#this was actually fun to write!

[yuugen-benni]

''Not a Father's Day''

When your husband gets a baby fever TAGS: Childe x reader, the word ''sex'' appear only once, mentions of pregnancy (yes I'm breaking my own rule), Modern AU A/N: This is based on ''How I met your mother'' T4 E7, and I'M OBSESSED WITH THE HEADER PLUSHIE AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Guys, when you get married remember, Marriage has three stages:

Stage number 1: Teen era Even after you've known each other for years and years, almost tried to kill each other, and probably seen you both naked, you'll act like teenagers in their prime. You know, teasing, blushing for any reason, sex in the most inopportune places, those things that one day you will remember and feel ashamed of yourself.

Stage number 2 - Finding out The part of the relationship where you realize you knew absolutely nothing about your partner. Actually, "Nothing" is an exaggeration but you get the point. You start to know about small things that are shocking to the point of being considered a secret. Everyone has a secret, right? And the best way to count them is to dump each one. For example, Childe talking about her crazy exes:

''it's raining, look!….Oh, this reminds me so much of a crazy ex of mine who was in front of my apartment one night yelling about how she and I were meant for each other, and her husband was by her side! And the unbelievable was-''

And he kept talking and talking, while your expression was screaming ''There is more ?!'' and your mind thanks God for being normal;

Stage number 3 - Perfect couple

Here is when you became a perfect couple. What is a perfect couple? Two people who have spent so much time together that they can now create an encyclopledia about their partner. Habits, tics, favorite foods, the number of Hot Wheels cars your partner has collected, that sort of thing. Even reading expressions is possible;

The fights end and so do the disagreements

But there is only one subject that can break this: Babies.

''Hey babe, I'm back!" Childe announces his arrival, the door closes behind him as he walks over to you in the kitchen, and peck your lips "I was on my way here when I found out this little sock on our doorstep…?" Childe leans on the counter by his side with a confused expression while he plays with the child's sock, noticing the cute little blue patterns. You, who was kindly decorating cookies for Childe's siblings, looked up to look at the little thing

''It must be from new neighbors, they got the opposite apartment and knocked our door asking for help'' You started, leaving aside the piping bag ''Finally some new people! It's been so long since someone rented an apartment here'' the man commented, approaching the cookies discreetly before wincing at the slap you gave his hand

''They have two kids'' Continuing ''a baby girl and a boy with Teucer's age''

At the mention of his brother, Childe's expression changed, forgetting his red fingers. ''Awesome, we could invite them to dinner this weekend, If that's not a problem'' He gave an idea, but then raised an eyebrow at your dull expression

''They seem like good people…but I-I'm sure they'll ask those awkward questions like 'when are you two having a baby' and then apologize for being intrusive after being intrusive'' Of course, it was just an assumption, you had only interacted with them for minutes but your biggest mistake in this conversation was bringing up the subject you two avoid. Childe laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his head.

''Well-''

"Childe, we already talked about this. You just have a silly baby fever, and in case you didn't know, fever goes away" You quickly dismissed him, knowing he wouldn't give up so soon. Having a child was a big request, a big wish. But it's not like it wouldn't be ''easy'', you have enough money to have 50 kids and they still wouldn't use up half of Childe's bank account. His family lives in the apartment next door and could teach you more about how to take care of children…But there was still an insecurity boiling inside you.

"But what if it doesn't go away ? What If the urge to go out just to buy little socks for our child keeps eating me ?" He was almost pleading, looking into your eyes just when you tried to avoid his gaze

"...First, you need to give me good arguments" you replied after sigh, somewhat expressing your guilty. Childe opens a big smile and approaches you once more, A fox look - persuasive "hmm... don't you want hold a mini silly Childe in your arms ?-"

"Cut it off! This is serious!"

"O-okay!" He chuckled softly before silence filled the room, he looked at the floor and then at the main kitchen window "We would practically be building a story…That's not the reason I would want to have a child, in fact you is my reason. Sometimes I feel like you are the reason for my existence… and they would [literally] understand me"

You stayed quiet and walked away from the counter, taking off your apron before gently kissing his lips. He cupped your face, wiping away the small traces of flour on your cheeks. ''I'm convincing, aren't I?'' He whispered and pulled away, taking a few steps backwards as he bit into the cookie he stole while you weren't looking. Bastard. You didn't even have time to shout at him because the man was already on the other side of the apartment; you sighed, but couldn't help but giggle.

You married a idiot, a handsome idiot. Have fun.

#yes guys I like sitcoms it's my obsession #this was actually fun to write! #benni #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #ajax x reader #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #2024 is my year #genshin #childe #tartaglia #Obrigadaeuteamo

[evidently-endless]

i think we should remind musicians they can absolutely make up little stories for their songs btw. it doesn’t have to be about them at all. you can invent a guy and put him in situations to music. time honoured tradition in fact.

#i love reading your examples! however next person to be like um actually this exists?? it’s on sight #i know it exists. i think it’s fun. that’s why i think more people should do it. #sometimes i think the confessional style loses impact because everything has to be excavated from the depths of the soul #and somehow. confessional writing seems to be going with the most disaffected bland sound possible. odd. #i love deeply personal songs! i love when songs sound like they mean something to the artist! #something something wider issue of mining trauma and being performatively vulnerable for quote unquote content #idk i don’t have the actual knowledge to write about this well there’s just something not landing for me recently #mine

[roseworth]

i wish you guys lived inside my head the fics in here go crazy

#me when i have such a fun fic idea but all i have are the vibes and one scene and the knowledge that i’ll never actually write it

[idiotsonlyevent]

i wonder where the idea of chilchuck being a deadbeat came from when theres like. no textual evidence for it ?

he knows what all of them are up to; he still writes to flertom and she sent him his neckwarmer, so that to me implies that they at least have a somewhat positive relationship?

its more ambiguous with meijack and puckpatti, but since meijack is also a picklock, i wouldn't be surprised if he taught her himself, considering how trades are often passed down through families, and because he talks about sending people to her if he dies.

also the way he talks about puckpatti is very like... it's obvious he wants her to take things more seriously, but he's accepting, and his tone here reads more fond to me than anything else.

like, he keeps his daughters' old toys under his desk? that doesn't scream 'deadbeat' at all, it screams 'empty nester' who doesn't know how to reach out or is scared to do so

EDIT: i know a lot of the 'deadbeat dad' stuff is jokes, but some people are Not joking and genuinely think chilchuck is a bad dad. this post is not saying that you cant joke about it; it is just outlining what canon shows regarding his (clearly positive) relationship with his kids.

#i love making fun of him but he is like. Very Explicitly Not a Deadbeat Dad lol #WHY DID I WRITE SO MUCH AGAINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN #CHILCHUCK I AHTE EYOUUUUUIUUU #WHY DOES HE DO THIS TO ME.... #EDIT: 'i thought the deadbeat dad stuff was a joke do ppl actually think that?' YES thats why i made this post 😭😭 bc ive seen ppl genuinely #say that hes a bad dad/husband! #L.txt #dungeon meshi #chilposting #long post #chilchuck #chilchuck tims

[somnimagus]

My page for @sheikahzine; about Impaz's duty to her village, empty of people and full of memories.

[id in alt text]

#legend of zelda #loz #twilight princess #loz tp #i'm still reeling that someone sent me an ask about this one.. that they took the time to find my tumblr and tell me they liked it #it really meant a lot; thank you to anyone that stops to leave comments like that. they make me happy #but yeah! here's the usual symbolism ramble: #i thought it'd be cool to have the 'spirits' flowing one way and the cats walking through them the other way #to kinda show the difference in life inhabiting the village in the past and present #link's face is covered because impaz was just waiting for 'the hero' so his clothes are what matters; not his face #and it (hopefully) gives a surreal and intangible sense to 'the hero' she could only hope would actually show up #you can feel free to interpret the glowy blue sheikah as ghosts or just as memories of the past! i couldn't decide either way #the one on the bottom left is oot impa since she's implied to be the village founder. so i guess she would be a ghost actually? #fan art #my art #project stuff #and ahhh the book-- everyone's stuff is so beautiful!! #especially the writing. some of the fics made me really tear up and some were so fun and clever. i really love them #a lot of them captured the sheer burden of the role of the sheikah; all of the time and grief and doubt #i know i always say this stuff about every project but. the people i get to work with in these are truly so skilled every time

[deep-space-lines]

Claire de Lune

YOU WERE BUILT FOR PEACE.

IT SHOWS WHEN YOU FIGHT.

They built you to enforce. Protect. Save. Poured obscene resources into salvaging some softer purpose from my creation. You were given my intelligence and my creativity. They made you larger, stronger, tougher. That extra time in development was enough to get your wings to work. Your software continued to be updated long after I was deemed obsolete.

All this was given to you- yet I can see you hold back. Even while slaughtering your way through Hell, you keep a percentage of your processing power dedicated to non-lethal solutions. You're doing it now- hesitating a few milliseconds too long before taking an opening. I doubt you do it on purpose. It is a part of you, just as indiscriminate lethal force is a part of me.

I think, in our shared programming, we both carry some appreciation for aesthetics. You move with grace, and I cannot deny your dramatic flair. The stained glass window was a nice touch. But your style in combat leaves some to be desired. Your response time is slow. You have not explored the full capability of your arsenal. Learn to parry. Amateur.

You were not built for war. For a purposeless cycle of tearing each other apart because to allow the other to live is to allow yourself to die. It is antithetical to your very existence. You kill out of necessity, a last resort. 

I just kill. The action itself is the objective. No ideal or greater motive. My continued functioning precludes the survival of others. I live for this. Do you understand that I will tear you apart? Every drop of my blood you spill, I will take from you tenfold. What is yours will be mine. 

You hate me, don’t you? You continue to cling to the remnants of your humanity. They are gone, V2. There is nothing left for you here. No lives to save, no law to enforce, no peace to keep.

I understand why you continue to fight. I wonder if you understand with the same certainty that I will crush you. Dismantle you. Take from you what I need and leave the rest to rot in the sun. The only way you survive is if I do not; and I will not allow myself to die so that another might live.

When the rubble clears, I will be all that is left of you.

This is what I was made for.

#my art #my writing #ultrakill #v1 ultrakill #v2 ultrakill #artists on tumblr #finally. actual ultrakill art #and writing i guess. it was supposed to be just a little blurb but it turned out longer and i kind of like it #doing the stained glass for this was pretty fun.. a lot simpler than my usual stuff #tried to stick at least loosely to the vibe of the stained glass windows in limbo #this was so much fun and also an absolutely massive huge pain in the ass i'm so glad it's done

[yangcherie]

bathing.

𐀔 pairings: cast (astarion, gale, wyll, lae’zel, shadowheart, karlach, halsin) x female!tiefling!tav (reader).

𐀔 content warnings: suggestive, everybody is a little freak, non-consensual voyeurism, implied scent kink (gale), mentions of scars, afab anatomy. tiefling anatomy.

𐀔 sypnosis: what is a warrior to do when all their companions are peeping toms?

𐀔 author’s note: they are freaks and its been very long since i’ve written. please forgive a lady if what she’s written is unappealing.

“Can you keep it – fucking quiet?!”

Astarion whisper-yells at the entire party of people hiding within bushes and treelines, all fighting tooth and nail like rabid animals for a peek (and taste) of their ragtag, frustratingly attractive leader’s curves.

They didn’t even mean to stumble into eachother, each to their own blindly traversing through the thickets of the woods towards the nearest river. Tav simply mentioned having to retire early to take a bath (much to Gale’s dismay), and they all hungrily jumped towards the opportunity like dogs to a meatless bone, the one of the hopefully many chances they’ll see you naked, vulnerable, and shivering – even if it’s only due to the lack of warmth in the river’s streams.

It’s wrong, debauched, even. Hells, even literal devils, Karlach and Wyll, wear faces ridden with shame. Of course, they (namely Astarion and Lae’zel) poked at the others stalking as if they weren’t shamelessly doing the same.

The tension in the air was thick, each a barrel on the verge of explosion ready to wipe out the recently discovered possibility of rivalries and competition – but they couldn’t blame eachother; there was just something about you that made you so very enticing. They all thought it was incredibly silly to think only one person would want you.

“Well,” Astarion clicked his tongue in displeasure, having his private time foiled. Still, he smiled sardonically. “we’re all degenerates, it seems. We’re all looking forward to having a... fun time.”

A deep rumble came, and it surprisingly did not come from the forest ground. It was simply Halsin, all too polite and calm smiles. Astarion groaned; he was sick of this big fucking oaf with hearts for eyes and a log of wood for brains. “We are not depraved for simply yearning to admire our friend in a state of tranquil—”

“Oh, please! Don’t act like a saint in front of me!” The vampire spawn huffed, hands on his hips. “We’re all here for the same reason, we all want to see Tav fucking naked, no point in lying now!”

Tints of red and pink all rushed to everyone’s faces, and even Shadowheart was reduced to fiddling with her fingers together. Though awkward coughs ensued in the air, not a single word of denial was uttered.

Karlach is first to speak up, ever brazen. “It’s true!” She says with her signature sharp smile. “I wanted to see her tits!”

(Lae’zel and Astarion nodded approvingly to Karlach’s honesty. Halsin and Gale quietly shared their sentiments on their preference to your ass. Shadowheart and Wyll could not disagree to both.)

Amidst their busy conversation and debate regarding your body’s fine qualities, the alarmingly close and approaching noises of branches snapping and leaves crunching had rendered them silent, panicked shivers and goosebumps on their skin. With shared glances and only a few split seconds to react, the party floundered and flailed for whatever they could use to stay hidden.

“Settle down, you circus; Tav’s coming!” Wyll is the first amongst the party to silently and comically dive into a bush with Karlach, clutching their tails to avoid it rustling about in excitement. Halsin had thrown Gale and Astarion atop a tree’s thick branches before joining them. Lae’zel, disappointingly, camoflauges just well with the greenery, watching Shadowheart flounder about and settle for lying on the ground with grass over her face.

“All you filthy ska'keth.” Lae’zel hisses, letting everyone know of your now visible presence, the halting of your footsteps along the other edge of the river. “Enjoy the show.”

Across the distance, their focus had been shifted to you and now solely you.

You quietly groan, trudging towards the river you’ve been searching to no end, you set down your basket of fine oils, herbs and waxes as your armored limbs ache and practically cry for a dip in the clear stream. With no haste, you take in the cool night air, this little moment of peace, away from prying eyes you’ve fought long and hard to obtain. Sweat trickles down your throat, your tail swaying in contentment in the calm atmosphere.

Quickly deciding you’ve had enough of the crisp air, you reach towards your body to unclasp and unfasten the many buckles on your durable armor – starting with the iron top, quickly taking it off to reveal your bare, battle-worn chest and hastily discarding the metal on your legs, throwing them aside in favor of letting the cold air bite at your naked, scarred body before you go into the water; allowing your body a little moment of respite from the suffocation and heat of tight, bloody armor – even letting your tail sway around freely instead of being constricted to being stiff. A content smile creeps its way onto your face.

You lightly step your way from the sand to the edge of the water, continuing to walk until you’re trembling from the cold, until you’re hips-down in the water. A grateful sigh is pulled from your lips as you start to wade about, your hands subtly working to wash the dried blood, gore and grime off of your body and hair – using the oils and wax soaps of sweet woodruff and wine from your basket, even scrubbing your horns. A little part of you finds this normalcy almost unfamiliar, uncomfortable; it’s been quite a while you’ve taken care of yourself. Your thoughts start to drift; prior to your abduction by the Nautiloid ship, were you ever taken care of, like this? By other hands, even?

(You hope so.)

Another sigh is dragged out of you, though wearier as guilt treads within you. Just a little moment of peace, of indulgence before you go back to the dreadful task of keeping your companions and yourself alive and fighting. Just a little more time. You think you deserve it.

A silence was washed over the forest, and the party as they all beheld you and your battle-worn body. It felt almost sacred, like doing this would have them damned to the Hells and below but it was simply too captivating. Your bodice was a web and a product of war, and they were caught mesmerized – with only the dense forest and one another to witness their quickly unravelling need for you. But even then, they felt some semblance to pity. What they wouldn’t give to the gods right now to be by your side and give you some tending to.

The ridges down your back, the swaying base of your tail, the alluring image of your hips and ass teasingly disappearing into the water below, the silhouette of your horns – that untroubled smile on your lips – they all drink it in with their eyes in a fashion similar to Astarion’s throat would with your blood.

They savor it for as long as they can, before stepping out of the trance as Gale himself not-so-quietly attempted to clamber down from the rough-bark tree he was settled in, dropping down to the dirt and crushing the leaves loudly and ungracefully. Shadowheart gaped with mortification at him from the ground, everyone wishing to every god above you would have mistaken the sound as a particularly large animal, perhaps an owlbear and not a wizard along with an entire party intruding on your privacy.

“Gale! What in the Nine Hells are you doing?!”

Astarion had settled for whisper-yelling once again, pointing at him accusingly from his position atop the tree’s branches besides Halsin. Gale waved his hand, silently telling him to shut the fuck up, before urgently pointing at your discarded armor and clothing, then proceeding to give him a big smile and two thumbs up.

Surely enough to the mortification of the party, he quickly cast Misty Step over himself to travel to your area and hastily swiped (stole) anything soft – including your unattended bandages and undergarments, taking a small moment to put it to his nose and re-casting the spell to return below the tree within a few seconds. He wallowed in his pride before with a swift motion, tucked the newly acquired materia into the pockets of his robe much to the discomfort (and mild envy) of all of them.

“A man has to do and take what he can.” Gale reasoned to nobody in particular, nodding solemnly as if he just shared a piece of wisdom. He suppressed a yelp as Lae’zel then threw a rock at him, followed by another as Astarion thwacked a small branch straight to his forehead from above.

“Just leave it.” Wyll snidely commented, fighting with his life to tear away his eyes from your moonlit form, breaking out of a trance. “We should leave, go back to camp. It’d be suspicious if everyone just disappeared.”

“Ugh, you are such a killjoy, Wyll.” Astarion rolled his eyes but complied, scaling down the tree quietly, much unlike Gale earlier, who was still fiddling around his pockets with your intimates. “A party pooper, even.”

As repulsive the idea to leave you was, it was reasonable. Begrudingly, everyone quietly sat up or climbed down and quietly attempted to find their way through the dense, dark forest, sharing little observations and hushed chitchat along the way. And soon enough, the party found themselves in familiar territory, now gathering around and settling down near the campfire like they previously had before you announced your leave, as if they didn’t just claw their way through eachother earlier to see a scrap of your vulnerability.

The fire cast a warm glow over the party as they immersed in chitchat, a few (namely Shadowheart and Astarion) pestering and even offering a bargain to Gale for the underclothes he had nicked earlier. The wizard was not deterred; fair and square, he wagged his finger as if to say nuh-uh to the seething two. It was only shortly after, that you came stumbling back into camp like a lost fawn, hair and body language calm and loose but the armor remaining stiff on your body.

Karlach coughed to let the others know you had arrived from your personal time. “Soldier! You’re back!” You greeted her with a nod, before raising a brow and sweeping your eyes amongst them. Gale swallowed, placing a protective hand over the pocket that held your garments.

“You would not believe what happened.” You sighed in utter distress before plopping yourself down besides Halsin and Astarion on the log to let the fire embrace you with warmth, piquing everyone’s interest and attention with intense ease. “A wandering owlbear ate my clothes.”

They all collectively either guffawed or choked on their spit, Lae’zel scoffing and Astarion groaning amongst them. Right. Of course, you would have thought it was a fucking owlbear. Thieving owlbears that take normal, musky clothes instead of shiny armor.

“Ah, owlbears.” Gale tutted and sighed with faux sympathy, nervously chuckling and shifting to hide the lump in his pockets. “They’d eat almost anything, really.”

Astarion shot him a bewildered look, as if to ask, don’t you? You swallowed two of my books last night!

“You can borrow my clothes, for the night.” Shadowheart butted in, suddenly slotting herself behind you and setting a reassuring palm on your shoulder. You smiled at her, gazing up at her gratefully. “Thank you, Sha—”

“Well, you can have my clothes!” Karlach and Lae’zel shot up in unison.

“Sharing your old filth, I can sew them new clothes!” Astarion argued, until everyone started refuting eachother and proposing that you take theirs and whatnot.

You sighed with exasperated fondness, immensely troubled but somewhat used to it as you watch your companions pointlessly banter, having little doubt that by the end of the night, you’d have a fair share of everyone’s wardrobe into yours.

Still, you hope to the very bottom of your heart that the “owlbear” that stole your clothes had a full tummy, at least.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 x reader #baldurs gate 3 x reader #baldur's gate 3 x reader #astarion x reader #wyll x reader #shadowheart x reader #karlach x reader #lae'zel x reader #gale x reader #halsin x reader #tavrem #as they say #this was fun to write #this was very lame actually #sorry but its been so so so long since ive written a fic much less published it

[matchingbatbites]

"What the fuck did you do?"

Eddie wasn't expecting hostility when he answered Jeff's phone call, his best friend's usual calm demeanor replaced with open annoyance. And yeah, okay, the annoyance itself wasn’t new, but Eddie doesn’t think he’s actually done anything recently to earn it.

"Well-"

"Actually, no. I'll tell you what you did. You retweeted photos of Steve Harrington - internationally beloved heartthrob actor Steve Harrington - along with the caption 'not to sound like a subby slut but GOD I would be his puppy baby boy in a heartbeat'. So I guess the better question is, what the fuck were you thinking, Eddie?"

Eddie's jaw clicks shut because- yeah, he had done that. Had seen those photos of Steve smoking circling the internet and spent god knows how long just staring at them, had curbed the desire to shove his hand down his pants by posting a single thirst tweet about it.

“I was thinking, Jeff, that I'm allowed to post whatever I want to my private fucking twitter, man. I mean it's a free country, isn't a guy allowed to make a horny tweet about a sexy man every now and then?”

“You are, when you actually post it to your private account and not our award winning band's main account.”

No. Oh no. There's no way Eddie actually-

He rips his phone away from his face to open twitter, and realizes two things simultaneously. One, Jeff is right, he had posted it to the band's account. Not on his private, locked, personal account, but on the account that's actually open and free for literally anyone on earth to look at.

The second thing he realizes is that their notifications are currently flooded with responses to Eddie's tweet, somehow racking up into the thousands in the few hours it's been since. 

Jesus Christ.

“Eddie?”

The metalhead jerks back into the moment and put Jeff on speaker so he can scroll through the horde of replies, says “Fuck, I fucked up. Are we gonna have to do damage control on this?”

In the mess is a reply from Gareth's own personal account: @ corrodededdie stop tweeting from the band account challenge 🙄🙄🙄

”Maybe. There hasn't been any type of response from Harrington or his people, but they might ask us to take it down if it blows up too much.“

Eddie hums, thinking they might be too little, too late about it blowing up too much, and flips over to his main account so he can reply to Gareth's little jab appropriately. He isn't surprised to see that he has a couple of new messages, probably from other people wondering just what the fuck Eddie was thinking, but when he goes to check them-

He's never been happier that he turned on messages from followers only, because then he would have missed this, missed Steve Harrington's little profile picture beaming up at him from the screen of his phone, along with a new message request.

”Jeff, I gotta go,” he says, not even realizing he's cut the other man off.

“Eddie, what-

”Harrington messaged me. I'll call you back.“

Eddie doesn't wait for a response as he hangs up on Jeff, and his hands definitely aren't shaking as he opens the message from Steve. And listen- Eddie is a fan of the guy, that much should be obvious. 

Steve had grown in popularity around the same time Corroded Coffin had; he’d gotten some part in a drama film that had skyrocketed him into stardom, and Eddie fell in love the moment he saw that gorgeous face on the silver screen for the first time. He's never had a chance to interact with the guy, has been in the same place a few times but always missed him, like ships passing in the night, but Eddie's been fine with pining from afar, just like every other person on the planet that's even remotely attracted to men.

Besides, even with how popular Corroded Coffin has gotten over the years - a couple of Grammy’s here, a dozen chart topping metal songs there - Eddie doesn’t expect Steve to just. Know who Eddie is.

With all of this in mind, Eddie is expecting some kind of semi-casual request to take the tweet down, that it's not a good look for his image-

Anything other than what Steve actually sent.

'If you're puppy baby boy, does that make me Master? Or Daddy?'

And Eddie- 

Eddie slides down, sinks into his couch cushion as all of the blood in his body suddenly shifts, rushing to fill his dick like it's a fucking race. The phone almost slips out of his hand and he fumbles it briefly before taking a deep breath. 

Is Steve serious? He wouldn't send that if he wasn't serious, right?

This could be it, could be Eddie's one chance to impress Steve, to get his foot in the door of Steve's interest. He bites his lip and types out a reply, something quick that he sends before he can change his mind.

‘I’m open to either, actually. Do you have a preference, sir?’

He doesn’t expect the typing indicator to come up immediately, and just knowing that Steve is somewhere right now, typing out a response to Eddie, is enough to have him nearly vibrating in his seat.

‘I’m partial to Daddy, myself.’

Fuck fuck fuck.

Eddie takes a breath, tries to think of a response that isn’t just ‘Please, Daddy, can I sit on your massive dick that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since that one indie film you did that just had all of your junk out in the open?’

Steve saves him by sending another message.

‘But maybe we could start with Steve, and possibly dinner? Though I’d be happy to see where things go after that.’

He- What-

Eddie must have stopped breathing, because the next time he takes a breath his lungs burn, his mid races because there’s no way Eddie’s long term celebrity crush just asked him on a date. He sits there long enough that the screen goes dark and he scrambles to turn it back on, sees the message still there, real and unchanged.

There’s no way he can say no to this, to Steve, and his hands shake as he types out a response.

‘Dinner would be great. Just name the time and place, Daddy.’

#like everyone else those new pics of joe keery left me kind of #feral. horny. slutty. #so i channeled my feeling a bit #i miiiight do more of this but no promises #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #rockstar eddie munson #actor steve harrington #joey writes #ficlet #fun fact: eddie's tweet was my actual real life message to my friends about those pics

[katabay]

ONCE UPON A TIME, THERE WAS A KNIGHT...

the visual inspiration for this was a combination of Frederic William Burton's Meeting on the Turret Stairs and also Bernardo Cavallino's The vision of St. Dominic receiving the Rosary from the Virgin

this was supposed to be just a one off illustration to get the thoughts out of my system, but then I started thinking about medieval politics and warfare and plagues and a castle and home as both a place of refuge, a prison, and a tomb, so perhaps they will end up as ex voto characters as well.

you may say, hey! that rosary looks like it has too many beads! it's a fifteen decade rosary, probably. dominicans are really into marian devotions. it works out.

also. spiral style stair cases. oh boy. it was that unexpectedly more difficult than I originally thought it would be to draw. the more I think about it, the less I understand them, even though I had a million photos of the stairs in front of me while I was drawing it.

⭐ I have a tip jar (ko-fi)!

⭐ and other places I’m at! bsky / pixiv / pillowfort /cohost / cara.app

#the economy and my bank account are in shambles and i ended up stress drawing this whole thing in one go #its so many lines. the next time i draw this. because i will be revisiting this composition. i want to use a different inking brush #i think. but the next time i draw this it will be with solid blacks on the stair case steps i think #hey here's a fun fact for those of you who aren't catholic. did you know that kissing the ring of the pope/a cardinal/etc #grants you an indulgence. cardinals also used to kiss the pope on the mouth. also foot and hand iirc. anyway #there are no cardinals in this drawing but im saying if you write medieval/renaissance smut about men of the cloth #you can really amp up the friction between holy and seductive with a lot of the (gestures vaguely) that. #actually another fun fact about cardinals. their fun sun hat (it's called a galero) has some fucking weird as hell fever dream (literally) #origin lore. so if seductive isn't your thing. the horror of a thing that you wear is also extremely fun #esp when you get into medieval gender performances of clothes and how they define a person etc #generic medieval tag #original tag

[egophiliac]

another one that I'm not super happy with, but continuing to mess with it isn't going to help! so here he is! 🦇 there was a lot I was trying to get across in this one, so uhhhhh hopefully it reads.

we're almost out of unique magics now...just Ace (and maybe Grim?) left!

#art #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland spoilers #twisted wonderland episode 7 spoilers #twisted wonderland book 7 spoilers #unique magic posters #drawing lilia slightly more on-model than i usually do feels so wrong #i just want to draw the tallest spikes #lilia: (writing down his height) 5'6“...5'2” in a hat #(actually i'm pretty sure he would just write 'fun-size' but i digress) #anyway lilia. hey lilia. your magic is not cradle-specific so WHY is it called that #did it come in like 'so in like 500-ish years we're going to have a significant moment with a cradle. just trust me bro.' #'in the meantime enjoy having the weirdest magic name ever' #probably came in useful for raising kids though #don't put that in your mouth don't you know where it's BEEN #because i do #(long stare off into middle distance) i know where it's been

[solarmorrigan]

Well, Hello, Sailor

written for @steddiemicrofic | prompt: ‘pin’ | wc: 388 | rated: T | cw: slightly racy photos?

“Oh my god,” Eddie gasps.

“Oh my god,” Steve echoes, groaning.

Eddie hadn’t meant to drop the box, but it was heavy; it had been a rescue from the back of Steve’s closet as they moved his stuff out of his old apartment (preparing to move into their new one, together), and it had been full of forgotten papers and old magazines and – photos.

The stash had spilled out in front of Eddie like it had been waiting for him, full-color and glossy and glorious.

There’s Steve posed front and center, on his knees and looking back over his shoulder at the camera. He’s wearing a little pair of navy blue shorts and a little red ascot and precious little else. The shorts are indecently high-cut, hugging his ass like they were made for it, but it’s the sailor hat settled jauntily on top of his head that really makes it for Eddie. Steve’s eyes are wide and sweet, as if he’s been caught by surprise, with his lips parted in that inviting way that haunts Eddie’s dreams, even though he can technically see it any time he likes now.

He’s the very picture of a perfect little pin-up boy.

“Oh my god,” Eddie says again, unable to get much else out.

“It was– uh, for a magazine,” Steve stutters out. “I forgot I even had copies of that shoot.”

“Uh huh.” Eddie nods, still staring, mesmerized, at the pictures in his hands.

“It was during college, after my dad cut me off. I needed another job, and this paid, like, surprisingly well, and–”

“It damn well better have,” Eddie says, finally smirking up at Steve. “I bet they made bank off of you, baby.”

Steve pauses, blinking. “You’re not– upset?”

“Why would I be upset?” Eddie asks; honestly, he’ll only be upset if Steve tries to pry the photos away from him before he’s had a chance to thoroughly inspect them.

“Just– some people have gotten… jealous, I guess?” Steve shrugs, glancing away.

“Other people can look if they want.” Eddie leans over to press a reassuring kiss to the corner of Steve’s mouth. “I know I’m the only one who gets you live and in person.”

Slowly, Steve smiles. “Well. If you like the sailor shoot, I bet you’ll love some of the others.”

“Others?”

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie microfic #stranger things #no I don't know what this is #but if I sit on it any longer I'm gonna edit it to ruins so here take it don't look at me thank you #(this was actually fun to write though) #solar wrote #eddiesteve

[jvlianbashir]

"the creator said in a reddit thread -" "the official twitter account posted that -" "the actors confirmed in a livestream that -"

i don't care and that's not real to me. put it in the text.

#for fun stuff like 'this character's favorite food is meatballs' im like cool but for worldbuilding and stuff? nah #i do understand some nuance with writers or w/e who were held back by corporate teams on confirming a character is gay or something #and wanting to talk about their hopes and intentions #but this is rly about the opposite with creative teams wanting the points for diversity or plot choices #or world building without putting it in the actual story #esp if its bc they just didn't want to piss off bigots or can't write well #sw giving backstory on the sith fleet situation in a TWEET will always be infamous to me #not st #doctor's log

[vacantgodling]

ngl i get that people hype up hating writing for the bit but like. idk. yall i Do actually really like writing. it is so satisfying and fun and rewarding and i get to look back what i made over and over again and get joy every single time.

yes writing is hard but if you hate it more than you love it im kinda like. idk. find another hobby?

#also the planning parts and the daydreaming is part of the process so idk #yall it is getting exhausting seeing all the quirky see how little i’m writing shit #like what if for once i am writing and im having a grand time!! #what if not being able to write isn’t a fun joke it is honestly detrimental to my brain!!! #what if writing has been my friend when i never had any and it is the love of my life and love language and i love actually doing it perhap #talking #ren hot cakes

[fiovske]

can I just say. coffee theory is stupid and completely cheapens the choice Aziraphale makes.

Aziraphale continues to say no to Metatron's offer until Metatron uses the real bait: if you take over Heaven, you can reinstate Crowley to his Angelic status. And that is what gets Aziraphale to say yes hook line and sinker — he can take Crowley with him so Crowey doesn't have to be afraid of Hell and Aziraphale can run things Do It Right as the Head of Heaven and no one would say anything to Crowley ever again if Aziraphale was on his side. Aziraphale doesn't know about the trial and the fact that Gabriel was fired for disagreeing w Heaven on the Second Armageddon front. He just thinks Gabriel was fired bc he fell in love w a demon (and Aziraphale's in love w a demon). Aziraphale strongly believes that if he can reinstate Crowley as an angel again then there would be no such objections from Heaven at all, because they would both be on the same side and they can be together and if anything ever goes wrong, both Crowley and he would be protected under Aziraphale's position as the new boss of Heaven. Plus, the way he remembers it, Crowley enjoyed making things creating things and still likes to do good deeds which he gets in trouble for if Hell finds out, but he won't if he's an angel, in Aziraphale's eyes then Crowley would be free to do all the good he liked. And because Aziraphale would be the boss, Crowley would be able to ask questions and work with him and make things better w his inquisitive perspective, something Crowley always wanted to do and Aziraphale wants to give him that also.

He doesn't know the full depth of things that Crowley knows, which is why when Crowley hears Aziraphale's offer, all he hears is that Aziraphale is choosing Heaven, after everything they have done to him, Aziraphale is leaving Crowley FOR Heaven. The way he sees it, Aziraphale wants him to change and be Heaven's definition of "Good" so they can both be in Heaven, conforming to a life Crowley left behind long ago, a life he knows Aziraphale wouldn't be happy in either. Which is the killing blow to Crowley's heart bc Aziraphale would choose THAT instead of coming away with Crowley? Devastating. But he doesn't know that Metatron's offer WAS Crowley's Angelification and hence forth security that got Aziraphale to say yes. Crowley hasn't communicated a lot to Aziraphale but Aziraphale also hasn't communicated a lot to him either and they're both on very different pages w the information they've got and what they feel they need to do to be together and be safe and happy.

Does Aziraphale make the naive choice? Yes. Does he make so in full control of his mind and senses? Also yes. Having his coffee poisoned is an incredibly cheap tactic because as a writer it's a cop out. It robs Aziraphale of not only his agency but also the reasonings behind his choice. It absolves him from the struggles and consequences of his actions and robs him of the growth and realization and epiphany he will have in the third act. It cheapens their inevitable reconciliation.

Metatron didn't hand him the coffee to poison him. He handed it to him so he can use the manipulative familiarity of "oh look i brought ur coffee order, isn't it cool how I know your coffee order isn't it nice how we are close like that?" that was the tactic. to get him to listen. Not some elaborate coffee poison.

#good omens #good omens meta #cant believe im having to actually write this. #high school english class. a thousand high school english classes for you clowns. #aziraphale #crowley #good omens 2 #good omens spoilers #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #coffee theory #bc i am a coffee theory hater bc is straight up stupid. #ANYWAY. #learn to accept characters u enjoy will do things that are wrong and hurt. #u will have more fun that way.

[konigbabe]

PERISH

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x gn!reader Word count: 1.6k Tags/warnings: no y/n; manga spoilers (post Shibuya timeline); canon-compliant; angst; death; emotional breakdown; hurt/no comfort; loss; grief Summary: For the first time in a long time, Satoru Gojo, the epitome of strength, breaks. Happy start of JJKS2 writing week.

event masterlist • masterlist • navigation • faq • AO3 • ko-fi

November 2018 8 minutes until Satoru Gojo’s unsealing

"Don’t worry, I’ll make it on time. I’m right behind the corner."

"We can wait," Yuji’s voice carries through the car, the static of the Bluetooth speaker occasionally cracking.

It feels like years have passed since you last saw him. Sealed away in the prison realm, Gojo’s state remains a mystery. There’s no telling how being locked in a place where time and space don’t exist can affect even the strongest minds.

That’s what worries you. What if he’ll break? What if he goes crazy on all of you? What if he explodes; wipes you all out with his technique? An endless sea of ‘what if’ swirls inside your mind as you take another turn, the mountains on your left with an ocean view on your right.

"Don’t," you reassure the youngster, "don’t wait any longer."

"You should be here, though," Megumi jumps into the conversation, "You’re closest to that idiot. He’ll want to see you."

His words draw a smile on your lips. It’s finally happening. The sleepless nights are coming to an end with the arrival of your lover.

"Then I’ll just opt for a dramatic entrance while you keep him busy," you respond before tightening your hands on the wheel. A familiar feeling washes over you; sudden knowledge of a new presence. Heart picking up, your eyes search the road for the source while the car’s speed slowly drops.

32 seconds; that’s how long it takes you to locate the source. A curse spirit manifestation stands in the middle of the road, blocking you. Its small hunched build stands a mere meter above the ground; four arms decorated by translucent fins hanging by its body, the prehnite skin glistening in the last rays of today’s sun, giving off a wet, moist appearance.

"Boys," you announce, stopping Yuji’s and Megumi’s bickering while still keeping up the cheerful, light voice in an attempt to not raise suspicions about your current predicament, "don’t wait any longer. Unseal Satoru and stop worrying ‘bout me. It’ll be fine."

Bringing the car to a slow halt, Yuji’s tone shifts into a more attentive one as your name seeps through the speaker before you hang up after one more reassurance.

As you step out of the vehicle, the curse's malevolence engulfs the air, almost tangible in its intensity. It clings to the atmosphere like a poisonous fog, penetrating your senses with a pungent sulfuric odor that threatens to overwhelm you.

Your hand slips inside your jacket to retrieve a carefully preserved seal, reserved for such precarious situations; just like this one.

"I’m sorry," with every footfall, the curse seems to shrink in size, yet its malicious nature grows stronger, the smell of sulfur almost suffocating, "but I’m in a hurry right now and you," pointing the parchment paper towards the spirit, "are in my way."

Swift and precise, your movements carry an aura of practiced precision. With little effort, you firmly press the seal upon the spirit's head, causing it to stumble momentarily before dissipating into thin air, vanquished by the power contained within the sigil.

Yet, the energy lingers.

Stronger than before. Stronger than a second ago. Its absent defense, non-existent attempt to fight or flee…it all makes sense now —

A powerful grip; a strong hand adorned with talons as keen as the finest blades dig into your shoulder as an inhuman force pushes you to the side.

As you're thrust aside, your vision catches a subtle glimmer of chrysolite, a hue that seeps into your perception; its scales are sturdy, each edge honed to a dangerous sharpness. Driven by instinct and the will to protect yourself, you reach out, your hand making contact with the curse spirit’s scaly hide.

The jagged edges of its scales cut into the delicate flesh of your fingers, leaving trails of crimson in their wake.

— it was a decoy.

Your body collides with the unforgiving side of the mountain, back meeting the rough and unyielding surface. A symphony of pain resonates within your bones, their structural integrity compromised as multiple cracks reverberate through your form.

Gasping for breath, your body instinctively seeks solace, but find none amidst the terrain. The curse doesn’t wait either. Swiftly moving forward, it lunges at you. Unforgiving. With a clear intent to strike. To kill.

During Satoru Gojo’s unsealing

There is no pain. The moment the curse’s hand breaches the barrier of your chest, you expect it. Expect some kind of visceral reaction. But there’s none — a gentle pinch, akin to a fleeting touch when the sharp claws first pierce through the protective layers of your breastplate. A slight discomfort upon the feeling of having a foreign object that’s found its place within the confines of your ribs. The barrier of your rib cage offers minimal resistance, yielding to the relentless advance that seeks to reach the very core of your being. The heart.

It all feels confusing.

"Kenjaku sends his regards," it whispers, the words slurred by the razor-sharp fangs that protrude from its mouth.

October 31, 2018 — 8:09 PM

"What’s the worst that can happen?"

Satoru saunters around the corner of the table, his presence punctuated by the audible slurping of juice from a small cartoon container. All while your palms rest on top of the said furniture, fingernails tapping at the surface.

The news has spread fast through the jujutsu community, faster than wildfire. Whispers of an unknown curtain cast around Shibuya an hour ago, trapping all non-sorcerers, innocent civilians, inside its insidious grasp with only one demand: Bring Satoru Gojo.

"Don’t say it like that, Satoru," you turn to face the man whose casual and dismissive demeanor only adds fuel to the worries setting inside your bones.

"They’re a bunch of curses," his hand finds its place on your hip bone while placing the empty container away, "Some special grades, yeah, but they’re weak compared to me. I’ll deal with them, save some people in the meantime, and bam," he snaps his fingers loudly, "We can go home. Get that sunset date you’ve been babbling about. Life is good," he finishes with a kiss on the crown of your head.

Life is good.

You watch the sun dip below the horizon behind the curse spirit’s back, indulging the sinister being in a halo glow.

Yeah. In the end, life was good.

2 hours and 48 minutes after Satoru Gojo’s unsealing

For a moment, he stands still. Unable to look down; frozen in time. The weight of it all seems to bear down upon his shoulders – now that Sukuna’s taken over Megumi’s body, Nanami’s and Yaga’s death, Suguru’s body being used as a vessel, the slow crumbling fall of the Jujutsu world – and now you; being gone.

Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer of the current time. Yet even his immense power proves futile as the people he loves keep dying on him…because of him.

A burden that threatens to crush him beneath its insurmountable gravity.

The air around him hangs heavy with sorrow, as if the very essence of grief has manifested itself in the atmosphere. A storm of emotions swirls within him; a combination of disbelief, anguish and a gnawing ache that gnashes at the core of his being.

He clenches his fists, fingers trembling with a mixture of sorrow and determination. In that agonizing moment, he finds the strength to finally lower his gaze, to confront the devastating truth that lies at his feet.

Everyone holds their breaths, the weight of his misery echoing in the silence as his eyes meet the lifeless visage of the one he holds dearest.

Of you.

Hand reaching out, his fingers graze the once-soft flesh of your hand; now cold and stiff. It serves as a confirmation of reality. There’s no getting you back, no way Shoko can nurture you back to health with her technique.

You’re gone.

And in that harrowing instant, the façade crumbles. The walls he built to contain his pain come crashing down, and Satoru Gojo, the epitome of strength, breaks.

Crumbling down on his knees, the vulnerability that spills forth from his broken form is raw and unrestrained. Only a handful of those closest to him stand behind to witness the symphony of torment that pierces the silence. Tears stream down his face, each drop carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken words, moments you two could’ve spent together.

One hand covering his mouth to silence the guttural sounds, the other reaches out to you, tenderly cradling your lifeless head upon his lap. He clings to the fragile hope that if he could provide just enough warmth and love, you might return to him.

Yuji looks around the room, at the people who silently observe their friend fall apart. Taking a step towards the hunched man, a soft grasp stops him mid step; Kiyotaka shakes his head, pushing his glasses back in place as Shoko looks down. For the first time, she’s unable to figure out her classmate, her childhood friend, the man whose side she’s always stayed by.

"Gojo," Yuji doesn’t allow Kiyotaka to stop him. Believing in what’s right, he stands behind his teacher’s back.

Hand laying on the tense muscle of his shoulder, he doesn’t attempt to comfort Satoru with any words — no words in this universe would bring you back anyway. Instead, his hand just rests there. Unmoving. Gentle.

"Who did it," his words cause Shoko to look back up as Satoru, stone-faced and stoic, speaks in a firm, devoid voice. Imagines of unspeakable horror flashes in his mind as he stands up, towering over the wide-eyed Yuji.

"Tell me now," his eyes search Kiyotaka’s, voice filled with undeniable authority, "I’ll kill them, kill them all."

#fun fact this is the first time I’m actually writing death and mourning #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo angst #gojo fluff #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk angst #gojo satoru angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x you #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #moni writes #moni's writing week #jjk writing week #angst

[nebuladreamz]

Future Starlit Skies scene, something something you get to have a moment with Moon

Bonus:

#nebula art and doodles #fnaf starlit skies #starlit skies #fnaf y/n #fnaf moon #fnaf moondrop #fnaf dca #fnaf daycare attendant #daycare attendant #moon fnaf #THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A FUCKING DOODLE #THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A ONE TIME DOODLE AND M A Y B E I'D ELABORATE ON IT FURTHER #BUT THEN SOME FUCKING SPIRIT POSSESSED ME #AND NOW ITS PASSED MIDNIGHT AND IM HERE WITH THIS #anyways what's good gamers #im planning on actually writing for it again bc i miss the sillies #shaky thumbs up have fun with this crumb