#this blog has turned into my main whats wrong with me

[suguwu]

WOULD THAT I: PROLOGUE

The Gojo boy doesn't have a soulmate.

When you're both children, you overhear him being referred to as inhuman, between his power and his lack of a mark. The next time you see him, you use a marker to write your name on his skin, too young to understand what it means.

You forget, but Gojo—

Gojo never does.

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT.

masterlist

pairing: gn!reader x gojo

wc: 2.6k

notes: thank you to my beta, as always! especially for putting up with my bratty ass and reading this early so i could post it earlier. this has been a fun fic to get started and i hope you enjoy the prologue!

content warnings: none. see masterlist for series content warnings.

The Gojo boy doesn’t have a soulmate.

You don’t think you’re supposed to know; it’s only ever talked about in hushed voices. The clans all speak like that, sometimes, each word a butterfly’s wing as it flutters from their mouths.

The servants, however, are louder.

One of them has a voice like a lark, a sweet, trilling song. It carries. You learn to hear her coming, to recognize her shadow against the shoji. You know the edges of her by heart. Sometimes she spreads her arms out as she makes her way through the hallway; her kimono sleeves flare out behind her like wings. 

“There’s something wrong with the Gojo heir,” she sings one afternoon, her fluting voice half-muffled by the shoji. “Those eyes of his—it’s like he can see right through you. And Fujioka says he doesn’t have a soulmark.” 

Another servant hushes her. “Don’t gossip,” she chides. 

“It’s true, though!”

“That doesn’t mean you should repeat it.” 

She huffs, grumbling something too soft for you to hear anything aside from the melody of it. The other servant laughs quietly before chivvying her forward. You watch until their shadows disappear, leaving only the hallway light to filter golden through the shoji. 

You return to your coloring book.

The Gojo boy doesn’t have a soulmate, but that doesn’t mean anything to you.

Not yet. 

—

There’s a boy in the courtyard.

He’s hopping from stone to stone in the koi pond, his snow-white hair glittering under the morning sun. He moves like a dancer, each step sure and swift, never once slipping on the wet rock. When he gets to the biggest rock in the pond, he crouches down, his back to you, and drags his fingers over the surface of the water. The koi rise to meet him, firework scales flashing in the sun. 

You watch him from the engawa, peeking out at him from behind one of the columns. You’ve never seen him before, and you’d remember him, with his starlight hair. 

“Who’re you?” he asks, not turning around.

You stay quiet.

“I know you’re there,” he says. “You can’t hide from me.”

He glances over his shoulder and the world goes blue.

It’s the cold burn of a comet’s tail streaking through the velvet night. It’s oceantide, relentless and unyielding. It’s a slice of the sky brought down to earth, heaven devoured.

Then he blinks, and he’s just a boy again. 

“Who’re you?” you ask, stepping to the edge of the engawa. 

He lifts his chin. “I asked you first.”

You introduce yourself the way your mother taught you, bowing to him shallowly. 

He scoffs. “You’re not even from the main clan.”

“Are you?”

“I’m not part of your stupid clan.”

“Oh.”

He stares at you, his crystalline eyes sharp-edged, all prismatic ice. “You don’t know who I am?”

“Nope.”

He rises to his full height, unfolding like an elegant crane. “I’m Gojo Satoru.” 

You tilt your head. The servants’ humming gossip made the Gojo heir sound ethereal, a fallen star that had burned away into human form as it plummeted through the heavens. His eyes are otherworldly, and you can feel the power rippling out from his lean form, as unstoppable as the tides, but—

“You’re just a boy,” you say. 

He scowls. “Am not.”

“Are too.” 

“I’m Gojo Satoru,” he says again, deeper this time, an intonation, a promise, a curse. His eyes flash, St. Elmo’s fire, a lightning strike of blue. “I have the Limitless and the Six Eyes. I’m not just a boy.”

You would believe him, but the last bit sounded more sulky than anything else. You’re about to tell him so when someone calls your name. You glance over your shoulder, but there are no shadows against the shoji yet.

When you turn back around, there are wet patches shining on the stones in the koi pond, an imprint of the past, but nothing else.

The Gojo boy is gone.

—

Your mother is hovering. 

She smooths down your yukata, chasing creases from the thin cotton with trembling hands. There hadn’t been time to change; she’d pulled you out of your lessons and hurried you down the hallways of the estate. 

“Bow low when you meet him,” she tells you, though she hasn’t bothered to tell you who ‘he’ is. “Understand?”

You nod. 

There’s a fine layer of sweat gleaming at your mother’s nape as she kneels before the shoji. She reaches out to open it; her kimono sleeve slips down, revealing the elegant curve of her wrist. You focus there instead of the opening shoji, the slow slide of it a hissing snake, coiled to bite.

The shoji clicks, a chime of teeth, its maw wide open. You take in a deep breath and step through, your gaze on the tatami mats. Someone shifts.

“Oh, it’s you.”

You glance up, directly into the gaze of Gojo Satoru. His eyes are as otherworldly as you remember, a crisp, clear blue framed in long lashes, like a snowy-edged mountain lake. He tilts his head as you gape, his hair gleaming bone-white in the sun streaming through the open shoji. 

You blink. “What’re you doing here?” you ask, and next to you, your mother hisses in a low, sharp breath. 

Gojo shrugs. “Dunno. The clan said I had to come and they caught me when I snuck out.”

The woman behind Gojo clears her throat. “Gojo-sama,” she says, her voice like the shivering leaves when the summer breeze stirs to life, “they’re a candidate for you to train with.” 

He eyes you. “Why?” he asks. “They’re not very strong.”

“Hey!” 

“You aren’t, though,” he says. “I can tell.”

You throw yourself at him.

His eyes widen, a devouring sea, and he grunts as you make impact. He’s sturdier than you thought; he’s slight, but it’s all lean muscle, even though he can’t be much older than you are. Your mother calls out your name, horrified, but Gojo is already recovering, grappling with you for control. 

By the time the adults pull you apart, Gojo is nursing a rapidly-purpling mark high on his cheekbone. Your split lip aches; you tongue at it and wince. You can taste blood, sour and metallic. You glare at Gojo even as your mother bows deeply to the woman.

“My deepest apologies,” she says, tightening her grip on the sleeve of your yukata and forcing you to bow with her. “I don’t know what came over them.”

The woman clicks her tongue. “The child should be punished,” she says, and your mother stiffens. “I would suggest—”

“No.” 

Everyone looks at Gojo. He thumbs at a rip in his kimono, grinning widely. It bares his teeth. 

“I’ll train with them,” he says.

“Gojo-sama—”

“I said I’d train with them. Now can we go? I want a popsicle.” 

The woman sighs. “Yes, Gojo-sama.” 

Gojo sweeps by you and your mother. He pauses right next to you. “You’re weak,” he tells you, ignoring the way you bristle, “but at least you’re fun.”  

He’s out the shoji before you can respond.

—

Summer settles over Kyoto, a wet lick of heat. Even the wind seems to feel it; it ripples honey-slow through the trees, barely strong enough to stir the air. Frogs move into the koi pond in the courtyard; they sing along with the cicadas’ sawing choir. 

“Catch it!” Gojo shouts as your hands spear through the murky pond water. It gushes free from between your fingers as you come up empty-handed, the frog you were aiming for frantically disappearing further below the surface. “You’re so slow.”

“Am not!”

“Are too,” he counters, holding out his cupped hands. A plaintive ribbit sounds out from between them. “I already caught one. It was easy.”

“You’re annoying.”

He stares at you, his blue eyes icy. “You’re annoying.”  

“You’re the one who came over.”

He rolls his eyes. “We train at your estate.”

“How come?”

“How come what?”

“How come we train here? Your estate is probably better.”

He shrugs, opening his hands enough to peer down at the frog. It glistens in the sunlight, the same deep green as the lush courtyard. It makes a break for freedom; he closes his hands again, his long fingers sewing the gap shut. “I like it better here.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Why?”

“I just do,” he says, voice flat.

You don’t ask again.

—

“Why are we here?”

Gojo blinks, his long white lashes sweeping over the sweet curve of his cheek. “Why are you whispering?”

Your cheeks heat. The Gojo estate is a sprawling, massive maw; you’ve felt devoured ever since you set foot in it. Even the golden light that slants through the shoji feels cold. There are ikebana arrangements lining the halls, the leggy, deep purple irises sculptural as they rise proudly from the vases, but it still feels like a mausoleum. 

“We’ve just never trained here before,” you say, taking care to use your regular voice. “So why are we here now?”

He shrugs. “They insisted.”

“Who?”

He dismisses the question with a wave of his hand, his long pianist’s fingers cutting through the air. You roll your eyes, long used to his occasionally imperious ways. The two of you continue along the hallways, you trailing after him closely, as if caught in his gravity, an orbiting moon. 

You almost run into him when he comes to a sudden halt. You peek around him—in the last few months, he’s gone through a growth spurt, one that your mother says will come when you’re his age, and he’s too tall to peer over his shoulder—and see a servant bowing low, her ebony hair glinting.

“Gojo-sama,” she says. “Please follow me. The elders are waiting.”

He sighs, a dramatic heave of his chest. “What do they want?”

“They didn’t specify.”

“Ugh.”

“Gojo-sama—”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he says. “Go tell those geezers I’ll be there soon.” 

You wince right along with the servant. Gojo’s disdain for the elders is not new, but it still unnerves you every time, as if they will come along and smite you down. 

“C’mon,” Gojo says to you. “Let’s get it over with.”

The servant clears her throat. “Only you, Gojo-sama.”

He glares, his blue eyes burning, a comet streaking through the sky. “No,” he says. “They’re coming.”

“They cannot.”

“I said they’re coming.” 

“It’s okay,” you tell him, eyes wide. “Really.” 

Gojo looks back at you. For a second, his mouth is a wound, tender and pink, but in the next breath, it’s gone, frozen under a layer of ice.

“Fine.” 

You bite your lip, but he’s already walking away. You catch yourself before you reach for him. He disappears down the hallway, his hair glinting like exposed bone.

The servant turns to you. “This way,” she says, her voice perfectly neutral.

You follow her to an empty room; she slides the shoji shut behind herself as you settle onto the cushion at the chabudai. You gaze around the room. There’s not much to take in; it’s wealthy in a subdued way. You fidget with the hem of your sleeve and then get to your feet.

You slide open the shoji leading out to the engawa; it opens onto a huge, lush courtyard. The plush flowers are weighted down by their own blooms, their stems curving like a dancer’s back. A shishi-odoshi rings out with a hollow thud; a few songbirds scatter, their wings rustling like leaves as they soar towards the sky. 

You step out onto the engawa. It’s still early enough that the sun slants onto the wood, warming it. You sit down and bask in it, tilting your face up for the sun’s sweet kiss. You lay back, your eyes fluttering shut.

A voice wakes you.

“He’s an insolent brat!” a man hisses. “He needs to be taken in hand!”

“He’s too powerful,” another man answers. His voice is calm, but you can sense the ripples in it, the thing lurking underneath. “We can only do what we’re already doing.”

You go still. They can only be talking about Gojo. Their footsteps echo; they’re drawing closer and closer.

“It’s not enough.” 

“He’s still young. Maybe we can mold him.” 

The first man snorts. “You don’t believe that.”

“No, I don’t.” 

“There’s something wrong with that boy,” the first man says. “Those eyes—that power—and not even a hint of a mark. He’s barely human.”

Their footsteps are starting to fade; their voices become murmurs. But you still hear it when the second man says:

“I don’t think he’s human at all.”

Then they’re gone, fading from your world like malevolent spirits, dissipating on the wind. You unclench your fists and find that your nails have bitten into your skin, little half-moon curves cutting through the leylines of your palms. 

Gojo shows up a mere minute later. He slides open the shoji with a bang; his eyes find you immediately. 

“C’mon,” he says, stepping out into the courtyard. His eyes are shadowed; his lips are pulled tight, an unstitched wound. He’s heard them, you realize. You’ve never seen him bothered by other people’s opinions; your chest aches, a pressed bruise. You open your mouth to say something, but you can’t find the words. 

He grabs your hand as he passes by you, tugging you along behind him, ignoring your surprised yelp. “Let’s go before those stupid geezers find me again.” 

“Where are we going?”

“Away from here.”

“But my shoes—”

He glances back at you and you drown in blue. 

“Okay,” you say quietly. “Let’s go.” 

He doesn’t answer; he just tugs you along. You stare at the back of his head for a moment, trying to make sense of the expression you’d seen flash across his face before he’d turned around again. You can’t understand it, but you know one thing.

He’s never looked more human to you.

—

The next time you see him, you’re prepared.

You uncap the marker with your teeth. You reach out for Gojo’s arm; he pulls away before you can grab hold, as quick as a darting fish. 

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Give me your arm.” 

“Why?”

“You’ll see.” 

He eyes you for a moment, but gives you his arm.

You push up his yukata sleeve to expose the tender underbelly of his wrist. You start to write, laboring over each stroke of the marker, keeping it as neat as you can. The silver ink covers the rivers of his blue-green veins as it sinks into his skin, a childish tattoo. 

“There,” you say, finishing with a somewhat-shaky flourish. “Now you have a mark.”

Gojo stares at you, his cerulean gaze lit from within, the sea beneath the sun. He covers the katakana of your name with his free hand, careful not to smudge the still-drying characters. Under the shadow, they fade to gray, but they still glint and glimmer the same way real soulmarks do. 

You hum, pleased with yourself, cap the marker, and toss it to the side so you can start training. 

You don’t know it yet, but it’s your last session with him. He disappears into the dawn like a fading star, spirited off to Tokyo to continue his training. You’ve only spent six months with him. Still, it aches, a pressed bruise, but you’ve always known he would outgrow you; his power is a black hole, always devouring. 

Life, ever unmoved, continues on. 

The boy you knew fades from your memories, though you never forget him. It’s impossible, with the stories that come out of Tokyo, how he completes missions that no one his age should be able to handle. 

Still, you forget things. The tilt of his mouth; the cadence of his voice. He becomes a shadow of himself, a shade with burning blue eyes. 

You forget that you once wrote your name on the delicate inside of his wrist. 

Gojo, though—

Gojo never does.

[muncysvelasco]

Off topic but i hate when i get the realization that when i go back to school in September that i actually have to apply for schools and start thinking about the future and actually start being responsible.

[taardisblue]

.

[tytonnidaie]

the most dangerous part of having a pet au that u never seriously work on except think abt it to ur writing playlist as u drive is that. you develop it. and it gets better. and then you really really want to write it. and you're in danger

[aliceramblez]

Dating the Hazbin Hotel Residents 😈

Tags: GN!Reader, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mentioned Mature Topics (ie. Suicidal Thoughts, Alcohol Abuse, SA, etc), Spoilers For The Show, etc.

A/N: Ahhh yes, more brainriot for the pile 😌 I was more of a Helluva gal before the show aired, but now I gotta say these blorbos are a dear part of my heart! Hopefully y'all enjoy these as much as I did writing them!

Consider following my main blog @taruchinator for more solid content & feel free to leave a request here for future HCs~

Charlie 🌈

When the Happy Hotel first opened its doors and all of Hell started making a mockery of it, you were probably the only one who took it as a sign to try and improve from the low life that you were. It's not like you had anything else to live for, anyway.

As soon as you enter the building, you're immediately greeted by the bubbly Princess of Hell herself (along with a reluctant Angel Dust) who is more than happy to show you around and welcomes you with open arms.

You've never been shown this much kindness and sympathy for your situation before, so it naturally takes you aback and makes you wonder what the catch is. Turns out there's none and the Princess is probably the only sweet soul to live in this shithole.

As you grow closer, she asks you to drop the title and just call her Charlie. She also shares a bit about her situation and how her mother wanted to save sinners from the extermination each year, and now Charlie felt like it was her duty to continue this legacy until her dreams came true.

You can't help but feel touched over how much she cares, so you silently vow to yourself to help her in any way you can, just like she's done for you.

It doesn't take long before the two of you grow even closer and feelings begin to blossom, but you decide to ignore them since why would a Princess ever like someone like you?

But Charlie proves you wrong yet again, since one day she comes to you a blushing mess and confesses her own feelings, asking if you'd like to go out with her. You can't help but vocalize your shock since she could do so much better than a random sinner. She deserved better, too.

She looks at you with fondness in her eyes. “You've been by my side for so long and supported me every step of the way. Who wouldn't fall for someone like that?”

And thus, you are the luckiest person in Hell because you scored Charlotte Morningstar, and whoever says otherwise can get a knife to their throat.

She's the perfect definition of a sweet and patient girlfriend, never pushing you to do anything you aren't comfortable with (since you really aren't used to such adoration in a romantic relationship), but as soon as you give her the get-go, she'll be sure to shower you with as much affection as she can until the doubts in your mind disappear completely.

You aren't that far behind either. Albeit not as good as her, you do your best to be a comforting partner whenever she needs you. This is especially necessary after an extermination happens, which always leaves Charlie devastated and in need of a hug or words of encouragement because she doubts herself sometimes and wonders if the hotel is even working at all.

You remind her how it brought the two of you together, to which she smiles and agrees that at least something good has come out of it so far.

Vaggie 🎀

Both you and Vaggie used to work in the same legion under Adam with the rest of his exorcists. You knew of each other's existence, but didn't really talk much aside from whatever was needed in the midst of battle.

The day she spares a demon child's life, you're doing your rounds nearby and witness the whole exchange, including Lute coming over and ripping both an eye and Vaggie's wings for showing mercy. You don't know why, but it makes your blood boil.

“HEY! What are you doing?! It was just a kid, why not let it slide?”

And just like that, you become a target of Lute's rage as well, being ripped from your angelic status along with receiving a few nasty cuts, yet surprisingly not as bad as Vaggie herself.

Once the two of you are left to die, you immediately try to tend the girl's wounds with whatever you can. Vaggie can only stare in disbelief at what you'd done and questions why you even did so in the first place—now you were stuck just like she was.

“Guess I just don't like seeing injustice... Who knew Heaven could be so fuckin' shitty?”

You both laugh at the irony of it all, and that's when luck is finally on your side as Charlie finds you in the dirty alley and brings you back to the hotel to heal properly.

For the next three years you two stay at the Hazbin Hotel, helping Charlie in any way you can to try and make her dream a reality since deep down you hope that despite Heaven's corrupt system, there can be a small chance that souls can be redeemed. You hide the fact that you're ex-Anges though, since you don't wanna cause unnecessary drama.

During this time period, the two of you become better friends, having your own inside jokes regarding things you didn't particularly enjoy from your time as Angels, as well as learning more about one another.

You're the one to come to terms with your feelings first and decide to lay them on the table for Vaggie to see—she's always been a straight-to-the-point kind of gal, so if you're about to be rejected, might as well have it be done quick. But of course, she replies with her own declaration and desire to give a relationship a shot, which you're ecstatic about!

It's a bit hard at first since you never got to see much of romantic relationships in Heaven while training for murder every year, but you try and make it work. Both you and Vaggie work endlessly to try and make the other happy, and it only makes you fall for each other even more.

Also Charlie is your go-to wingwoman who will be there to give you the best advice to try and woo your girlfriend. She ships you two so hard.

Angel Dust 🕸

Working at a porn studio under an Overlord who owns your soul can be exhausting. You know this better than anyone since everyone who works under Valentino has contracts that won't let you get far with a leash. This is especially true with your friend Angel Dust.

You know about the things Valentino does to the spider demon—hell, everyone in the studio probably knows, but know better than to say anything about it. You're always there for Angel after particularly rough shoots, doing your best to comfort him in any way you can, though there isn't much you can do given you're in the same spot.

When he tells you he's moving to Princess Charlie's Hazbin Hotel, you're so happy for him! At least that will give him some distance from Valentino and his disgustingly filthy hands when he's not working.

This unsurprisingly doesn't bode well with the Overlord, causing him to throw fits of rage around the studio when Angel leaves for the day. You can't help but make a snarky comment that you definitely regret moments later.

“Can one blame him for wanting space from such an overbearing asshole?”

Without his favorite stress toy around, you end up paying the price for such comments. The kind of pain and suffering he puts you through is completely different from what you're used to. Is this the stuff he does to Angel? He leaves you naked, bruised and bloody in your room, and all you can do is muster what little strenght you have left to head for the Hazbin Hotel.

As soon as the door opens, you immediately tumble forward and start losing consciousness. The last thing you remember is Angel's horrified expression before it all fades to black.

Once you wake up and have been patched up, you explain what happened at the studio, and you could've sworn you saw fire in Angel's eyes as he holds on to you, fearing you might disappear at any moment. He begs you to stay in the hotel with him, and you agree without hesitation.

And so, your new routine of heading to work and then coming back to the hotel becomes blissful, not having to deal with that lunatic mothman more than necessary. You also get to spend time off with your best friend, which is always a plus.

Well, ‘best friend’ might not be the best way to describe it. You'd developed a crush on the spider demon even before this whole incident occurred, and now that you were spending more time with him, it only continued to grow.

With the line of work you two had, romantic relationships didn't seem to be a thing that crossed anybody's mind since why have a permanent partner when you could just go around fucking the hottest people in Hell? But you knew your feelings were far beyond from sexual, but didn't wanna ruin what you already had going for you.

One heartfelt drunken conversation after work however, makes you do a double take—Angel likes you back. And that both scares and excites you. But with both of you going over the pros and cons with each other, you decide to give it a chance.

You make sure to always have Angel's consent when it comes to physical intimacy—anything from holding his hand, to kissing to just cuddling. He jokes about not being a porcelain doll, but deep down you know he appreciates it.

You're also there for the rough nights, when he comes home wanting nothing more than to die again and let the earth swallow him whole. Words of reassurance are spoken and you can only hold him and let him cry as you vow to do anything in your power to stop this from happening again.

Husker 🍺

As one of the first guests of the hotel, like any wayward sinner, you find yourself in the bar more often than you'd like. Alcohol killed you in the first place, yet not even in the afterlife could you seem to pull yourself from its grasp.

It's a somewhat welcome surprise to find out that the bartender is going through a similar struggle. He still serves you drinks and lends and ear whenever he's not busy, but will occasionally drop the words of wisdom to watch your fill.

Eventually you two find yourselves doing this little back and forth and aid each other when you're in your dark places—Husk won't let you near the bottle if he sees you're about to knock yourself out, meanwhile you're there to look after him when he has one too many drinks and can't take care of himself.

Not to say he isn't a good drinking buddy—you've found out most of the gossip around the hotel thanks to this sneaky little cat demon and there's never a dull moment with him around.

You learn about his deal with Alastor during a particularly bad night, when Husk's had one too many and isn't thinking straight. You don't bring it up, but now have an eye open for whenever the Radio Demon drags your friend away.

Angel's the one who brings up your questionable relationship to the surface.

“So... you two like, fuckin' each other, or what?”

Your entire face goes red, and if it weren't for the dark fur you could swear you see Husk looking the same. He's quick to get rid of Angel's nosy ass, but now the seed has been planted in your brain—do you like Husk that way?

After careful consideration, you come to the conclusion that yes, you do. And it's honestly kinda terrifying considering how relationships don't usually work out in Hell, at least from what you've seen. Besides, even if you did try and confess, there was always the possibility of him not feeling the same and just being embarrassed by Angel's comment.

So in an attempt to make your feelings disappear, you stop frequenting the bar. Who knew the best way to stop drinking habits was trying to avoid spending time with your unrequited crush?

But of course, Husk isn't stupid. He sees the change in your behavior and let's it slide for a while, until he eventually corners you and asks what's wrong. You decide to get it all out of the way and tell him how you feel.

To the embarrassment of both of you, he holds your hand firmly between his and darts his eyes toward the corner of the room. “Next time you should ask before going off assuming things, ya got it?”

And so, your glass may have been empty that day, but your heart had never felt fuller.

Sir Pentious 🐍

You meet Sir Pentious when you sign into the hotel, and your immediate thought is just how can this snake man be so adorkable, it should be illegal.

As you greet the other residents and staff, you're quick to strike a conversation with him, which based on his body language he was not expecting. He starts telling you a bit about his weaponry and other contraptions, and you can't help but be fascinated by it.

You're a bit of a tinkerer yourself, albeit you've only dabbled in small scale projects—nothing compared to the massive canons and aircrafts that Pentious seems to be familiar with.

He acts like a kid opening gifts on Sinmas when he talks to you about his inventions, clearly never having anyone show interest before. Eventually he'll even ask for your input on certain smaller projects he wants to work on to help around the hotel, all to thank Charlie for being so kind to him and giving him a second chance. You're obviously eager to help!

You two start spending so much time together that the egg boys have started calling you ‘Boss #2’, much to Pentious' embarrassment and your amusement.

One afternoon once exercises are done for the day, the snake demon seems much more fidgety than usual as he invites you over to his room to continue working on his security system prototype. He's a blabbering mess once he has you sitting down and your heart just can't help but swell at each little syllable.

“Dearest (y/n)... you've, um, well... you are a huge inspiration for my work! A-And I wouldn't have been able to create any of this... without your help. You are kind, and smart and very talented.... and w-well, um I-”

You gotta silence the man with a kiss otherwise you two would be here all day. He's puddy in your hands and you can only giggle in return. “I really like you too, Pen.”

Everyone is either saying they called it or groaning in annoyance because fucking FINALLY, you two were just dancing around each other like idiots. The egg boys are just so happy to have someone else besides Pentious to be in their lives, and will do their best to look out for you just like with their own boss.

So yeah, prepare yourself for some sickeningly sweet gestures from this guy cause he will go above and beyond to get you what you need/want even if it kills him (again). And you can confidently say that you'd do the same in return.

Alastor 📻

After running in the same circles when you were alive, it's no surprise to you to end up in Hell, although you never would've suspected that you'd find yourself in the same place as him. It was honestly a huge relief not having to go through this all by yourself.

As Alastor exerted his dominance over Hell as the Radio Demon, you were powerful enough to be an Overlord yes, but rather liked keeping it on the down low instead of making a spectacle of yourself (Alastor was the one for theatrics anyway). Because of this, only select few knew of your true power and what you were capable of.

Instead, if there was one thing you were known for, it was being the only soul allowed to be close to the Radio Demon without the risk of death.

Yes, Alastor was a sadistic, cold-blooded and egotistical mastermind, but he wasn't a monster. You knew that better than anyone. Although the reactions he had to other demons treating you like a joke or calling you the ‘Radio Demon's Pet’ were not helping his case.

“ł₣ ɎØɄ V₳ⱠɄɆ ɎØɄⱤ ₴ØɄⱠ, ɎØɄ ₩łⱠⱠ ₩₳Ⱡ₭ ₳₩₳Ɏ Ɽł₲Ⱨ₮ ₦Ø₩ ฿Ɇ₣ØⱤɆ ł Ɽł₱ ł₮ ₳₱₳Ɽ₮ ฿ł₮ ฿Ɏ ฿ł₮...”

“Al, chill. You're gonna make them shit their pants.”

After his seven year absence, you immediately noticed something was wrong with him, and wouldn't stop pestering until he told you the truth—A deal he made and how his soul was now bound to someone much more powerful than he was.

You were obviously mortified and started looking into ways to try and find a loophole to this, but alas the Radio Demon would just give you his signature grin and tell you not to worry about it. It was his battle to face.

But of course you're quick to remind him that you've stuck together through thick and thin even in life, so there was no way you were letting him handle this by himself. You work as a team—always have and always will. You engulf him in a hug.

“We're gonna figure this out, Al. I promise...”

The grin remains, but his eyes widen slightly in surprise. He hesitantly returns the embrace, patting your back and wiping the tears you didn't even know you were shedding.

“There there~ To think such a sweet and innocent soul wound up in a gutter like this. I cannot say I complain as long as I have your delightful company beside me.”

And so when he says he has a plan that involves Princess Charlie Morningstar and her new Happy Hotel, you follow along. Whatever fate has in store for you two, you'll be ready.

Also Charlie is a sweetheart who could do no harm. Knowing Alastor, he'll probably do whatever he can here and there to help around for the cause. You also offer your services as an undercover Overlord, much to everyone's surprise when you reveal your status.

The Radio Demon may have a plan, but something tells you it won't involve bloody murder (unless extremely necessary or if someone really pissed him off).

Like you said—he's not a monster.

Lucifer 🍎

You and Lucifer were good friends at the beginning of Creation. While you were stuck with the tedious task of designing blueprints for the new ‘Human Project’ that headquarters had in store, Lucifer's Seraphim status allowed him to bring creations to life with the flick of a wrist, much to your delight and wonder.

His ideas and pitches for Earth were always so entertaining to listen to, and you would do your best to encourage him to show them to the higher ups to get them approved—His mind was just filled with joy and love and wonder that you'd never seen before.

Which was why it was always so disappointing whenever he'd come back and say that he was shut down and even mocked at. How could Heaven shut down such an imaginative mind in the creation of their biggest project yet?

To say you were devastated when you heard about his fall would be an understatement. You mourned the loss of your friend, knowing that he'd done nothing wrong and thinking it wasn't fair to him to receive such punishment just because he cared for the future of humanity.

Thousands of years later, you overhear the plan for Extermination of Hell kind. You didn't mean to walk by, yet here you were, under the direct eye of the Head Seraphims about to be downcast for something you had no control over—just like Lucifer.

“You're all self-entitled pricks! You think you can do whatever you want just because it doesn't follow what you define as good!”

You get a few good arguments before being cast downwards, leaving you in bad shape in a random alley with no wings and no means of escape. That is of course, until destiny seems to be on your side and Lucifer finds you, completely perplexed to see you here at all.

After getting treated, you tell him about the Extermination so he and Hell can prepare. The conversation of you getting cast down by Heaven gets glossed over, but he can feel the fury building up inside him. You were always doing things by the book—how could they do this to you?

Once the slaughter is over, Lucifer gets a meeting with Heaven and secures protection for both his daughter Charlie and you, to which they begrudgingly agree to keep him outta their hair. You can't help but feel touched by this gesture.

He's also quick to offer you a room to stay in, but you compromise by living in a seperate building from him and Charlie so you aren't a bother even though he says you aren't. In fact, ever since Lilith left, he's had to take care of his young daughter all by himself, so he's more than happy when you offer to help.

It doesn't take long for your feelings to start coming into the surface from all those years ago, and you gotta push them away because he's both married and has a child to look after! Besides, why would the King of Hell ever look in your direction?

Eventually though, he brings up the question with nothing but sweaty palms and a customized rubber ducky that says ‘I love you’ whenever you squeeze it. You blush furiously, but can't help but bring up your concerns, not wanting to replace Lilith in his heart. He looks into your eyes and says that he hasn't been as happy as he is now in the past thousand years.

Cue baby Charlie walking in on everything, and she just smiles and goes innocently. “Daddy! Is (y/n) staying home with us now?”

You two can only chuckle at the cuteness of it and you immediately go to hug her. You couldn't believe that you were blessed with such a wonderful family.

[daydreams-after-dark]

Free Use Jail Cell, Part 1

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Police Officer Skz ot8 x female reader

Premise: you're arrested and held for 24 hours by 8 police officers at the local police station / reader has her fantasy play out.

Word Count: 3k (part 1)

Chapter Summary: Officer Seo Changbin arrests you and has some one on one time with you before taking you to the station. You meet the other officers. (This chapter is Changbin focused, but a little bit happens at the end with the other officers.)

a/n: This fic will be in multiple parts because I get too impatient not to share what I’ve written so far. There will be two, possibly three installments turns out it will be more like 6 (tag list is open).

I refer to the officers as “Officer Hyunjin”, “Officer Minho” etc just to make it quick to identify the characters. 

The whole premise is planned and explained in the fic. The story is purely fantasy, but please be mindful of content warnings, as it has potentially triggering content. I want you to be safe here on my blog.

CW: planned fantasy role play, police arrest, nudity, unprotected sex in a semi public space, pain kink, roleplay pain, anal play, blow jobs, cum eating, name calling (both praising and degrading), reference to sexual acts, imprisonment, restraints (handcuffing).

🚨🚨🚨🚨

The lights of the police patrol car reflect in your rear view mirror, signaling for you to stop your car.

“Dammit.” You sigh as you pull your car over to the side of the road.

You watch in your side mirror as a police officer emerges from his patrol car, and your heart rate increases when you see the well built figure approach your window. 

“Everything okay, Officer?” You say innocently.

“I’m gonna need you step out of the vehicle, Ma'am.” He says sternly.

“But I wasn’t speeding.” You protest as he opens your car door and pulls you out.

“Ouch! You’re hurting me!” You writhe against him, but he’s too strong.

“No. But you’ve just resisted arrest, so you’re in big trouble little bunny.” He slams you front first against the side of your car and proceeds to handcuff your hands around your back.

“You’ve got the wrong woman, Dude!” You cry.

“That’s Officer Seo Changbin, to you.” He tears you away from your car abruptly and tugs you towards his police car. “In.” He throws you in the back of the car like a rag doll.

“But my car!” You wail, as he slams the door and hops into the driver’s seat.

“Shh. It’ll be impounded. Now not another word.”

“But you haven’t read me my rights! You can’t do this!”

But Officer SEO Changbin ignores you as he drives away.

After half an hour of you demanding he explain what you’ve actually been arrested for, and half an hour of being met with silence, Officer Changbin pulls off the main road and parks his car in a deserted space under a bridge.

Alarm bells go off in your head as you look around. The area is absolutely deserted. You frantically try to formulate a plan to escape. But even if you did escape, you’re fucking handcuffed.

The Officer opens the back door and slips in beside you, holding a tablet and stylus. “Y/n. Twenty five. Female. Submitted a ‘free use jail fantasy’. That is you, is it not?” He quirks an eyebrow at you. 

You stare at the man, but remain silent. Isn’t that one of your rights?

Changbin sighs. “This is your contract. I need you to understand the terms of our engagement.”

He holds the tablet in front of you so you can read exactly what you signed yourself up for. 

I, y/n, agree to being held prisoner in a police station setting, where eight men have the right to use my body how they see fit. This includes: degradation, humiliation, spanking, oral sex, vaginal penetration, anal penetration (includes use of fingers), double penetration, rough sex, use of props and restraints. 

Please read below for further details.

You scroll through the rest of the pages. Details of the acts that may take place, photos of the men and their role, special interests and skills. They are fucking handsome as hell too.

What the fuck have you signed up for? It sounded good in your head. It sounded good when you applied. But now it’s real.. You gulp and look at the Officer. 

“Sign here.” He points to the space at the bottom of page 12.

“Umm…”  you nudge your head towards your restraints.

“Oh yes of course.” Changbin releases your cuffs, opting to secure them in front of you instead. You take the stylus and sign on the dotted line.

You only live once right?

“Great. So as of now you belong to us. Well, for the next 24 hours.” He says matter of fact.

You suck on your lower lip. “So, like right now you could get me to do…things?” You say in a small voice.

“Yes, that’s right. I could instruct you to do things. Or, I could just do things to you. Free use, remember?” He takes the tablet from you and places it next to him in the seat. Your eyes fall on his thick bicep and you feel an ache between your legs. He sits back, slouching against the backseat, and his eyes drop to your bare leg.

A heavy silence fills the car. 

Changbin reaches out to squeeze your thigh, just above your knee and you hold your breath as his hand slowly slides up under your skirt.

“Show me your panties.” He whispers, lifting your skirt up. You open your legs for him. 

His plush, pink lips part slightly.  “Take them off.” He instructs.

You shimmy your panties off and wait for your next instructions. 

“Unbuckle my belt.”

The chain of the handcuffs rattling, and his heavy breaths are the only sounds as you bring your hands to his belt. “Uunzip my pants and take out my cock.”

Your heart begins to race, and your mouth becomes dry, as anticipation and fear bubble in your stomach. Your fingers shake as you unzip his fly and pull his length through the opening of his boxers. Fuck, he is so thick. Your eyes flick up to his.

“Suck it.” He says, staring at you.

You take a deep breath and bring your mouth closer to the fat tip, wondering you you’d even be able to stretch your mouth around it. You kiss the slit. Changbin hisses. “Don’t tease.” He says with a gravely tone. 

You swirl your tongue around the tip, then along the shaft, moistening it up. But Changbin is impatient, and he presses his hand on the back of your head, indicating that he’s had enough of your chaste ministrations.

You stretch your mouth around his girth and sink your head down over him. God, he’s not going to fit. You’re going to choke. 

“C’mon, deeper.” He pushes your head, coaxing you to take more of him. Your eyes immediately water, but you do your very best to suck him enthusiastically.

You feel his hand slide down your back and over your ass. You whimper when he lifts your skirt up and he spanks you on the ass. “Deeper.” He moans. 

You lift off and take a big breath before taking him back in your mouth, forcing yourself to take even more of him. His fingers finds your pussy, sliding them  through your wet folds. He gathers some of your arousal and brings the pad of his finger to your asshole. 

“Hmm… you feel like you’re gonna be so tight. The boys are going to have fun stretching out this little thing. You won’t be able to sit for a week.” He chuckles. 

You moan at the thought, excited to be used.

Changbin’s finger breaches the tight ring of muscle as he presses inside. It’s just to the first knuckle but it’s making you hungry for more.

“That’s enough for now.” He decides, withdrawing his finger and pulling your mouth off his cock. You sit up whining at the loss. “Are we going to go to the police station now?” You inquire.

Changbin scoffs. “Greedy little thing. Can’t wait for what’s in store for you.” He strokes your tear stained cheek. “We’ll go soon. But not until you ride me. Climb on.” He nods towards his cock. “I want first feel of your pussy.”

You straddle Officer Changbin, wrapping your still cuffed hands around his neck, and he holds his cock steady for you as you lower yourself down on him. “Fuck!” You squeak as you feel the tip against your entrance. “You’re so big Officer. I’m not sure I can take you.” 

You swallow, looking into his eyes. There’s lust there. You can see it. He looks like he could hurt you, but there’s a kindness in his expression too, and you wonder if the other men will be like him?

“If you can’t take my cock, how are you gonna take two at once?” He whispers. “Sit on it. I want to feel your walls wrapped around my dick.”

“What if I say no? What happens?” You challenge him.”

“‘No’s not your safe word.” He grips your hips and slowly lowers you down onto his length. “Just keep your eyes on me, sweet thing. Shhh. I know Binnie’s thick.”

You shake your head. “It’s too big.” 

“It’s gonna feel good. I promise. Let me stretch your tight little walls.” He breathes against your cheek.

You feel yourself stretching for him, slowly relaxing to accommodate his size. Inch by inch you feel him fill you. 

“You are tight aren’t you? Fuck, like a vice.” He closes his eyes and tries to steady his breath.

You push yourself down all the way and pause. 

Changbin opens his eyes again and lifts your skirt so he can see where you’re impaled on him.

“See. Look at that.” He says in awe. Your eyes follow his as you lift up slightly and lower yourself again, watching him disappear inside you. 

“Bounce on me. Show me what a good little girl you are, and I’ll put in a good word in my report.”

He digs his hands into your ass cheeks, spreading them and using his grip on them to bounce you.

“I need you to scream for me. No one’s gonna hear you, but I want you to scream your lungs out anyway.”

He grips you tighter, and as though you weigh nothing, he lifts you up and slams you down. You cry out. “Again!” He growls as he slides you up his cock, and drops you back down. “Scream.”

You cry out, screaming loudly.

“Hurts doesn’t it, bunny?” He uses his hips to fuck up into you ferociously.

“N-no…feels goo-”

“Say it hurts. Scream like it hurts.” He growls and throws  you off him and pushes your face into the car seat. He lifts your hips to meet his cock and thrusts into you forcefully. Every thrust is deep and hard. Your pussy feels stretched to its limits. 

He’s relentless, pounding into you harder and harder. The sound of your bodies colliding filling the car. The windows are steamed up, and you're certain the car is rocking wildly.

“Stop… please… too hard…it hurts…” you scream. But you don’t use your safe word. It actually feels incredible.

“Is Binnie too much, hmm? Poor little cunt struggling to fit me?” He mocks you.

You scream louder. He picks up the pace. 

“Fuck…I’m coming!!!” You let out the loudest scream your lungs can muster, as you clench your walls around Changbin’s cock.

“That’s it, so nice and loud for me.”  He helps you ride out your orgasm and then withdraws from your still quivering cunt.

“Good, compliant little bunny. Come, drink up.” He strokes your hair as he helps you turn around so you can wrap your lips around his cock again. He pumps the length a few times until you feel his hot, thick cum coat your tongue. 

“Open. Show me.” The tilts your chin as you present to him your mouth full of semen. “Swallow it up for me.”

You keep your eyes locked on him as you swallow the thick, salty substance, and then open back up to show him.

“Good girl. We need to get you into your cell.” He smirks and gets back into the front of the car.

🚨🚨🚨🚨

It’s almost dark when you get to the police station and you’re feeling incredibly nervous about what lies ahead. 

Changbin helps you get out of the vehicle, leaving your panties on the floor, and escorts you up the front steps of the building. It actually looks like a real police station too, and you wonder how on earth they managed to have access to this place.

The seven other men are waiting for you. They eagerly stand up from their desks as Changbin walks you past until you reach the cell at the far end of the room.

“In.” He grunts, removing your handcuffs and pushing you inside and slamming the door closed behind you. You quickly take in your surroundings. There’s absolutely nothing in your cell except a mattress with two folded blankets on top.

“So this is the sweet thing we have to break?” One of the men jeers. 

“This will be fun.” Another adds.

You turn back towards the men, who are all lined up on the other side of the bars. They watch you. So many eyes. On you. Some look mean. Others look kind. You recognise each of them from the photos, and you know from your research you need to watch out for the ones named Seungmin and Minho. 

“Y/n. Come meet the officers.” The Chef, Chan you believe his name is, says firmly.

You take a step forward.

“No.” He stops you. “First, strip.” 

“Oh!” You squeak. You hesitate. Are you really ready for this? But there’s something thrilling about this situation, and you know, deep down, even though you’re nervous, scared even, you don’t want to stop. Your hands tremble as they grasp the hem of your top and you pull it over your head. Leaving your top half In merely a flimsy sheer bra.

“Fuck. She’s hot.” One of them men whistle under his breath.

“The skirt too..” Chan barks.

“B-but-“ you remember you’re not wearing underwear.

“Skirt. Off. I don’t like repeating myself.” Chan snaps.

You lower your eyes as you peel your skirt down and let drop it to the floor.

“No panties. What a slut.” Minho smirks.

You can feel all eyes on your bare pussy. 

“Look at the officers before you y/n.”

You lift your head and look at the men.  

“For the next twenty four hours these men own your body. They want your cunt? You let them have it. They want to fuck your ass? It’s theirs. They want to take you two at a time? Tie you up, use restraints? You do not resist. They feel they need to punish you? You take it willingly. They want to degrade you, humiliate you?” 

Seungmin laughs at that.

“They can. If they want to treat you nice, be sweet, they’re allowed to do that too. But you don’t come without permission. They control your orgasms.”

Chan basically recites  your submission request back to you.

“Alright. Come forward to meet the officers who will be taking good care of you over the next twenty four hours.” 

You take a step forward. “On your knees.” Chan corrects you.

You drop to your knees, the floor is cold and hard, and you crawl over to where the men wait.

The one named Minho comes forward and presents his erect cock to you, sliding it through the bars. “Come say hello, kitten.” He says coldly.

You look up at him as you wrap your mouth around him, and he immediately takes hold of the back of your head to keep it still while he fucks your mouth. You hear several belts being unbuckled around you.

So this is the introductions then?

“Changbin and I will leave you to it.” Chan informs the group and he and Changbin leave you with the remaining six officers.

From what you can tell from the way Minho holds your head and watches you with intense eyes, is that the man can read your limits. He pushes in just enough to make you gag, but not quite making you choke. His rhythm is smooth and consistent, and when he cums you know he’s holding back a pretty moan. He’s definitely a dom, but one that really understands a sub.

Felix, the pretty and gentle blond, is careful with your face, he doesn’t push too far, and he lets you use your hand on him. But there’s a glimmer in his eye that tells you he doesn’t mind the kinkier side of things, or that he might like seeing you in pain.

Hyunjin. He doesn’t even have to speak and he’s got you blushing. Just the way he’s looking at you, his tongue licking his pretty lips, has you dripping down your legs. The man is beautiful, sensual, and  the way he’s working with you as you work his cock, moving with your mouth and hand, makes you believe he finds sex to be about connection. You’re not entirely sure how that will play out.

Jeongin. Seems sweet and innocent, but his entire expression changes to demonic once his tip hits your throat. You’re not sure what he has in store for you, but you know it’s not going to sweet, and you find yourself imagining all sorts of scenarios with him.

Jisung is next. Confident, demanding with his cock. Mumbles “slut” a few times, and thrusts his hips erratically. He’s unpredictable, and you splutter when he pushes far too deep for you. A flicker of fear and concern crosses his features, and you get the urge to help him stay in the character he’s trying to portray. You moan enthusiastically, and he quickly recovers, fucking you without restraint.

Seungmin is last. He’s cruel with his words, and careless with his thrusts. He’s energy is cold, and you know that if you need to be punished, he’s the guy to give it to you. That is until he comes back with an oversized shirt and a tray of food, and asks you if you have any questions about the agreement.

🚨🚨🚨🚨

You sit alone in your cell and eat your dinner, wondering what the night will hold. You don’t have to wait long though, because Chan is walking towards your cell. 

“Y/n. It’s time for your interrogation with Detective Minho and Officer Seungmin.”

Fuck.

↣↣ up next, interrogation time with 2min here

↳ tag list : open

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@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @weareapackofstrays @3rachasdomesticbanana @palindrome969 @xxkissesforchanniexx @chuuchuu1224 @fun-fanfics @wolfennracha @rhonnie23 @jisunglyricist @strayywayy @armystay89 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @mylittleponeypinkrosieposie @kyunchoni @justforreaders @melochacco

[timeflow]

good evening reddit users, welcome to the website. not seen one of these that tells you how to make this website bearable so here goes

starting off with dashboard settings you want to turn off endless scrolling (it slows down the website after a while of scrolling), turn off shorten long posts because one of the main things about this website is the total lack of a character limit (as an alternative to this setting, you can press j to skip to the next post on the dashboard if the current one is kind of long). turning on timestamps is convenient because it allows you to check when a post was made (don't get me wrong: this website absolutely LOVES reblogging old posts, but there are times when it's worth checking if a post has very old news in it)

turn off best stuff first right away. one of the main reasons cited for joining tumblr is because "there is no algorithm". this is not entirely true, we have one but we routinely turn off anything algorithmic that staff adds. turning off best stuff first means your dashboard will be reverse chronological no matter what, and turning off based on your likes and stuff in your orbit will get rid of the rest of the algorithmically-recommended content that appears on your dashboard

following tags is nice because you will occasionally see posts with tags you follow sprinkled into your dashboard. this is considered good because it's almost always recent, I personally recommend turning on include followed tag posts and just following a bunch of random tags that you think could be interesting (characters, media, topics, whatever)

this one's a more personal thing but I would absolutely turn off any community labels because tumblr staff has recently been just putting a bunch of random posts under this despite being entirely sfw. if you ACTUALLY want to filter content, then go to filtered tags:

unlike the community labels which are put arbitrarily by staff, tags are put on by the actual users and so you can MUCH more reliably filter out content you don't want to see by putting filtered tags. this also works for any kind of content unlike the community labels, meaning you can just filter out stuff that you don't want to see (a particular character, a particular piece of media, a certain topic, anything you want really)

turn on custom theme immediately. the standard view of tumblr.com/url will give people who are not logged in a forced login wall, meanwhile url.tumblr.com will not. by doing this you also get access to your post archive at url.tumblr.com/archive, which lets you look through your posts more easily (the search function is awful). the main benefit of this, however, is that you get to have a custom look to your blog: going to edit theme brings up a menu that allows you to customize your css, add pages to your tumblr blog, etc. all very useful stuff

it's also worth taking the time to consider whether or not you leave your liked posts and list of blogs you follow public (most people have likes turned off, following is also commonly turned off but I personally don't care about others seeing who I follow)

turn off the let people blaze your posts. blaze basically allows you to pay money to show a post to a random group of people by paying money, suffices to say that allowing others to blaze your posts without your consent will inevitably lead to one of your personal posts getting blazed by some prick and now hundreds of people have seen it

asks are one of the main ways of interacting with blogs so absolutely turn them on. whether you allow anons is your choice, anonymity allows people to say nice things without feeling embarrassed about how everyone knows who said that, but it also allows people to send hateful stuff with no consequence.

submissions are like whatever. I personally leave them on but in my 5 years of having this blog I've been submitted to twice.

to close off this post I'll leave my personal thoughts on reblog etiquette:

reblogging is great. reblog the fuck out of anything. does the post amuse you slightly? reblog it. go wild

that being said please don't put anything in your reblogs unless it's like a really important comment. your comment will be immortalized forever if someone reblogs the post from you and on popular posts I have to constantly go back a couple years to get rid of an annoying comment like "LOL THIS IS SO FUNNY" because that person didn't realize that their addition was wholly unnecessary

if you DO want to add something to say your thoughts on the post in a quiet voice that doesn't get permanently added onto the original, consider talking in the tags of your reblog. this is considered nicer since when the post is reblogged from you your tags are not going to stick around. there is also this process known as "peer review" in which if your tags are sufficiently funny one of your followers (or sometimes a random person browsing the notes of the post) will screenshot/copy and paste your tags into a reblog, which is a much more natural way of having your comment added into the post

tags are also nice to use or organizational purposes. clicking on a post with a certain tag on your blog will show you every post with that tag on your blog allowing you to find posts later, alternatively you can go to url.tumblr.com/archive/tagged/[insert tag here] to a similar effect.

that's all I have to say on this subject. have fun on our glorious website

edit: oh yeah also unfollow staff. it will make you look normal 👍

[seabirdtxt]

Glitch in Irminsul

The creator descends to Teyvat, but the information they know VS the information that Irminsul retains causes the tree of knowledge to glitch out and ‘branches’ the current known state of Teyvat, and the information that was erased blooms into existence once more [Blog tag] [next >]

Notes: SAGAU, Reader is the Creator but no cult shenanigans. there ARE shenanigans of a different kind though. No romantic relationships in this one despite aforementioned shenanigans

WC. 3.8k

----- ⚘ -----

“You’re just mad because I’m the Creator’s babygirl, and you’re not.”

You’ve never heard such an absurd sentence in your life, but the hands on his hips and smug expression on the Wanderer’s face is unmistakable. Across from him, just barely restrained by Lord Rukkhadevata hooking her arms under his shoulders, is an apoplectic Scaramouche. 

Nobody is entirely sure what happened to Irminsul, yet, but the Tree of Wisdom continues to cheerfully cast its divine light on the scene below without a single care for the chaos it has caused.

“Now now, let’s all settle down for a moment,” Nahida grasps at Wanderer’s sleeves, trying to pull him back from the increasingly tense situation. You can’t help but think of two dogs pulling at the end of their leashes to bark at each other. “I’m sure there is a perfectly logical reason why this is happening.”

You think it might be because of you, considering this all happened when you made your inopportune arrival in Teyvat and accidentally cut your hand on the stem of a Leyline flower, your blood glittering strangely as it was sucked into the plant. 

“There’s no way you’re the Creator’s favourite,” Scaramouche sneers, ignoring Nahida in his effort to escape from Rukkhadevata’s grasp. “You’re just a glorified errand-boy for your betters. I have the power of a Fatui Harbinger at my fingertips! Countless soldiers, ready to live and die by my whims!” 

“Ha!” Wanderer brushes off Nahida’s attempts to restrain him. He moves her to the side, far more gently than you expected him to, and strides up to where Lord Rukkhadevata is holding Scaramouche. He pokes the Balladeer’s cheek and smirks when he nearly gets his fingertip bit off. “And what has that gotten you so far? You still haven’t gotten to be a true god. On the other hand, I’m on the Creator’s main exploration team, along with the Traveler and other equally powerful Vision wielders. At least I have proof that I’m favoured.”

The light from Irminsul glints off the polished metal of Wanderer’s anemo Vision, and Scaramouche’s frown deepens.

“That doesn’t mean anything. Anyone and their mothers can get a Vision these days.” He waves his hand dismissively as best as he can. “Need I remind you of the Vision Hunt Decree project that I—oh, sorry, I mean you—spearheaded? Those things come a mora a dozen.”

“I think you’re both wrong, clearly the Creator likes me the best!”

The two incarnations turn toward the new voice so quickly you’re nearly afraid their heads might snap off. Picture this: you, sitting sideways across Kabukimono's lap with your arms around his neck in a hug as he rocks the two of you back and forth. You wonder if Kabukimono is aware of the effect his words have on his other selves, but judging by his ‘cat that caught the canary’ expression he most definitely is.

The look Wanderer gives you is nearly scandalized, and you can only shrug at him with a helpless smile.

“Sorry guys… but look at him! Isn’t he just the sweetest thing?” you bring a hand up and pinch Kabukimono’s cheek, causing him to giggle and kick his legs in surprise, nearly dislodging you from your spot.

“He’s kinda pathetic, really.” Scaramouche deadpans, finally having stopped struggling in Rukkhadevata’s hold, and attempts to cross his arms.

“He’s you. You don’t have to like him, but at least be polite.” the Greater Lord scolds, making him yelp by shaking him like a sack of rocks. She then changes to a more matter-of-fact tone as she shakes her hair out of her face, and adds: “If you have nothing nice to say, don’t say anything at all.”

“I agree, let’s talk this over like grown-ups, and get to the bottom of this mystery so we can send you all back home to your correct timelines!” Nahida claps her hands together, interrupting any argument that might break out at Rukkhadevata’s statement. Her smile is starting to look a little strained at the edges and you can’t help but feel a little bad for the tiny god.

“This might be the only correct timeline,” the Traveler mutters, chin resting in their hand where they sit propped up against one of Irminsul’s invisible walls. 

“That’s right!” Paimon nods and shakes her finger at Nahida. “We assumed only the Descenders’ memories would remain intact when someone erases themself from Irminsul, but clearly the Creator’s memories still exist too!”

Lord Rukkhadevata drops Scaramouche at last, letting him land on the ground with an annoyed oof, and turns to you consideringly. The taller god glances between you and Irminsul, worrying her bottom lip as she thinks.

“If that were wholly true, then wouldn’t I have reappeared in my last known state, diminished to the form of a child due to having depleted my power?” she wonders. “And for that matter, why have two versions of the Wanderer appeared, when the previous erased timeline only contained the Balladeer?”

The Traveler hums as they begin to think out loud, and your attention shifts to them when they address you. “When we found you, your Grace, you were recently injured by a Leyline blossom, correct?”

You nod in agreement, not bothering to speak as you settle more comfortably into Kabukimono’s arms, the long sleeves of his kimono wrapping over you like a blanket. Whatever mechanism is inside him causes his entire chest to vibrate against the side of your head, as if he’s purring.

“And you did mention that your blood was absorbed into the flower, which we know is an extension of the Tree of Wisdom…”

“I think I can see where you’re going with this, Traveler,” Nahida interrupts. Using her power, she draws two green puzzle pieces in the air and slowly pushes them together until one of them overlaps with the other. “If the Creator’s memories are intact, then it stands to reason that, should their memories somehow be introduced into Irminsul, then the information with the greater priority will overwrite the previous existing information.”

“That still doesn’t explain why there’s three of me.” Wanderer crosses his arms and kicks Scaramouche, who has yet to get up. The Balladeer crosses his own arms, pointedly ignoring his newer incarnation.

“I believe I can answer that, now.” Lord Rukkhadevata jerks her thumb toward the Tree of Wisdom. “Having known Irminsul my entire existence, I can sense that there have been deviations in its growth. Where normally the trunk and branches originate from a single organism, there are now several branches that seem to be… grafted, for lack of a better term, onto the main plant. Likely a result of the Creator’s mishap.”

“So instead of overwriting or restoring knowledge into the correct branches, it just got added on to the side?” Paimon asks, floating closer to the tree before the Traveler grabs her by the back of her cloak and pulls her back before she can accidentally touch any of the sprouts.

Nahida claps excitedly. “Correct! All available information is now running concurrently, meaning that all states of being have been altered to allow the five of us to exist at the same time!”

“Oh!” you exclaim, startling Kabukimono out of his contented state. “Like a glitch in the matrix!”

Seven pairs of eyes turn directly toward you, varying degrees of bemusement on each of their faces. You chuckle a bit and sink further into Kabukimono’s lap out of embarrassment. He dutifully wraps his arms tighter around you, obscuring you with his long sleeves.

“So we’re just going to let you not elaborate on that at all?” Scaramouche drawls, throwing a hand in your direction. “By all means, keep us in suspense. It’s not like we need to know what our situation is or anything.”

“It’s really not that helpful, I promise!” you tell them, muffled by the kimono’s fabric. “It’s just… a figure of speech, I guess? It’s just something we say when something unexplainable happens. It’s based off this story where, like, the world is fake-” 

At this, Scaramouche and the Wanderer share a brief glance, unnoticed by the rest.

“- and everything is programmed to be a certain way. So when something unexplainable happens, like if you see a black cat walking past you and then a minute later the exact same cat walks past you again! It’s an error, or a glitch, in the programming of the world.”

Nahida and Rukkhadevata head over to investigate the new growths on Irminsul, discussing what you’ve told them in hushed voices, leaving the Traveler to mitigate the situation with the three puppets. Kabukimono clings to you as Scaramouche attempts to pull you out of his lap, the two of them making you wince as you’re forced to withstand their tug of war.

“No! The Creator is my friend now!” Kabukimono protests. “Stop pulling, you’ll hurt them!”

“Then let go and it won’t hurt them anymore, stupid!”

“Niwa told me you have to be nice to people if you want them to do things for you.”

“I know for a fact your precious Niwa also said I’m allowed to take whatever the hell I want, so give!”

“I really don’t think that’s what he meant by that,” Wanderer interjects, coming between the two of them and forcing them apart. “Besides, does the creator call you guys babygirl? No? Didn’t think so, so I’ll be taking my leave now.”

Taking advantage of their surprise, Wanderer scoops you up and launches into the air, anemo power whirring behind him, putting you both out of reach. You shriek at the sudden movement, holding onto the front of Wanderer’s outfit for dear life.

“What, this again? I’m not sure if you want me to be jealous of you, or pity you.” Scaramouche scowls up at where you two are hovering. He tries to look unaffected but you can see him clenching his fists at his side.

“I still don’t actually know what that’s supposed to mean…” Kabukimono wrings his hands and looks between you and the Traveler, who supplies an explanation for you.

“It’s just a term of endearment from the Creator’s world,” they say. “You wouldn’t believe how often I had to hear it when they were possessing me-”

“Hey, what are you doing?!”

Everyone turns to look at where you and Wanderer are. The puppet is trying not to drop you while also batting away your attempts at removing the outer layer of his outfit.  

“Hold still!” you grumble. “I’m just trying to figure out if you can purr, too, but I can’t hear anything over the sound of your anemo ability.”

“What are you talking about?! I don’t purr!”

“I do!”

The four of you turn to Kabukimono as he demonstrates the ability, the mechanisms in him working overtime to produce a loud rumble from his chest. The Traveler and Paimon are particularly impressed, and Kabukimono preens under their attention.

“Cut that out, idiot,” Scaramouche smacks the back of Kabukimono’s head, successfully cutting off the noise. “You’re just going to overheat, and then we’ll be stuck carrying around your powered-down body until you start up again.”

“You know how he does that? Does that mean you can do it too?” Paimon asks, her face scrunched up at the idea of the Balladeer doing anything that could be seen as endearing. 

“Absolutely not.”

“We can all do that,” Wanderer says at the same time, earning a betrayed look from Scaramouche. “It’s not purring though. You all remember that we’re puppets, right?”

“Yeah….?” The Traveler nods along with Paimon.

“Well, the prototype machinery inside us is what makes that noise.” Wanderer explains. “We can control the speed and make it as slow or as fast as we want, so making it run extra fast makes it louder. However, it also makes the machinery heat up, and if it gets too hot then the failsafe kicks in and shuts off the entire system.”

“Does that mean the Raiden Shogun can purr, too?” The Traveler wonders out loud, successfully distracting Paimon with the absurdity of that mental image.

“What happens to you if it overheats?” You ask, wondering if you should feel bad for enjoying it when Kabukimono purred.

“It’s like fainting for humans,” Scaramouche adds. “Which is why we don’t do that. Nobody likes having to carry around a useless burden.”

“But it’s not dangerous, is it?”

“No, it’s just a lot of trouble. Same as for humans, but no. No lasting damage.” Wanderer then sighs and makes a face even as he pulls you into a semblance of a hug. “Here, I’ll allow it this time, because it’s you...”

Your eyes widen as Wanderer begins to purr as well, audible even over the sound of his anemo power. With a delighted gasp, you throw your arms around him and listen happily, unaware of the glares Wanderer is receiving from below. The Traveler rolls their eyes when Wanderer points at your back and mouths ‘favourite’ at Scaramouche.

“Wanderer, if you’re done being jealous could you please bring the Creator back down?” Nahida calls, and you peek down to see that she and Lord Rukkhadevata have finished their discussion. They wait below, where Scaramouche and Kabukimono were earlier. The two puppets are now a little bit further away, bickering while the Traveler supervises them.

“I’m jealous?” Wanderer scoffs, hoisting you up so you can rest on his hip as he holds you with one hand, the other used to gesture down at Nahida rudely. “You even dare to imply-”

“Please bring the Creator down.” Rukkhadevata repeats, hands on her hips. “Don’t make me come up there and get you.”

You have to stifle a laugh as Wanderer slowly brings the two of you back down, making sure your feet are firmly on the ground before letting you go. You don’t bother to mention how you notice that Wanderer’s body actually is noticeably warmer after purring. You smooth the wrinkles of your clothes and turn to the two Dendro Archons with a smile.

“You guys give off such mom energy,” you tell them. “So, what’s up? Did you figure out anything else?” 

“You forget that I was a queen before I was a god,” Rukkhadevata points out. “I know what it’s like to stymie conflict before it becomes a problem. Diplomatically, of course.”

Nahida nods in agreement. “Of course. And yes, Your Grace, we did come to some conclusions! Though, not all of them are final, mostly regarding Wanderer and his counterparts. There are some hypotheses we will need to investigate before we can say for sure…”

“Still kinda wish you wouldn’t call me that,” you mutter, rubbing the back of your neck. The lofty title is uncomfortable to hear, when you still feel like any ordinary person. “But let’s hear it then. What did you guys come up with?”

“For the most part, exactly the same conclusion that we came to earlier.” Nahida says, drawing in the air with glowing green lines. She draws a tree, and then draws some branches in a different shade. “Your arrival in Teyvat brought a ‘backup’ of knowledge which, when reintroduced to the Leylines, conflicted with the current state of things and instead created additional information that now exists at the same time as the current timeline.”

“That being said,” Rukkhadevata adds her own glowing lines to Nahida’s drawing, in a deeper and more intense green. She circles one branch, and says: “I believe that this timeline’s Dendro Archon remains Lesser Lord Kusanali. Irminsul seems to have resolved this conflict by making it so that my sacrifice to eradicate Forbidden Knowledge was not my life, but rather my godhood.”

“What does that mean for you?” You ask.

“It means that I am now happily retired!” Rukkhadevata exclaims, smiling brightly. “And from what I’ve seen of the information recorded in Irminsul, I have an old friend in Liyue who also recently finds himself with a wealth of spare time. It’s been a few centuries since I last saw him, perhaps I should pay him a visit.”

“Wow, congratulations! I’m sure Zhongli would be glad for the company.” You hug her excitedly, and she returns the gesture with a bright laugh. 

“Is that the name he’s going by, now? It would certainly help to have a less recognisable name, I suppose…” Rukkhadevata ponders, and you can hear her humming as she thinks. “Well, if that’s the case, I’ll just use my old name. From now on, please call me Aranyani!”

Nahida joins in on your hug, practically bouncing with excitement, and you pick up the tiny god so she can see you both. “I’m so glad for you, Aranyani! I’ve always wanted to meet you,” she exclaims with a shy smile. “I have so many things I want to ask!”

“And you are always free to share in my knowledge, little sapling,” Aranyani coos, patting Nahida’s head affectionately before you all release each other, letting Nahida back down gently.

“So what are we going to do about those two clowns?” Wanderer says and you jump a little in surprise, forgetting he was still there.

You turn to where the rest of the group is. Kabukimono seems to have finally had enough and is tousling on the floor with Scaramouche. The Traveler is attempting to haul the Balladeer away, while Paimon grabs onto the back of Kabukimono’s veil and is yanking him in the other direction. To a very small degree of effectiveness.

“Both of you, please stop!” Nahida rushes forward, and the two puppets spring apart like the other is on fire.

“He started it!” Kabukimono points at Scaramouche accusingly and the Balladeer moves to grab him again, but is easily stopped by the Traveler pulling him back by grabbing his wrists. 

“It doesn’t matter who started it,” you sigh, putting your hands on your hips. You put on a stern face and your best ‘disappointed parent’ voice. “I sort of expected more from you two…”

Kabukimono’s devastated expression is enough for you to drop the pretense. You sigh and open your arms and beckon, and Kabukimono happily throws himself into your hug. 

“Fine, fine!” You grumble, patting the top of Kabukimono’s head. “As long as you guys aren’t, like, maiming or seriously injuring each other, I guess it’s okay.”

“Yay!”

That’s about as far as you get before Nahida takes Kabukimono’s hand and leads him away, and begins informing him of the history of the world and catching him up to speed on the current timeline. Wanderer and the Traveler chime in every so often, adding in some details that the archon might have missed. Aranyani seems to have already taken her leave, leaving only you and Scaramouche behind.

You pretend not to notice as the disgruntled ex-Harbinger shuffles closer to you, until he bumps his shoulder against yours. 

“Hey,” he begins, clearing his throat awkwardly. “I’ve been meaning to ask, but all these annoying idiots kept interrupting me…”

You wait for a minute, until it’s clear he isn’t going to continue until you say something. “Yes? What’s the matter?”

He exhales through his nose and refuses to make eye contact with you. At the edges of your vision, you can see him fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “Are you sure it’s okay for me to be here?” he finally spits out. “I mean, clearly I don’t quite fit in with the rest of these happy-go-lucky morons. I can’t imagine you intended for someone like me to show up.”

“Why not?” You blurt out, more out of surprise than anything else. “I like having you here.” It’s clearly the wrong thing to say, as Scaramouche begins to close off again.

“Don't bother lying to me,” he snaps, facing you with the full brunt of his annoyance. He crosses his arms and sneers at you, looking at you down the bridge of his nose. “I’m not some sad, weak little puppet who needs to be coddled by the likes of you. So save your meaningless placations for someone who would actually feel better after hearing them. You’re only wasting your time, and mine.”

“Okay, no lies then,” you nod, and watch as he braces himself for whatever you’ll say next. “I’m glad you’re here, in a world where every part of you can exist at the same time. And I’m glad I can be here with you to remind you that you’re the sum of all your parts, good and bad, and that I do want you to be here, in all your entirety.”

Scaramouche’s face is carefully blank, and you wonder for a second if he somehow shut down without you noticing. You wave a hand in front of his face, watching as his eyes track your palm. You’re about to say something else when you feel a hand come down on your shoulder heavily.

“Simp.” Wanderer states, patting you with a teasing look on his face.

“What?!” You jump away from him with an indignant squawk. “I am not-”

“Absolutely down bad.” The Traveler adds, and you reach clumsily to slap at the two of them. You miss both by miles.

“I can’t believe I taught you guys words from my world and this is how you repay me!”

“Sorry to interrupt, Your Grace!” Nahida looks properly apologetic at the treatment you’re receiving. “We were just discussing what to do with all of the new people. The Traveler has kindly offered to introduce you to their friendly teapot adeptus in order to have a realm created for you, and Wanderer’s incarnations can stay with you in the new realm!”

“That’s perfect!” you say quickly, eager to escape any more teasing from your team. You avoid Scaramouche’s probing gaze and turn your heated face away from him to look at Nahida and the Traveler. “When can we go? Can we go right now?”

The Traveler nods and holds out a thin tab of wood that you recognize as their realm dispatch. It’s strange to see it in person, for some reason you expected it to be bigger than it actually is. The entire thing can fit in the palm of one hand, like a credit card. “We can go as soon as you’re authorized, Your Grace!”

You’re giddy as you take the dispatch into your hands, rubbing the engraved surface with reverence. You feel a strange sensation, like pins and needles, as the magic in the dispatch settles over you. “This is so cool, you guys. I can’t wait to meet Tubby! Do you think she’ll make me a teapot, too, or something else?”

In your excitement you grab onto both the Traveler and Wanderer, silently begging them to come with you. Just as the three of you touch the surface of the teapot, Wanderer turns to Scaramouche with a pointed look and grins. 

“Favourite.” He says smugly as he vanishes.

[superblysubpar]

The Boy Is Mine (Taylor's Version Edition):

eddie munson x fem reader

summary: a romantic night in at your trailer full of fluff, a dash of spice, and an..."Alien invasion"? | main menu | this is fairly SFW, but my blog is 18+

the song: The Boy Is Mine by Brandy & Monica

1675 words

This is my submission for @carolmunson The Boy Is Mine Challenge! The scene, props to include, and dialogue to use as well as all the details on how to participate can be found here - come join in and write your version of Eddie and celebrate everyone else's. 💛

“Son of a-” Your shoulders tense beneath palms that soothe. The chuckle beneath your ear rumbles deep in the chest your cheek is pressed to when you whine, “Gets me every fucking time.”

Despite the eerie music and the jump scare on the glowing screen, you dare someone to tell you this isn’t the most perfect night, the most perfect life. 

A pizza box with a few slices left sits on your new - well new to you - coffee table next to shitty horror and gore VHS tap - wait, doll, how’d Pretty in Pink get in the stack? There’s a candle burning, its warm orange glow competes for a chance to light up the space with the small flickering TV. 

Activities from earlier in the day litter the room that’s meant for living, but barely able to be made out in the growing darkness. His acoustic guitar next to loose pages of doodles and lyrics, dragons and elves and stories and songs about fighting and finding love erratic and unorganized next to your small notebook, a stack of books and several applications. 

There isn’t much else, not yet anyways. A collection of records and a stereo, cassettes un-alphabetized strewn about the wobbly bookshelf and milk crates. A few boxes with labels for unimportant things that haven’t found their new home yet. The rain that falls outside the open window above the couch and onto the roof of the metal trailer pings and echoes in the sparse room, making you snuggle deeper into the black cotton beneath you, squishing your cheek to a firm, but comfortable chest. 

The most perfect night, the most perfect life.

The most perfect guy. 

“Do you think,” he starts softly, his fingers running down your spine and back up before he asks, “I’m as much of a badass as Ellen Ripley?”

“No.” 

The noise of protest he makes beneath you at your immediate and confident response has your lips twisting, fighting a smile as his legs close around you tighter. Bunched tube socks brush your calves, thighs and hips covered in soft gray sweats shift beneath you as he grumbles something about showing you just how wrong you are. 

One arm stays relaxed behind his head against throw pillows propping him up, the other restless but content to fiddle with and roam over your body that’s draped across him. 

The rhythm of his heartbeat beneath you and the scent of old spice around you, everything Eddie, has you humming at his “threat”, eyelashes fluttering from the peace. His fingers massage over the back of your neck, lighting up the skin beneath it and you huff out of your nose, upset about the bubble that’s about to break. Your whine lost in his worn band t-shirt. 

“I have to pee.”

“So go pee.”

Your head shakes, chin resting on his chest so you can look up at him with narrowed eyes. 

“If I get up and go pee, you’re gonna do something stupid when I come back out.”

Eddie looks down at you, innocent doe eyes blinking as his hands rub over your shoulders. 

“I’m always gonna do something stupid, so enlighten me, what is it you think I’m gonna do this time?”

Your hand reaches up and pulls at a dark brown curl that frames the cheeks his dimples are trying not to show in. 

“Oh, I don’t know, turn off all of the lights, jump out from around the corner, attack me from behind…”

“Baby, I always wanna attack you from behind.”

That earns him a fake stern look and a smack to his chest with the back of your hand. 

Pink lips pout and twist in the fight of a mischievous smirk, his eyebrows bunch together and wrinkle his forehead as he tries to scoff around a laugh.

“Aw, don’t be like that. I would never scare you.”

“That’s not even remotely true,” you counter. 

“Sweetheart,” he catches your chin with thick fingers, cradling your jaw as he vows, dramatically, “I promise I would never, ever let the aliens get-”

You catch his other wrist before fingers could find their target just below your ribs. Raised eyebrows to his big, brown eyes that glint with trouble, not even pretending to be ashamed he was caught. 

The eye contact you’re sharing pulses, accompanied by the musical score of the thriller on screen. His thumb swipes over your bottom lip as his tongue licks over his own. The seconds of time slowly ticking by aren’t a luxury, but big, pounding, booms of your imminent fate right on your tail. 

“Eddie,” you warn, lips fighting a smile. “Don-”

He screeches like the aliens, fingers digging into your sides and legs, grabbing at your thighs and pulling you closer so his mouth can pretend to bite at you as you give a shriek worthy of a Ridley Scott flick. 

You can’t help but laugh though, as explosions happen on screen and Eddie gets louder, yelling your name dramatically like he’s fighting off the aliens, trying to save you despite it being his own fingers that have you wheezing and gasping for air. 

“Eddie! If you don’t stop, we’re gonna have a real problem!”

“Oh honey, I know! This thing means business! But don’t worry! I’ll save you, Ellen Ripley’s got nothing on me!”

He doubles down his tickling efforts, screeching and grunting out a “Not my girlfriend you monster!” dramatically into your neck before he nips at it. Quick bites and kisses mingled with alien noises until you’re swatting at his chest and wiggling off of him, shouting about how he’s the monster on your way to the bathroom. 

It’s suspiciously quiet while you're gone. And when you open the bathroom door, you take a timid step out into the dark hallway and call out, “Eddie?”

“Baby,” he laughs from the living room, “I swear on Jonesy that I’m sitting on the couch, and I’ll keep my hands to myself for the rest of the movie.”

And well, swearing on Jonesy’s life is like swearing on Henderson’s mom, so you’re satisfied and confident enough to travel through the dark to return to the menace you call your boyfriend. 

He sits, cross legged on the couch now, smiling. You kind of can’t believe this boy exists, that he’s yours. 

Eddie gestures to the bottle of wine that’s replaced the pizza box, the large Garfield and Snoopy mugs joined by a bag of pretzels and a tub of vanilla frosting. “We don’t really have like, nice cups, this okay?”

Is it okay? Is this guy real? He’s straight out of a TV show, a favorite movie, the thing all the songs are trying to tell you about but just don’t seem possible. 

He blinks at you, cheeks growing pink as you continue to stand at the edge of the living room and stare at him. His smile relaxes down to a shy, tight lipped thing as the silver metal on fingers that tap on his knees glints in the TV’s glow. 

“Doll?” Eddie coughs, eyebrows raised at you when you still don’t say anything. 

“Sorry,” you make your way to the couch finally, “Yeah. Really okay.”

“Cool,” he says quietly as you sit, ears peeking out through thick waves turning as pink as his cheeks. 

He grabs the pretzels and you grab the frosting, popping open the lid with a grunt, and managing to get a decent amount of it in the curve of your thumb and forefinger. 

Before you can scoop it up with a pretzel, Eddie’s fingers are tugging on yours, bringing your hand up to his mouth. His lips mold around the space, sucking before his tongue traces it and the room turns unberably hot despite the cool breeze and rain drifting in. 

Eddie clocks the way your hips shift and thighs press together, the way your mouth parts and head tilts. The way your eyes turn a little glassy when he looks up at you. 

He removes his mouth from your hand slowly, grinning and absolutely pleased with himself as he murmurs, “Oh, we like that, huh?”

Words escape your clutches just as Ripley does the Alien’s, and Eddie drops the bag of pretzels back onto the coffee table. He keeps eye contact as he grabs the tub of frosting from you, and dips his finger into it, slowly. 

“Eddie, I-”

He’s smearing it on your collarbone and up your neck, your jaw and cheek as your fingers grip the couch cushion. Your chest heaves with quick breaths, a gasp slipping past your lips as he leans forward, tongue sweeping over your throat. 

Eddie licks over your skin, slow, patiently, weight falling over you as you fall backwards on the couch and arch underneath him. The way his mouth travels over you is nothing like the quick nips and fast kisses from earlier. It’s slow licks, soft presses of his mouth, open and wet and breathy and dirty as he travels higher and higher. 

His path leads him over your jaw and cheek now, both of you gasping for air as his fingers dig into your hips that roll against him and yours curl in the soft material on his shoulders. 

He pulls away when he reaches the corner of your lips, smiling at the whine that leaves them when you don’t get the kiss you’re aching for. 

“Guess you were right afterall,” he whispers, the tip of his nose tracing up yours as he does. 

“Wh-what?”

Eddie grins, his mouth hovers over yours, sweet and sticky vanilla flavored lips just close enough to almost taste. 

“That I was gonna do something stupid.”

“The only thing that’s stupid is that you haven’t kissed me yet, Munson.” Your eyes roll as his grin grows even wider. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” he laughs, reaching for the frosting again. “I’m just getting started.”

Rain falls, and Aliens are killed and the candle flickers on a perfect night. Your new favorite flavor of anything is vanilla because of the perfect guy. 

Eddie Munson gets you every fucking time. 

[aniesvision]

𝘯𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘥 (𝘊𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘚𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘰 𝘹 𝘧! 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳)

warnings: suggestive, implied sex, that's all I guess (tell me if I'm missing something)

a/n: hi! I'm posting this again because I wanted a new account just to post my fics and not just another blog with my main account (I don't know how to explain it but yeah) also, english is NOT my first language so if anything's wrong please correct me!!

synopsis: Chris accidentally sees his best friend naked.

🪻🪻🪻

One thing I hate about getting ready at the Sturniolo's house is how bad they are in keeping things organized. And I don't mean clothes or anything like that, I mean they just don't say what they're gonna do next and that leads to me being naked on Chris's bathroom without knowing that he has no idea that I am here.

And, of course, he just opened the door.

-Shit, I'm sorry. -He apologizes, quickly closing the door and leaving me alone, paralyzed and speechless.

I close my eyes, trying to forget the embarrassing moment, putting on my outfit. It takes me a few minutes to get over it and finally leave the bathroom, the sound of the door being opened making Chris look up at me.

His cheeks were red, and probably so were mine. My first action was to adjust my skirt and giggle out of nervousness, my eyes now glued to my shoes.

-You can use the bathroom now. -I say, cutting the silence.

He just nods, making his way to his bathroom and locking himself inside. I sigh, annoyed with the situation, making my way to Nick's room to do my makeup and finish the final touches.

After making sure I was ready, I decided on waiting for them on the living room. We have a birthday party to attend, all of us being friends with the person for a long time, witch is why we decided on getting ready and going together.

I was mindlessly scrolling through TikTok when I feel someone sitting next to me. I look to my side, seeing a guilty Chris.

-I'm really sorry for earlier. -He runs a hand through his hair nervously and I give him a small understanding smile.

Even though I was nervous and embarrassed too, I didn't want to make things weirder, and it was so fast he'll probably forget about it by tomorrow anyways.

-It's fine. -I breath out, turning my head back to my phone.

We stay a few more seconds in silence, my brain just now processing that one of my closest friends saw me naked, and I couldn't help myself from joking about it.

-Hey, at least you've finally got the chance to see a girl naked, right? -I tease, nudging his shoulder playfully.

Chris rolls his eyes with a smirk on his lips, my laughter making him laugh as well.

-Shut up, whatever. -He mumbles, resting his head on the headboard of the couch.

Nick and Matt finally got ready and we all get into the car, hearing Chris yap all the way to the party. It doesn't take long for us to get there, and it was even faster for us to separate and move different ways. I walk to the bar, ordering a drink and taking a few sips before exploring the party.

I find my friends after a while, sticking with them and hearing them gossip about random people. When I feel the alcohol kicking in and making me less shy, I drag them to the dance floor with me, moving my body along the beat.

Unfortunately, I didn't have much time to enjoy it, since I've been dragged out of the saloon where the party was happening and trapped by a wall nearby, my eyes slowly recognizing Chris.

-What the fuck, I almost had a heart attack. -I raise one hand to my chest, taking deep breaths and looking around, confused on why we were here and why he wasn't saying anything at all.

-Okay, are you gonna explain or...? -I ask, looking at him.

He looked like he was fighting a battle in his head, not knowing exactly what to say, probably dragging me here with him by some sort of impulse.

-I... I don't know, I just... -He shakes his head, taking one step back.

-Are you okay? -I ask, tilting my head slightly, trying to figure out what was happening.

-I'm fine, I just... I think... -He hesitates, sighning and looking around nervously before making eye contact again. -You look pretty.

I furrow my eyebrows in confusion, giggling with his random compliment.

-Thanks, you look good too. -I smile, messing with his hair a little bit.

-No, I mean, I think you're really pretty. -He tries to explain, but it only makes me even more confused.

Chris notices my confusion and he starts tapping his feet rapidly, a bit anxious with what he was going to confess.

-I mean, I think your body looks great. -He says, making me laugh.

-Oh, so you think I'm hot? -I tease, his cheeks blushing.

-Alright, yeah, sure, you're hot.

We stay in silence for a few seconds, my smile never dropping as I studied him.

-You dragged me out of the party just to say that you think I'm hot? -I ask, crossing my arms over my chest, the cool breeze making me shiver.

-Not exactly. -He steps closer again, gently rubbing his hands up and down my arms to keep me warm.

-What else then? -I ask, seeing a small smirk on his lips.

-I think I want to kiss you. -He whispers, his eyes immediately dropping to my lips.

-What's stopping you from doing it? -I wrap my arms around his neck, his hands moving to my waist and squeezing it lightly.

-I don't want you to think I only want this because of what happened. I've been craving to kiss you for so long.

His words caught me by surprise, I've never noticed he wanted to kiss me. My only response was pulling him closer, showing him it was alright to do it. And he did. Our lips meet in a sweet kiss, that turns quickly into a heated and passionate one. His hands exploring my sides before stopping by my ass and squeezing it.

We were now just fully making out, but sadly we heard the door cracking open, making us separate. It wasn't the best place or moment to even think about anything that happened, so we walk into the party again.

Me and Chris didn't stop flirting with each other all night, but we didn't want to tell anyone about it, so it stayed in between us.

And now, a few months later, it's still our secret, but since that night we do a lot more than just kissing.

[cripplecharacters]

hi there, i really appreciate this blog! i was wondering if you had any advice when it comes to writing characters who use mobility aids (manual wheelchair and cane) and things that are like, pet peeves or cringey to see written? other than the big ones like “wheelchair bound” or having people just grab their chair or otherwise be disrespectful. i’m thinking more “little things that make it seem like the author is clueless” lol. thank you!

Hi!

You can check out our main #mobility aids or #wheelchairs or #canes tags for the general info! If you have a more specific question, feel free to send another ask:-)

I will talk about my own cane pet peeves because oh boy:

The most glaring, obvious, author-is-so-clueless-it-hurts thing I have somehow seen multiple times is when the writer/artist doesn't understand the difference between a mobility cane and a white cane. Usually in the form of giving their blind character the same kind of stick I use for my mobility issues. Of course, a person could need both for different disabilities! That very much happens. However, it's absolutely never the case in this kind of scenario. This one is an example of a lack of basic research so bad that it circles back to being kinda funny.

The writer not knowing which side the cane would go on for the character. Obviously, in real life, there's a whole lot of hyper-specific scenarios why someone could use it the ""wrong"" way and why it would work for them specifically, some users can also use either hand for the cane; it all depends on why they use it. The problem that I have is when the writer doesn't have a single clue about any of it and just gives their character with a bad knee and nothing else the cane on the same side. Again, shows lack of basic research.

As a certified knob cane hater, I can't just not talk about them here. They're so bad. So non-functional. Don't serve their function as a mobility device because they literally aren't one! That's a fashion accessory. Unless your character has a wrist of steel and doesn't mind that the aid meant to help with stability does the exact opposite, I guess.

I know a bunch of people will disagree with me, but I think the whole sword cane thing sucks. Sorry. The only time I don't roll my eyes on this one is when the writer is also a cane user. I always felt like it checked out two tropes that I hate, the "abled character pretends to be disabled and is actually dangerous" and the "abled writer thinks mobility aids are boring and has to stick a gun in them to justify their existence".

The cane that somehow makes the user non-disabled. Sounds contradictory, I know. I mean the kind of scenario where the character is Weak and Frail™ but then they get the cane and are suddenly just fighting, running, jumping, doing god knows what. Like, did they author forget what the cane is used for? Obviously it will depend on the character's disability how much the cane mitigates symptoms, but this writing choice always feels bizarre to me. My cane is here so that I'm not in as much pain or to help my gait disorder, it certainly doesn't turn me into an abled man who just happens to have a stick in hand.

All these tired old person or similar jokes/comparisons are probably not that funny. We get it, older people use canes. It's not even cringy or whatever, it's just so unbelievably boring it's hard to react to it with anything else than an eye roll anymore.

Apologies for the extremely late reply! I hope it helps :-)

mod Sasza

[botnasty]

Miguel O'Hara X reader

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara X Reader

Summary: You've finally moved on from the man, but did he?

Words: 1,3k

Warning: Angst, mention of miscarriage, big intimidating man, it's just sad people.

Note: Thank you so much character Ai for giving me the idea. Go check out @ fairybaby on c.AI. Also please do tell if I am missing some warnings^^

MAIN MASTERLIST

Please DNI if you are under 18! This is an 18+ blog!

Also, please don’t steal my work, on any other platform, unless you have my authorisation

It happened so fast. One moment you were kissing your new boyfriend goody-bye and the other you had a big scary spider in your living room. Well, a “wanna-be-scary" spider, because that man was your ex-boyfriend.

You sighed removing the high heels you wore to that date. “What are you doing here, Miguel?” When he said nothing, you scoffed. “Can you even have the decency to remove your mark? It’s not like I don’t know your secret.”

“You left your window unlocked.” He said in that deep voice of his that used to make you melt on the spot. He removed his mask, His eyes were glaring at you. He looked the same as the last time you had seen him, which kinda made you sad. You thought that the break up would affect him as much as it did you, but you should’ve guessed. Nothing fazed Miguel O’Hara except for his Spider business. “How many times have I told you to lock it?” You rolled your eyes, but said nothing. instead you stepped closer to him and looked straight in his eyes, something not a lot of people were able to do from how muscular, tall and intimidating the man was.

“You already found another boyfriend?” Miguel asks, there’s almost a sneer on his face. “You can’t even handle being single for a month.”

He doesn’t even mean what he’s saying, but he hates seeing you move on. Miguel’s self-aware enough to know he’s in the wrong. He wasn’t a good boyfriend. That doesn’t mean you’re allowed to move on, though. Isn’t it obvious he still wants you? Why do you need some other guy? Just come crawling back to him like you always do.

You took a step back, fighting the glare of the man with our own. “You are not my boyfriend anymore. You can’t dictate what I do in life.”

When he hears that, Miguel has to bite back a snarl. He's livid that she's not giving an inch - he's not used to that. He's always been able to be the dominant one in the relationship.

"Sure, sure. Fine," his tone is cold and bitter. "Do whatever you want."

“Yes, I will. Good bye, Miguel. Please close the door once you’ve left.” You turned around and started to walk to go get a drink. You were in deep need of one after seeing him.

“Come home.”

‘No.”

He hates this so much. He doesn't want to be the one to lose control, but it's happening anyway. And it's all his own fault. Miguel can feel himself start to boil with rage. His fingers flex as his fists clench.

As you turn to walk away, Miguel grabs your wrist, spinning you around. With a sneer on his face, he glares down at you. "I told you to come home. I am not a man who begs, so just do what I say. And come back home with me."

You tugged your arm off his hold. “And I told you that I don’t belong to you anymore. You can’t control me Miguel. I’m not like all those other Spider people you can just control around to do whatever you like. I am my own person and that is why we aren’t together anymore; because you only see me as this doll for you to manipulate.”

His head snaps back a little bit as you yank your arm away, but he doesn't let go and instead he steps forward, his eyes blazing. Miguel's never been in this situation before - losing control to someone other than himself. His hands wrap around your wrists with a painful grip as he glares down at you.

"You think you're better than them?" He growls. "You're nothing but a pathetic human, and you belong with me."

“You’re hurting me.” Your eyes started to get glazed with tears. Your wrist hurting from his powerful hold and by his claw digging into your skins.

Miguel's eyes widen when he realizes he's hurting her. He lets go and steps back, taking a second to regain himself and calm his temper. "I'm sorry." He says, but he doesn't know if he really means it, or if he's just trying to be a good person.

You rubbed your now slightly bruised wrist, trying to soothe the hurt. Fury and pain were clashing inside of you. You didn’t know if you wanted to cry or slap the man for having the audacity. “I know you aren’t, Miguel. Please leave me alone. This is the exact reason I broke up with you.”

"You broke up with me because I get angry easily?" Miguel repeats, with a scoff. "That's ridiculous." He steps back to cross his arms across his chest, glaring down at you. "You just don't like people standing up to you - and I was the only one who did."

“You call that standing up to me? I call this abuse and over-protectiveness. You weren’t in love with me Miguel. You just liked knowing you had someone you could control.” Your eyes were frantically looking in between his brown one you used to love staring at in the morning.

Your words sting. Miguel winces, taking a few seconds to let out a frustrated growl. His head snaps back for a second before he takes a deep breath. His tone is calm, but cold, "I did love you."

"You just never let me prove it."

“I gave you plenty of chances, Miguel. And every time… you just proved me the opposite. Where were you when I had my miscarriage? Where were you when I needed you the most? You were just out there being Spider-Man, Miguel.” Tears were now flowing down your eyes.

He knows you are right, but part of him doesn't want to admit it. Miguel felt his temper start to boil again, his eyes narrowed in anger.

"That's what I had to do," he growled, defensively. "I have responsibilities. I couldn't be there for you."

Miguel knew he was wrong. He was terrible to you. But that didn't mean it was easy to admit that she deserved more.

“You are right. That is what you need to do… Spider-man has taken a big part of your life, Miguel. I don’t see where I fit in anymore.”

You sighed. “I'm done with this conversation. Good bye, Miguel.” You pointed at your door.

He's left with two options at this point: he can either let you leave, and face the reality that he's lost control over you... Or he can try to stop you, and maybe, somehow, get you back. And that's the option he chooses. The more he thinks about it, the more it seems like he can't stand the thought of walking out of that door.

"Wait!" he calls out, stepping towards you. "Can I- We can talk about this-"

‘No, Miguel. There is nothing to talk about this. Please.” You placed a hand on his biceps with a sad smile. “If you love me like you say you do… let me go. Let me be happy.”

He wants to argue, but he knows she's right: he can't keep her against her will. You have good reason to leave him - and you really want to.

Miguel lets out a pained sigh and steps back, crossing his arms across his chest. "Fine." He says, in a bitter tone. "Do whatever you want. Just... take care of yourself." He's obviously holding a lot back - he wanted to tell you everything - but he's not going to force you to listen.

“Thank you… this is goodbye, Miguel. And don’t worry, your secret is safe. Take good care of yourself.” You smiled at him one last time then opened the door and left.

Miguel watched her go for a moment, his arms crossed over his chest, before sighing and burying his head in his hands, a mix of emotions running rampant through him as he contemplates what's just happened.

After a while, he sighed, and looked to the open door, looking out into the city that he's spent so little time in these days. He knew that, if he didn't want to lose her... He had to make some changes.

[dancinglikebutterflywings]

Changbin: Prompt 09

-> Pairing: Seo Changbin x Wife!Reader

-> Requested by: Anon

-> Prompt: 09 - He forgets his and his wife's anniversary.

-> Warnings: Forgetful Changbin.

-> Word Count: 508

500 followers = 500 words Masterlist | Main Masterlist

©️ 2024 dancinglikebutterflywings - do not copy/modify/repost anywhere. reblog instead

“Let’s take a break,” as soon as those words left Chan’s mouth, Changbin pulls out his phone and looks at it. He finds his messages have gone left unanswered and unread. His call from earlier unreturned.  

It isn’t like Y/N to leave him on unread or not return his calls. He begins to feel concerned and looks at Chan, Han and Seungmin who are all in the room discussing Seungmin’s parts in the song their working on. 

“Has Y/N messaged or called one of you?” he asks interrupting their discussion. 

They all shake their heads no after checking their phones. “Is something wrong?” Chan asks seeing the frown on his chosen brother’s face. 

“She isn’t replying to my messages or calls,” he says as he calls his wife’s number again. This time it goes straight to voicemail after one ring. 

“Did you do something to upset her?” Seungmin asks.  

Changbin goes over everything that’s happened over the last few days, trying to come up with a reason why she would be upset. Then it hits him. He looks at his phone again, seeing the date.  

“It’s the 15th right?” he asks the others making sure he was reading it right. They all look at their phones before nodding this time.  

“Don’t tell me you forgot?” Han says this time, also realizing what today is.  

“No wonder she’s ignoring me!” he shouts, angry at himself that he forgot one of the most important dates of his life. Standing up from his chair, he collects his things and makes his way to the door of the recording studio, “I have to go. I’ll talk to you all later.” 

On his way home, Changbin decides to surprise Y/N by picking up her favourite flowers and ordering all her favourite dishes from the restaurant she loves.  

As arrives home, he found himself struggling to unlock the door, so he resorts to knocking instead. When the door finally opens, he presents the flowers and food to her with a smile. She seems unimpressed at first, but eventually allows him to come inside. 

“I’m so sorry,” he apologizes as he walks inside. “I really have no excuses for forgetting our anniversary,” he says as he places the flowers and food on the dining table, before turning around to pulls her into his arms. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he continues to apologize as he places kisses all over her face. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” 

Y/N couldn’t help but melt into his arms. She couldn’t stay mad at him even if she tried. It tore at her when she ignored his messages and calls earlier. She was just about to call him back when he knocked at the door. 

She wraps her arms around him, letting her know she forgives him but to never let it happen again. After he promises not to, he brings her in for a kiss before pulling away. He makes her sit down while he serves dinner and places the flowers in a vase. 

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[marsprincess889]

Astrologers on tumblr do not owe you free interpretations.

Interesting!

So, somebody took their valuable time and energy to comment these on my recent post:

For context, they asked about ketu and moon in rohini.

Now, I have gotten other asks about ketu placements and at first I answered them, but I added a disclaimer with each one: my interpretation, although not wrong, is formulaic and quite shallow compared what the native can experience of theur ketu, simply because of its nature and what it represents.

Now, this someone seems very triggered that I did not give a full comprehesive analysis +advice.

You guys can see my replies to them in the comments of the previous post.

I do not owe anyone to interpret placements for them.

I do not get paid for it, I did not announce that I'd be interpreting them for free. The ones that I did interpret I did out of my kindness and because of thinking I had substantial information to share, not to mention the fact that I was in the right headspace to do so.

So they have some nerve, making me some black cardinal figure who gatekeeps. + I'm pretty sure they have trouble reading in and understanding English cause I clearly said that I have no idea what it's like to have ketu in rohini, I can only guess.

What can I do....

Edit: idk guys, but instances like this really make me want quit this blog. I started this because of genuine interest and fun and with the desire of wanting to share my observations with others. The amount of people who take things too seriously and miss the point is kind of alarming. It makes bloggers lose motivation and for me, personally, it feels like people only want you to validate what they think is true or to get any kind of info, true or false, just for the sake of knowing "something".

Update: so the main thing here turned out to be the misjudging and the misundersting, but I really did get upset that me doing what I genuinely think is the best and taking the time to explain that triggered someone.

The big reason of why I'm doing this is that I want to share the information, not gatekeep it. Gatekeeping has its value, necessity, time and place and while I am a big fan of boundaries and of respectful space, I want to connect with people on here as best as possible. I love when people resonate to what I write and I hate it when my words are taken the wrong way. I do not want to trigger anyone, and if I do, please, recognize that that was not my intention, and that it is not my fault, I don't think it has ever been on here anyways.

So, wish you all healing and I hope you find what you were looking for here, and if not, then that is fine and absolutely nobody's fault.

[helsensm]

hate to break it to you, but liu kang and kung lao are actually cousins. i enjoy your art a lot and scrolling through your blog, so seeing you and your friends support liulao makes me concerned. i hope you understand and are mindful about what you ship going forward <:(

I sense some condescension, anon, but since text messaging cannot accurately convey tone, I’ll take this as a genuine warning. Thank you for your concern, but do not worry, I’m old enough to be mindful about my ships and I do my research, since I have no interest in shipping relatives in any media, and it CAN be tricky with the universe as complex and lore heavy as mk.

With that being said, here’s where you are wrong, anon. Liu Kang and Kung Lao are canonically NOT related – at least the versions of them that people ship.

Just a week ago, lovely user rasta-bot covered the “cousins issue”, you can check this post or I’ll just repeat the main idea here. They were only made cousins in the original 1995 movie because this specific universe (and by extension MK Conquests universe since it's a prequel to the movies) has Liu Kang as the Great Kung Lao's descendant as well. However, this is what the mk co-creator and Lore God™ John Tobias said about this change:

In no other game Liu Kang was the descendant of GKL or Lao’s relative. In the original (and prev) timeline he was an orphan, raised by Shaolin monks.

And if you are referring to the 2021 movie, alas, you’d be wrong again. In the movie Liu Kang has no family, he tells Cole about his past, but people love to refer to the scene with a translation error. The mistake was pointed out by several native speakers online, but everyone can easily check it by themselves, even if they are not familiar with the language, just by doing a quick google search. This took me 2 minutes:

1. Turn on the Chinese subtitles.

2. Look at the first results of “師兄 meaning” goggle search.

source: wiktionary.org

source: chinese.yabla.com

source: hinative.com

It is totally fine if you don’t feel like shipping these two, you have all the right - everybody has different preferences. I also don’t like certain ship dynamics even if they are “legal” in any way. 😁 But I never encountered liulao shippers who would endorse inсеst, and it’s sad to see how this confusion nearly becomes a witch hunt, scaring and demotivating artists and writers.

[bg-brainrot]

Hello, I am writing Astarion fanfic with no signs of stopping 👋

Note: All Astarion x Tav, all written with gender-neutral pronouns and from second-person POV. Will continue to update this! This blog is all BG3 + Astarion

Love at First Knife

Rogue!Tav and Spawn!Astarion

This series is based on my double-rogue playthrough. Tav is an assassin rogue, chaotic neutral, chooses mostly good options but a ton of options just for the laughs or the money. Astarion remains unascended. Everyone shows up sooner or later, though main group includes Karlach and Shadowheart.

The Trap is Set: Two 8 strength rogues get stuck and need to wait for rescue; one of those rogues doesn't like being trapped underground

Failed a Dex Save and Fell for You: the gang plays Truth or Dare and Tav starts to realize their feelings

Healing Threads: Astarion is an expert at embroidery -- Tav finds this out through an injury. They later find out *why* he’s such an expert

The Night They Slept Together: Tav pines, and their relationship with Astarion shifts ever so slightly. (They literally do just sleep) [Tumblr]

One Small Bedroll, Two Confused Hearts: oh no, one bed! But both Astarion and Tav are scared to admit they're catching real feelings

Failed Every Insight Check and Fell all the Harder: Astarion POV, he begins feeling some new feelings. It's only after Moonrise Towers that he can put a name to them. [Tumblr]

Stolen Hearts: Tav "picks" Astarion over Karlach (Tav and Karlach were never really together but oh well, semantics)

NEW! To be Known: Astarion reads a book and wonders what it means to be known. [Tumblr]

A Stolen Moment: Tav and Astarion are on a thief date

The Rogues that Slay Together Stay Together: Tav goes down protecting Astarion, Astarion has never been this worried

A Pair of Penguin Pebblers: Both Astarion and Tav love stealing, they steal through a shopping episode and go on a date afterward

The Smut Peddlers of Sharess' Caress: the group finds smut written about Astarion and Tav [Tumblr]

A Bad Counterfeit: Tav is replaced by a doppelganger and Astarion immediately notices something's wrong, some angst as he comes to term with being a "hero"

Hugs for a Vampire: Rogue!Tav and Astarion's romance as told through hugs [Tumblr Masterlist]

More than Vampiric Charms: After some banter between Jaheira and Astarion goes too far, Rogue!Tav reassures Astarion [Tumblr]

Would You Still Love Me?: Rogue!Tav asks the question everyone wants to know the answer to "would you still love me if I was a worm?" [Tumblr]

Of Bets, Bluffs, and Briefs: The gang plays strip poker, though it seems like not everyone (Astarion) is playing by the rules [Tumblr]

Brawls Fair in Love and War: What starts out as a scuffle turns into a full out tavern brawl for the gang [Tumblr]

Alone in a Crowded Camp: Astarion reflects and realizes that company isn't so bad. [Tumblr]

Their First Winter Together: Astarion and Rogue!Tav enjoy a lot of winter firsts in this fluff-filled extravaganza [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][10][11][12]

Unraveling Plan Meet Immeasurable Insecurity: Tav tries their damnedest to propose, only to be rebuffed by Astarion at every single turn. [Tumblr]

(smut) The Thousandth Time: Astarion and Rogue!Tav make love for the thousandth time. In a bathtub. [Tumblr]

Random post-game rogue!Tav headcanons

A Star in the Dark

Evil!Dark Urge and Ascended!Astarion

Evil!Dark Urge and Astarion have a tumultuous relationship, make dubious choices, and become a power couple. *This playthrough scares me so I'll update this sporadically hah

(smut) In My Head: Dark Urge has an all new kind of daydream after Astarion approaches them

(smut) A Bloody Sacrament: Astarion licks Dark Urge clean after they bathe in a pool of blood [Tumblr]

Other

Tav x Astarion fics that don't belong to a series

IN PROGRESS When He's all but Forgotten How to Love Again: Elf-Tav reincarnation story, they dream of him in their reverie, and go out to find him once they reach maturity [Tumblr Masterlist]

IN PROGRESS The Consequences of Convenience: Tav enters a marriage of convenience with their unromanced, best friend Astarion-- feelings ensue.

Spicy Astarion Headcanons (both A!A and Spawn!A)

Horny Astarion Headcanons (both A!A and Spawn!A)

If you're looking for some more fics, check out my fic recs here!

If you're wondering which Hozier songs fit which pairings, check them here!