#but i would flood the fandom tag even more than i already do

[greyias]

I've looked around your blog but didn't find any reference to an AO3 account. I was wondering if you also share your writing there? I'd love to follow and bookmark a few of your gems here 👀

Sorry about that Nonny, I do have an AO3 account here: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greyias

I guess it ever occurred to me to directly link it anywhere outside of the fics I crosspost there at the same time? I do usually archive prompts/askfic there eventually (just in case of Tumblr implosion), although sometimes it can take a while because I have constant existential angst over coming up with titles and descriptions 😅

I have quite a few prompt collection fics over there for that reason as well, so if you're looking for an individual ficlet it might be buried in one of those larger collections.

I will have to poke around this mess of a Tumblr at some point and find a spot where it makes sense to link off to my AO3 profile directly. Whoops!

[alltimefail]

ATTENTION DEAD BOYS FANDOM:

We have some unfinished business and a case to solve: The Case of the Curious Cancellation! 💀🔎

Here are the ways you can help (be sure to read until the end).

I'm not sure how many people here on Tumblr are also over on DBDA Twitter, but there have been MANY developments in the last 24 hours and it's important for all of us to be on the same page if we're going to have a chance in hell of saving our show.

First and foremost, we need to get Dead Boy Detectives in the Netflix Top 10 again. This means running it as much as possible. Read about that below:

(SOURCE x)

As the graphic says, the goal is to have it running on a loop constantly, as much as you physically can. Be sure to have some level of volume on or else it won't count. If you're on Twitter be sure to post your rewatch (photos of your tv, commentary, etc.) with the hashtag #ReviveDeadBoyDetectives !!!

Also, there's no better time to do this: the Tweet below brings up a great point! 👍

(SOURCE x)

Second, and easiest thing: KEEP TALKING ABOUT THE SHOW AND CREATING CONTENT ABOUT THE SHOW. Analysis, fics, fanart, shitposts, gif sets, memes, tik tok videos, so on - do not stop! Reblog other people's stuff and talk about it! Give fics kudos, comment, make fic rec lists and post that WIP or sketch! The most important thing to remember is to TAG YOUR POSTS AND CREATIONS. We need to trend!!! On Tumblr make sure you continue tagging your posts as you probably already are (look at my tags on this post if you need help, and remember not to use "DBD" on here because that is another fandom! We use DBDA here). On Twitter you want to use the hashtag #ReviveDeadBoyDetectives for the rewatch and #SaveDeadBoyDetectives is a popular one, too. You can also use #DeadBoyDetectives. Hell, I usually use all three if I can! Hashtag every post you make about Dead Boys, no matter how annoying or "cringe" you may feel. Flood the fucking tag and do not stop.

Third, everyone needs to sign and keep circulating the petition. We've surpassed 5,000 signatures in a day which is fantastic, but we need more. Get everyone you know to sign it; tell them it takes no more than 15 seconds. Be annoying until they do it just to shut you up.

Fourth, request "Dead Boy Detectives Season 2" through Netflix's support website. It's a small thing but if we all do this a couple times a day it will get their attention. They really do vet these suggestions, and an influx of requests for a canceled show will raise eyebrows.

Lastly, if you decide to write Netflix (via email or a letter - their office address has been floating around) please remember to stay concise and professional. Don't curse at them, don't call names. State that you are disappointed with the cancellation of the show, maybe add an anecdote about what it meant to you, and I would even recommend attaching some articles that emphasize people's displeasure with the platform abandoning shows on a whim and Netflix's flippant attitude toward queer shows in particular. Dead Boy Detective Agency on Twitter has retweeted every article on this topic so far, you can find their page here.

You can also use graphics such as the ones below to affirm that the cancellation was unjust.

(Source 1, Source 2)

I know this feels like a lot: know your limits and take care of yourself. Whether you do every single one of these things or just a few of these things, every llittle bit helps!

Even in the worst case scenario where nothing changes, this gesture will mean so much to everyone who made this show. We owe it to the writers, cast, crew, and each other to TRY. We can all agree that this show deserves at least another season and if Netflix isn't going to do it, they need to be open to selling it to someone who will. We cannot keep allowing them to axe these queer and diverse shows with little regard for their customers and their employees, but also because it sets a harmful standard in the industry that is destroying television.

Let's crack this case and bring our agency back! I truly believe in this community!! 💜 We can do this!!

If there are any spelling errors or issues with links let me know! I did this on mobile because I want to mobilize this information as quickly as possible! I'll be adding on to this with new developments and can answer any questions you all might have. Lets save our show!

[onesidedradiostatic]

the #radio silence tagging problem in the hazbin fandom

said I would make a more eye-catching psa about this, here it is

**although #radiosilence WITHOUT the space is better than #radio silence with the space, I would still like to discourage it, will elaborate later

and 90% of the time, they will listen and change accordingly.

and oh yeah. about that book.

Why shouldn't #radio silence be used?

Radio Silence is the name of a book set in the heartstopper universe by alice oseman.

(which also features a canon aspec character, pictured on the right: aled last!)

and as such: #radio silence is their MAIN FANDOM tag. it is inconsiderate to flood their tag with content from another fandom, especially one as popular as hazbin hotel. but unfortunately, this is something that is already happening because of radiosilence as a ship tag.

and if you're not convinced this is something that bothers radio silence fans, here's some input from the fans themselves:

Wait, so is #radiosilence without the space still fine to use?

it's better than the mistagging of #radio silence with the space. but ONLY on tumblr, because on tumblr, we're allowed the privilege of adding spaces to tags.

I still would like to discourage it though, because for as long as this tag is popularly in use, there will constantly be people mistagging it with a space. I've done what I could to nudge people to fix their tagging but I can't constantly keep this up.

plus, on other sites such as tiktok and twitter, #radiosilence IS literally the main tag for the book because you literally can't add spaces for tags on those sites. so the radio silence book fandom is likely even more drowned out on those sites than here on tumblr because of the popularisation of #radiosilence as a tag for one-sided radiostatic.

I will not be forcing anyone to ditch #radiosilence without the space as a tag though, especially when it's already so popularly used and essentially impossible to get everyone to change it, but I encourage you to go for other options if you are willing to such as:

#onewaybroadcast

decided via a poll last month that was ongoing before #radiosilence was initially popularised, held by ChaoticAce2005 and me.

it's the tag that I always use for one-sided radiostatic and is decently used by others as well! and you won't run into any issue with clashing with the radio silence/osemanverse fandom at all this way. but again, I will not force you, all I ask is that AT THE VERY LEAST, don't tag #radio silence with the space and to nudge others to change it if they do.

please help to silence the radio silence tag!

(the tagging issue on tiktok and twitter are outside of my jurisdiction as I don't engage with hazbin on twitter and I don't even use tiktok, but if possible, it would be appreciated if anyone is able to spread the alternate tag #onewaybroadcast on those sites too to discourage flooding the radio silence book fandom! I believe the original person to coin #radiosilence has been doing work to discourage it on tiktok too, any help is appreciated!)

[mimsynims]

Fool For Love

part 1

~~~

Author’s Note: I have barely been writing anything (I usually write for the Good Omens fandom) since I started playing BG3, but then a few days ago I felt compelled to start on *something* for this fandom that has completely taken over my mind. I usually post on AO3 but for some reason I wanted to post a first teaser-chapter here on Tumblr.

So here it is, my first (unbeta’d) venture into the BG3 fandom. I have no idea where this is going except that the endgame is a happy ending for Tav and Astarion.

~~~

Astarion x reader/Tav

Tags: (Mild?) angst, pining, pining while fucking

Summary: You thought knew what you were doing when you let Astarion into your bed. He doesn’t have feelings for you, and vice versa. Only… Now you do.

~~~

You watch him laugh as Shadowheart leans closer to whisper something in his ear, and the unwarranted jealousy that has your chest aching leaves a sour taste in your mouth. He may be sharing your bed now and then, but you have no right to him. For all you know, he might be spending his other nights with each and everyone in your camp. And that is his prerogative; pretty words aside, Astarion has never promised you anything other than fantastic sex.

A bitter smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. You are sure he thinks he has you wrapped around his finger. That he has convinced you that this means more to him than it actually does. The sigh leaves your lips before you can stop it, but it doesn’t really matter, because none of the others hear you, too busy listening to Gale regaling another story about his ex.

Annoyed with yourself you rise, an excuse prepared on your tongue in case anyone questions your departure from the merriment. The lie remains unspoken and you’re relieved when you can slink into the shadows unnoticed. Relieved, but also perhaps a bit sad. It’s funny, you’ve spent most of your life aiming for anonymity, to stay under the radar. The unexpected friendships you’ve made since the kidnapping has unravelled all of that. Have made you aware of the dark and empty space in your heart you’ve successfully ignored until now.

Except it isn’t empty anymore.

It happened gradually, and without your permission. A dashing pale rogue stealing your affection when you weren’t looking. Because yes, while you know that his only reason for talking his way into your bed was manipulation, he has unintentionally shown you glints of his real self during your time together. He’s a complicated mess, just like yourself, and you love him. Love everything about him, even though it hurts.

So maybe he has you wrapped around his finger after all, because if you had any sense, you would end this thing between you. You should, but you are a selfish being. One day Astarion will realise that he doesn’t need to use sex to feel safe with you, but until that day comes, you will greedily accept every scrap of attention he gives you.

“Pathetic.”

“Talking to yourself, darling? Or have you made another furry friend when I wasn’t looking?” Astarion gracefully — why is that even when he’s pleasantly drunk, the elf manages to appear graceful? — sits down next to you in the grass. “You already have three of them in the camp, surely that’s enough?”

“Three?” You try to gather your thoughts, but it’s difficult when he is this close to you. “Scratch, the owlbear cub, and…?”

“Halsin, of course.”

“Of course,” you repeat dumbly. True, the druid was in his bear form when you first met, but something in Astarion’s demeanour makes you suspect that that isn’t what he meant. Images of Astarion undressing Halsin floods your mind. Halsin is a handsome and powerful man, so it would make sense for Astarion to seduce him too. Just like he had with you.

“Why are we sitting here, by the way?” Astarion shifts to lean on one hand, his face tilted back to take in the full moon. “Wanted a more romantic setting than your tent this time, darling?”

Oh. So you are the chosen one for the night. You were certain it would be Shadowheart, considering.

“Are you alright, Tav?”

For a moment you let yourself believe that the hesitation you hear in his voice is founded on genuine concern. That he truly cares beyond the deep-seated need for self-preservation ingrained in him. But the illusion can only last so long. You know enough of his history not to hold his actions against him, but right now you’re not in a headspace to pretend that everything is fine. And yet, you try.

“Of course I am.” You hold back a flinch when you hear the acid lacing your words like a toxin. It gives too much away, so you do the only thing you can think of. Your hands are already grabbing fabric before you have finished your thought, pulling him closer before he has time to examine your statement too closely. Before he can figure out your lie.

The night air is cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the hot mouth claiming yours. You might regret it tomorrow, but right now, this is exactly what you need. In Astarion’s arms, you can forget everything but him and what he gives you. Around other people he can seem petty and cruel, but when he’s with you like this… this is different.

Or least that’s what you tell yourself. You cling to the illusion that this is special, and you succeed — until you feel yourself leaning your head to the side, offering your neck.

Astarion doesn’t ask it of you, he never does. It’s always you that wordlessly gives him what you believe is what he truly wants.

And this time it reminds you that deep down, this is just a transactional act for Astarion. Nothing else. He doesn’t care about you, not really.

After you’re both sated, you drift off to sleep without meaning to. It has been a taxing day, both physically and mentally, and the last thing you see is Astarion looking down at you with an indiscernible expression in his red eyes. Almost as if you’re a puzzle he can’t figure out. Except that doesn’t make any sense, because to you it feels like he saw right through you the first time you met.

Some time later, you’re vaguely aware of strong arms lifting you from the damp grass. You must’ve made some noise, because you feel a warm breath against your ear.

“Hush, my darling, you don’t want the others to wake up.”

Exhaustion drags you back under, and when you next wake up, you’re in your tent. Alone.

~~~

[nicoline1998enilocin]

Control

PAIRING | Boyfriend!Young!Tony Stark x Girlfriend!Fem!Reader

WORD COUNT | 4.7K

SUMMARY | Your boyfriend has asked you to take over the control in the bedroom, and you're more than happy to do it. You two go down an incredible path of exploring what he likes and loves and discovering what it's like to put your trust in someone else's hands. In the end, you both learn a lot about the other person and will happily do it all over again.

RATING | Explicit (E)

WARNINGS/TAGS | No powers AU, established relationship, use of nicknames (Love/My Love, Sunshine, Puppy),

SMUT | Dom!Reader, Sub!Tony, subspace, discussion of safewords, safewording, use of traffic light system, light bondage (tied up with a scarf), begging, dirty talk, praise/praise kink, degradation, light teasing, edging, Mommy kink, spanking, anal play, anal fingering, cumming untouched/prostate orgasm, aftercare

A/N | @ccbsrmsf1: This fic is dedicated to you because you have helped me immensely by giving me inspiration, proofreading, and suggesting this hot as f*ck GIF for this one! I hope you will enjoy this as much as I did when writing it 💙

EVENTS Masterlist | @anyfandomkinkbingo | "Just hold me." Masterlist | @fandom-free-bingo Wild | Reassuring touches Masterlist | @marvel-smash-bingo | Domination

Banners: Yours truly | Divider: @firefly-graphics | GIF: @duckbuttt

Main Masterlist | Tony Stark Masterlist | AU Masterlist

It's been a hectic week for both of you at college, but you're happy to finally have a night of peace together as you sit in his single-person dorm, glad to have the place to yourselves. You haven't often slept over at each other's dorms, but you enjoy every night you can spend together even more.

You just finished eating Chinese takeout together, and now you're both sitting on his floor playing a board game, one of your favorite activities. Tonight is 'Clue' night.

Since neither of you plans to go out the door tonight, you're already wearing your comfiest pajamas, and Tony is also wearing a simple, cozy outfit. He made your favorite tea, and soft music is playing in the background—the perfect setting for a relaxed evening together.

However, you're unaware that Tony is scraping together every last bit of courage to bring up a topic of conversation that has been swirling around in his mind for a while: he would like to explore what it's like if you dominate him in the bedroom. He's used to doing things the 'traditional' way, and even though that blows both your minds every single time, he would like to give you some control in that aspect.

He has thought about this conversation countless times, and in every single one, you're entirely supportive, but he can't get himself to say the words for some reason. When you're about to take a sip of your tea, looking over your Clue chart, he finally finds the courage and brings up the topic he's been desperate to talk about forever.

''Sunshine?'' he starts confidently and is proud of himself for sounding that way, though that confidence doesn't last long. You look up at him expectantly and give him a reassuring smile to let him know you're listening.

''I- I- Do you- No, I'm going about this all wrong,'' he mutters to himself, and you can see he's struggling with something, though you're not sure what that is exactly. A red blush spreads over his cheeks, embarrassment flooding his body because he cannot even ask you a simple question.

''What's wrong, Love? Is everything okay?'' you say, the game you were playing forgotten as you crawl over to where he's sitting before taking your place in front of him. You take his face in your hands to calm him down now that the nerves are completely taking over, your brows knitted together as you're getting worried.

"I-I want to ask you something," he whispers, his eyes cast down as he's a bit nervous to look at you when he asks the question. Giving up control is not something he's used to, but something he desires all the same, so he knows he has to ask it, no matter how difficult it is.

"And what would you like to ask me?" you ask softly, and he looks up at you. His cheeks still warm at the idea of asking his burning question.

"Are you okay with taking control during... you know..." his voice trails off near the end. Even though you know what he wants to ask you, you still like him to say it. Seeing him all flustered like this has you feeling some way, and you cannot get enough of it.

"During...?" you say, trying to coax the words out of him.

"During sex," he whispers. You two have had plenty of conversations about sex before, and it is not a taboo subject for either of you by any means, but Tony's not used to giving up control - or asking for what he wants, for that matter. He looks cute doing it, though, making your heart flutter.

"You want me to take control during sex?" you ask the question just to be sure, and he nods in response. The color on his cheeks seems to deepen even further, and you decide to have mercy on him.

"I would love that, My Love, but I would like to prepare beforehand to ensure we're both comfortable and not doing anything either of us isn't okay with. I'd love to discuss it first to see what you have in mind and go from there. How does that sound?"

"Perfect," Tony sighs as if a huge load has been lifted off his shoulders. Your reaction is exactly what he hoped for, and now you'll spend the rest of the evening discussing your plans instead, your board game long forgotten.

"So, I can only assume you've thought about what you want me to do because I already have a lot of plans, but I want to hear about your ideas first, My Love," you tell him, and he feels the blush on his cheeks burning brightly.

"Y-yeah," he responds in a soft tone, and it makes your heart melt. Tony's shy side never ceases to amaze you; you can't get enough of it. When he finally finds the courage, he tells you how he wants you to give him pleasure in every imaginable way. From light anal play to you fucking him deep and hard with a strap-on and from tying him up to blindfolding, everything passes the revue.

That night, you and Tony had an exciting night as you two discussed your shared fantasies, and it ended with a slow, love-filled session of sex, during which he could not stop telling you how much he loves you and how amazing you are.

"Nat? Do you have time to go shopping with me?" you ask your best friend and roommate, and she practically runs into your room, finding you in front of your closet.

"Shopping, you say? Is there anything specific you're hoping to find when we're out?" she asks, and you chuckle at her words. She knows you only go out to shop when you're going on a date with Tony, and you need to look your best, so her curiosity is immediately piqued.

"Yes. But please don't laugh when I say what it's for," you tell her, and she nods as she sits on your bed.

"Well, I'm hoping to pick out a beautiful set of lingerie that will ensure Tony goes crazy when he sees it. He has asked me to dominate him in the bedroom, and I guess I want to look... presentable when I do," you say, eyes trained on the floor as you do.

"Really? I have to say, I never thought he would be into that! You? Absolutely, but him? I'm surprised," she says as if discussing the weather. You know Natasha won't judge when it comes to things like this, but it's still not something you're used to talking about.

"I'm going to invite Wanda too, and we'll make it a girls' shopping trip," she tells you, immediately grabbing her phone from her pocket. Not even five minutes later, it is all arranged, and you two will meet Wanda at the lingerie store.

"Thank you," you whisper as you look at her, and she gives you a reassuring smile.

"That's what best friends are for!" she says, pulling you into a comforting hug. You're still very grateful to have been paired with Natasha as a roommate because you couldn't have wished for a better person to be there for you.

Once you're in the store, you have tried on countless color variations and sorts of lingerie, from two pieces to bodysuits, and you have had every color of the rainbow, but nothing seems right—until Wanda picks a beautiful red piece off the rack.

"How about this?" she says enthusiastically as she walks over to you, and you gasp at the sight of it. The delicate lace combined with the ribbon in the middle and the deep red color makes you fall in love with it immediately, so you go to the fitting room to try it on immediately.

Not long after, you walk out, smiling broadly as you show Nat and Wanda the lingerie. You look like you're glowing now that you're wearing the perfect lingerie, which looks like it was made to fit your exact measurements. Every tattoo is beautifully shown, and the low back also shows off the large phoenix on your back.

"I think we've found the one!" you tell them excitedly, agreeing it's perfect. When you're back in the fitting room, you give Tony a little sneak peek of what he'll be seeing. The red lace compliments your skin beautifully, and he almost choked on his drink as he received the photo. He is out for lunch with Bruce and Clint, but when he opens the photo, he can't concentrate on anything other than you.

When the little heart-eye emoji pops up in your messages, you smile again before changing into your everyday clothes. Once the lingerie is paid for, all three of you decide to go for lunch, and it just so happens that you choose the exact restaurant where Tony is as well.

As you push open the door, Tony looks over to see who's coming in. His whole demeanor changes the second your gazes cross each other. He sits up straight and can't help but smile, and both Bruce and Clint know exactly who just walked in the door without looking.

"Hi, Sunshine," Tony says as he gets up to greet you. His lips crash on yours in a possessive, needy kiss, his hand cupping your cheek as he does. His tongue immediately licks the seam of your lips, and you happily let him in. You can taste the drink he was enjoying just now.

"Hi, My Love," you whisper after he pulls away, and you sit opposite him in their booth. It's good that they still need to order their lunch because now all six of you can enjoy it together.

"So, did you get something special for me?" Tony asks you, and you nod. Even though you know he has seen your photo in the lingerie, you can't resist playing along.

"Sure did; I picked something beautiful for you, My Love. And I picked up some other things to make it even more special," you tell him with a wink, and you can tell Tony's mind is going into overdrive at the thought of what you possibly could have gotten. You picked out a few regular candles, a scented candle, some massage oil, and a scarf to put to some good use, and you're looking forward to the moment you'll be able to use it.

The lunch is spent laughing and gossiping among your friends, and you could tell something was going on between Bruce and Natasha, but you decided to put a pin in that and ask her about it another time. You're all spending time together; your afternoon couldn't have been any better.

"Are you ready, My Love?" you ask Tony when you leave the bathroom. You have put on the lingerie you bought a few days ago, your hair is pulled back, and your make-up is darker than usual, but it's giving you a sultry look that has Tony's cock twitching anticipation already. You have instructed him to sit on his knees in the middle of the bed, his hands folded behind his back.

"Look at you sitting there, so pretty for me, Puppy," you tell him, and the bright red blush you love so much has appeared on his cheeks. His cock is standing at attention against his abdomen, and you can tell he's painfully hard already, but you'll be taking care of him soon enough.

"Can you tell me about your safewords?" you ask him, and he nods.

"We'll be using the traffic light system, so green means that I'm good and we can continue, yellow means a small break to adjust or reposition if necessary, and red means stop and moving into aftercare," Tony tells you softly, and you nod.

"You're right, Puppy. What's your color?"

"Green," he tells you, and you nod. Before you move on, you do a last scan of the room, and every candle burns. Soft music plays in the background, and you have a towel, massage oil, water, and food ready for aftercare.

"I want you to lie on your stomach for me, Puppy, so I can massage you to get you to relax a little. It's new to both of us, so I want to go slow today." Your voice is sturdy despite the slight nerves swirling in your stomach.

"Okay," he whispers, and he moves to lie down on his stomach, his cock trapped between his stomach and the sheets as he does. When he is in position, you drizzle some massage oil on your boyfriend's calves and thighs, watching the muscles flex as the cold substance hits his skin.

"Color?" "Green, Sunshine," he sighs, and you move to massage both his legs, starting with his calves before moving up to his thighs. You take your time to massage every inch of him, relaxing him as you do. Soft moans leave his lips as your fingers dig carefully into his flesh.

The dusting of hair on both his legs makes you chuckle as your fingers run over it, as it feels soft under your fingertips. When it's time to massage his back, you put a little more oil on it before running your hands over it with long strokes, and you can feel the nerves and tension leave his body with every passing moment.

After you've thoroughly massaged his back, you move down, ready to pay some special attention to his butt.

"Are you okay with me massaging your butt and some light anal play?" you ask him, and he has told you beforehand that's something he's willing to explore - though you still ask to be on the safe side, in case he has changed his might.

"Yes, Sunshine," he whispers, and you lean over his body to grab the small bottle of lube you have put there in advance. Your hands are still slicked up from the massage oil, so you first take your sweet time to massage each cheek before landing a playful slap on each, making him moan a little louder from the pleasure he's feeling.

"Sit on your hands and knees, Puppy. Show me what a good boy you can truly be for me," you order. Even though it takes him a few moments to adjust to the new position, you're delighted with the sight in front of you.

Tony's buttcheeks are spread open beautifully, exposing his puckered hole for you, and his cock is hanging under him, fiery red and already leaking pre-cum. There's a wet spot on the bed where it was trapped underneath his body, making you clench your thighs at the sight. He's been enjoying himself more than you thought he would have.

"Spread your legs for me, Puppy," you tell him, and he does as he's told. However, instead of moving on to pleasure him with your fingers, you get off the bed to grab a long, thin scarf you brought with you for tonight.

"Since I will bring you all the pleasure, I will tie your hands together. You will do what I say when I say it, and I do not expect any talkback unless I ask you a question. Do you understand?" you tell him sternly, and you can see his cock twitch at the way you're talking to him. It doesn't quite come naturally to you yet, but you still enjoy it at the same time.

"Y-yes, Mommy," he whispers, his eyes clenched shut.

"What did you say? You need to speak up; otherwise, I can't hear you, Puppy. And I know for sure you can talk louder than that," you say, and he finally looks up at you, eyes glossy and his mouth slightly slack. It finally dawns on you to know how much he enjoys it, and your panties are officially ruined as a gush of arousal soaks your panties.

You look at him with a raised brow. Even though it takes him a moment to gather his thoughts, he finally manages to say them properly, and you're very proud of him.

"Yes, Mommy, please tie me up," he says as he looks wholly fucked out already, and you have barely touched him apart from the massage. The anticipation has him trembling slightly, so you decide to take a bit of mercy on him, swiftly tying his hands to one of the bars on his headboard.

"Look at you, Puppy, you're fucking beautiful like this," you praise Tony, and he whimpers softly at your words. He's leaning on his elbows, and his ass is perfectly presented now that he's sitting like this.

"What's your color?" you ask when you take your place behind him again, seated on your knees between his spread legs.

"G-green," he croaks out, and you smirk at his response. The sight in front of you is nothing short of perfect, and you're glad he asked you to do this—you'll definitely be doing more of it in the future, too.

"So beautiful, Puppy," you whisper as your hands glide over his cheeks, and you can't resist the urge to give a nice spanking on them, marking them with your handprints in the process. As your hands make contact with his plush flesh, you feel a jolt of electricity going through your body, and the sheer power you're currently having over your boyfriend has you on the edge of orgasm already, and tonight isn't even about your pleasure.

"More, Mommy, please!" Tony begs you, but instead of spanking him again, you take hold of his balls, catching him by surprise as a soft gasp leaves his lips.

"What did I say? You don't talk unless you're being talked to," you remind him, and he nods. You roll his balls in your hands, giving them a gentle tug and squeeze every now and again that has Tony gasping and moaning within no time, his cock only leaking more and more pre-cum as you do so.

"You close, Puppy?" you ask him, and he nods. He only needs a little more to cum, but just before he can, you pull your hand away, leaving him on the edge of an orgasm with a whine.

"It's okay, Puppy, I'll let you cum later. First, I'm going to have some fun with this beautiful, tight hole of yours, and if you're a good boy for me, I'll let you cum in my mouth so I can swallow every last drop of that delicious cum of yours."

You reach over to grab the lube, and you flip the top open, ready to put some lube on your fingers to open him up slowly, ready to take your fingers before you allow him to cum.

"What's your color?" you ask as you see him jerk as he hears the lube.

"G-green," he whispers shyly, but you don't entirely believe him, giving him the chance to try again.

"Tony, can you tell me your color? It's okay to need a break," you tell him, reassuring him as your fingers softly glide over the side of his thigh, his entire body trembling in the moment.

"Yellow," he says as he drops his head, ashamed of having to speak safeword right now. He goes to sit on his knees, his head hanging between his upper arms, a blush spreading over his cheeks from embarrassment.

"Can you tell me what's going on, My Love?" you say as you crouch next to the bed, your face on the same level as his while your hand runs soothingly over his back. Concern is all over your face as you look at him, and your heart hurts slightly at the sight.

"I'm very nervous. Please just hold me for a moment," Tony asks. You nod in understanding before moving onto the bed and by his side, holding him now that he needs it most.

"That's okay; you're allowed to be nervous. We're only doing this for the first time, and I'm proud of you for safewording when you need a break. I promise you that you're doing amazing right now," you tell him, your free hand cupping his cheek, and your thumb runs soothingly over his cheekbone.

"Thank you," Tony whispers almost inaudibly, and you smile reassuringly. You lean in for a soft kiss, which he happily reciprocates as his mind calms down and the nerves slowly seep out of his body. He trusts you completely with everything, but it was too much for him right now, and he's glad you stopped when he needed it - and that you gave him the space to take the break he wanted.

"There is no need to thank me, My Love. This is what we do: We trust each other and listen when others need it. Love is a two-way street, and we're on this together," you tell him, and he nods.

"I love you, Sunshine," he tells you, and you smile brightly at his words. The butterflies in your stomach go wild at the sight of your boyfriend, who willingly puts every ounce of his trust into your hands.

Once Tony has given the all-clear to continue, you have taken your place behind him again, and he's wiggling his butt in anticipation of what's to come. There's an apparent change in his behavior, and you know the small break did him well. He drank a few sips of water before moving on, and he felt a lot better than before.

"Ready, Puppy?" you ask after slicking up your index finger with the lube you opened earlier.

"Yes, I'm ready," he says to you, and you spread his cheeks with your free hand, the other one moving to slick up his puckered hole as well. The moment your finger makes contact with the rim, he gasps at the cold feeling of the lube on your finger, and you chuckle.

"Keep breathing for me, Puppy," you tell him when you notice he's holding his breath, and he does with a long exhale. He wasn't aware he was holding his breath, and he inhaled deeply as you massaged his rim.

Your gaze is laser-focused, and you bite down on your bottom lip when you slide in the tip of your index finger. Tony rocks back against your finger, trying to get more of it after a bit of taste, but you don't give him the satisfaction of doing that.

"Stay still, Puppy. I'm the one who decides the pace right now, and you're going to take whatever I'm giving you," you reprimand him, and Tony whimpers at your words.

After a short moment, you pick up where you left off, your free hand kneading the flesh of his butt as you slowly and carefully stretch him further on your finger until you can comfortably work two of them in. You let out a content hum as you feel his walls pull around your fingers, and you suddenly understand why he loves using his fingers on you.

"That's it, Puppy, you're doing so well for me," you praise him as you find his prostate. Your fingers gliding over it earn you a loud moan as he pushes his hips back, wanting you to do it again.

"You like that, huh? Does my Puppy like it when I play with his ass until he cums like a fucking slut? Yeah, I knew you were nothing more than a little hole for me to play with until you cum for me," you say as you slowly work him up to his orgasm.

"M-Mommy, please!" Tony begs when he's close and doesn't need much to reach his high.

"What do you want, Puppy? Let me know what you want. No, beg me for it like a pathetic little slut," you order, and he slips even further into the fuzzy headspace as you do. He enjoys it and wants to stay in it forever, having you take care of him forever when he's like this.

"M close, Mommy, l-let me cum! Please, spank me, Mommy!" he says, and you're going to be forgiving to him this time. Just as your fingers work over his prostate again, you smack him hard on his ass with your free hand, and he cums with a loud, broken moan.

Endless ropes of his cum paint his sheets as his cock keeps twitching, and his hips rut against your fingers as you work him through his orgasm, praising him endlessly. When he's spent, he collapses to the side, careful not to trap his sensitive cock between his thighs by accident.

"That's it, Puppy, such a good boy! You listened so well to Mommy. You're beautiful when you cum for me like this," you tell him as you pepper his entire body with kisses, reassuring and praising him constantly as he catches his breath. You quickly untie his hands, so he has his free range of motion back.

You come to lay behind him, pulling him close to your body as you act like the big spoon, though in reality, he's still a lot bigger than you are. Despite this, his hand seeks out yours, and he laces his fingers together with yours when he finds it, his thumb rubbing over the back of your hand.

"You did so well for me, My Love; you listened so well," you tell him. The two of you stay like that for the good part of 15 minutes as you keep praising him to ensure he comes down from his high carefully, not wanting him to crash.

"Can you sit up for me, My Love? You need to drink some water and eat some strawberries; it'll give you your strength back," you tell him, and he nods slowly. With slow movement he sits up against the headboard, his thighs spread a little to not hurt his cock.

"That's it, such a good boy for me," you whisper as he takes a few sips of water between each strawberry. He moans at the taste exploding in his mouth, the sweetness coating his tongue with every bite.

"I'm going to run a bath for you, okay? I'll be right back," you tell him, and he nods. The bath is drawn in a few minutes, and Tony sits in it to relax after your scene. You brought his water and the strawberries, which he's now happily munching on while sitting and soaking in the bath.

"I love you so much, Sunshine. Thank you so much for doing this," he tells you, and you smile brightly at him. The sparkle in his eyes shows you everything you need to know, and you could not be happier about how everything turned out.

While Tony is enjoying his bath, you change his sheets and prepare a comfortable outfit for both of you before preparing the couch with your favorite blanket and more snacks to enjoy as you watch a movie.

Once Tony is done, he dries off quickly before putting on the outfit you put on, which matches yours. As a surprise, you bought matching cozy pajamas for the two of you, making you look adorable together. Tony lets himself fall onto the couch in his dorm, and you quickly sit next to him before putting the blanket over your legs.

"Thank you for everything tonight, Sunshine. It was truly a beautiful experience. And most of all, thank you for trusting me enough to explore these things. I know I couldn't have done it without you," Tony tells you as you're curled against his side.

"I should be thanking you for trusting me, My Love. You have been very brave in doing this and also for safewording when you needed it. I'll be looking forward to doing this again in the future, though, because it was a lot of fun to explore this together," you tell him, and he nods.

He leans down to capture your lips with his in a featherlight kiss, but it conveys every ounce of emotion and love his words can't. That night, you two watch a movie while cuddling up on the couch, eating the snacks you prepared, and laughing endlessly without a single care.

Just as you're about to reach for another snack, you suddenly get nauseous before making a beeline for the toilet. Little do you know that the future you're dreaming of is closer than you could ever imagine, and your world will be turned upside down for the better when it does. With your boyfriend by your side, you can get through everything life throws your way, though, no matter how significant it might be.

[2af-afterdark]

Keeping Him Warm

Rating: Explicit  Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: M/M Fandom: Shall We Date?: Obey Me! Relationships: Lucifer/MC Characters: Lucifer, MC Additional Tags: ftm!MC (he/him/they/them), cockwarming, tcock (it's called a cock though), vaginal penetration (by fingers), pet name: pretty boy (MC receiving) Summary: Lucifer warms his favorite human’s cock with his mouth. Word Count: 363

Stars flood his vision, heat pools in his belly, and the cuffs around his wrists bite into his skin as he twists from side to side trying to escape from the lips and tongue tormenting his throbbing sex. Lucifer stares up at him with a glint in his eyes as he holds his position, wrapping his fingers around his cute human's thighs to hold them open in place so he can continue his ministrations without them rutting to find the relief they long for.

His pretty human groans and whines as Lucifer laps at the precious cock he's been sucking at for so long, taking perverse delight in how much they struggle to lie still and accept it all. Oh, how handsome they are.

"No moooore," he cries through throaty moans and pleas. "Move already. It's too much!"

Lucifer unwraps his lips from around his cute, twitching cock and shushes him from between his legs. "You can handle a bit more. After all, you're clearly enjoying it," he says as he takes a moment to brush his fingers over their leaking, neglected sex.

"I can't," he protests. "My body feels weird."

"Unfortunate," he chuckled darkly before returning to his place sucking at their swollen, engorged cock – teasing it with slow, languid licks that made their thighs tremble and buckle around his head.

“Lucifer! Please! Stop touching my cock!” He bites his lip to hold back any more whines that may encourage the demon to keep going any longer.

“Of course,” he whispers against them before pulling away with a devilish smirk that makes them more concerned than relieved.

“After all,” he presses his fingers against their sex, feeling the slick wetness coating their folds before slowly burying his middle and forefinger to the knuckles inside of them, “my pretty boy has more than one place to keep occupied.”

He begins to weep in frustration and denied pleasure. “Lucifer-”

“You can do it. Can’t you, my love?” 

Even if they couldn’t, he didn’t intend on ending his teasing until he was thoroughly satisfied their body was past the point of desperation. Only then would he finally give them what they were clearly already craving.

[just-french-me-up]

(In)somnia Veritas

Fandom : The Sandman (AO3 link) Pairing : Dreamling (Dream x Hob) Rating : G | 1.8k Tags : Angst & Comfort, Retired Dream, Post Wake Fix-it, Established Relationship Summary : No longer Dream of the Endless, Morpheus spends his first night as a human at Hob's, struggling with his new condition. He can not sleep. He will not sleep. How could he, when wakefulness is all he has ever known?

Hob had expected the craziness of it all to keep him awake. The Kindly Ones. The Fates. Daniel Hall. Dream of the Endless, now, for all intents and purposes. It all whirled in his head as he settled in bed, Dream―Morpheus' form next to him, already still from sleep.

Hob's gaze lingered for a moment. He didn't look changed. Even like this, very much asleep and vulnerable, his lips slightly parted in a shallow, slumbering breath, Morpheus still looked like the powerful being he'd been, mere hours ago. Human. It hardly seemed thinkable. Hob had been around for a while, and never had a human ever looked like that. Yet another rule broken tonight, it seemed.

As his head hit the pillow, Hob could feel the heaviness of the day weighing on him, a crown of lead encasing his head, a migraine he resigned himself to fight all night. Instead, sleep took him the second he closed his eyes, his body melting away, as though engulfed by a wave.

The rest was for Dani―Dream of the Endless to know.

It was still dark when sleep loosened its grip around him. Disoriented, Hob rolled drowsily on the mattress, expecting to meet the cold yet substantial shape of Drea―Morpheus' body, yet only found more sheets.

Confused, he cracked an eye open, his hand instinctively patting the empty space, as though he would find Morpheus hidden between the folds somewhere. Nothing. Hob's heart jolted wildly in his chest, pumping bitter bile in his throat. The Fates changed their minds, panic whispered in his ear instantly. They've taken him back. They could not let him be.

Slapped awake, Hob sprung out of bed, blood thrashing in his ears. I've got to get him back, he kept thinking. I must get him back. He did not know where to start, how to work out any kind of summons or strike any sort of supernatural bargain (those had a tendency to find him, not the other way around), but he would figure it out, he had to, he would even call―

His hand still tense on the doorknob, Hob froze in his tracks.

In complete darkness, Morpheus was sitting on his couch, his thighs pressed against his chest, still wearing the old t-shirt Hob had given him as improvised sleepwear. He barely seemed to notice the interruption. He barely seemed to breathe, for that matter. He simply sat there, statuesque, his eyes burning a hole into the opposite wall.

Relief flooded through Hob at the sight, no matter how eerie it felt. He was there. He hadn't gone anywhere. His hand relaxed around the doorknob, though his heartbeat had trouble adjusting.

"You alright?" he asked quietly, his voice slightly hoarse.

There was no acknowledgment of his presence, or answer. Still as a rock, Morpheus kept staring at the wall, his face blank.

Hob dared a few steps closer.

"Can't sleep?" he tried again, cautious not to startle him as he neared the couch. He considered switching on the lights, but quickly decided against it. It felt like one of those matters that were best discussed under the cover of darkness. The constant London light pollution would have to do.

"It's all so... silent."

Hob stilled, caught off guard by the sound of Morpheus' voice. It was still his, undeniably, every note, every inflection, but it missed... something. An edge. A preternatural depth that rose from the dawn of times, when the first being laid down and dreamt on its first night. A human did not need such speech. Like the rest, it now belonged to Daniel.

Hob approached him, electing to sit at the edge of the couch rather than directly next to Morpheus.

"You think this is silent?"

He had grown used to the constant whir of London life, every new century bringing new sounds to the mix, but there was no ignoring the myriad of dogs barking outside, the drunk students talking much louder than social norms would allow during the day, and the ballet of bin lorries and automated street cleaners. Could Morpheus not hear that?

"How can you bear it?"

Slowly, Morpheus' eyes left the wall to settle on Hob, turning to face him. Even with the lack of proper lighting, Hob could see his eyes clearly. Blue, as the day they first met. And full of apprehension about this world he'd never had to navigate this way, even though his pride would not allow him to put it in such words. This, at least, had been his to keep.

Hob stared at Dream, at a loss for words. If this was silence for him, what hellish racket must have been filling his mind until then? How could he bear it?

"It's all I've ever known," he said, settling for something that felt true, in his core. "I'm sorry. I imagine it must be... jarring."

"It is... unnerving," Morpheus nodded slowly, looking down, as though he would not bear to admit it while looking at Hob in the eyes. "Isolating. Empty. And at the same time..."

"Deafening," Hob supplied helpfully. "I understand."

Of course it felt empty, he thought. When one had spent their entire existence with the collective unconscious at their fingertips, dreams and nightmares echoing into their ears every second of every day, being severed from it must feel like having your head dunked into a bucket of water.

"It is no wonder humans devised all matters of utensils to fill the silence," Morpheus mused faintly. "It kept them from going mad."

Them. Humans. Hob wondered how long it would take Morpheus to see himself as one. Never, perhaps. He struggled to see himself as other than what he was, originally. The only difference between them was that Hob had considerably benefited from the change. For Morpheus, this was hardly a step-up. It was free falling.

There was an urge there, lodged deep into Hob's chest, to reach for Morpheus' hand, to hold him close, to offer him all the reassurance he could provide and then more. But Morpheus was not there yet. This human body ached, Hob knew it. It was new, unused, unacclimated to the world it had been thrown into. It looked every way the body he knew, the one he'd touched, loved, held, once. Not quite, though.

"We could buy you a white noise machine," Hob suggested lightly, pushing down the emotion down his throat. He was here, safe, it was all that mattered, in the end. Hob just needed to be patient.

Morpheus frowned, confused.

"It's a box that makes noise. Some people use it to fall asleep."

There was a huff, and the first hint of a smile on Morpheus' lips since their encounter with the Fates.

"Of course you people fashioned a noise machine."

"Don't knock it 'til you've tried it," Hob smiled, purposefully stirring the conversation towards a lighter territory. "Whale songs might be just what you need."

"I doubt it will suffice."

In spite of Hob's best efforts, Morpheus' playfulness was short-lived. His face closed again, returning to its persisting melancholy. Hob leant towards him, inching closer, assessing his lover's reaction, any sign of recoiling.

"What's wrong?"

"I fear I may not be... welcome to the Dreaming."

The admission rolled out of him like a wound, bloody and raw, almost shameful. Hob furrowed his brows.

"You're afraid Daniel may not grant you entry?"

"No, I..."

Morpheus gave out a faint frustrated sigh.

"It is no longer mine to rule. Dream of the Endless endures, outside of me. Perhaps I do not... belong there. My presence could be ill-received."

"Love, I―" Hob bit the inside of his cheek, trying to find the words that would hurt the least. "You will have to sleep at some point. That's... I'm sorry, but that's part of... this."

"I know."

In the darkness, Hob could have sworn he saw a tear trail down Morpheus' cheek, glistening in the light of a nearby street lamp.

"I'm sure Daniel will go easy on you. He's a good kid."

Was a good kid, Hob reminded himself. Daniel was an empty name now. There was no more Daniel Hall. Not really. Dream was what remained.

"It is a terrible fate I have delivered onto him," Morpheus countered weakly. "It would be fair on his part to torment me for it."

"Morpheus."

Unable to help himself, Hob rested his hand atop Morpheus'. His skin was warmer than usual, he noticed. Human. Instead of pulling away, Morpheus leant towards him, almost nuzzling against his shoulder.

"I have never fallen asleep," he confided softly. "Never dreamt. Not once."

It had always felt odd to Hob that Dream of the Endless, King of Dreams and Nightmares, did not sleep. How scary it must be, for someone who had never done it, to surrender yourself to the hand of another, in your most vulnerable state. Scary enough to leave the bed and avoid sleep altogether.

"I could hold you," Hob suggested gently. "Whatever happens in the Dreaming, it can't harm you here, can it?"

"No. Not really."

Not the most reassuring answer. Nor the clearest. Vagueness was a Morpheus trait, then, not a Dream trait. Good to know.

"I would like that. You, holding me."

"Come here, love."

It happened slowly, inch by inch, but Morpheus nestled into Hob's arms, resting his head in the crook of Hob's neck. Hob could feel his breath blowing against his skin, warm, regular, vital. It was odd, but far from unwelcome. More new than anything else.

"How does it happen? Do I merely close my eyes and wait?"

"Essentially. There is a relaxation aspect to it, though."

Clearly something Morpheus had no experience with either, considering how tense he felt against him.

"You could... breathe with me."

"Breathe with you?"

The suggestion sounded ridiculous in Morpheus' mouth, but Hob was not so easily deterred.

"Yeah, just... just humour me."

It was difficult, at first, for Morpheus to follow the rhythm of Hob's breathing. He was going either too fast or too slow, as though breathing did not come naturally to him, which, in fairness, it did not. It was a conscious effort, every time. After a few minutes of off-beat inhales and exhales, they came to a harmony, their chests rising and falling in tandem. Morpheus had only been pretending to sleep earlier, Hob understood. He could see it now, from the way his face truly relaxed, how his body became more pliant in his arms. If he was not fully asleep, he was getting there, at last.

Hob smiled at the sight, pressing his cheek against his lover's forehead. He could feel Morpheus' pulse where he held him, strong, regular, and undeniably human. Yet no less the man he loved, in spite of the changes.

"Sweet dreams, dear heart."

He raised his eyes to the ceiling, knowing full well there was no one to hear, and no one listening, but he could not help but add:

"Let him rest, will you? I don't think he's ever done that in his life. Might as well start this one with something new."

[tildeathiwillwrite]

June of Doom Day 6

"They don't care about you." / Flinch / Broken Promise / Abandoned

Prompts List | Event Masterpost

Hero x Villain Masterpost | <- Previous Part | Next Part ->

Fandom: Original Work

Words: 1600

Tag List: @juneofdoom @fourwingedsnake @whumperofworlds @pigeonwhumps @mr-orion

@scaewolf @doctorsawyer @pinkrangerv

CW: PTSD, breaking and entering, sabotage, self-deprecation, swearing, harsh words, denial, mentioned injury, crying

A/N: Introducing a couple new characters: Antihero, a part-time hero, part-time villain who owed Villain a few favors, and Youngest, the most inexperienced member of Hero's old team. Also the first appearance of Hero's powers! They're a telekinetic.

----------

“...are you sure the distraction’s gonna work?”

“Antihero knows what they’re about, love. Trust me, we’ll have all the time you need.”

Hero shifted uneasily in their seat, watching the lights of the city streak by outside the car window. “I do, but… what about Techie? Won’t they alert Shapeshifter, Sound Gun and Leader once they find out we’re inside?”

Villain sighed, eyes fixed on the road. “I already told you, I’ll handle it.” Hero opened their mouth, but Villain raised a finger from the wheel, silencing them. “And don’t worry, I won’t kill them. If all goes well, they won’t even suspect what we came for until it’s too late.”

“Okay….”

Villain turned onto a side street, close to Hero’s former team’s headquarters, but not close enough to draw attention. They eased the car to a stop and put it into park before turning to Hero. “Are you sure you want to go through with this? If things don’t go as planned, it could end very badly for both of us.”

Hero gritted their teeth and nodded, thoughts whirling. “Not just us, but Techie and Youngest and maybe Antihero and—!”

Villain gently put a finger on Hero’s lips. “Hush. It’ll all work out.”

“But—!”

“Trust me?”

Hero slowly exhaled, trying to soothe their racing nerves. “Trust you.”

Villain smiled. “Good. Now, let’s break into your old headquarters, shall we?” They removed their hand and swiftly exited the car. Hero stared after them for a long moment, painfully aware of the spot on their lips where Villain’s finger had just been, just barely brushing against their skin. Villain shut the car door, and Hero jumped, quickly following suit, heat spreading across their face.

Their mask would hide the worst of the blush, probably. And the rest was hopefully covered by the darkness—

“…Hero?”

Hero jumped. “S-sorry,” they mumbled, starting down the sidewalk. “Just… memories.”

Stupid, stupid, stupid! Hero couldn’t afford to lose focus. Not now. And especially not while inside their old headquarters, where every second that ticked by was one second closer to getting caught.

Caught.

And imprisoned.

And tortured….

“Hero?”

They snapped out of their thoughts as Villain gently touched their shoulder. “I…” Hero blinked and realized they’d almost walked past the side door, their ticket into the building. They smacked their forehead in frustration. “Fuck… sorry, I was just….”

Villain frowned. “If you’re not ready for this, we can turn around and go home. I’ll call off Antihero, and we can try again another day.” They glanced up at Hero’s old headquarters, and the frown deepened. “Your team did a lot of fucked up shit, and they deserve to pay for every damned scrap. 

“But…” they looked back to Hero, and their gaze softened. “We don’t have to do this now. Just say the word.”

Hero hesitated. The offer was tempting, it really was. But… they had the suspicion that if they backed out now, they would never muster up the courage to return. And that thought… that thought terrified them more than getting caught.

They shook their head.  “No. We’re doing this.”

“Alright.” Villain nodded slowly and gestured to the door. “Lead the way. This is your mission, after all.”

Hero took a deep breath, steeling their nerves against the memories that threatened to flood their brain and overwhelm them again. I’m coming, Youngest. They pressed their hand to the doorknob and reached out with their powers, grasping the inner mechanisms with insubstantial fingers.

The lock clicked. Hero allowed themself a small smile of victory. It had been a while since they’d used their telekinesis for something as complex as the lock. This was promising. They pushed open the door and slipped inside, Villain on their heels.

The side door opened into a hallway that ran along the entire length of the first floor of the headquarters, connecting to the lobby, a few unimportant storage rooms, and the service staircase. Hero led the way down the hallway, their powers seeking out and disabling the security cameras in the stairwell long before they reached the door.

“Alright,” Villain murmured as they ascended the stairs, “just point me in the direction of the surveillance room and I’ll be off.”

Hero nodded, passing the second and third-floor doors before stopping at the fourth floor. “Second door, end of that hallway.”

“Got it,” Villain moved past them, but Hero caught their arm.

“Just… don’t hurt them too badly. Please.”

Villain’s expression was unreadable beneath the mask, but they nodded. “Of course, love.”

With those words, they vanished through the door. Hero listened to their quiet footsteps for a couple heartbeats before they shook themself and continued up the stairs. Youngest would likely be in their room. Hero remembered from their training days when Leader would lock them in their room to prevent them from following on patrol before they were deemed ready.

The memory reared its head, threatening to drown them, but Hero shook their head and pressed on. Youngest. They were here for Youngest.

The lock was no more difficult to open than the side door. Youngest jumped up as the door opened, words already spilling out. “Is everything okay? Do you need me to…” Their eyes widened as their brain caught up with what they were seeing. “Hero?!”

Hero winced at the shock and disbelief in their voice. “Hey, Youngest.”

“I… you died! You’re supposed to be at the bottom of the ocean somewhere…” Youngest staggered, grabbing onto their desk for support. Frost spread across the wooden surface from their fingers, but they didn’t notice.

“Ah… is that what Leader told you?”

Youngest hesitated before nodding. “They said… they said you were taking a break, to go visit some family… but your plane crashed into the ocean…” They perked up and started moving towards the door. “We have to let everyone know you’re okay! Have you told Techie yet—?”

Hero didn’t move from the doorway, even as Youngest paused expectantly in front of them. “Listen to me, Youngest. I never went on a break, never went on a plane.”

Youngest blinked in confusion. “...huh?”

“I…” Hero’s voice shook as they sought the right words, “I was getting sloppy. Pulled one too many all-nighters. Let a couple big villains get away from me. Leader wasn’t happy about any of that. And… and when I asked to take a break, I think that’s when they snapped. There’s… there’s a reason why the lower levels are off-limits.”

Youngest stared at them, eyes growing wider by the second as Hero’s words sank in. They stepped back. “No,” they protested, “no, you’re lying!”

“I wish I was lying,” Hero murmured. “They don’t care about you. They only care about what you can do for them, and damned if you act like a person who has needs!”

Youngest shook their head, hands raised defensively. “How could you say something like that?! Leader took us in, trained us… they’re like a parent to me! They would never do that!”

“I’m sorry, Youngest, but it’s true. They’ll abandon you if they thought it was ‘for the good of the city’.” Hero’s voice turned mocking, remembering Teleporter’s words as they’d exacted the punishment ordered by Leader. “That’s why I came back. I didn’t want to leave you behind when you, too, caught their wrath.”

Youngest’s expression darkened. “Get out.”

Hero blinked. “What?”

“Get. The fuck. Out. Or I will make you leave. You’re not Hero. You’re something else, wearing their face, wearing their mask.”

Hero’s stomach churned, the earlier fear and panic returning at full force. “Youngest, I….”

“Don’t ‘Youngest’ me!” Youngest screamed, the temperature rapidly dropping. “Leave! Leave, or I might change my mind and trap you here so you can repeat your lies to Leader’s face! How does that sound?!”

Hero stepped back in shock. They wouldn’t… would they? “I’m sorry, Youngest,” they managed to say, voice shaking. “Just… I’m sorry.”

They thrust out with their hand, slamming the door shut with such hurried force that it rattled in the doorframe. The lock clicked, and Hero spun and sprinted back down the hallway, tears threatening to spill down their cheeks.

They were too late. 

Down the stairs.

They’d waited too long.

The fourth-floor hallway.

They failed.

The surveillance room. Hero barely glanced around the room, registering Techie lying unconscious on the floor before they dashed across the room to where Villain bent over the console. Villain turned in surprise, eyes widening as they noted the look on Hero’s face and the distinct lack of Youngest.

Hero mashed themself against Villain’s chest, the tears finally arriving in full force. “I… they… they thought I was… they didn’t want… threatened to…to….”

Villain slowly wrapped their arms around Hero, their fingers running through Hero’s hair. “Oh… I’m so sorry. You tried your best.”

“I… I really thought….”

“I know, I know.” Villain removed one of their hands, tapping on the keyboard. “If it’s any consolation, I got the other thing we needed.”

Hero continued to sob, Youngest’s words playing over and over in their mind.

“Hero… Hero!” Villain gently pushed them away and planted their hands on their shoulders. “We gotta get our asses out of here before the team gets back, okay? Plenty of time to sort through your emotions when we’re home free.”

Hero slowly nodded, removing their mask to wipe away the tears. “Okay…” they mumbled, voice still shaking.

Villain nodded, grabbing Hero’s hand. “Let’s go, love.”

[baejax-the-great]

ao3 exists, plus it doesnt even matter what terms i search for on tumblr 100% of the time theres fanfiction. literally you can search any words on this website and some kpop guy/ reader fanfics flood the results every single fucking time. plus some of us are not here for fandoms??? your circus/clown analogy is stupid

So I'm incredibly allergic to shrimp-- to the point where if I ate a single shrimp I would die, to the point where I don't really consider shrimp food anymore--and it's the weirdest thing, yesterday i went to Target to buy hair conditioner, and they were selling shrimp. Don't they know it wasn't what I was looking for and I can't eat it anyway? Why would they do this? Totally fucked up of those shrimp catchers to try to poison me like that.

But analogies clearly aren't your thing, so let me break this down for you.

AO3 does indeed exist, but your suggestion that fanfic live there and ONLY there is akin to saying that imgur exists, so nobody should be posting images, whether they be photos or art, on any other website. Twitter exists (sort of), so really nobody should be posting shit posts or hot takes that are fewer than 140 characters or whatever.

Not everyone uses AO3. There is no law saying that if you write fanfic, you must post it on AO3 and nowhere else. There will never be a law that says that, because that's not how the internet works. Tumblr, one of the few social media sites that allows longform blogging, is in fact a great alternative to AO3 for one-shots. It's a little trickier for multi-chapter posts, but I've seen people make it work.

AO3 is not social media. People can't DM there, send asks, make friends, bump their post to the top of the feed (unless they are an asshole who is about to get blocked by half of fandom for pulling that move). Do you like social media? I mean you're here, on tumblr, bothering a total stranger, so you must see some value to it. Guess what--fanfic authors also enjoy being on social media and sharing what they've been up to, including their WIPs.

Things you aren't looking for being part of your searches is literally just life on the internet at all times forever. Earlier this month I was looking for a reference of draped fabric for drawing purposes. I googled 'chiton drawing' (chitons like the ancient Greeks used to wear), and all I got were drawings of molluscs of the genus 'chiton.' Alright, I did a google search for "toga drawing" and learned that there is an anime girl named Toga and people very much enjoy drawing her. Were the artists of the molluscs or the anime girl to blame for me having to slog through a bunch of irrelevant pictures to find one that could help me with my drawing? No. They correctly labeled what they were doing. That's just life.

Seeing fanfic in the tag doesn't harm you. At all. It doesn't matter if you find it cringe, or it's a ship you don't like, or it's xReader. For like ten seconds you looked at words you didn't particularly like, and then you moved on. How is that different from literally any other post on tumblr? I see bad takes and essays I don't care about on this site all the time. It's called scrolling. Again, this will be the case for every website on the internet forever. Are you telling me you read every tweet in your feed? Every reddit post? Sometimes you see irrelevant stuff. I guarantee some of my mutuals have already deemed this long ass post irrelevant and are scrolling on by. What makes fiction that much more abhorrent to you than the rest of the nonsense?

If you really hate seeing fanfic, tumblr has content blocking and tag blocking. You can block the phrase "x Reader." You can block the tag "fanfic." You can block all sorts of things, and if that doesn't work, you can just block the writers whose existence annoys you.

Sorry man, you personally not liking fandom and not using tumblr for it has really no bearing on what everyone else is doing. Like it or not, tumblr is a hub of fandom, and fanfic authors are going to be a part of every fandom on this green earth. Just because you came to the circus in order to admire the pretty fabric used on the tents doesn't mean the performers are in the wrong for doing their thing.

[cafecliche]

fic writer meme!

[RISES FROM THE DEPTHS] I'm here!! Thank you so much @uhuraisgay and @englishsub for the tags, and also for reminding me that I've missed Tumblr

1. how many works do you have on ao3? 50 even - which was more than I thought!

2. what's your total ao3 wordcount? 187,448

3. what fandoms do you write for?

My fic-writing impulses come along like cicada seasons, except without any regularity whatsoever: I do a lot of dabbling in a lot of fandoms, I can never really tell if something's going to light my brain on fire. Most of my fic output came from Yuletide for a long while (I loved the grab bag aspect and writing little treats for small fandoms, but then my holidays got busier), and then Yuri on Ice and MDZS were my biggest fandoms by far, especially MDZS. I've written Yuwu recently, and I'd love to write some Trigun, LoZ, or Mysterious Lotus Casebook one of these days.

4. what are your top 5 fics by kudos?

grow

the only way out

The Guests of Cloud Recesses

detente

bespoke

And the soft animal is our runner-up at #6!

5. do you respond to comments?

I usually don't unless it's a request or a question, but I read and treasure every one.

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I am too tender for Bad Endings for the most part, but my canon-verse Nie Huaisang fic after me comes the flood does not end in a particularly good place for anyone involved. (But even then, we know it gets better for him eventually... albeit at the expense of several bystanders)

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I tend to write pretty gentle, occasionally LIGHTLY bittersweet happy endings (that's the cafecliche guarantee baby) but part of me wants to say 'the only way out' (and probably 'the yunmeng accords' series in general) here. I tend to write fic when I want to play around with the emotions or relationship dynamics that can already be found in canon, so 'the yunmeng accords' is probably as close to a fix-it as I'm going to get.

8. do you get hate on fics?

Not usually! I was part of the Great MDZS Anon Hate Train of 2021, but that was the worst I've ever gotten by several magnitudes - the vast majority of commenters are fabulous.

9. do you write smut?

Not yet! It's not off the table, though.

10. do you write crossovers? what's the craziest one you have written?

I actually don't think I've ever written a crossover! The closest I've ever gotten was when I look over my shoulder, but even that's 'Wangxian in a Conjuring-esque ghosthunters in love situation' and not really a formal Conjuring AU.

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

I've had plagiarism brought to my attention a couple times, but truly just a handful. I still remember getting a message on FF.net that someone had ripped off a line from my Black Lagoon fic. The SCANDAL of it all.

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

MDZS is the first fandom where I've gotten translation requests, which is always so cool! To my knowledge, I've had fics translated into Russian, Spanish, and Ukranian.

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, but brainstorming fic concepts with my brilliant friends is one of my favorite thing in the world.

14. what's your all time favorite ship?

omg ever? Well Victuuri and Wangxian have been the ones that really lit my brain on fire (if I own the Nendos, it's serious) but let me also throw it back to Fakir and Ahiru in Princess Tutu. That is ROMANCE.

15. what is a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I would have really liked to have one more entry to 'the yunmeng accords!' I had a couple of ideas that I really liked, but nothing that caught fire quite enough to dive into it. That said, I am currently working on something short and Yunmeng Shuangjie-related, at the very least...

16. what are your writing strengths?

Emotional through-lines, pacing, and that sweet, sweet catharsis. I'm drawn to particular fandoms when they leave me with an emotion that I need to break down over the course of several thousand words, and I know that shows through in my writing.

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

Choreography! I'm not a very visual thinker, so sometimes it takes me a while just to figure out how to block the characters in a given scene. I also have a lot of trouble getting into a draft until I figure out the voice, which, when it comes to fanfic, will either come to me extremely easily or not at all.

18. thoughts of writing dialogue in another language in fics?

Yeah, absolutely! (But if you don't speak the language, do your research!)

19. first fandom you wrote for?

[rubs my temples] an X-Men crackfic.

20. favorite fic you have written?

Oh my god. WELL. 'grow' and 'the only way out' I think are the best fics I've written, and 'when I look over my shoulder' and 'the soft animal' are also extremely close to my heart. But 'detente' might be the favorite child. It just gushed out of me.

I think a great many of you have been tagged at this point, so sorry for any double-tags, but: @bluecrystalrainingdaggers @tigerjpg @floofyfluff @vinelark and anyone else who'd like to go for it!

[bakuliwrites]

Serenity- Satoru Gojo x Reader

Rating: 18+ (MINORS DNI)

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Relationship: Satoru Gojo x Reader

Tags: JJK 0 Spoilers, Fluff, Angst, Smut, Penetrative S*x, Oral S*x, soft Gojo, past Gojo x Geto x Reader, Secret Relationship, Romance, Gender-Neutral Reader Pronouns, Mentions of Death, Romance

Summary: Gojo moves like liquid, even in this cramped space. His motions are seamless, the ebb and flow of his cursed energy mesmerizing. If you weren’t in the midst of exorcising the mimic curse right alongside him, you’d pause to watch. You can feel the voltaic thrum of his very soul with every powerful attack he makes. His wrath bursts in rays of light and his brutality is icy cold. You understand why Satoru Gojo is called The Honored One. He’s using minimal effort and still, his motions are awe-inspiring.

You and Gojo go on what is supposed to be a simple mission, but are met with more than you bargained for.

Read here in this post or over on my AO3

When Gojo asked you to accompany him into the city, you knew it wasn’t going to be a trip for pleasure. It never is. The only pleasure that will come out of it is the multitude of sweet treats he’ll inevitably purchase along the way, which you can look forward to partaking in as well. Otherwise, his request is for work and nothing more. The first time he’d asked you, you’d been over the moon. To you, it meant he trusted you at his side, as a partner, as a sorcerer. Now, it’s become a bit more like babysitting a full grown man, trying to make sure he doesn’t give himself a tummy ache from eating too many daifuku or any number of other desserts. 

Today’s mission will be relatively simple: scoping out a place for the first-years to practice. There’s a relatively low level curse in an abandoned building nearby, one that would be perfect for students to exorcise. 

As you walk the busy streets of Tokyo, Gojo chatters away at you, occasionally stopping to excitedly point out a creperie or an ice cream parlor. He always seems to wander in an aimless fashion, but deep-down, you know he’s got his own map going in his head. It’s carefully curated to hit his favorite sweet stores, while also leading you towards your end destination. Though, by this point in your relationship, you already know all his favorite spots. You could easily tune out, follow blindly, not bothering to observe the shifting throng of people around you. But that’s not how sorcerers do things. No, your eyes are alert behind your dark sunglasses, observing your surroundings keenly, watching out for curses. So far, so good though, so you engage in a bit of light chit-chat with the lanky sorcerer beside you. 

“So, how do you think the first-years are doing?” he ventures, his tone casual and bright. He takes a bite of a crepe filled to the brim with strawberries and cream. 

“I think they’re promising,” you return sincerely, watching as Gojo licks a bit of chocolate syrup off his thumb, “Fushiguro is quiet, but seems confident in his ability. Nobara is certainly talented and seems sure of herself. And Itadori is getting stronger every day.”

He nods quietly, considering your opinion. He ultimately seems to agree with you, giving you a thumbs-up, his mouth too full of pastry to verbally respond. 

“Remind you of us, huh?” he returns, nudging you teasingly with his elbow. You smile wistfully, thinking back to your own years at Jujutsu High.

“Yeah, they do,” you muse, a sudden flood of memories, both good and bad, filling you almost to the brim. They’re overwhelming. You and Shoko poking fun at Geto and Gojo, training together, going on missions, lounging around on hot summer days. You generally try not to think about the past. Not because you have any animosity towards your upbringing at the high school. No, quite the opposite. Those joyful memories mark such a painful period in your life. In all the lives of those who knew and loved Suguru Geto. There’s a hollow in your heart where you keep the memories of your high school experience. Where you keep the feeling of Suguru, a powerhouse even in his noticeable absence. They’re kept warm there, alive, stimulated by the rush of your blood.

“Those were some pretty good days,” you hear Gojo distantly say. He stuffs his free hand in his pocket, gazing through his blindfold up at the clear sky above. He’s silent for a beat and it’s strange. It’s always strange when he’s quiet. For as many years as you’ve known him, Satoru Gojo has been a troublemaker. A chatterbox. Gregarious, cocky, and playful. But his moments of silence feel real to you. More real than the boisterous attitude he usually puts on.   

Walking beside Gojo on the busy streets of Tokyo, you can see his quiet intensity, hidden beneath a showy bravado meant to throw others off. You, Suguru, Shoko: you’re some of the lucky few that have bore witness to Gojo’s quieter moments. These moments are marked by a static electricity, a strange and voltaic charge that hovers in the air. There’s something entirely unpredictable about Gojo, especially in his silence. It makes you nervous: not because you’re scared he’s going to hurt you or do something awful. But because you can almost feel the chilly void his sorrow rests in.

“You still enjoying teaching at Jujutsu High?” he questions after a while, discarding his empty crepe wrapper in a nearby trash can. You offer him one of your extra napkins so he can clean off his hands, which he graciously accepts, plucking it from your grasp. The tension dissipates. The lightness of your earlier conversation returns. 

“I am,” you beam, proud of your profession. You came back to teach there a couple of years ago, after trying to unsuccessfully branch out on your own. You’re not new anymore, but Gojo still likes to check in with you every once in a while.

“I love getting to know the students,” you go on, pausing to let Gojo tenderly wipe off a little bit of whipped cream from the corner of your mouth, “And teaching the next generation is an honor.”

“Sure, sure. But-” he gives you another nudge and you can imagine him winking behind his blindfold, “We all know you came back because you missed me.” 

“Pshh,” you return, folding your arms over your chest and rolling your eyes, “You wish, Toru.”

Entirely too proud of himself, Gojo’s cackling seems to echo through the empty alleyway you’ve suddenly found yourself in. You’ve gone from a densely populated area to an abandoned side street in a matter of moments. You can barely even hear the sounds of the city, which really isn’t all that far away. The air is stifling here, the desolation seeming to permeate the very marrow in your bones. The air feels entirely devoid of human activity, filled instead with a noxious, leaden weight. Before you can take another step, Gojo holds his arm out protectively in front of you.

“Something’s off,” he states just barely above a whisper. You can undoubtedly sense the rancid energy pulsing through the building to your left. This doesn’t feel like the low-level curse you and Gojo had initially believed it to be. This power feels- immense . Not something the two of you can’t handle, but certainly not what you were originally prepared to face. And certainly not something you’d want to send a couple of rookie first-years in to deal with. Not knowingly, at least. 

You steel yourself, flashing Gojo a serious look before he silently nods and takes a step towards a rusty metal door. It screeches with age as Gojo wrenches it open. You’re met with a crushing darkness on the other side, a putrid smell immediately assaulting your nose. You can just barely make out some formless shapes scattered about an otherwise empty expanse of a warehouse. The unpleasant, sweet smell of rot weaves through the air as you take a couple cautious steps forward. Gojo is tense, alert. He’s following the trail of cursed energy radiating from whatever entity is holed up inside. It feels like it might be a semi-grade one, whatever it is. 

As you trail Gojo through dark corridors piled up with refuse and barrels filled with unidentifiable liquids, you think you can hear something skittering about above you. In the silence, it feels closer than it probably is. You feel like you’re breathing too loud, walking too loud. Like your footsteps fall heavier than usual. 

Just as you round a corner into a stairwell, you hear your name echo softly down the hallway you just came from. You freeze, looking back, only to see impenetrable darkness. Gojo halts right alongside you, one foot on the first step. 

“Did you hear-” you start, brows knit together, trailing off when your name is called yet again.

“Shoko?” you and Gojo finish together, quietly so as not to alert whoever or whatever is clearly impersonating your childhood friend. All the hairs on your body suddenly stand on end, an overwhelming sense of dread washing over you. Gojo, less reactive, feels it, too. He gently places his hand on your shoulder, dismounting from the stairs and moving to stand beside you. 

“Gojo?” Shoko’s voice tries, but this time it sounds like it’s coming from above you. 

Is it throwing its voice? you wonder to yourself, not quite ready to address how this thing knows both your name and Gojo’s. Though you suppose in the world of curses and sorcerers, Gojo’s name is pretty well known. Something rumbles in the air vent just above you. Wordlessly, you and your companion acknowledge your plan of action. You’ve worked together enough times to know how the other operates, to play to one another's strengths. 

“Pretty low of you to impersonate a friend of ours,” Gojo returns, his jaw set, irritation spreading. His tone is sharp, cutting. This creature is an affront to Gojo, to you. He makes it patently obvious in the harshness of his accusation, the hard set of his jaw. 

“Gojoooooo,” the creature calls out again, the voice of Shoko melting into something grotesque and gravelly.

“And cowardly to not even show your face,” Gojo continues, every word out of his mouth dripping with poison. There’s a gentle laugh, an eerily familiar one. 

“Gojo, you wound me,” Geto’s voice sounds. Gojo’s brows raise, taken aback by this shift in voice. But he doesn’t let it rattle him. 

You ready yourself, knowing what’s coming, when suddenly, without much warning, the cover to the air vent flies off, smacking the opposite wall with a metallic pang . In a rush of foul air and many limbs, a massive curse comes clambering out of the cramped ventilation system. How it fit in there, you’re not sure. It fills the stairwell, curving upwards like a bloated snake. Its sallow skin looks slimy to the touch and it seems to gaze through eyeless hollows at you and Gojo, a toothy mouth splitting into a horrendous grin. You stand frozen, feet planted firmly to the ground, eyes wide with horror. It’s rare for you to freeze in the face of a curse. But the curse’s desecration of your most cherished friends’ voices fills you with a rage, a fear you’ve never felt before. 

“You wouldn’t hurt me, would you, Gojo?” it rumbles, Geto’s voice distorting with every word. 

“You’re pretty disgusting,” Gojo goes on, casually inspecting the curse from his distance and making you roll your eyes. He always manages to work in as many insults as he can before he attacks. You also know it’s a self-defense mechanism. Humor to dispel how deeply uncomfortable he is to hear Geto’s voice again, and for it to be coming from something that’s such a parody of humanity. To be honest, his casual attitude is somewhat of a comfort to you, as well. 

“Probably not very smart either, huh?” he continues, snickering as he turns towards you, “Don’t you think?”

“Are you just going to stand there and roast it to death or are we actually going to exorcise it?” you shoot back, trying to re-center Gojo. Though his humor is a comfort sometimes, it’s also pretty distracting. However, before Gojo can respond with yet another quip, the curse turns its attention towards you.

“You wouldn’t hurt meeeeeeee,” it creaks. 

“Don’t listen to it,” Gojo tries, a slight quiver in his voice, one you’ve never heard before. Is he worried? No time to think about that right now, you realize. 

“You wouldn’t hurt meeeeeeee,” the curse repeats, and this time, you’ve had enough. And so has Gojo. He charges up, rushing the creature, with you not far behind.

Gojo moves like liquid, even in this cramped space. His motions are seamless, the ebb and flow of his cursed energy mesmerizing. If you weren’t in the midst of exorcising the mimic curse right alongside him, you’d pause to watch. You can feel the voltaic thrum of his very soul with every powerful attack he makes. His wrath bursts in rays of light and his brutality is icy cold. You understand why Satoru Gojo is called The Honored One. He’s using minimal effort and still, his motions are awe-inspiring. 

In less than a second, his demeanor shifted from joking and casual to chilly and focused. It’s almost like he becomes an entirely different person in battle. No, not a different person. It’s merely that the saccharine outer layers of him slough off and he reveals who he truly is. A dark star in the center of a lacuna.  

In no time, the two of you have managed to exorcise the spirit. It shrivels, withers like starved ivy in the rays of a harsh sun, before disintegrating into dust. Gojo stands proudly over its remains.

“Good job! Look at that quick work!” he praises, lifting a small corner of his blindfold to wink at you. He’s back to being Casual Gojo, beloved and enigmatic sensei who never takes anything seriously. It’s all a front, and you know this well. There is pain in Satoru, deep-seated and immense. It’s as if he sits huddled at the bottom of an endless, empty well, light just barely reaching his shivering form. His barrier is cold to the touch, icy and impenetrable. A wall of infinity surrounds him.

You stare at him blankly, unsure of why you can’t be happy at this moment. Of why you can’t rejoice alongside him. Maybe it was your earlier conversation about the first years, the flood of memories, the mimicry of familiar voices. It all swirls around in your head, foggy and confusing. 

“Hey, you alright?” he ventures, hands stuffed in his pockets as he approaches you, head tilted in confusion. 

“Um,” you try, voice quivering. You clear your throat, trying to steady yourself, “I think I need some air.” 

You climb the stairs, heading up towards the roof of the building, both to ensure you’ve taken care of everything that needs to be taken care of (it seems there’s no cursed energy remaining from any other entities, luckily) and to search for some clean air. Not the oppressive air from the alley outside. Gojo takes the lead, his long strides carrying him up the stairs faster than you. But he’s oddly gracious today, and slows down when he realizes you’re lagging behind. 

A cool breeze blasts your face as soon as you open the creaky door leading out to the rooftop. It’s much appreciated as you inhale deeply and feel the fog lift from your mind. It’s dark already, the city lights twinkling all around you. In the distance, you can hear the sound of evening traffic and human activity. It’s a relief to be reminded that not all of the world is inhabited by curses. Not all of the world is a travesty of the past.

Silently, you take a seat, dangling your feet over the edge of the flat roof. From up here, everything looks so small. You are acutely aware of Gojo plopping down beside you. You peek at him out of the corner of your eye. He removes his blindfold, wrapping it up around his left hand. His snowy lashes create shadows on his cheekbones with the light from a nearby neon sign and the thin strands of his hair blow about lazily in the wind. 

“It was gross-” he begins in a low voice, staring out at the city, “-to hear his voice coming from something so grotesque. ” 

He flicks his gaze over to you, cerulean eyes like pooling wells of sorrow. All you can do is nod, desperately willing yourself not to cry. You can feel the tightness in your chest, the threat of oncoming tears. 

“I just felt so- so helpless, when it came to Suguru,” you explain, thinking back to when he defected, to his death, “And every reminder of him is just another jab in my psyche. Another painful reminder of how-”

Of how I failed him, you want to finish, Of how we failed him. It’s something that’s haunted you for years now. And you know it’s haunted Gojo just as much, probably more. 

“I know what you mean,” he finishes for you, not needing to hear what’s going through your head to understand. He knows you so well at this point. You could probably have full conversations without any words if Gojo weren’t so much of a chatterbox. 

“What’s the point of being the strongest if you can’t even protect the people that mean the most to you?” he breathes, staring out at the distant stars. You gaze up at him, his eyes searching a sky that seems to reflect back into them. Blue discs that contain the multitude of the universe. 

You could sit here and list off a bunch of platitudes about how life is cruel. About how things don’t always work out how we want, despite our efforts. But what good would that do? So you just sit in silence with him, letting yourself slowly tip sideways until you’re leaning against his shoulder. He doesn’t pull away. In fact, he softens, before gently resting his head atop yours. 

The burdens a sorcerer experiences in the world of Jujutsu are many. Protecting the innocent, the unaware. Maintaining order. Training the next generation, and making sure they don’t die in the process. All of these are things that you have chosen to experience. Things you’ve put upon yourself in your pursuit of a life goal. Gojo, however, is burdened by expectation, a birthright he didn’t ask for. Pre-ordained to be relied on. To surpass all those who came before him. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to make it all about me,” he chuckles, “I guess what I mean is that it’s hard not to feel responsible for someone you care about.”

“Even if it’s not your fault,” you add, looking pointedly up at him. You know he blames himself the most for what happened. You know he wishes he could turn back the clock, rectify what cannot be rectified. He makes a small, “hmph,” paired with a rueful smile. 

“You’re too nice,” he returns, picking at a loose string on your pants. He’s always fidgeting with loose strings on your clothes or locks of your hair. It’s something he’s done since he was a teenager, a little habit that hasn’t seemed to change over the years. You smile to yourself, comforted by one of the few things in your life that seems stable: Gojo’s endless fidgeting. 

“I don’t wanna curse anyone, Satoru,” you mumble after a long beat of silence, staring out into the empty windows in the building across from you. It looks like a decrepit office building, long abandoned. It doesn’t seem to be inhabited by curses, thank goodness, but it looks sad to you, for some reason.

“What do you mean?” he exclaims, raising up a bit to give you a showy, flabbergasted look, like he always does when he’s trying to lighten the mood if your conversations start to get heavy. 

“You know what I mean,” you go on, matching his shock with a look of exasperation, wanting him to take something seriously for once. His goofy look fades, replaced with one of understanding. Gojo has his soft moments, and you’re appreciative of this. 

“I know what you mean,” he comforts, wrapping his arm around you and scooting you closer. There’s little more that either of you can say to one another. Sometimes, that’s just the reality of things. 

At least curse me a little at the very end, rings in your mind. But it’s in Gojo’s voice, because he recounted it to you. Because you only got there after the damage had been done. And the guilt of not being there gnaws at you everyday. 

“Don’t curse me at the end,” you whisper, resting your hand on Gojo’s knee and squeezing tight, “I won’t curse you, either.” 

You feel his strong grip on your shoulder, tugging you even closer, like he’s trying to press you into his body. Like he’s trying to merge the two of you.

“How about this?” he replies, pulling back so he can look you in the eye, “Promise me you won’t get into any trouble, huh?” 

He laughs, his usual cheery demeanor returning, and you can’t help but smile a little. But you can hear what he really means, Don’t let me lose you, too. That’s not a promise you can keep, and he knows it. His soft smile seems to say, Just indulge me. Say you promise, even though I know you can’t.

“Promise,” you lie, trying so hard not to let the tears stinging the corners of your eyes escape their fragile confines. You are unsuccessful, the dam breaking and tears flooding your vision. 

“Hey,” Gojo breathes, cupping your cheeks, his thumbs wiping away the tears now streaming down your face, “I didn’t mean to make you cry!”

“Sorry,” you sniffle, gripping his hands and holding them in place, fearing that if you let go he’ll fade out of existence before your very eyes, “I just-”

The loss is endless. It will never stop. And one day, you know that either you’ll lose Gojo, or Gojo will lose you. In some capacity or another.  

“Hey, c’mon,” he hushes, pressing a featherlight kiss to your lips before helping to lift you to your feet, “Let’s head back.” 

He only ever kisses you in private, because no one is supposed to know about the two of you. Because he’s sure the higher ups would use it as some kind of ammo against him. Against you. This gentle secret is one of the few things that has kept you sane over the years. Stolen kisses after missions alone together, secret rendezvous’ whenever you have a moment to spare. You’re honestly astounded Gojo has managed to keep it to himself after all this time. The only other person that knows is Shoko. And she wouldn’t breathe a word to anyone. 

Gojo re-wraps his blindfold around his head and places his hand on the small of your back, guiding you out of the building and towards the exit. Your walk home is filled with more of his idle chatter, but honestly, you’re grateful for it. Anything to distract you from the nasty feeling that abandoned building has left you with. 

The highschool is silent when you return. None of the lights are on. You’re greeted by the sorcerer on patrol before you slip inside the teachers quarters. You pull Gojo into your room, certain that no one sees, and quietly shut the door behind you. As soon as you’re inside, his lips are on yours as he gently presses you against the nearest wall. He tastes sweet, like strawberries and cream. Gojo rests his hands on your waist, his fingertips playing with the hem of your shirt. He drops his Infinity for you, allowing you to feel him, actually him and not the barrier that would normally stop others. His skin is soft, warm, and you can feel the flutter of his heart beneath his breast. 

For a while, this is as far as you go, letting him encompass you in his arms, pushed safely against the wall, warm in Gojo’s embrace. The only sounds that fill your ears are soft gasps, the shifting of fabric as Gojo’s large hands start to explore, and the small plip your lips make when they press against one another. Before long, though, Gojo lifts you into his arms and carries you towards your bed. 

Carefully, he lays you down, tugging at his shirt and letting his pants slip down to his ankles while you work on getting rid of all your clothing. As soon as the two of you are free, he climbs on top of you, laying his lips against yours once again. When he’s with you, it feels as if he’s wrapped you in his Infinity. As if by encompassing you in his arms, he’s encompassed you in a limitless, protective realm. 

“May I?” you ask quietly, gesturing to his blindfold. 

“Only if you wanna get lost in them,” he teases, smirking. 

“You are ridiculous,” you return with probably the nth eyeroll of the day. He peppers your face with kisses amidst his laughing, before acquiescing and letting you unfurl his blindfold. You let it fall to the sheets beneath you as you’re met with blue eyes that hold infinity in them. Indeed, you find yourself lost in them. But for once, instead of making a joke about it, Gojo simply smiles. This moment is soft, quiet. In fact, it’s the quietest you’ve ever heard him. 

He stares at you for a while, eyes roving over your face, drinking you in while one hand tucks some errant strands of hair behind your ear. You rest one palm on his chin, your thumb on his lips, caressing the dip in his cupid’s bow. In the darkness, in the sanctity of your room, he’s vulnerable for a moment. He’s the strongest, but he reminds you that he’s human. That he’s just as fragile as you are. He looks at you like you are everything. He looks at you like he looked at Suguru. Like you looked at Suguru. There’s an intimacy between the three of you that perhaps no one else will ever understand. An intimacy that sadly only endured for two. 

“I won’t ever curse you,” he breathes, pressing his forehead to yours, “And you’re not going to curse anyone either. I’m sure of it.” 

Something in you shatters a little at his words. Nothing is ever a guarantee, but for some reason when Satoru says it, you believe him. He pulls back just enough to kiss you and you feel him smile against you. 

“I want to say something,” you venture, “But I’m scared it will curse you if I do.” 

He gives you that damned lopsided smile, that dopey, cocky look. 

“You’re not gonna curse me,” he reassures, “Just say it. Besides, I’m the strongest, aren’t I? I can handle it.” 

You stare at him for a moment, considering his words. You’ve heard him talk about the most twisted curse of all. You’re well aware of its power, its ability to fell even the strongest of sorcerers. But you suppose that both you and Gojo have experienced that curse already. With Suguru. And to you, when he says, “You’re not gonna curse me,” you know that what he really means is, We’ve both been cursed already. What’s one more curse to pile on? 

“I love you, Satoru,” you whisper in this sacred silence, half expecting the very foundation of the earth to crumble beneath you, “And that’s not me cursing you. I swear it.”

He pauses, eyes still searching. Always searching. But his silence isn’t unnerving. You know he’s grappling with this confession, with your words. Words that you’ve never had to say to one another before because it’s always just been inherently true. Suddenly, they’re out in the open. Raw. Naked. Delicate. And yet they carry a strength that is unsurpassable. Unbeatable. 

“I love you, too,” he returns, his eyes glimmering in the darkness, “And that’s not me cursing you, either.” 

He says it with such conviction, with such confidence. As if to say, “Fuck you,” to any curse that might try to imbue itself in your tender admission. Into his. Nothing will taint this feeling. Just as nothing could taint what you and Gojo felt for Suguru. 

This might be the first time you’ve formally said those three words, but it’s certainly not the first time you’ve felt it for him. And it’s not the first time that either of you have said something in a similar vein to one another. Often, your love is unspoken. You’ve never needed to say it or to hear it to know that Satoru Gojo loves you. You never said it to Suguru Geto and neither did he. So you reason to yourself that it doesn’t matter if you say it or not. A curse is a curse, spoken or unspoken. 

You put these thoughts to rest as Gojo trails kisses down your neck, sucking on the tender flesh just beneath your ear, drawing constrained moans from you. You’re trying so hard to keep quiet, but it’s difficult when you feel Gojo’s erection graze your inner thigh. He buries his face further into your neck when you start to stroke his cock, languid pumps causing him to mewl pathetically into you. He’s particularly noisy, which has been both a source of amusement and argument for the two of you. Tonight, however, he’s doing his best to muffle his sounds. 

You can tell he’s exhausted from the day, all his motions unhurried, purposeful. He seems to want to take his time with you, to feel close. He’s never one to outright admit how he’s feeling, but you know him better than anyone. And you can tell he’s probably traumatized a bit by this afternoon’s cursed entity. By the voice of a long dead companion. He’s just as much in need of comfort as you are. 

The night passes slowly, but in the best of ways. You and Gojo are intertwined, a tangle of limbs as he gradually eases himself into you. The two of you rest on your sides, your back pressed to his chest, a pillow between your legs to give you better leverage. And Gojo a better angle. When he’s got his full length inside you, he holds you close, his hand resting on your abdomen while one of yours reaches up to tangle in his hair.  

“Toru,” you whisper gently, running your fingers through his pale locks, each strand soft between your fingers. You feel his breath fanning against the shell of your ear as he leans in to nip gently at your lobe. 

He starts to rock his hips, rolling deeply, taking his sweet time. He’s got a lot of stamina in that lithe body of his, so he’s not worried about tiring himself out. But he’s sure to take breaks when you need them. 

The air is hot, heavy, so you crack open a window to let in the night breeze. A beam of moonlight creeps through, illuminating a long, thin strip of your bedroom. Gojo’s hair looks like starlight in the silver light of the moon and his cheeks are rosy. You come together the first time, your core tight before it blissfully releases as Satoru spills into you. His cum runs down your leg, drips onto the sheets, fills you with a welcome warmth. His kisses afterwards are desperate, hungry, utterly sloppy. 

The second time, all he really seems to want is his head buried between your thighs. He laps you up like he’s parched. Like he’s been stranded in a desert and you’re an oasis. You have to bite a pillow to muffle your overstimulated cry when your walls pulse and release. When Gojo crashes his lips into yours, he tastes like you. 

“Best dessert of the day,” he winks, before it’s his turn. You delight in his muffled, needy moans. His desperate keens as you swirl the tip of your tongue around the swollen tip of his dick. He wants to finish on you, if you’ll let him, and you do. His cum is warm as he releases threads over your abdomen. The two of you have to stealthily find your way to the bathroom, in the dark, and hope that no one hears you tidying up. You and Gojo giggle for a while once you return to your bedroom, finding amusement in how you have to constantly sneak around like you have some sort of curfew or something.

Your final time that night, he’s sheathed deep inside you again, but he picks up the pace a little towards the end, at your request. You’re both covered in a thin layer of sweat by the end of it, your bodies flushed and muscles shaky. Gojo flops down on top of you once he’s spent himself, piercing gaze rolling up to meet yours. His chin rests on your soft stomach. He looks at you like he’s looking at the stars for the very first time.

“I like it better when I can see you without the blindfold,” he practically coos. A pink blush blooms over your cheeks and it’s now that Gojo takes the opportunity to tease once again.

“Awww, did I embarrass you?” he starts, ruining your tender moment with his snickering. But his laughter is muffled when you smash your lips against his.

“You’re rude, Toru,” you scold between kisses. 

“You just like having an excuse to shut me up,” he winks. The faint hint of exhaustion creeps into his eyes. He goes back to laying down on top of you, perhaps his favorite position to rest. He doesn’t do it for long, though, knowing he’ll probably cut off your circulation after a while. But feeling his weight on you is a comfort, like one of those weighted blankets. And he seems to find comfort in your softness, in your closeness. He’s all limbs, lanky and willowy, practically spread out across the whole bed as he lays on top of you. Absently, Gojo kneads your hip bone, occasionally pecking tiny kisses along your abdomen. He chit-chats for a while with you, this time about his plans for tomorrow, asking if you’d like to join him. 

“Of course,” you return, knowing he’s worried that maybe today’s events might’ve scared you off. He seems pleased, going on to tell you all about something he read in a gossip magazine earlier that week. Eventually, he starts to trail off, until finally, you hear Satoru’s soft snoring. Hearing him sleep, seeing him relax fills you with an unbridled joy. He’s always on the go, always busy, always doing something. These peaceful moments with him are truly ones to be cherished. You shift so he’s not resting directly on top of you anymore, careful as to not wake him. You snuggle up in his arms, pressing a featherlight kiss to the tip of his nose before falling fast asleep in his embrace. 

A/N: Inspiration for this fic struck me suddenly last week, so I've been working on it every chance I've gotten over the last couple days. I do love how complicated Gojo is, and his relationship with Geto. Wanted to write a little Gojo x Reader that explored some of that (and also some background poly Gojo x Geto x Reader, because if you've read any of my other stuff, then you will know I love all things poly). Thank you so much for reading! As always, it is a joy to write fanfic and get to share it with people just as passionate about these fandoms. Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated! Lots of love 💜

[twiceasfrustrating]

Deal With a Devil

Rating: Mature (for some violence) Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: Gen Fandom: Shall We Date?: Obey Me! Relationships: Barbatos & Solomon Characters: Barbatos, Solomon  Additional Tags: Omnipotence, Minor Violence, Demon Summoning Summary: Solomon is willing to give anything to get back what he lost, even if it costs him his immortal soul and a headache. A/N: If the game won’t give me their backstory, I will write it myself. Word Count: 2153

Some things were worth whatever risks came with them. That's what Solomon told himself as he finished dragging his finger through the sand in front of him. The symbol he'd made was ancient and nearly forgotten, a borrowed darkness from another land, a relic that time had tried so desperately to hide. If his gods wouldn't aid him, he would turn to the horrors of a different making.

His hands trembled in anticipation, his mouth going dry and the nerves blurring out his vision. He had already come so far. He had already come too far to turn back. Even knowing that, he was terrified. What would become of him after he went through with this? Would he still be king of his people? Would he still be beloved and revered for his wisdom? Would this even work? More terrifying, what if it didn’t?

That was the one outcome he couldn’t accept.

With one final breath, he steeled his nerves and grabbed the knife from his side, slicing into his palm and letting blood drip along the blade before stabbing it into the last spot in the circle.

“Hear me, denizens of darkness, you who are born of shadow and you who give birth to it.” Solomon began to chant the words he’d found, ignoring the lump in his throat and the feeling of dread in his gut. “Hear me and do as I command. I call upon you to send forth one of your number.” If he could even manage it. “I summon the demon Barbatos.”

As soon as the last of the words were out of his mouth, frigid air whipped past his face from the symbol on the ground, twisting and blowing his hair about as magma pulsed through his veins and burned him from the inside out. He doubled over, crossing his arms in front of his chest to try and contain the feeling that his organ would expand and burst inside of him. All of his muscles, from the ones in his feet to the one behind his eyes, felt like they were being stabbed with millions of tiny needles that were pushed in slowly and deeply.

He couldn't help but puke from the pain, not even noticing that the harshness of the frozen wind was like a razor cutting and pulling away layers of his skin while the blood that oozed out boiled and raged and burned what flesh it could still find. As something inside of him began to slosh around, flooding his organs and drowning him from the inside out, he couldn't help but consider his own mortality. 

This is how he was going to die.

"If that's what you want, there are significantly easier and infinitely less painful ways than this. Don't you think?"

Solomon froze at the voice he'd never heard before. It was like a song, or perhaps a scream? A man or maybe a woman? Ancient and young simultaneously. His limbs shook as his body began to fail him and the sound of the voice breaking down his mind. 

Despite the stabbing pain, he flicked his eyes up to see who had spoken to him. Before him, inside the symbol he had drawn, stood a man. No, not a man. No man bore horns like wings or a tail that glistened. No man has claws so deep and teal for fingers or arms and legs marbled in black and teal with white lightning coursing over then. No man had eyes that seemed to hold entire galaxies. No, this was no man; this was a demon.

"Barbatos, to be exact. At your service." He bowed low and deep. "I'm impressed to see you've yet to die. Usually, I arrive to a corpse or three when I come to the human realm. Color me intrigued." He smiled in a way that didn't quite reach his eyes.

Solomon tried to speak, but all he managed was to cough up some of the blood filling his lungs.

"Ah, yes. Just because you're not yet dead doesn't mean you aren't dying. That's unfortunate." The demon stood upright, tall and proud with a lackadaisical smile still on his face. "You may want to fix that."

Were all demons so capricious?

"Can you not, yet? I do suppose this is the start of the timeline…" He appeared to ponder something with bemusement. "I always join at the worst moments. I really should start toward the climax. That's where all the delightful rising tension is."

His eyes peered downward, lips frowning slightly at the edges. "You can do better than this, can't you? Or, you will someday, at the very least," he said as he reached a foot over the outer rim of the symbol without so much as flinching.

Solomon, even through the pain, felt shock. The symbol he drew wasn't only meant to summon the demon, but to keep him contained so he wouldn't prove a threat to those that called on him. This demon, however, was able to step over what should have been his most steadfast barrier of safety.

"It's not much of a barrier, really. Nothing like what you will make when you're more accustomed to your magic. Although, even then my staying in place will be more out of camaraderie than your own power. Assuming you live, that is. Which, you must, given what will be. Unless we're in an offshoot timeline, in which case you should probably pray to your God now because we're about to be eradicated from existence."

Solomon wanted to respond, but his body was too broken to hold a conversation.

"Ah, yes. I should fix that first or else this truly will become a discarded timeline." Barbatos held his hands in front of him, palms up and open as he caught a book that seemed to fall from the sky.

"Traditionally, at least at this point, aiding a human would be ridiculed and looked down upon; superiority complex and all. However, if one were to get a hold of a demon's grimoire even the most powerful of us would have to humble ourselves." He dropped the book in front of Solomon. "Oh my, it seems you've found mine."

It was suspicious how easily this demon seemed to be aiding Solomon. He had expected a creature more nefarious and cunning. 

"There is no point in playing games when I already know what will happen. You and I shall be phenomenal partners in the future and I would rather begin this chapter on an amicable note rather than an antagonistic one." His tail flicked behind him as he grinned knowingly. "Please take the book, or else I'll have to divert to a different reality where you do and, therefore, subsequently don't die. We'll consider the pact made and the terms agreed upon once you touch it. Fair for both parties, don't you agree?"

Without any negotiation, this demon was trying to seal a deal that Solomon hadn't agreed to. Even dying and in pain, he knew agreeing to such terms was a terrible decision.

"There are no tricks, I assure you. I already know what the terms of our deal shall be and am acting within them. Relationships are built on trust, you know. You simply have to trust me."

Solomon couldn't say trust came easy, especially in this moment. However, he knew where he stood. He was crawling closer to death with each passing second and wasting even one more meant he would lose everything he so desperately wanted. So, even if he didn't trust Barbatos yet, he would have to rely on him.

He reached out a shaking hand and placed it on the book. As soon as he made contact with it, a new searing pain shot through his nerves and straight into his heart. 

Solomon swore out loud, almost too shocked to realize he no longer felt like his inside were flooded with thick blood. 

"Yes, for all intents and purposes, you are better. Or, rather, this you was never injured because they never had the courage to offer part of themselves to me. Unfortunate, but it means a spare body was lying around. Everything else of importance has remained the same, so it is what it is."

Solomon shook in anger, both at the roundabout way this demon spoke but also at the realization that he had gotten himself involved in something far beyond even his limited understanding.

"Are you unpleased? I thought you wanted to summon me. That's why you went out of your way to find my summoning circle, is it not? I only showed up because I thought you were invested in the future we'll have together. If not, I would much rather go home. The king is liable to set something on fire if I'm gone for too long. He's nothing like his great grandson, unfortunately."

Solomon couldn't get a word in edgewise.

"Because I already know the script. It's already hard enough to wait for the proper prompt so the timeline remains consistent. If I had to wait for it to be said out loud, I think I would get too frustrated to tolerate this conversation at all. I'm not the man I will be someday. He's much more tolerant of the slow pace of all of you living in the present moment after he stops looking through time. I'll practice." Barbatos kneeled down to Solomon's level and tapped on the book. "This is an aide. You'll need it for our pact; for the time being, anyway. Until you become the greatest sorcerer, anyway. Simple enough once you begin to ignore death of your own volition rather than my generosity since you'll have all the time in the world."

"Now you speak," Barbatos finally ended.

The first thing Solomon finally managed to say was a string of curses and expletives.

"Strange. I expected something more profound."

"What have you done?" Solomon finally managed to ask, eyes wide in horror.

"I forged our pact. That was the point of our meeting. Mutual benefits symbolized through the carving on your flesh." He seemed to think for a moment. "Your heart in your case. That's the only thing I would accept."

Solomon took a deep breath, trying to calm himself and make sense of this conversation. "How am I alive?" He knew he'd been grievously wounded from the inside out, but there wasn't a trace of it left. Whatever Barbatos was going on about, he had to understand it.

"Because this body is fine."

He didn't understand that part.

"Think of it this way. You are here, at point a, at the moment, but if something happens to you that causes you to die," Barbatos narrowed his gaze before stabbing his long claws through Solomon's torso and grabbing his heart to pull it back out. Solomon gasped in surprise before his vision went black. Then he blinked and everything was back to normal, Barbatos with an empty hand still clutched around a heart that wasn't there, "that's when you jump to point b, where a body that isn't dying is waiting to receive your consciousness. Understood? That's part of the pact we made… will make?"

Solomon would have to ignore the fact that he had nearly died twice tonight. "We haven't even spoken about a pact yet." 

He knew about pacts from the text he'd found; the same that taught him how to summon a demon in the first place. He knew that were a barter between a demon and human, but he'd yet to offer anything in exchange for this demon's power.

"But we will. After this script ends, we'll establish what we both want. I simply couldn't wait and went ahead with it before you could actually die on me. Speaking of which, this script is starting to bore me, so would you mind starting at the beginning again so we may have that conversation? I really must get back before My King does something unimaginable. Such an act would really upset my one-day Young Master."

Solomon opened his mouth to voice his desires, resigning himself to whatever in the world this conversation was, only to have the demon raise a single sharp finger against his teal lips and shushed him.

“I would so love to hear what it is you’ve summoned me for," after all, he needed to hear the desire voiced out loud at least once to keep the timeline consistent, "but you'll have to wait for about… 67 more words.”

Solomon's lips sneered back, anger boiling inside of him after all the strange mind games and past, present, future speak the demon had made him put up with so far. “Why not?”

“Because,” the edges of Barbatos’ mouth pulled back, exposing his toothy, unholy grin, “someone who shouldn’t be here is still watching.”

And don’t you agree that it’s rude to intrude on someone else’s private affairs?

[sekaicards]

Hihi !!

I'm starting a tournament blog and wanted to know if you had any tips on running one + how to promote ?

hi!! um.. well, i don't know if i am the best person to come to but! i am very flattered you asked still :)

okay. promotion. the way i promoted both of the tournament blogs i have run was i made an intro post, maintagged it, and @'d the tournament blog that had inspired me.

both times i have been lucky and the blog reblogged my post, thereby giving me a starting feed-in audience of people interested in the similar style/same fandom tournament to that blog that i was now hosting.

for non fandom specific tournaments, i do also know that people will also tag tournament blogs, either that they follow, that inspired them, or are simply just Well Known ones.

but! mostly i reccomend not worrying too much about that part and instead making an intro post. this post serves as a summary and sort of like an advertisement for your tournament in a way?? it lets people have an idea of what sort of polls they're gonna be seeing if they follow you.

that's about all i got on promoting though now for running...

for one. make your polls in advance; if you know what your contestants pool is, that is. for instance, the pjsk cards. there i knew what all of my match-ups would be made of and therefore could make matches before i even started.

if you don't know your full line-up, like if your tournament will be made up of submissions, then at least make a mock-up of how you want your polls to look. where you want each... contestant?? i don;t know a better word for it. to be placed; where you want the question to be, either above or below the pictures/videos/links/whatever; if there's any additional information you want to add to the match like propaganda, additional photos like i do, etc etc.

if you have a bunch premade then you don't have to worry about creating a full batch to be released every day, helpful for if you have a day where you are suddenly busy or have less time than expected. so. very helpful i reccommed. please follow my advice here and not my habits.

don't. push yourself. if you only feel like you have the ability to post 5, 3, even just 1 poll a day. do that. don't force yourself to spend all of your time working on the blog, especially if you find yourself not having fun! you made the tournament, and if you need to step back a little from it, that's your right. don't revolve your entire life around running a tumblr blog. it. has the chance of leading to burnout, especially if this tournament you're running overlaps with your school year or some other activity you're doing.

communicate with your followers also. it can help you figure out problems you;re running into, can help you figure out what schedule people are more intrested in seeing (i.e. one day polls vs one week polls) and all that important stuff. but also. it's nice. just getting to talk to people who are there because they're interested in the same thing(s) you are :)

uh. in my experience it's nice to have a tag that denotes that your posts are all tournament posts. like. for instance. all of the polls on this blog go into the main 'project sekai' tag. but i have also made sure to add the 'tournament poll' tag and. well, for this round. the 'pjsk costume polls' tag so that people who just use the main tag who do Not want to see/be flooded with my polls have an easy way to block them. i reccommend doing this.

uhm... i personally also reccomend not making a bracket but that's just me, i personally just didn't like making them for each round. and. uh. um. i've already said this but. when you're running the blog. be sure that you have fun :)

[crestfallercanyon]

Answer the Questions and Tag 5 Fanfic Authors

Thank you so much to @incorrectcoldflashblog for tagging me! Let's get started <3

1. How did you get into writing fanfiction?

Actually knowing I was writing fanfiction? I started on a different account for Fire Emblem Three Houses. The reason I started was because Claude was my favorite house leader and I found his story to be lacking in the game (I genuinely thought in the end he should have incited war on the church in that game -- I think he would have recognized them as while an asset for the war in the beginning to be an obstacle for the peace and free borders later and I really really really wanted him to then pick a war against the church; especially considering he had no personal ties to most of those that you fight in the big twist reveal at the end of the Blue Lions route). Then on this account I got into Coldflash because genuinely Barry and Leonard Snart's chemistry is off the charts and I wanted more screentime with the two of them.

2. How many fandoms have you written in?

Posted to AO3? In nine different fandoms. In my drafts and other works?... probably around 16?

3. How many years have you been writing fanfiction?

I started writing fanfic in 2020, so four years.

4. Do you read or write more fanfiction?

Usually I write more, recently though I haven't been writing much at all and I haven't been reading that much either, but I'd say I read a little more right now.

5. What is one way you’ve improved as a writer?

I think I recognize pacing better now, and know when I'm dragging things out intentionally for fanfic indulgence purposes instead of just dragging and meandering off like I used to when writing original fiction. Now my OG stories are staying on path better and so is my fanfic when I'm trying to write a cohesive story. That and I think I've gotten better at writing romantic affection, but that's still a work in progress.

6. What’s the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

Oh gosh, I've looked up a lot of weird things. I think the thing that got me my own national security agent to watch me (I'm kidding -- maybe, I suppose I don't know lol) is for an og story I wanted to know if poisoning a water tower would effectively kill the inhabitants of a small town because I wanted the entire town to have gotten wiped out by the time my main character came upon the town. Then I learned that water towers hold a lot more water than I thought (which already thought was a lot) and the amount of poison that would need to go in there would be a lot but actually flooding the town by destroying the water tower might work and would likely be more devastating visually for my main character to enter upon so I started to look into the logistics of that. This led me to a youtube video of just water towers being brought down and the flooding that occurs and the sounds they make and stuff on like a twenty or so minute loopable video? (gotta love people on the internet, who knows why this person made this but I appreciated it for research purposes. Which by the way, water towers are fucking loud if their basins get punctured), and yeah, that's the weird one I think of most often.

7. What’s your favorite type of comment to receive on your work?

I just appreciate when people comment, honestly, but when people point out specific phrases they liked? That's lovely. Or when people tell me about certain foreshadowing things or symbolism they picked up on? (Whether I actually meant to do it in which yay that worked or I didn't even realize I did that in which that's so fun that you noticed that) it's always really lovely. But honestly, I just get delighted that people read my stuff.

8. What’s the most fringe trope/topic you write about?

Um, other than a fandom that literally only one other person has written in on my other account, I would say it's my Derek Hale & Allison Argent fic where Derek helps Allison go on the run after Allison attempts -- and Derek helps her succeed -- to kill Kate Argent by burning her alive in her house. I loved writing that fic and it's one of my favorites even though it is very much not most people's cup of tea and is extremely dark and doesn't really have any shipping (though it could be read as pre-slash as that was the original intent but I removed it because I preferred not to go that far in the fic itself).

9. What is the hardest type of story for you to write?

Lately it's any story, haha -- I just have been struggling to write anything lately. Um, but typically sexually explicit works is pretty difficult for me. I'd like to get better at it because I do think that there's narrative value to be had in being able to portray those scenes and the different dynamics that can come across during sex, but it doesn't flow out of me like other works can.

Also, if I leave a story alone for a little while, I feel this weird immense guilt and have a hard time going back to it because I worry it won't meet the hype of leaving it behind. Which is silly, but it's true.

10. What is the easiest type?

I'm going to be honest it really depends. If I can tap into the vibe of the story and just go? Then that's going to be the easiest. When I first started writing Coldflash I was able to just write a ton, or when I first got into Thomally for The Maze Runner, and for like the month of November I was writing Shameless non-stop and was just able to write a bunch of different one-shots there. Those were some gold-star writing times haha.

11. Where do you do your writing? What platform? When?

Either my laptop or I carry a journal, and I also type little inspirations into my notes app if I'm at work and don't have access to paper. I write on AO3 and publish there. And it really depends! On the weekends I might go to a coffee shop and write so it's morning time. Other days I would write into the night and have written until really late before.

12. What is something you’ve been too nervous/intimidated to write, but would love to write one day?

I started writing this documentary style fic for The Maze Runner and I love it, I love the idea of it, I love all the little mental movies I can make of it -- but writing it? Making it make sense? I got myself all turned around and I've been too intimidated to continue, I just don't know how to map that out.

13. What made you choose your username?

I thought of names for a while but I wanted it to be short so I coudl remember it and then crestfaller just kind of came to me and I thought it kind of suited my vibe. Then I picked crestfallercanyon for tumblr because a) crestfaller was already taken and b) that'd be a bitchin' name for a canyon somewhere.

Thanks again for tagging me! Now it is my turn to tag others <3

No pressure tags! @jrooc, @landsofmyth, @its-tea-time-darling, @go-catch-a-chickn, @sproutwings

[not-so-mundane-after-all]

"About the Blogger" Meme

@ambeauty thanks for tagging me, love 💕

Star Sign(s): All I know is that it's Pisces. What does that mean really? No clue, never checked.

Favorite holidays: Halloween, even though it's not that wildly celebrated where I’m from, barely at all. But I love watching the craze about it online and participate in online celebrations. Other than that, Christmas, because of food and family.

Last meal: one of my favorite traditional Polish dishes - bigos

Current Favorite Musician: Does Rachel Zegler count? Because I am obsessed with The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes Soundtrack

Last Music Listened To: Marjorie by Taylor Swift and some other Evermore tracks for Evermore’s and Taylor's birthday (Dec 11th and 13th)

Last Movie Watched: in theaters - Renaissance: a film by Beyonce! Blew my mind! And at home it was my beloved Prospect - a watch party + live reaction (screaming about Cee and Ezra) with my friends the Bees on Discord. As Ezra would say, “This is so exciting!”

Last TV Show Watched: I am making my way through a Supernatural rewatch, finished 7x05 last night. I’m excited to finally be on S7 because S7 introduces my favorite female character ever, Charlie Bradbury!

Last Book/Fic Finished: Book - The Rule of Wolves by Leigh Bardugo (right before S&B was c*nceled, not fuckin fair), and Fic - “The Stag” by AFireInTheAttic about Katniss and Haymitch going hunting because I am in my Hunger Games Renaissance era and PapaHaymitch feels are roaming free

Last Book/Fic abandoned: I bought the entire The Witcher series just to struggle through the first book 🫣 the story is good but the way it's written, my god. Why do our Polish writers have to make everything so difficult? All the fat jokes and sexist jokes and misogyny, you can tell these books were written by an old grumpy douchebag. As for fics, I had to drop out of some Katniss and Haymitch fics because they had shippy undertones and weren't tagged right (please people tag your fics appropriately when it comes to relationships, I am begging on my knees)

Currently reading: Book - Percy Jackson and The Chalice of The Gods by Rick Riordan, Fic - “After All We've Been Through” by TheFelineQueen96 aka my darling @ellies-little-gun, an incredible Joel and Ellie story

Last Thing Researched for Art/Writing/Hyperfixation: spinal taps and bone marrow biopsy for my Titanstober fic I am flesh, bones... I am skin, soul… I needed to learn about this to figure out the balance between medical accuracy and using these procedures in unethical ways/as forms of torture, as I’ve seen done on some TV shows in the past, like The 100. I even rewatched those scenes for inspiration

Favorite Online Fandom Memory: as my bestie mentioned before me, definitely the day we all lost it over Brenton's birthday post dedicated to Anna. I had my phone in my hand when that notification appeared and I nearly dropped it, that's how bad I was shaking.

Favorite Old Fandom You Wish Would Drag You Back In/Have A Resurgence: probably The Magicians for me. I wasn't active in that fandom, only a little towards the end of the show, but I loved it so much and it has two very strong platonic pairs that I was absolutely obsessed with, Quentin & Julia and Margo & Eliot, and I kind of wish I could write for them. Maybe after a rewatch though 👀

Favorite Thing You Enjoy That Never Had an Active or Big "Fandom" but You Wish It Did: Let me use this part for advertising and say PROSPECT!!! WE ARE SMALL BUT MIGHTY, ALL 5 OF US! Jk there's a bit more of us, but not by much and the movie is incredible. So go watch Prospect everyone!!! Come lose your mind with us over Cee and Ezra!!!

Tempting Project You're Trying to Rein In/Don't Have Time For: My brain is flooded at the moment with Katniss and Haymitch, I already cave in and wrote one fic even though I am officially on a break till January. I want to write more for them and definitely will, but I need to go back to my two ongoing Titans projects. Only my love for writing Titans is currently the size of a dying candle flame and I am trying to stoke that fire up (rereading my own fic to get back to the story) and failing (it's not working, I got nothing)

No pressure tags for the besties @undertheknightwing @legendsofentity @skoulsons @ellies-little-gun @sotvtaughtmehowtofeel @dilf-din

[basicallyahedgehog]

A Year Of Me

I have a 2022 in fic post half-finished for later, but I’m feeling self-indulgent and also sappy from some sweet messages. So I’m doing this too.

I walked into 2022 identifying as a cisgender, heterosexual, allosexual, alloromantic woman. I would have told you I was an LGBTQIA+ ally, but I honestly knew very little about the community, our history, or anything related to transition, coming out, etc etc etc.

I read queer fanfic like it was an illicit drug - terrified of being caught, but even more afraid of having it taken away. I trawled tags and realists and bookmarks for characters that were trans, nonbinary, ace, and every other form of queer identity I could think of. I tried to ignore how much they felt like home.

In March I came out to myself,y husband and my mum as ace. For the first time in a very long time I didn’t feel like I was broken just because I didn’t want what the world told me I should. I wasn’t a bad wife, I was ace. It was freeing.

On the 29th May I finally let myself think the words “I’m not Cis”. It took a few more weeks of trying out different things, but by mid-June I identified as nonbinary, used they/them pronouns, joined the most incredible group of people over at the magical trans server, and even came out to a couple of select coworkers. I wrote my first trans character, and got gifted the most beautiful ace fic that still makes me cry.

The months of July through October were murky and full of confusion and tears over my orientation and my gender - things I thought I’d figured out already. I realised I’m demiromantic, and also bi. I started wearing pronoun and pride pins to work, and found the two sweetest allies in my uni students.

I found the term “fluidflux” and cried. By mid-November I started playing around with pronouns again and settled on “genderfluid nonbinary” as a term that finally felt like all of me. I started a new job on the 28th. On the 29th I came out to my supervisor and team leader, gave them permission to tell relevant colleagues so I didn’t have to come out twenty times, and got my pronouns put on my email signature.

In December I’ve survived going stealth for a two week family holiday, chosen a new name, and been overwhelmed by the love and support flooding into my notifs and DMs.

I don’t know what 2023 will bring. I can’t imagine it bringing a greater number of discoveries than 2022, but I also know never to say never! I certainly know that I am so much more myself today than I was on Jan 1 2022.

I know this was super self indulgent. And if you made it this far, thank you. But also, thank you for all the love and support over the last 12 months. Without each and every person in my little fandom bubble, I wouldn’t be who I am today. Some have been particularly instrumental but I I start tagging I’m afraid I’ll miss someone. You know who you are.

So I’ll end this with all my love, and best wishes for a wonderful, authentic 2023