down.

Satan is hard, incredibly so, and you feel more parched than you ever have in your life. Quickly, you pull his cock out of his briefs, and the freedom causes him to suck in a breath through his teeth. Usually, this is where you tease, where you lick at the head of his cock and don’t take him in until he’s damn near begging, but this time you do so without prompting. You ease your way down to the base and Satan’s hand, careful of the ears adorning your head, makes its way into your hair, tugging on it to guide your head. When your eyes flick up they see he’s already watching you, and you take him as far as you can go. Satan allows you to pull back, but soon enough he’s guiding your rhythm, fucking your throat quickly. The sounds filling the room are nothing short of sinful. 

“Fuck, pet,” he gasps out, head tilted back. Satan is doing his best to stop from moaning, but he can’t help the grunts that leave his chest as your hot mouth moves around him. His grip on your hair is almost painful, and you can feel your throat growing more and more raw each time he fucks into you. “You’re so fucking good for me, aren’t you? You-- ah-- are just doing whatever I want.” Satan curses once more, heaving breaths. Your hands, placed on his thighs, feel the muscles in his body tense, as do yours. Fuck, you want to cum. You don't even notice that you’re wiggling your hips, seeking any kind of friction.

“Mm, kitten,” he moans, and his hips stutter for a moment. Tears fall from your eyes as he forces you down to the base, and it takes everything you have not to gag. You moan around his cock, and he chokes out a breath. You tap on his thighs after a few seconds, and he pulls your mouth off of him completely, panting hard. “You’re so obedient, doing exactly what I want.” His hand moved from your mussed hair down to your cheek, which he strokes gently with his thumb. 

Satan takes a few moments to calm himself down, before guiding you up and onto his lap. His cock, wet and dripping precum, is pressed against both of your stomachs.

“You’re still so wet for me, kitten,” Satan laughs, feeling your slick against his leg. His hands move to your hips and press you down against his thigh, and your air leaves you quickly in the form of a breathy moan. He flexes his muscles as he slowly grinds you against him, and you grasp desperately at his shoulders. “Did you get off on me fucking your throat? Hm?” A shiver runs up your spine as his nails press crescent shapes into your skin.

“You perfect little slut,” he smiles, leaning in to kiss you. Despite the composure he pretends to have, you can tell by the way that his lips desperately claim yours that he’s feeling just as needy as you are. You scratch down his back and he moans into your mouth. “Just for me, mm?” His kisses trail down to your neck again, where he bites down gently on your skin. Between his words, his thigh grinding against you, and however long he spent edging you before, the coil in your stomach has grown incredibly tight. 

“Satan, I--” You cut yourself off with a desperate moan and he snickers, licking at the junction between your neck and shoulder.

“Cum then, pet. Cum on my thigh like the beautiful little slut you are.”

Your stomach grows unbelievably tight, and once again you feel him laugh against your skin. One of his hands comes down to begin quickly rubbing your clit in circles, and that’s all it takes for the coil in your belly to snap. There’s a moment of calm, relief, before your orgasm crashes into you, and you desperately hold onto Satan as he presses you down onto his thigh once more. You cry out something that he supposes is his name, but your voice is too coated in pleasure for him to actually make sense of the words. He lifts his head to watch your face, before leaning in to meet your lips once more. You’re gasping for breath, which makes it difficult, but he enjoys it even more because of that. 

“Perfect… you’re so beautiful.” The look in his eyes is nothing short of loving as he begins manoeuvring both you and himself properly onto the bed. You’re still a bit hazy from the intensity of the orgasm, but you manage to take his hints. Soon enough, you’re rested on your knees and elbows on the bed, and Satan is pressing kisses to your ass.

“You’re dripping down your thighs, pet,” he hums against your skin, using his fingers to collect some of your arousal. Without warning, he plunges his fingers into you once more, and you gasp out a moan.

“Satan, please, I…” Your voice trails off as you breathe in, short on air. Your cunt clenches around nothing as you wiggle your hips, hoping to goad him into finally filling you up. It’s all you can think about, he’s all you can think about, and you’ve stopped caring completely about pride. 

“I, fuck Satan, I want you so bad.” You feel him pause, and the smile that crosses your lips is unintentional. “Please, baby, please fill me up with your cock. Please, I-- I want you so bad, want it so bad.”

That seems to be enough to get what you want. You hear Satan move behind you, and soon enough the tip of his cock rests against your slick opening. Both of you let out a shaky breath, and you can feel Satan lean over you. Once again, his fingers hook onto your collar and he tugs, cutting off your air supply just enough to fully grab your attention.

“I’m going to take you now,” he hums, slowly pushing himself inside. “Gonna mark that pretty little cunt and make it all mine. Gonna make sure no one else wants you afterwards, because you’re going to smell like me, inside and out.” To emphasize his words he pushes into you completely, and you cry out at the feeling, squeezing around him so deliciously. He pulls on your collar harder, and you gasp for air. Satan wastes no time in starting a relentless pace, hitting the deepest parts inside of you. His grip on the collar loosens when you get lightheaded, but he never lets go. That mouthwatering press against your throat has you tightening around Satan, and he grunts out. He’s about to speak when you grind back against him, meeting his thrusts, and a muddled string of words leave his lips instead.

“Fuck,” you can tell Satan’s composure is slipping, and your body sings with anticipation. The room is filled with your moans, his panting, and the sound of skin slapping against skin. Satan uses his free hand to pull you up off of your arms, raising your torso so the two of you are kneeling. In this position, he can fondle you so much easier, and he fully takes advantage of it, massaging your breast harshly and tugging on your nipple. You cry out after a particularly rough thrust, and once again feel the pleasure pooling low in your stomach. Satan bites into your shoulder, and the hand that was pulling on your collar moves down to your clit once more, rubbing you just the way you like it. 

Satan grunts and your body jerks, the pleasure becoming damn near overwhelming. “You’re so fucking slutty,” he groans, and you know that he’s not trying to keep up appearances anymore. His cock thrusts into you faster, harder, and you feel your body grow impossibly tight. “Gonna breed you, gonna claim you, gonna make you all fucking mine.” The words are forced out, pants and moans interspersed throughout. He growls, directly in your ear, and you’re so close, so damn close.

“Gonna make it so that no one else wants you.” Satan curses loudly, and the sound is music to your ears. You can’t think at all, and the only thing spilling from your lips are moans and garbled versions of his name. “Fuck, I love you so much,” he breathes out, and that’s your breaking point. Once again you feel as climax overwhelms your body, and your mind is filled with nothing but thoughts of Satan. His thrusts, rough and erratic, have completely lost any sense of rhythm. In your pleasure addled brain, all you know to do is egg him on, get him to feel as good as you do.

“Please baby, f-fuck, Satan, please. Fill me up.” His fingers move back up to loop around your collar and he pulls hard, just as you were about to speak more. Your words stop abruptly, and the sounds of you trying to speak push him over the edge. Satan’s hips stutter, before pausing completely. Warm cum fills your insides and you sigh at the feeling, almost relieved when Satan lets go of you. You fall onto your hands on the bed, bones feeling like jelly. He takes a few moments to regain his composure, before pulling out with a low groan. You collapse, exhausted, and he laughs quietly.

“You did so well for me, kitten. You always do,” he smiles, dropping his body onto the mattress next to you. He knows the two of you need to get clean, and he knows that his sheets should be washed, but he’ll do that in a bit. For now, he takes you into his arms, your bare skin hot against his own. You sigh happily, eyes closed.

“No sleeping yet, beautiful. I haven’t indulged in my present to the full extent.” His smirk is mischievous. Maybe you can go for a few more rounds. It is his birthday, after all.

-

Many hours later, Satan finds himself clean, fully dressed, and on the way back from the laundry room after dropping his sheets off. The House of Lamentation is dead silent, and Satan is still on a high from his birthday present. How could he not be? He’s fully satiated, relaxed, and happier than he’d been in a while. Not only that, but you’re waiting for him in his bed, curled up in his sheets, smelling like his body soap. He has every single reason to feel over the moon.

Except something weighs on him. It’s easy to ignore for the most part, but when he passes by the library and hears the slow, melancholy melody of a song he knows all too well, he stops. 

Ugh, fuck, okay... fine.

Satan groans to himself as he walks into the library, making his way to the large door on one of the walls. He knocks gently, and when he’s met with no answer, he enters anyway. Pride be damned. 

Lucifer looks over, surprised by having a visitor and even more surprised by who it is. He doesn’t speak, only watching as Satan enters the room, taking only a few steps in.

Neither of them says anything, watching each other, waiting for someone to make the first move. It ends up being Satan, who sighs.

“Thank you. For today.”

Lucifer is taken completely aback. Placing his hand on his chest he sits up straight, shaking his head.

“I don’t know what--”

“Shut up.” Lucifer’s anger swells for a moment, but he takes a deep breath to calm down. Satan doesn’t seem to care. “I know you helped _____ with all of this. It was probably your idea to begin with.”

Lucifer doesn’t reply, and that is enough to confirm Satan’s suspicions. He runs a hand through his hair, before crossing his arms.

“So… Thanks. I’m going to bed now.”

Satan turns on his heels and begins walking out the door, but is stopped when Lucifer calls out, his voice warmer than Satan has ever heard.

“Happy birthday, brother.”

Satan stands in the doorway a moment, looking at the floor. Once again, he sighs.

“Go to bed. You look like shit,” he replies, before shutting the large office door behind him. He almost, almost, misses the sound of his eldest brother’s laugh bouncing off the walls.

Maybe birthdays aren’t all that bad.

[liyuesbian]

sorry for the late reply! school has been busy :|

yeah i kinda want to see the three clans animated a bit more but it's not completely Necessary, just cool to watch I think

NOOO I didn't listen to signora's boss battle lines because my volume was off but that's so heartbreaking hhhh

I actually have a memory like a fish when it comes to the quests hsdkfjsd it's just that I review them sometimes to get the details n make sure my headcanons are loosely supported by canon

yeahh twitter artists are the only valid people sdjsjd there's so much good content there 😩 i think my timeline/dashboard is organized by latest posts first but I always feel like I don't see a couple retweets unless I go to the account profile, idk lol

went back to the 2.0 archon quest and FFFFF I remember playing the last part of that and going "what's the tea o-o" when Ayaka said that but it got wiped out of my memory after going to the resistance camp 😔 WE COULD HAVE HAD IT ALL... although,,, I saw your post about the french intro for kokomi and I really hope the moral grayness gets realized. It would be very fun to see especially since she's the epitome of a mermaid princess right now. (feel free to reuse canon (derogatory) lmaooo i stole it from another one of my fandoms too)

-mystic

that's ok, i understand! uni's gonna start in 3 weeks for me and i'm dreading it ><

(not sure if this still counts as 2.0 / 2.1 spoilers but i'll put it under the cut anyway)

yhhh it was <//3

LMAOOO DW ME TOO. AHH MYSTIC YOU POST HCS? are they on your welcometoteyvat blog or a different one 👀 if you're comfortable with doing so, can you link me some? i'd rly like to read them!! 👉��

twitter artists carrying the whole genshin fandom on their shoulders tbh 💪💪 hmm no that makes sense! ig it's kinda hard because twt timelines are constantly cluttered with posts where it's like "___ and ___ liked this" and they're not always relevant to your likes/interests

ya i was seriously latched onto ayaka's last line and i'm super glad there's still a chance! right? everything about her design screams the stereotypically kind-hearted character and it'd be refreshing to see a different side (kinda like how we saw a different side to the raiden shogun through ei... and it lowkey makes sense ? because, personally, i saw - and still sort of see - them as parallels to each other)

[ggunight]

watching orbit twt react to hongseok listening to loona and feeling both euphoric because i love both groups to death and a creeping sense of dread because orbits are a nightmare fandom

[tonyglowheart]

SA anon here! Sorry I guess it might be confusing! I am confused myself as the labels seem arbitrary! I am South Asian, specifically I am from a SA country like Pakistan, India etc., Culturally the setting of cdramas feels close to mine so it's been a delight. I am so happy to be in an Chinese fandom because it feels so much more relatable to me! So it's been a blast, but also lonely as I feel like what I get/understand is different to what most cql fans do! So finding you was a joy!! ❤❤❤❤

h i I am so very sorry it’s been 2 months lmao... if ur still around, I did indeed get your ask, I was just “going to respond to it” and then... well..

Thank you for the clarification! And I’m glad you’ve been finding common ground in cmedia, that’s one of the things that drew me to it (again) too, how much I could relate, and also how different it was and free from some of the common landmines I dread anticipating with Western medias :’)

The sense of alienation is.. real tho lol, it’s one of the reasons I wasn’t around as much on Tumblr for a while, bc I just felt alienated from a lot of the posts and interps I was seeing :’)

from ur other ask: Twt scaring you is Valid because honestly same lmao.... :’) like... the whole phenomenon of stan twitter.... scares me :’)

okay this was thoroughly messy of a response but! thank you for responding and clarifying! and if you’re still around, and still feel the same way about me lmao,. then thank you :’3 and hopefully you’ve been able to find more of a relatable cohort/niche of ppl on tumblr since, bc there’s ppl out there! who are of the culture, and ppl who aren’t but who are interested in learning!

[k00kie-krumbl3]

My Queen

Cr. twt @haikyuuonline

Summary: It's been years from the last time you saw him. You thought you would never met him again. Oh how wrong you were. He wants you. He always has and he always will.

      Hearing a thud up against the rooftop, I stopped in my tracks. A sense of dread as I had a feeling I knew who was up there. It's been years since I met him and yet my heart is racing uncontrollably.

     Walking out, I watched as the black wings unraveled, his red eyes glowing as he looked at me. Tilting his head to the side a small smile slowly began to creep upwards. "We meet again, my Queen." I stared back at the creature in shock, thinking I would never see him again.

     I couldn't move, paralyzed as he stepped closer to me. Looking straight at the eyes that I once loved-no- still loved I asked him, "What are you doing here?"

 "To take you away." he replied.

    “Jungkook, I told you my home is-" but I  didn't get to finish as his lips were upon mine. "I don't care, I want you as my Queen, my bride, my love and I'll do anything to have you by my side." he sighed.

    I couldn't speak, I didn't know how. His red eyes looked down on at my brown ones. "Show me, show me that you are mine." 

    Stepping up I interlocked my hands with his, 

     "Yours, forever and always, my King."