teller of tales, spinner of yarns, weaver of dreams and a liar
independent & private multi-muse sideblog
showcasing original and canon characters
featured muses: shoko ieiri, ryomen sukuna
nsft content, gore, & dark themes ahead
est. 2024, written by tsari (30, they / them)
all follows / likes / asks will come from taliaromanova
candles on the altar of my unceasing devotion: harerazor, gokunoban, gravesung / howlrs, keiteiken, nightmarefuele / michelangelowept, macabrehunter, tewwor
muses || memes
icon art by su2kuna ♡
blog sidebar art by crumplstiltskin ♡
rules below the cut
based purely on my personal preference, i am much more likely to write with you if you are over the age of 25 (like me). this isn’t a hard and fast rule, and will be enforced at my discretion.
i do not roleplay with minors under any circumstances. not just nsfw, nothing at all. i will not follow you back if your age is not listed on your blog in some way. this rule is non-negotiable.
on this blog i do have mains and blogs i consider affiliated with mine in some way. as this is a multimuse, i do not practice exclusivity on this blog. i am not interested in the dynamics it frequently creates between writers.
regarding shipping: i love it, and i also love platonic dynamics. there is never an expectation from me to ship, and i will generally keep things non-romantic unless we've discussed otherwise! every character i write is an adult, and are only interested in other adults.
nsft themes will generally include sexual content, graphic violence etc. all adult content will be tagged “ nsft. ( let your body match what your eyes can do ) " or tagged additionally “ tw. x ” based on the specific trigger. i keep a general list (large amounts of blood, excessive gore, etcetera). smut will happen here. i block regularly if i see something i don't like, you are empowered to do the same.
the only “text flair” i use are italics, bold, strikeouts, and the occasional color. i prefer writing in small text. for accessibility reasons i am happy to change WHATEVER is needed for you.
all OOC posts (including munday asks and the like) are tagged “ ooc. "
if you wish, feel free to block the " my art. / my photography. " tags to avoid seeing those posts. if reblogs are on, it's totally ok to share the post!
if you are uninterested in writing with me you owe me NO explanation. i do just request that you hardblock or at least just send me a message if i accidentally follow/refollow. duplicate safe blog!
for tag blocks: my gore tag is " tw. gore " and my blood tag is " tw. blood " — i am in mortuary school and i write both a pathologist and a curse that likes to eat people, so expect that you might come into contact with these themes and block the tags ( or me ) accordingly. i want to make sure everyone can enjoy their dash and find comfort there as much as possible. ♡︎
discord is preferable for communication purposes once we start chatting, and you can find me at tsarinabeena—i'm generally a lot faster with replies there too. i love to plot or just hang out and chat!
Sukuna and his fixation with wanting to be touched in order to prove the other person wants connection with him via violent displays of strength in an effort to break the cage of isolation imposed on him by the world only to be caged by the embodiment of compassion itself. Gojo and his fixation with remaining untouched as a declaration of his unerring strength and a monument to his own self-imposed isolation from the world only to let the embodiment of compassion touch him. Could be nothing.
Objectivism is a joke at his expense. He is in constant flirtation with a roadmap that leads nowhere, a puncture in the fabric. Death like a faraway tree.
There is nothing further for him. He has discovered everything.
Whether a smashed fruit seeping through his hands, or flaking bodies from his dreams gored on his sleeping, Sukuna has stuffed himself full. There are no other seats at the table, but the feast keeps coming, too hungry to stop himself. Not that he'd want to.
He tripped from the womb a pit.
Sukuna sits with his knees up and his arms around them. His chin slumps, his eyes dead. Temperate wind ghosts around him. It plays on his cheeks.
He sighs.
Maybe the Arctic is next.
When he gets up, the cell tower wobbles. He sticks his hands in his pockets and glares over the edge. Sensationalism is strikingly close to romanticism. Sukuna skirts that overlap, unfortunately. He pictures lurching over and splitting across the milky bowl below. Would he land on his feet, like a cat? He is only as good as his impulses.
Along the streets, homeless people gather like small murders. They offer hot chocolate to each other and warm their cups over barrels.
Sukuna walks through unseen, Jesus ignored.
The keening noises people make to the night really aren't all that fortuitous, but he listens anyway, mildly curious.
Chance leads him back where he's been before. He slips in while she is awake and staring. The curtain slips across his face.
there is a lot of keening in her neighborhood, cats and couples alike. shoko often thought about adopting a thing to keep her company, but she cannot even keep a plant alive. it would be cruel to bring in something that is dependent on her attention for survival.
but if that thing decides to come and go as he pleases, slipping into and out of her bedroom the same way he slips in and out of her dreams, that might be okay.
hell. it is okay.
in her state of wakefulness, she doesn't exactly look happy to see him. really, it's just that.
shoko sees him.
there is space in the bed beside her.
she has been leaving space in the bed beside her since the first night he played peter pan.
They don't tremble, they don't even flinch. Gaze even and cold, lacking any affection they used to peer up at him with. Reos laughs something low, bitter. "There was a time when you'd be willing to rip out your own beating heart if only to feed me by your hand."
They will say we did this to ourselves, love.
The bhaalspawn thinks better of his release, snatching Theo a second time. This time? He backs them against the cool stone of Bhaal's altar and curls over them. "I have always known what you fucking need." Spat back.
"Just because you no longer remember...." The cruel grip on their bicep snaps to a wicked hold on Theo's neck. Fingers curled tight, curling into them to smash their mouths together in a bruising kiss. Reos kicks their knees apart, slotting himself between their parted thighs atop the altar he worships them on. "Does not mean your body has forgotten."
there are some things that are universal truths; one in particular feels pressing at the moment.
last time i saw you, we just split in two.
...they are the same.
always the closest by far, certainly closer than orin was to either one. (at least that is what reos led theo'xena to believe, the youngest in their merry band, following reos like a shadow).
...they are not the same.
bhaal always had his favorites, the worshippers he blessed on a whim, flipping through his proverbial rolodex often in order to keep them all at each other's throats.
there is a universal truth being used against theo now; they may not remember everything, but he is right that some part of them remembers this. theo bites down on his bottom lip hard enough to tear through the plush flesh and bring forth a sip of his cherry wine.
"is this how you intend to remind me? putting me back in my place?"
“I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time. I don’t need your help, and I definitely don’t need your pity. Fuck off.” @taliaromanova // Reos + Theo
A barking laugh erupts from Reos, and it echoes throughout the chambers in the Temple. Bhaalists know better than to stop what they’re doing to watch him. Before they can step too far away, he grabs them. Tugging them closer by the almost cruel grip on their forearm. “You don’t have my fucking pity.” He spits. “You made your bed, and you can writhe in it. Just let me know if you want me to fuck you in it, too."
It's a lie. He's always hated seeing Theo suffer. He's always stepped in when he could, always shielded where allowed, always prevented if possible, always protected, cradled, kissed, something resembling love----
He curls forward a little, cutting back on some of their height difference. When he speaks, the bite from seconds ago is gone. His voice something low, a secret between two. “I took care of you long before you were taking care of yourself, brother.” With his free hand, he reaches up and lightly touches beneath their chin. Their gazes finally meet.
“Who do you think raised you? Father?” There’s an almost dejected glitter in those elven greens, if the wicked smile didn’t outshine them. “Please.” The word is painted in bitter sass, dripping a sick amusement.
“You may not want my fucking help, but you will need it.” And he releases them, standing back to his full height.
wilting flowers are meant to be stepped on and theo, the theo that used to be the favorite son, was used to being the one that steps. it is of little importance that reos had been the one guiding their hand at first, teaching them to be more than another pliant bhaalspawn. it is of little importance that whatever survived the nautilis was instinct bred in part by that guidance.
"look, theo, a star. use it to orient yourself."
"what good will you do me? hard to imagine you rebelling when you are master of the house," snarled back, cruelty for cruelty. "if he means to rip the heart out of my chest it is only to feed it to you."
do you trust me, or are you just out of options? (tojishooo)
she kicks a rock with her big toe, chipped nail polish and what feels like a hangnail or a blister from breaking in new shoes on her first day as an r4. her snort isn't cruel, but it isn't kind either.
neither of them are here because they want to be.
"do you actually care, or are you just chasing satoru in my silhouette?"
why even bother with her? why bother listening to the higher-ups? it can't all be about the money, so it has to be about proximity to him.
shoko still isn't used to being invisible alone, just the shadow-side of a triad.
"i don't need a bodyguard for a smoke on the balcony."
@harerazor, this honestly could be a vampire prompt too, tbh.
