#sap spill

[pinespittinink]

my hot take is that if you want to write a book, you need to read books

#Twitter would crucify me #not that this site is tremendously better at times #but sometimes it is #anyway. you can engage with creative media for inspiration so much #for characters for plot for arcs for ideas #but you also— 100%— need to read actual books #whole ass published books #because if you want to write a BOOK #you need to know what the craft is #not just the story and the inspiration #but the legit writing craft of language and storytelling with the written word #and try as you might: nothing will compare to that #no film or tv series or anything else will give you the same insight on How to Write as reading a book will #audio books count too!! they are still books; just audible ones #but you just— guys you just gotta read #you can’t neglect it as an essential for your own writing #sap spill

[shireduchess]

finished reading my first book of 2023! The Moonday Letters definitely a solid three stars

#setting my goal for twelve this year #sap spill #next stop: finishing Jade legacy

[ragewrites]

last poems of 2023, both holiday gifts meant for the same friend.

#spilled ink #poetry #poets on tumblr #poem #writeblr #2023 #i'm quite. quite drunk. but #looking back on 2023...actually the past few years have all been quite extreme emotionally speaking #but i am so glad. so glad. it killed neither my compulsion for writing #nor my love for my friends #my love in generaly rlly #so so so glad. #may 2024 treat me kindly. may it fan my love and only my love with no new griefs. may i be full of sap. may i write and write with ease. #i want to play more with language and form...yes even more than i have been throughout 22/23...more more more always more #and i especially want to go back to erasures this year i miss erasures so much. and found elements in general ahh #anyway. i'll. stop rambling ahhghj see you all tomorrow whn i'm sober and i've edited tonite's midnight drafts to smth that's presentable #love n grace x

[hersurvival]

Poison Ivy eyes

Hold me captive

In my own mind

Her gaze lingers,

Steady,

Her name on my tongue

Like a burning,

Sweet tincture

She has weaved her vines

Through my veins,

Taken root

And left my heart

Lacquered

I know they say

"Leaves of three, let it be,"

But I am weaker at the prospect

Of trying to resist her

#poison ivy #green eyed girl #she consumes me #urushiol in the sap #is what causes the rash associated with poison ivy #they use it for traditional east asian lacquerware #fun fact #writing #poets on tumblr #poem #poetry #spilled ink #spilled thoughts #spilled poem #spilled writing #original writing #flame

[writhe]

i got WOOD ASH’ED & ruined EVERYTHING

#i need to die i spilled so much sap #and burnt my hand

[sleepyagent]

I think love is about choosing yours

out of options

not because you're forced to

not because you dont know anything else

but because you know and got other options and you still want that person the most and the best

Love them intentionally

#love #sap #words #text #spilled thoughts #spilled feelings #mine #chosen family

[createacamillahect]

Daydreaming about Camilla in math class. She sits two desks in front of you.

You can see the back of her dark bob. She's restless. The teachers either love or hate her cause she shifts constantly but knows as much if not more than they do. She shifts in her seat, pulling her dark strand to the side, exposing the soft brown of her neck. You image kissing there, feeling the warm skin and the muscles of her neck shifting as she relaxes back into you. You would treat her right; you think. You imagine getting to spend every moment of your free time with her, feeling as giddy as you do now all the time. You'd kiss her every day, on the lips and the palm of her hands and the tendons on the back. You'd wake up seeing her and go to bed with her in your arms. You could live in the city or somewhere remote, knowing she would support you wherever you went. You imagine a loft with a dog or waking up god-early on a farm with a dog and you think that you would be so happy.

When the time comes to split into pairs to work on a project, you two pair together, and with her eyes on you, you think that, for now, this is enough.

#tlt #cam #camilla hect #i spilled my sap all on this #me 🤝 nona #happily ever after is cam and a dog

[lavenderlhymes]

from the longest heart winter

hibernation, she emerged one night

to witness the sap moon

begin her springly flowing flight.

each and every step she took

seemed to carry the weight

of her remaining people’s captivity,

of their tragically brutal fates.

she knew the men of this

land to be arrogant in their ways,

that they believed since birth

dominion was theirs to blaze,

that they’ll leave a trail of destruction to

control all species of air, water, and earth,

never giving a thought or care to what

their actions are truly worth.

for too long they’ve imposed

their control, virulently unjust.

as sin will befall all man with power,

he will eventually return to dust.

so she marched toward

the city with newfound resolve,

under her patron’s glow,

to their bonds dissolve.

—march 20. spring night // @nosebleedclub

#original #my poetry #poetry #poem #moonsilver ink #spilled ink #spring night #march prompt challenge #nosebleedclub #the sap moon resolution of a dishonored priestess

[bananakarenina]

For the fic asks! ❤️ 3, 19, 20?

3. what fic are you emotionally attached to?

the easy answer--the real answer that doesn't sound real--is, of course, all of them, because i am emotional about my fics in a way that i'm not even aware of sometimes, but let me see--

leave the light on, because it feels epic to me in the way my favorite fics to read are

for love's sake only, because look at this book i wrote

want your midnights, because it's the first fic i wrote in a decade and look where it got me

our hearts can speak ourselves unseen, because i wrote it with an amazing (and amazingly talented) friend @where-you-go i met because of this show and this writing

heart like a wheel, because telling the stories of people who don't get their stories told is my heart's secret desire

and like, i'm emotional about the ones that haven't been completed yet because i can just feel they're going to be so good!

.....yeah, the answer is "all of them."

19. If you could write an ideal fic, what would it include?

i answered this one for bethany here but let me take another crack at it.

obviously i would love for all my fics to be completed and posted (i am saying it again as to manifest it, lol)

but ideal? hm. when i think of fics i love to read, there's always love (and there are many kinds of love, including the love an author has for the source material) and a little poetry, and explorations into corners of the world and corners of people that don't always get seen, threads that seem so subtle at first but when you step back from the tapestry they weave the big picture, a fic that tells you something about yourself as you're reading or writing it

hm. so maybe my ideal fic is something that *i* need to read first, and hopefully other people would like it too?

20. What’s the greatest gift you’ve gotten from your writing?

alex asked me this one too so i will answer hers later maybe about myself but riff a little here on what i told bethany about meeting the best people--

when i wrote & posted want your midnights i was hoping people would like it and comment and maybe i'd get some nice feedback and it'd be a fun thing i did

i could not have expected that almost 2 years later (!!!) i'd meet such incredibly talented people, people who are sweet and friendly and hilarious (and if you are reading this, you are one of those people, full stop, i don't care if we've only virtually waved and smiled at each other in passing, you are one of those people)

and also a few of those people have become my real friends, like, people that i'm dying to meet in person so we can laugh and get to know each other and close out a bar or restaurant and make people wonder what our deal is, people that i message on the regular and ask about their lives and write stories that may or may not see the light of day but all that matters is that we're telling them to each other

that kind of collaboration and friendship and love is such a gift that it's amazing to me that i've found it, sometimes <3

#man you give me one day off of work and i'm spilling sap all over the place like a maple tree #that is a metaphor for you ash #i love you! #ask games #myfic #writing

[pinespittinink]

this is a reminder folks to reblog your own shit! who cares if you’ve done it before, you can do it again! wip intros, excerpts, graphics— even if they’re old! as long as you like it, go for it! your blog is a place for you first and foremost, and who knows who will see it this time around who never had the chance to before? love yourself and your work and chip the stigma away bit by bit. you’re not being annoying or egotistical, i swear

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #writeblr community #I’m passionate about this fhdjdjs in case you couldn’t tell #sap spill

[refrigeratorhumming]

One day, love —

One day,

i'll be able to hold your hand, and feel the warmth of your palm sink into mine.

One day,

i'll be able to lean in and whisper a nonsensical joke in your ear, and see your eyes alight with laughter.

One day,

i'll be able to sit across you on a table, in a remote cafe and tell you how much you mean to me.

One day,

i'll be able to walk alongside you on the beach, on the side of the road, wherever and whenever, hands clasped together and knocking into each other.

One day,

i'll be able to sit alongside you and watch the moon, admire it. Watch you watch the moon, admire you, for far longer.

One day,

i'll be able to see the sun slowly light up your face as you lay next to me, sound asleep. Kiss your closed eyes and your closed grin because alas! you were awake all along.

One day,

i'll be able to sit at our little dining table with only two chairs, in our little home, with you. Sort out our bills and plan ahead about what we'll cook for dinner, together.

One day,

i'll be able to hear the doorbell ring, and know it's you waiting outside.

One day,

i'll be able to go to bed, flicking the lights off and in the dark, cuddling close to you, your ever present warmth.

One day,

i'll be able to kiss you till we're out of breath and drunk on love, love and love. And never stop.

One day,

i'll be able to turn towards you and stare at your pretty self, at the way you stare back, giddy and pleasant, at the way destiny works.

One day,

i'll be able to live this silly little thing called life, with you.

and if it so happens that this life time — this universe —now, here, later, is not enough -

then,

One day, that fine one day,

in another lifetime — another universe — another now, another here, another later —

i'll sit in my lonesome, on the first day of 8th grade, in a bustling class, staring at my hands.

That day,

i'll shift to the side as another person occupies the empty spot next to me.

That day,

i'll hear you speak,

a soft, 'hi'.

That day,

i'll raise my head, and see the face of an angel.

That day,

when time slows to a hault and fate starts up its machinery,

when life narrows down to a single moment,

That one day,

i'll meet you, again.

It's a promise.

#dark acadamia quotes #dark academic aesthetic #english literature #grey academia #literature quotes #poetry #romanticize #spilled poetry #dark academia quotes #love #fate #poetry film #longing #oneday #chaotic academia #can you tell im obsessed #a big sap #your honour im in love

[getodrools]

Rubbing pretty clits with Shoko, only for a needy Gojo to come up right behind you and slide himself in between your sloshing pussies... You groan into an outcry, head knocking back into his broad shoulder, "Toru 〜"

The rubbing of fat mounds sickly sweet, keep your mouth agape, moaning a mix of their names in utter bliss. All while Gojo is busy sandwiching the fat of his cock past slippery folds as you slide around. Each barrel, his pelvis hits your doughy globes hard, forcing your grip on Shoko's waist to tweeze. It's cute though, catching how a petal of fingerprints wake in her pale flesh.

He'd try hard to dismiss his needy attention, to not fully come between you girls – nipping at the shell of your ear, but his hips buck eagerly; fucking himself between those soft and warm pillows that sap at his base, and each time the oozing capped tip peaked out — prodding with a hard thump, it nubs right at your clits, purely adding all to the slippery, wet fun...

The next day you're scissoring with Shoko again; her pretty, and snowy plush thighs knobbly between yours… But this time a needy Getō is below your working bodies, keeping a stiff dick between your pussies like a pole trapped in snow.

Suguru is wrecked, his hair is sticking to that dewey face that could only scrunch up in euphoria as he shamelessly lays back, watching how both you pretty girls practically hotdog his fat meat... You could feel him throbbing as you rub along his length with Shoko, knowing she could say the same, watching how she sucks in her rosey, bottom lip… Even feeling puffy folds glide against hers when you'd mush yourself just a little harder.

Every ridden face growing tight. Damp mounds engorge and slide up and down Geto's swelled-up length with haste, and each time you'd reach the pearled crown, puffy clits would kiss… He'd spill out just a little more too; the mushing of you both was practically milking him, making ease for you girls to prod messier — faster in thrumming need...

<– BACK: PINNED ⊹ ࣪ ˖ NEXT: JJK MASTERLIST –>

#🌐 𝐿𝒜𝒱𝐼𝐼 𝒲𝑅𝐼𝒯𝐸𝒮! #i wanna tribe shoko 😔 #ᝰ satoru gojo! #ᝰ suguru geto! #ᝰ shoko ieiri! #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #gojo smut #gojo x reader #geto smut #geto x reader #shoko smut #shoko x reader #jjk gojo #jjk geto #jjk shoko

[ohproserpine]

i. deer dolly

part i | part ii | more | ao3 tags: fem! reader, reader is a performer in a speakeasy, human! possibly ooc! alastor so he's a bit more "tame" here, allusions to murder and such, unsettling & obsessive behavior, written before episode 7; may become inaccurate, gorey-ish descriptions of love

"So what?" Angel Dust hummed, drumming his nails on the counter. "You and Alastor are like... friends?"

"Oh, well, that ain't the word I would’ve used, but it's something like that!" Mimzy chirped, reaching for her drink and downing it in one go. "He used to frequent the club I had! In fact, that’s where he met his wife—"

“Wife?!” Angel Dust cut her off, jaw dropping. “Freaky face is married?”

“Oh yeah,” Mimzy hummed, waving her hand around. “Under all that murder and cannibalism, he’s a total sap! Can't blame him, I mean—his wife is a doll! Me an' her used to perform together!”

"An’ how come I never heard of this? People ain't told me shit!" Angel Dust grumbled, turning to Husk behind the counter. "You knew 'bout this, whiskers?"

"Yeah. They were together back in the living. But don't even think of bringing it up in front of Alastor. He gets all heated," Husk grumbled, grabbing a towel to wipe down Mimzy’s now-empty glass. The cat then turned to grab another bottle off the shelf, a grimace on his lips. "I would know."

Angel Dust leaned forward, resting his face on his folded hands. "Well, ain't that something. Never knew he even had one of those."

Mimzy cackled, her voice a raspy melody that echoed through the smoky air of the bar as she snatched the bottle of liquor away from Husk’s paws. "Oh, honey, you wouldn’t even know how deep it goes. They go way back."

"Spill," Angel Dust grinned, curiosity getting the better of him. 

Mimzy leaned in, looking both ways to make sure Alastor or his shadows weren't around before lowering her voice. "It was back in the day, at my joint. Alastor dropped by for the bootlegs, you know? But then he caught sight of her. She was singin’ and dancin’ on stage, a real heartbreaker. He couldn't resist the charm, and boom, he was struck on! Ever since then, he came around as frequently as he could. Made me so much money~" 

Angel Dust raised an eyebrow, his long lashes fluttering as he squished his cheek against his palm, a coy smirk playing on his lips. "And you were part of this love saga?"

Mimzy shook her head, a wicked glint dancing in her eyes before she lifted the bottle to her lips and downed its contents in one swift motion, her throat working as she swallowed. "Oh, sugar, just a witness to the drama. Those two lovebirds had their own dance going on. I just spiced things up."

Angel Dust chuckled, shaking his head. "Never thought smiles had it in him."

"Again. He likes to keep his shit private. So, don't go running your mouth unless you wanna be on the receiving end of one of his… episodes," Husk interrupted, his gruff voice breaking through the conversation as he leaned over the counter and reclaimed the bottle from Mimzy with a low growl.

Angel hummed dismissively, his golden tooth catching the glimmer of the bar lights as he spoke. “Anyone could've guessed that. Where is she, anyways? I haven't seen or heard of her since day one."

"Busy," Mimzy snorted, her finger lazily tracing the rim of her glass. She leaned back in her seat, the dim glow of the bar lights casting shadows across her features. "That's where."

“Really?" Angel's brow lifted in skepticism, his boot lightly kicking against the base of Mimzy's chair. "Busy? That’s it?”

Mimzy shrugged, her lips curling into a sly smile. "Can't tell ya much. Y'know Alastor doesn't like sharin'. Secrets and shadows, that's his game."

“Aww c'mon, tits,” Angel grinned, his golden tooth glinting beneath the bar lights with each word. “You gotta know more than you let on. It'll be our secret.”

"Well," Mimzy drawled, savoring the suspense as she tapped a gloved finger against her cheek. "I guess I can tell you a lil’ something about how they met…”

.

Alastor found himself standing in the heart of a secluded corner of town. 

A desolate, dimly lit street stretched out before him, raindrops rhythmically tapping on the worn concrete beneath his feet.

It was something he had never imagined—searching for a speakeasy in this far-off locale. Rarely did he have time for himself. Most of his days were dedicated to caring for his mother, his job as a radio host, and any free time he had was reserved for his… hobbies. But he supposed a change of scenery wouldn't hurt.

Adjusting his glasses, he gazed up at the timeworn, ragged sign of a barbershop that read, "Chum’s Clippers." 

Charming. 

With a roll of his eyes, the radio host stepped into the worn-down establishment, visibly grimacing at the shop's decrepit condition. His eyes surveyed the room, settling on a young blonde woman. 

Perched on the edge of the registrar counter, a cigar dangled between her cherry-red lips, the tendrils of smoke curling upwards in lazy spirals. Her legs crossed provocatively, causing the fabric of her dress to ride up her thighs, revealing more skin than what civil society would allow. 

As soon as she caught sight of Alastor's silhouette, a spark of excitement lit up her features, and she greeted him with an animated wave.

"Hey there, mistah! Names Mimzy!" she chirped with a friendly lilt. Her crimson-painted nails plucked the cigarette from her lips, trailing a wisp of smoke as she gestured toward Alastor. "Whatcha here for?"

"Pleasure to meet you," Alastor smiled back and stepped closer, offering her a bow of his head, “Quite a pleasure. You see, I was just strolling through these darling streets, and wouldn't you know it? The whispers in the wind pointed me straight to you, the gal in the know when it comes to bootlegs. Care to confirm?"

‘A potential client?" Mimzy thought, her smirk hidden behind her hand as she took one last puff, the cherry of her cigar glowing brightly before she flicked it into an ashtray. 'Straight to the point.'

"Well, well, mistah," she drawled with a playful twirl of her finger through her blonde curls. "You've got a nose for sniffin' out the good stuff, huh? Well, we might have a few things tucked away for the right kind of folk. But, sugar, we don't just give 'em to anyone.”

Alastor's smile widened as he smoothly fished out his wallet, giving it a theatrical wave. "I do have a penchant for fine libations, my dear. And I assure you, I'm just looking for a little taste of the local flavor, nothing more."

Mimzy's eyes sparkled with mischief as she perked up, eagerly hopping off the counter. The click of her heels echoed against the worn floor as she approached the tall man.

"You're in luck, then! Follow me, and we'll talk business in the back," she said, gesturing toward a concealed door at the back of the barbershop.

Alastor followed her through a narrow passage, which unveiled another door leading to the very speakeasy he’d heard talk of. The atmosphere changed instantly, lively jazz music filled the air, and the dimly lit space was alive with laughter and clinking glasses.

Mimzy guided Alastor to a private booth tucked away in a corner, where a polished bottle of bootleg whiskey awaited their arrival.

"Here's to unexpected encounters, mistah," she beamed, the words dripping with charm as she poured a generous measure into his glass. Alastor raised his glass in acknowledgment, his eyes glinting with amusement.

"To unexpected encounters," he echoed before taking a deep sip.

The whiskey was bitter and strong, yet there was a subtle sweetness that danced on his tongue, leaving behind a tantalizing warmth. It had been increasingly difficult to find such fine brews ever since the prohibition hit, making each sip all the more precious.

Seating himself comfortably, Alastor swirled the glass in his hand, mesmerized by the way the golden liquid caught the flickering candlelight. Beside him, Mimzy continued her lively chatter, her words accompanied by the persistent clinking of ice in their glasses as she refilled his drink, hoping to stack his bill higher with each pour.

As the room hummed with the soft, easy notes of a piano and the clinking of glasses, a sudden hush fell over the crowd as an announcer's voice sliced through the air.

"Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for the enchanting Dolly!"

Mimzy's excitement bubbled up even more, and she leaned in toward Alastor. "That's my sister! Well— not by blood, but you know, me and her are real, real close. One of my best performers here at the bar!"

"Is that so?" Alastor hummed, his eyes now alight with curiosity as he shifted his focus toward the stage.

In that moment, you stepped onto the platform, grabbing a hold of the standing microphone. With a subtle flick of your wrist, you directed attention to the dark-haired pianist, his fingers poised above the keys. A nod from you and the jazz ensemble sprung to life, setting the stage for your performance. As the spotlight enveloped you in a warm glow, a hushed silence fell over the speakeasy.

Folks, here's a story 'bout Minnie the Moocher She was a red hot hoochie-coocher She was the roughest, toughest frail But Minnie had a heart as big as a whale

The lyrics flowed easily through Alastor's mind, carried by the smooth, buttery tones of your voice that filled the air. The radio host found himself utterly hypnotized, his gaze never tearing from your form.

He could stare for hours, unabashed by any sense of shame—though, truth be told, he didn't possess much of that quality to begin with.

She messed around with a bloke named Smokey She loved him though he was kokey He took her down to Chinatown And he showed her how to kick the gong around

As Mimzy began clapping excitedly and waving her arms to beckon you over, Alastor's attention shifted. The final notes of the song echoed in the room, snapping him back to reality. In the haze of your performance, he hadn't even realized that the song had come to an end.

“What a gal!” Mimzy cackled, joyously wrapping her arms around you as you approached.

Alastor took a moment to study you with keen interest.

The dim lighting of the speakeasy lent a soft, ethereal glow to your figure as you moved, casting long shadows across the floor. A slender dress, shimmering with golden sequins, hugged your figure, shimmers and glitters catching the light. The dress boasted a daring low neckline, while its swaying boxed skirt gracefully fell just above your knees, accentuating your every movement. Complementing the ensemble were black kitten heels, their clicks and clacks adding a subtle rhythm to every step you took. Your hair, styled into a sleek bob, framed your demure features perfectly. Adorning your head was a headpiece adorned with golden yellow feathers and dark lace.

"Dollface, I want ya to meet Alastor!" Mimzy exclaimed, pulling you along and positioning you in front of him. “He’s new!”

With a wave of your hands and a warm smile, you tilted your head up to meet Alastor's gaze. The man standing before you was tall and slim, boasting broad shoulders. His white button-up clung perfectly to his frame, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing toned forearms adorned with scars, cuts, and prominent veins.

‘Must be a hunter or a butcher,’ you noted heatedly.

Short, side-swept brunette hair framed his face, adding a touch of rugged charm to his appearance, while rectangular glasses perched on the bridge of his nose lent him an air of intelligence. As he smiled, a chill crept down your spine, and an odd sinking sensation settled in your stomach.

There was an unsettling nature to him, a subtle aura that left you uncertain of whether your reaction stemmed from the eerie quality of his smile or if it was simply a flustered response to his strikingly handsome features. 

“Pleasure to meet you, cher,” Alastor purred, turning on the charm. He delicately took your hand, pressing a kiss against your knuckles. In a subtle move, the radio host let his fingers linger over your skin, subtly checking for any sign of a ring. Noticing the absence, he filed the information away with a sly smile. 

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance as well, sir,” you smiled, tucking your face behind your hand. Alastor observed with delight as a subtle blush painted your cheeks, a tacit acknowledgment that his presence had left an impression.

"Al here knows his way around a glass of whiskey like nobody else in these parts! Ain't that right, Al?" Mimzy chattered, her voice bubbling with familiarity as if she had known him for years and hadn't just met him one song and ten drinks ago.

Alastor chuckled, a low, melodic sound that sent your stomach doing flips. "

"Well, I do have a certain fondness for…" The radio host paused, his sharp, gaze raking up and down your form, his words trailing off. "…finer things in life."

A silence lingered in the air, and Mimzy, always attuned to the mood of a room, shot a knowing look between the two of you.

"Well, don't cha?" Mimzy exclaimed, her hands clapping with excitement. "If that's the case, then I'm sure Dolly would love to show you around here!"

"Is that so?" Alastor, maintaining that devilish smile, turned his attention back to you. "Well, what do you say, cher?" he questioned.

Tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, you met his gaze with a coy smile. "I'd be delighted to show you around. There's a lot more to this place than meets the eye."

Mimzy clapped her hands together. "Perfect! Now, why don't you two enjoy the rest of the night? I'll be right here waiting."

“Shall we?” Alastor offered his hand, gesturing to the dance floor.

With a small nod, you graciously accepted Alastor's outstretched hand, leading the way to the lively dance floor where the band played an upbeat tune. Around you, couples twirled in a dizzying dance, with heels tapping, shoes stomping, and skirts gracefully gliding and twirling. Alastor wasted no time, pulling you in and molding your form against his.

Looks were indeed deceiving, as despite his lean appearance, Alastor had no issue effortlessly tossing and spinning you round and round, lifting you as if you were as weightless as a feather. Each spin and dip was executed with skill, his footwork was a blur and soon enough, you found yourself willingly surrendering to the rhythm of his lead. 

This man could fucking dance.

As the music gradually slowed, Alastor guided you to the side, providing a moment to catch your breath after the energetic routine.

"Thank you for the dance, cher! You are quite quick on your feet," Alastor chuckled, his voice low, blending with the fading echoes of the music.

"You're not too bad yourself," you managed between breaths, a raspy laugh escaping your lips. "Nobody's ever been able to keep up with me," you continued, running a hand through your tousled hair and adjusting your dress. "I think I was the one who had to keep up with you."

After ensuring you were presentable, you lifted a hand to fix Alastor's slightly damp locks, adjusting his glasses and tie. Alastor froze, a foreign sensation enveloping him. Despite his typical aversion to physical contact, there was an absence of the usual recoil in disdain this time.

"Looks like we're both a bit of a mess, aren't we?" you chuckled, a wry smile playing on your lips as you gracefully brushed away a speck of dust from his shirt.

Alastor blinked and eventually relaxed, allowing you to proceed without any resistance. "Quite."

While you continued to fix him up, Alastor couldn't help but feel a sense of bewilderment. He felt as though coils had entwined themselves around his heart. Slowly constricting, they didn't just tighten but twisted, sharp edges digging into muscle, squeezing his emotions into a thick syrup that spilled beyond the confines of his ribs, seeping out in a haunting shade of crimson through the cracks in his chest.

As the seconds passed, he paid no mind to your touch, shifting his focus to instead dissect you with his eyes. He scrutinized the subtle reactions playing across your face—the delicate twitches of your brows, the soft pout of your blood-red lips, and the scrunches of your nose. 

What were you doing to him?

"There you go!" you announced, a note of satisfaction in your voice as you finished your task, your hand coming to rest briefly on his chest before retreating. "Ready to head back?"

Snapping out of his obsessive trance, Alastor emitted a soft hum, offering his arm to you. You gracefully accepted, intertwining your arm with his. The energetic atmosphere from the dance gradually subsided as you and Alastor made your way back to the private booth. Mimzy's mischievous grin awaited you as she rejoined your company.

"Looks like you two had quite the time!" she exclaimed, a twinkle in her eye.

Alastor quickly composed himself, nodding with a grin. "Indeed! It was quite a delightful dance."

Just as Alastor turned toward you, the insistent dings of a nearby clock echoed through the room. His expression shifted, a fleeting shadow of disappointment and ire crossing his face. The hours had danced away quicker than he had anticipated.

Undoubtedly, the night was still young for you, given that speakeasies often extended their festivities until the early hours of the morning.

However, as much as Alastor would adore the idea of continuing to enjoy your company, the weight of responsibilities at home tugged at him. He had his elderly mother waiting, relying on his care for her well-being, as well as an upcoming morning shift at the radio station.

"It's later than I realized, my dear," he admitted, his voice carrying a touch of regret. "I'm afraid I can't stay any longer. Duty calls, and the dawn awaits for my return."

Something twisted and snapped in Alastor's gut as he observed the unmistakable disappointment etched across your features, evident in the downturn of your blood-red lips. His fingers itched with an impulse to claw your mouth back into a smile, to dig his nails into your skin and carve your lips into a grotesque display of happiness, all in a desperate attempt to restore the radiance of your joy.

Meanwhile, Mimzy sighed in disappointment, yet Alastor discerned that beneath the theatrics, she was indifferent to it all, evident in her thinly veiled disinterest.

"Aww… That's too bad, sugar! The night's just gettin' started!" Mimzy exclaimed, shaking her head with a pout. 

"But I get it! Some folks got places to be," Mimzy waved it off. There was a sudden twinkle in her eye as she pulled out a tab from her dress pocket. "Anyways, 'bout those drinks you had, they weren't exactly on the house, sooo..."

Alastor chuckled and pulled out his wallet. "Of course, my dear! I apologize, it must not have crossed my mind!"

He settled the bill and threw in a generous tip, for both you and Mimzy. His job as a radio host was quite the money-spinner, affording him the pleasure of treating others to the finer things in life. Mimzy practically glowed with satisfaction, her blue eyes sparkling as she snatched the tab. Swift and efficient, she flipped through the bills, before pocketing the money.

"Thank you, love!" Mimzy chirped, already moving away from the table as she waved him off. "You're welcome anytime!"

“I’m sure I am,” Alastor responded flatly, almost mockingly, with a roll of his eyes, pulling a laugh from you. As Mimzy made her way off backstage, both you and Alastor were left alone.

“It's a shame you have to leave so soon. I've got more songs up my sleeve for later. I would have loved for you to stay and catch the performance,” you sighed, turning back to him.

Alastor's eyes sparkled with genuine interest. "Songs, you say? Well, cher, that does sound like a delightful experience. Perhaps I can catch your next show some other time."

You smiled, appreciating his enthusiasm. "I'd love that. I perform here regularly, and your company would be more than welcome anytime."

Alastor's gaze intensified, fixing onto you with a magnetic pull that seemed to draw you closer despite yourself. His eyes, pools of darkness, held an unexplainable intensity. As his lips curled up into a grin, there was a hint of something more primal than human lurking behind his charming facade. A shiver traced its way down your spine, leaving behind a lingering sensation that unsettled you to your core.

"I'll definitely make it a point to come by," he finally said. 

Scrambling for a response, the only sound that reached your ears was the rhythmic thud of your own heartbeat as your blood rushed through your veins.

"Y-You too! Don't let the night slip away too quickly," you stammered.

With a nod, Alastor bid you a final farewell, weaving through the dimly lit space towards the exit. 

Yes, he shall see you very soon.

Cher - Louisiana Creole term meaning "darling," "sweetie" or "honey."

#sephiewrites #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor imagine #hazbin imagine #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x you #hazbin x you #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor

[neckromantics]

We don't talk enough about how absolutely devastating and romantic and hot the idea is that Astarion would know the scent of your blood anywhere.

How quickly he would notice when you've even the slightest of nics? When, no matter how focused on anything else he might be at the time, he always comes to check it out?

You'll be peeling a piece of apple with your pocket knife when it slips in your grip. The sharp edge of the blade slices a shallow cut into the meat of your thumb, and you inhale sharply through your nose even though it barely hurts at all. Instinct has you sucking your injured digit into your mouth with a soft curse– the sweet juice of the fruit you were snacking on quickly overpowered by the metallic twang of blood.

You nearly jump out of your skin when he appears over you not a moment later. He makes some offhand comment about how careless you are. Takes hold of your injured hand and tuts like he intends to tease, but he isn't fooling anyone.

He stands so close, jaw ticking as he clenches his teeth, a tension in his shoulders that tells you he's doing everything in his power to keep composure. Your blood calls to him like a moth to a flame, and as funny as you find it in the moment, you don't have the heart to tease him for it. It's actually kind of endearing.

He'd only get quicker in noticing as time passes.

Especially after you've been traveling together for a few years, and he's come to know your scent better than his own. Which only makes sense considering how often he's got his nose pressed to some part of you. (He thinks you smell good.)

At this point, when you get injured in battle, he often catches the fragrance before you've even processed that you've been hit.

He'd suck in a sharp breath through his teeth– a hiss so loud that it catches your attention just enough for you to spare him a glance as you fight.

It's all you need to see just how blown his pupils are from where you're standing, mostly because his gaze is laser locked onto you to second you search for him. His movements turn faster. Deadlier, as he scans the field before you. Determined. Hungry. Angry. He's searching for the sorry wretch that dared to get the best of you– that dared spill even a drop of his beloved's precious blood upon the soil.

You've already taken them down, of course. Poor sap might have gotten a good dig in at your shoulder, but ultimately didn't stand a chance once he properly pissed you off.

Astarion's eyes go heavy.

Half-lidded in that special way of his and only darkening further as he appraises you. You can practically feel it as he follows the line of your throat, zeroes in on your pulse point for a moment, before settling to watch the warm crimson that's beginning to soak into the sleeve of your tunic.

You see a bit of concern in those eyes, but then he sees your smile and– A flash of hot, honeyed desire catches you by surprise.

You suddenly can't tell if it's just the blood loss making you woozy or if he's about to make you swoon like a maiden from an old romance novel. You try (and fail) to keep a straight face when he sinks his dagger into his final opponent's neck without so much as a glance their way.

There's a splash of red against pale white skin, and a lifeless body dropping to the grass by his feet. Your heart stutters in your chest, and he all but moans in response to the sound of it. A mere four paces and he's on you– hands and teeth and tongue exploring every inch of your exposed skin, ripping open parts of your armor to gain better access, like you're not stood in a field of gore and ruin and freshly spilled blood.

You cling to him like a lifeline.

Before he drags you away to camp– to a warm tent and a soft bedroll where he can have his way with you for as long as you and your mortal body will allow him– he has you down a potion of healing or two.

And it's a good thing one of you has a Lesser Restoration spell handy somehow, cause you're most definitely gonna need it.

#bg3 #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate 3 #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #bg3 tav #astarion headcanons

[sleepyagent]

Even if i knew our ending, Id still wanna go through the journey with you

#sap #love #words #mine #the treasure is the homoerotic friendships we made along the way #homo #her #feelings #spilled thoughts