I think the one thing we should learn from rednote is the value of person-to-person connection. The american government censors tiktok out of sinophobia, the chinese government censors lgbt content out of homophobia, and the one thing I can think of is let's all bond over how shitty governments are.
plug!vi + her pretty pink sorority bitch | nsfw, mdni
plug!vi who has her eye on her newest client. you’re just such a pretty, pink girl, never the type to be buying drugs, especially not off of someone like vi. hell, you would never even dare be seen in public with someone like vi, but as a sorority sister, someone has to do the job of getting weed for every party.
plug!vi who actually hates you when she first meets you. you’re the epitome of the stuck up rich prick stereotype, in a pink tesla with perfectly painted nails and makeup that’s never out of place. she wonders what you’re like when you’re high, because she can never imagine seeing you with even a hair out of place.
plug!vi who is surprised when you roll up to the usual meeting spot one day, this time with mascara flooding down your cheeks and enough money for only one preroll. you’re blubbering to her like you’ve known her forever, about how your boyfriend cheated on you with your own sorority sister, and how you can never trust guys with your heart ever again because it’s too delicate to be broken…
plug!vi who sits in the back of your car with you to smoke the preroll you just bought. she discovers you’re a total ditz when greened out, giggling and pushing and play fighting her, with pupils wide enough to make your irises turn black. you’re so far gone you don’t even notice her sly hand beginning to slide up your skirt…
plug!vi who fingers you in the back of your baby pink tesla, just to prove a point that you don’t need a boyfriend to feel good. all the while, she’s shotgunning joint smoke into your mouth, her lips fighting not to press against yours until you fist your hands in her shirt and pull her in for a kiss.
plug!vi who then goes on to eat you out, your stockinged legs thrown over her shoulders as she goes to town on your overstimulated cunt. and you’re absolutely loving it, whining out her name and apologising to her for being such a damn brat every time you met up with her.
she forgives you, of course, but only because the next time she sees you, she’ll be doing the same thing; smoking a joint with you and getting you high enough to let her eat you out in your very own backseat. and eventually, she starts supplying you for free. not because she likes you (because she still doesn’t), but because she likes the taste of your cunt on her lips, and can’t see herself giving it up any time soon.
plug!vi who very easily becomes addicted. not to drugs, but to you.
Summary: when Astarion wakes up, you are still with him. And this is something new for him.
When Astarion opened his eyes, the first rays of the sun of a new day were softly touching his face, filtering through the tent where he had spent the night.
Instinctively he raised a hand with long, thin fingers to cover his eyes struck by the sudden light, then thought better of it.
He didn't want to spend another moment the way he'd spent the last two hundred of his life: hiding from the light, running away from it.
The sun was rising in the distance, coloring the camp in many shades of yellow and orange in a sight that Astarion had gone years without being able to admire like that.
He dropped his hand to his pillow, not yet getting up and let the rays kiss his pale skin like they hadn't in too long a time.
He had almost forgotten what it felt like, it was unsusual for him but it immediately made him feel a warm feeling that he would have liked to get used to.
When the light moved, he sat down with an almost disappointed expression on his face.
“You look like one of those cats that chases warm spots as the sun moves.”
His head snapped in the direction of your voice and he only realized then that you were still in his tent sitting a few steps away from him with a book in your hands.
That was another thing he wasn't remotely used to and it almost scared him every time you did it. Finding you still there in the morning, knowing that what you wanted wasn't just what happened between you two at night but also in daylight - in every meaning - was new and frightening for him, even if he wasn’t going to admit it so easily.
It wasn't the first time in the morning that he found you in his tent; usually we were still curled up next to his body, with your head on his chest or worse, with his head on your chest and his arms around you as if he didn't want to let you go either.
The thing that blew his mind this time, was not your sarcastic comment that he would usually have at least thirty ways to respond to, but was the fact that what you were wearing didn't belong to you.
You grinned. “Have I offended you so much that you have nothing to say?”
You closed the book you were reading and looked at him with a smirk. Astarion suppressed the urge to reach out and kiss you in a second.
"Maybe I don't want anything to do with thieves. I see that what you're wearing belongs to someone else, my dear."
You looked at the white shirt you had put on as if it were the first time you had seen it and you hadn't taken it from Astarion's tent.
“I couldn't find my stuff” You shrugged “your shirt was the first thing I found.”
Astarion stared at the way his clothes looked on you and found himself thinking that it was a scene he wanted to witness again and again, a scene more beautiful than the rising sun he hadn't seen for two centuries.
You stood up slowly, stretching. You probably hadn't been awake that long either.
He didn't know that you had seen the way the sun passed through his white hair, brightening the messy locks with a silver light that made you want to run your fingers through them for the rest of the day that had just begun. That when he was still asleep you wanted to sit next to him and make his sun-kissed lips meet yours.
“I suggest you find another shirt” You pointed at his bare chest with your finger, “I'm going to keep this one for a while. It smells like you.”
With those last words you left the tent with a light smile on your lips, leaving Astarion speechless once again.
He found himself thinking that feeling the sun on his skin wasn't the only nice, warm feeling he'd felt lately.
Please please please I am in desperate need of Astarion comforting Tav.
Like Tav is always comforting everyone else, but there is never anybody to hold their hand when they are scared or hug them when they are sad. Please let them be scared. Let them be sad, let them be vulnerable and let them feel their own emotions.
Tav needs a hug :,)
a/n. no you're so right because I AM ALWAYS OPEN TO TAV LOVE!!!!! This ended up a lot more fluffy and lighthearted than I expected but I hope that’s okay! :) also this is not proofread pls excuse me for the grammar errors that are definitely in here.
You don’t mind helping others, really. You don’t mind guiding Shadowheart to escaping her evil goddess, you don’t mind finding a way to aid Gale’s ticking time bomb, and you don’t mind spending hours in battle to find a piece of infernal iron for Karlach. It’s natural after all, because they’re your precious companions.
But it’s also made the thought of being something else—the one being comforted—more shameful than anything.
It was just a bad day, honestly. Bits of your life being pricked at with needles. The whole week had been hellish, but today seemed to be bent on finally wiping you clean. A battle going wrong, the lake freezing over and preventing you from taking a bath, the pot of soup you were in charge of burning to cinders—they’re all small, but they add up. And when you find that your favorite pair of gloves are splitting at the seams, it’s your final straw.
You stumble into your tent, barely holding back tears as you close the flap shut behind you, signaling that you wanted to be alone. You collapse into your bedroll, face first as even the blanket beneath you isn’t enough to cushion you against the hard floor.
Gods.
You squeeze your eyes shut, begging your tears to leave. The others have a lot more problems at the moment—ones that wager between life and death—but you can’t help the overwhelming burst of emotions you’ve kept bottled in for weeks now. So many bad things are happening, but there’s no time for you to mourn, because the least you can do is stand beside your companions in their own grief. It forces you to constantly stay alert, keeping your heart open for them but shut closed for yourself.
It’s so, so overwhelming. It almost feels like it’ll swallow you whole.
“Are you alright, darling?”
You hadn’t even heard him entering the tent, and immediately your shoulders tense as you shoot up into a sitting position, wiping desperately at your eyes. You know they’re red, but you hope he ignores it. “No, I’m just tired. I’m turning in early for tonight, sorry.”
He stares at you, making his suspicion blatantly obvious to urge you to continue but you don’t, forcing your eyes to the ground. “No need to be sorry, my love. I was just making sure.”
You want to throw yourself into him. To let him hold you as you complain about the more mundane parts of life as well as the feelings wracking the sobs of your chest. To let him soothe you as all you can do is cry.
But you don’t. It’s just not what you do.
“Pity, these pretty things of yours,” he lifts your gloves that had been discarded on the ground with a cock of a brow. “I quite liked them. But…they don’t seem to be at a complete loss yet.”
You finally look at him.
“Why it just needs a bit of stitching and some polish. It’ll look even better than it did before with my handiwork,” he inspects the fabric closely. “Hm, I was finished with fixing Karlach’s shirt anyway, I suppose I could spare some time for your gloves.”
Despite his words, his eyes are gentle as they shift over to you, and it makes your lip quiver.
“I’ll ask again,” he says softly, and you know it’s an effort in vain to resist. “Are you alright?”
Like a river breaking through a dam, you fling yourself into him, tears already slipping down your cheeks as they smear against his shirt. You worry about the snot for a split second, yanking away, but he just pushes your head back to him, sighing with you practically wrapped on top of him.
“You should have told me before things had gotten this bad, my love,” he says, no true judgment laced in his words. If anything, he sounds amused. It makes you cry even harder as you wail loudly into his chest, with his hand rubbing soothing circles into your back.
It’s like a breath of fresh air.
“Would you like to talk about it?” He asks eventually after what seems like eternity, and your sobs have calmed to sniffles.
“…not now.”
“Very well,” he laces his fingers with yours, and you tilt your head up just enough to see the fond smile stretching on his lips. “I shall remain here until you’re ready. Until then, I have no quarrels with our current arrangement.”
You mumble against him as he lifts your knuckles to his lips. “…thank you for this.”
“You needed this,” he replies, as if it’s obvious. “I’m not you, of course, which is why comfort is not my strong suit, as charming as I am. I much prefer blowing off steam in a bloody battle, but this—“ he runs a hand through your hair, gentle enough not to pull at any strands. You resist the need to sigh into the feeling. “—this, I can do as many times as you need.”
Summary: The party is taking the night off. You're convinced to wear a dress, and Astarion just can't control himself.
Warnings: Smut, MDNI, Semi-public sex, caught in the act?
Word Count: 3.2k
Mastarlist
Standing in front of the mirror, you pull at the dark green fabric, tugging it down this way and that. You try again to tie the corset but give up quickly. You swing your hips, and the flowy skirt swishes, tickling the skin above your knees. Looking yourself up and down, you zone in on your hips, squirming at the fabric extenuating your curves. So much skin on display makes you want to steal someone's spare cloak to hide in. You weren't one to be self-conscious, but you're used to donning armor and leather, not this scrap of fabric Karlach had convinced you to buy.
You should just change. Grab some leggings and one of Astarion's shirts, and call it a night. You didn't need a dress to catch his eye; you know how Astarion feels about you; wearing a dress won't change that. Backing away from the mirror, you're just about to rip the dress off when Karlach bursts into the room, Shadowheart following behind her at a much tamer pace.
"Soldier!" Karlach squeals, stopping suddenly in the middle of the room. She slaps her hands on either side of her face. "You. Are. Gorgeous!" Your face burns as Karlach pounces on you, spinning you around to give her the best view from every angle. Heat creeps up your chest and you giggle awkwardly.
"She's right, you look stunning," Shadowheart smirked and added, "Ten gold Astarion won't be able to keep it in his pants."
"20, he won't make it to a room," Karlach shouts.
"Gods! You both are ridiculous." You squeal, swatting Karlach's hands away and stepping back from her excitement. You huff and fix your skirt. Crossing your hands over your chests, you glare at the girls before timidly looking off to the side. "So, I don't look silly?" The hesitation is evident.
"All joking aside, I assure you, soldier, you are beautiful. And I know for a fact Fangs won't be able to keep his eyes off of you."
You beam under Karlach's compliment, doing a few excited calf raises because you have no idea how else to handle her words. Shadowheart moves towards you and fixes a fallen strand of hair. She gives you a soft smile and moves to finish lacing your corset, patting your arm when she’s done.
"Now we should go. The others are waiting downstairs," Shadowheart motions everyone to the door, letting you take a moment to slip your shoes on.
After months of endless travels and brutal battles, the party decided to take the evening to drink, relax, and enjoy each other's company. A night to forget the tadpoles and the Absolute. All except Lae'zel, who scoffed at the idea, were joining in on the fun.
Descending the stairs, you slammed with the melody of lively tunes played by a band of minstrels, competing with the animated conversations of patrons. The music, infused with the spirit of celebration, is so loud that it vibrates through the wooden beams of the tavern. The dance floor is alive with energetic movements as couples twirl and spin to the rhythm and the joyous laughter of those lost in the moment.
The bar is surrounded by a sea of drunk patrons clamoring for attention. Tankards slammed onto the worn surface as the bartender poured frothy ale and mead expertly. The dim light of flickering candles and oil lamps casts a warm glow on the diverse crowd. The unmistakable odors of stale ale, greasy food, and the tang of sweat intermingle in the air, creating a distinctive nostalgic and pungent aroma. You're lost in the crowd's movement, overwhelmed with the sounds. You grab onto Shadowheart's elbow like a lifeline.
"Karlach!" Wyll calls and you all snap your head to the side. The party had claimed a booth, and Gale and Wyll were standing up, waving their arms over their heads. They looked like they started early on the drinking; both men's faces were flush, and they each held an easy, dopey grin.
"Wyll!" Karlach linked her arms with yours and Shadowheart's and approached the table. You let her pull you, too busy searching for him. Astarion is slow to stand, but you know the moment he sets his eyes on you. You watch the subtle change in his body language. His hand tightened around the goblet; the exaggerated inhale of air as if someone had kicked him, watching the hunger grow in his eyes.
Now, you feel the confidence bloom in your chest. The dress no longer makes you squirm in discomfort; no, it gives you power and makes you feel desired and sexy. The flame ignites low in your abdomen. Suddenly, you were playing with fire and excited to get burned. A smug smile stretches your lips the closer you get. Pulling away from Karlach, you move and hook your arms around Astarion's neck. You pull him down and place a kiss on his cheek.
"Hi, handsome," you smile up at him, feeling his hand caress the small of your back. Cold fingers playing at the edge of the corset.
"Hello darling, you look breathtaking." He pushes you back gently, giving him space to take in your attire. "Turn for me, my love. Let me look upon the goddess before me."
You roll your eyes at his cheesiness but oblige his request, spinning slowly to allow Astarion to take in every angle. When you come full circle, Astarion captures your lips, and you fall against his chest. His lips meld against yours in a sensual kiss that was entirely inappropriate for the amount of people around, but neither of you seemed to care. Humming against his mouth, you cup his jaw and pull his face away. Astarion chases your lips and lets out a low groan when you deny him what he wants.
You give Astarion a mischievous grin, patting his chest when you ask. "Do you mind getting me a drink?"
He gives you a pointed look, visibly dissatisfied with his kiss. With one look and your hand running up his chest and over his shoulder, Astarion caves with a huff. "Yes, of course. Would you like your usual?"
"Yes, please." You say pecking his lips a final time before joining your friends in the booth.
Wyll was regaling the table with a tale of his early days as the Blade of Frontiers when Astarion slides in beside you. He sets your drink down, and you whisper your thanks before taking a sip and focusing back on Wyll. Gale is quick to call out Wyll's bullshit, Shadowheart pointing out the exaggeration the warlock had blended into his story. It soon devolved into a bickering match as Wyll tried to defend himself. You chuckle between sips of wine, leaning into Astarion, setting your head gently against his shoulder. His hand had found your bare thigh, fingers kneading the supple flesh.
Suddenly, your friends become background noise as your senses hone in on Astarion. The cheeky smirk that stretches his lips tells you he knows exactly what he's doing as Astarion inches his smooth hand further under your dress—never crossing the line but far enough to make you clench your legs together in need. You bite your lip, cheeks burning from more than the alcohol, and reach down to take his hand in yours.
"I know what you're doing,"
"Oh, and what is that, my dear?" Astarion grins, bringing your hand to his lips and gently kissing your knuckles. He leans to your ear, "Do you not want me to touch you?" His breath cascades over your neck, and a shiver runs up your spine.
"Not when you're trying to tease me in public."
"My sweet girl, I'm not the one being a tease."
"Soldier! Stop making goo-goo eyes at Fangs, and come dance with me!" Karlach yells across the table, breaking whatever spell Astarion had you under. Pulling away, you look up to see Karlach jumping up and down, hand outstretched for you to take.
"You know I won't say no to dancing." Astarion reluctantly moves to let you out of the booth. Karlach is quick to grab your hand and pull you towards the stage.
The time is lost in the beat of the drums and the flow of your hips. Karlach twirls you around, and you can't stop giggling. Wyll joins in the fun, and suddenly, the crowd has formed a unified line dance. It's messy, and you don't know the steps, but you watch Wyll and poke fun at Karlach's improvised moves. You dance until your breath is ragged and your feet start hurting. Moving your body until the sea of people starts to drown you. Maybe it's the alcohol coursing through your veins or the excitement of the dancing. Still, the fun quickly turns to overstimulation that blankets you in thick sheets. In an instant, the room is too hot and too loud, and if you don't get out now, you just might scream.
You leave Karlach and move towards the door outside to the back alley. Pushing it open, you stumble over the threshold and inhale the cold night air. It instantly sobers, clearing your mind and easing your panic. You stare up at the starry sky, soaking in the bright moon. Goosebumps spread over your exposed arms and legs, and you shiver. It doesn't stop you from stepping further into the alleyway as you breathe and allow your heart to settle its pounding. You can still hear the muffled music and thumping feet.
You hear the door open again but pay it no mind until Astarion speaks, "There you are, my sweet."
You turn on your heel and give him a soft smile. He glowed under the moonlight, an ethereal being standing before you, his face partially cast in shadow, staring at you with hunger. "I needed some air."
"I'm sure you did," Astarion smirks, stepping closer toward you. A predator stalks up to its prey. "All that dancing you were doing must have been exhausting."
"It was, but it was so fun." You reach out instinctually, wrapping your arms around his neck. Astarion smoothes his hands down your spine to the swell of your butt, moving to squeeze the soft, plump flesh. "You should join me next time." You squeak at his grip, pressing yourself closer to him.
Then his lips are on yours, and your back is digging into the rough brick of the alleyway. Astarion's tongue is in your mouth, and you're moaning, gripping his shoulders to find purchase. One of his fangs nipped your bottom lip, and your knees practically buckled under you. You would have fallen if Astarion hadn't pressed you against the wall.
"I think I just might take you dancing tomorrow." His cold hands caress your thigh, pulling it up and over his hip, pushing up the fabric of your dress with it. "I'll buy you a pretty new dress to add to your growing collection, and I'll have you move your body for me like you've been doing all night."
He rolls his hips into yours, and you cry into his neck, kissing his skin to muffle your noises. "Swaying those hips in this tight little thing. Gods darling, I've been hard all night, and it's entirely your fault, you naughty little minx."
"Astarion," You sigh, relishing the friction of his hard cock against your clothed core.
"Such a cruel woman, dangling a feast over a starving man. I'll have to punish you for that." Astarion purrs, running his nose along the line of your jaw, stopping to bite at his favorite spot; his fangs puncture the surface just enough to have droplets of your blood trickle out.
His tongue lavishes over your skin, making sure not a drop escapes. The moan that rumbles through his chest is purely animalistic, and a rush of heat gushes between your legs. "But right now, my naughty girl, I'm going to fuck you here against this wall."
You let out a whimper, hips bucking instinctually, heat coiling in your lower stomach. "Please.."
Astarion takes no time to push your underwear aside and push his fingers into your folds. Two of his fingers slide into your hole with a lewd, wet sound. Astarion begins to pump his fingers in and out of your dripping cunt, with each stroke curling his fingers just slightly. The rough pad of his thumb finds your swollen clit, and applying pressure, he circles the nub in time with his fingers.
"You're already so drenched, always so ready for me." You pull his face in and sigh into his mouth, niping his lip playfully. Threading your hand through his soft curls, you give a soft tug, relishing in the grunt Astarion gives you.
You're painfully aware of your surroundings and know that someone could step out and catch the two of you any moment. The thought gives you a jolt of excitement you'll have to think about later. There is no room to take your time, so you tug harder on Astarion's hair loss, pulling his lips from the flesh of your neck he was playing with.
"Star," You roll your hips against his hand impatiently. "I need you to fuck me already,"
"So impatient, but you are right. This is not the time to play." Astarion tsk before unceremoniously ripping your underwear off and stuffing them in his pocket.
"I liked those."
"I'll buy you a new pair, maybe one to match your new dress." Astarion peppers kiss down your neck. Your hands move to pull his pants down, freeing his cock. It's red and looks painfully swollen. Astarion hisses through his teeth when you give the base of his cock a tight squeeze.
"I want one that matches the new dress and the same ones you just ripped." You countered, giving him a few languid strokes using his precum as a lubricant.
"Whatever you want, my love." He says mindlessly, taking you into another breathtaking kiss.
Astarion hands leave your cunt, and a whine leaves your lips. He kisses your pout and quickly grabs his cock. Astarion pumps himself a few more times before lining up at your entrance. When Astarion sheaths himself fully in your heat, the wind is knocked out of you. A collective groan of ecstasy escapes from both of your mouths. There is no build-up, no room to catch your breath. Astarion quickly pulls out and slams back into you—your back scraps against the bricks, and your foot slips on the cobblestone.
You yelp scrambling to hold on and not fall pathetically onto the dirty alley floor. Astarion, without skipping a beat, scoops you up fully in his arms. All you can do is wrap your legs around his hips and hold on as he pounds into your dripping cunt.
"Gods, you're perfect," Astarion signs into your neck. He pulls at your dress, moving the corset just enough to expose one of your breasts. He bends his head and sucks your nipple into his mouth. You choke on a gasp; cupping the back of his head, you press him further against you.
"Astarion," you moan, carding your fingers into his curls. Rolling your hips, you match his thrusts. Your lower stomach tightens, and you will not last much longer. Not with him pulling you apart in the way only he can. You tried to say as much, but you choke on a sob when Astarion's fingers find your clit.
He grinds your hips into the brick wall and brutalizes your clit with tight circles. His voice is raspy in your ears. "I'm close, love…ngh - gods, you feel so good."
"A-astarion, please!" Tears bead down your cheeks, pleasure overwhelming your senses. Your muscles are tightening. Your legs quake, and you clench tightly around him.
"That’s it, come for me, beautiful." And that is all you need to see stars, opening your mouth in a silent cry. Ecstasy courses through your veins, and you bite down on his collarbone to ground yourself in your pleasure. His hips stutter, pace faltering as he loses himself in your body, spilling his seed deep into you.
Neither of you moves; the brick is now uncomfortably digging into your back, but you can't find the energy to care. Astarion peppers kiss up and down your neck. You scratch his scalp softly and catch your breath. It’s nice.
"I guess I should wear more dresses."
"My dear, you could wear a burlap sack, and I would have still taken you against this wall."
"Horny bastard."
The two of you were too caught up in each other to notice the tavern door opening again. Nor did either of you notice two figures stepping out. At least not until Karlach's loud cackle echoed down the alleyway. You whip your head in her direction, Astarion following suit. Karlach is hunched over and on her knees, shoulders shaking with laughter. Shadowheart stands beside her, arms crossed with disgust and annoyance plastered on her face.
Astarion is quick to turn you away, shielding you with his body. He let’s you go and you scramble to cover yourself. He helps you fix your dress. Great.
"What did I tell you? Fangs couldn't keep it in his pants long enough to find a room!" Karlach booms, slapping Shadowheart on the arm. "Hand it over," her palm extended in wait. You hide your face in Astarion's neck, face burning in embarrassment.
Shadowheart mumbled something under her breath, digging in her pocket for her gold pouch. "Here," the gold is slapped into the tieflings palm. She turns to the two of you. "Find a different cleric to cure whatever disease you've contracted in this filthy alley." Shadowheart quickly turns back into the tavern, the door slamming behind her.
"Well, thanks for the gold," The tiefling beams and skips after Shadowheart, leaving you and Astarion alone once more.
You refuse to leave the space between Astarion's jaw and collarbone. Thoughts of packing your stuff and running to Candlekeep are crossing your mind. Karlach and Shadowheart are already telling Wyll and Gale about your exploits, and you don't want to handle the smug looks.
Astarion's chest rumbles with silent laughter, and you're pulled from your escape plans. You emerge from your safe space and glare up at the man. "What's so funny?!"
He laughs harder, and runs his thumb over your pout, cupping your jaw. You hold firm in your annoyance and turn your head. "Karlach is telling all of our friends that we just fucked in a dirty back alley, why would you be laughing?" You snap.
"You would think at this point Shadowheart would stop betting on our love life. Tsk, all the gold she's lost." You narrow your eyes at him. His playful smirk widens. "She and the other weirdos should know how shamelessly I want you. They were lucky I didn't fuck you on the table."
Rolling your eyes, you shove him hard, forcing Astarion to stumble back. Moving past you storm towards the door; he's laughing and calling your name. Astarion, only get your middle finger before the tavern door closes behind you.
Astarion is a cheeky shit. I love him.... Let me know what ya thought, i love your feedback.
This is a super super gentle reminder not to put your favorite authors on a pedestal. We're real people living average lives and not trying to be influencers. We criticize ourselves enough and we don't want to be held to an invisible standard (we start to worry we fail to exceed our own selves) or compared to other writers (we are not competing) or tailor our craft to cater to a wider audience (the right people will find you).
*nudges boyfriend at 3 AM* pretty fucked up that we depict the moon as a girl and the sun as a boy. they’re just floating rocks in space. chad? wake up chad. listen. they’re sexless.
today, something a little out of the ordinary: puppets!
i'd posted these dudes to patreon ages ago, but i think it's time they see the light of day over here as well. i'm a big fan of puppets and i enjoy crochet, so when i finally realized i could combine these things it was a game changer. i've made a small handful of these fellows now, but unfortunately they're hard to display and harder to photograph, so they rarely see the light of day. however i often need something to keep my hands busy while i'm in meetings or class, so i keep on crocheting them. these two are a dragon and some kind of floppy-eared monster.
i work without a pattern and with absolutely horrendous form, so they're not the prettiest pieces of crochet work out there, but that adds character
Okay. Imagine. A demon slayer reader x Mizu. Bruh. She out her with a long line of family that has killed demons all across Japan and they send the reader out with wisteria and mask and a very special katana to keep demons away or to kill them. Only to meet Mizu and find her beautiful and want her to teach them how to become a samurai. Tagging along on her travels for revenge completely content with just following her and helping her out. Not thinking she is a demon at all.
Thank you that’s all.
NO WAIT BECAUSE YOU'RE ON TO SOMETHING ANON.
In a society that is deeply xenophobic and alienating, Mizu is so traumatized by her upbringing and experiences as to believe that she is a demon. Societal pressures, prejudices, and superstition, as well as deeply rooted self hatred have all contributed to the belief. This belief is so consistently reaffirmed in her daily life as an outcast to normality, that it's all but a truth to her.
Then comes Demon Slayer!reader. Someone who takes genuine interest in her and builds trust through their constant presence. Someone who Mizu can admit has an incredible set of skills and unmatched swordsmanship. Someone she comes to deeply respect, and to love.
In loving you, she doesn't wish to deceive you. She holds onto a dangerous hope that somehow, just this once, the person she cares for won't turn their back when faced with the ugly truth. She timidly asks you one night, eyes betraying some fraction of her anxiety, "Would you stay by my side if I were a demon?"
And you laugh, which does nothing to soothe her nerves. "You're not a demon. I'll never have to face that choice."
She scoffs. "Right."
You set aside your cup of tea and attempt eye contact, but she sadly stares into the bonfire. "Is that what you believe," you whisper, "that you're a demon?"
She nods, her expression a mixture of shame, anger, desperation. "I know I am. I'm an onni."
And she cares for you so deeply that she's about ready to apologize for deceiving you. But you're voice is filled with a determination she's never witnessed when you reply, "I come from generations of demon slaying. I have dedicated nearly every second of my life to tracking, hunting, and killing demons. Do you think you could have possibly deceived me all this time? Do you trust so little in my expertise that you think a demon could have fooled me for so long?"
She lifts her eyes to look at you, unsure of where you're headed.
"You are not a demon, Mizu. You aren't even close, and with me around, you never will be. I won't let you become one. However," your voice softens, your hand covering hers, "If it turned out that I was truly a fool, and that all of Japan and yourself were correct and you were a demon, I would still love you. You could have been a woman, a man, a breeze in the trees, or a storm approaching the shore, and I would have loved you anyway."
Btw if I say things like “by god” or “good lord” in posts please be aware I don’t mean it in a catholic way I mean it in a 1950s scientist reacting in horror after they create an evil creature in the lab set in the distant future year of 2005
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