Solace-inu - Yes That's My Chonky Dog

𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐢 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐞 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕.

pairing: dream of the endless x f!reader

a cursed mortal, a lonesome Dream Lord, and a story spanning one thousand years.

content warnings: angst, slowburn/slowbuild, mutual pining, dream being dream.

⏳ playlist | corinthian & wanderer playlist | pinterest board | inspo tag & asks | ao3 |

🌙  CHAPTER INDEX

YEAR 0-200

YEAR 200-300

YEAR 304

YEAR 304-521

YEAR 522

YEAR 522-619

YEAR 619-850

YEAR 916-994

YEAR 1021 I

YEAR 1021 II

BEYOND.

➥ BONUS CONTENT:

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ONE SHOTS:

inside of you, in spite of you ⋅⋆ ── [the corinthian-centric one shot, coming soon]

midas touch ⋅⋆ ── [dream & wanderer smut, coming soon]

dreamfalling into nightmares ⋅⋆ ── [corinthian & wanderer, dreamfall]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ DRABBLES/BLURBS:

"I wonder what I look like in your eyes."

"I broke my rules for you."

“My heart is so full of you I can hardly call it my own.”

“You were worth the wait.”

"If I kissed you, I don’t think I’d be able to stop."

“I don’t think you understand the… effect you have on me.”

when wanderer met destruction

goodbye, stardust.

s t a y.

"lady dream."

currently accepting headcanon/drabble requests and discussions for this series, feel free to send something in!

P.S. I do not do tag lists, if you want to keep up with this fic, please bookmark this post or follow me directly, thank you.

gust & flame - masterlist

Eris Vanserra has been a prisoner in his own home since the day he was born. He has done what he had to in order to survive and protect the few he loves. And he is playing the long game. Waiting, waiting, and waiting for the right time to make his move, to usurp his wicked father and become High Lord of Autumn Court. But things become even more complicated when a human girl drops into his life. Perhaps Eris can wait no longer to take his throne.

--- takes place after the events in A Court of Silver Flames

🍁 Eris Vanserra x Reader

Chapter I || Chapter II || Chapter III || Chapter IV || Chapter V || Chapter VI || Chapter VII || Chapter VIII || Chapter IX || Chapter X || Chapter XI || Chapter XII || Chapter XIII || Chapter XIV || Chapter XV || Chapter XVI || Chapter XVII || Chapter XVIII || Chapter XIX ||

I THINK I'M LOST AGAIN

7 days in beautiful Tuscany, 1 big wedding which would change the trajectory of your life. As Shoko’s maid of honour, your job was already demanding enough without bringing up the fact that you would be seeing your college ex again, Gojo Satoru, the best man for the same wedding— five years after his mysterious disappearance.

・❥・ex-lovers to ??, wedding au, no curses, gojo is misunderstood, reader is sassy, shoko and geto are tired, gojo is a secretive mf, yu haibara is a ray of sunshine, suggestive content, mentions of pregnancy, yn throws a punch here, everyone is unhinged, mentions of injury, heavy angst, mentions of class divides, language, mentions of murder, a car crash, mentions of alcohol, mentions of cigarettes, slowburn, mentions of cheating, reader and satoru were once engaged

𖨆♡𖨆 ceo!gojo satoru x female!reader

・❥・ wc: 2,4k+

The sound of the gurgling pipes overhead this dingy bathroom along with the bass humming underneath your platform boots were the only sounds your ringing ears could make out. 

Silence, shattered and broken in between two best friends, came straight after her devastating question. 

“What?” 

When Shoko Ieiri asked you to be her maid of honour during one drunken night out in downtown Shibuya, there was nothing you could do but excitedly say ‘yes’.

The huge rock on her finger, a sign of her forever love with none other than Geto Suguru, was the star of the show for the entire evening, that you had zero suspicions as to why she tugged you into the club’s bathroom, a grimace on her dusky rose-hued lips. 

“There’s something you need to know.” 

Three shots in, you giggled, looking scandalised. “What? Are you and Suguru-hic-pregnant?” 

Ieiri made a face, shaking her head in disgust. “Ew. Don’t manifest such shit for me. It’s about you, actually.” 

Deciding to rip the bandaid faster than you could yell out wait! Shoko exhaled out: 

“Gojou Satoru. Remember him? I mean of course you do, you dated him. He’s um—he’s Getou’s best man for the same wedding… PleasedonthatemeIammsosorry.” 

You felt like you were strapped in the back of a car going 200 down a highway. 

“What?” you almost shrieked, piercing the dingy air with your disbelief. Not even a cold shower could sober you up faster than the mention of your ex-boyfriend. 

Despite it being five years since you saw the white-haired demon, his legacy was astounding. Eyeing your empty ring finger, you swallowed harshly. 

“Ieiri… why would Geto do this?” 

He was your friend, too. Didn’t Suguru care for you? Wasn’t he the one there to pick up the pieces of your trust that Satoru fractured so casually one night when all three of you were out in a club? 

“They’ve been friends since they were in diapers,” Shoko murmured, wincing when you groaned. “I’m so sorry. I tried to change his mind, but he’s adamant. He really wants Satoru to come with us to Tuscany.” 

You had to lean against the sink, arms crossed over your chest to absorb this piece of news. “Does Satoru know?” 

Even saying his name burned. 

You hadn’t allowed yourself to even think of him since the night you found him…

Shaking your head to rid yourself of the thoughts, you winced. 

“He does. But, Geto said he seemed pretty chill about it.” 

When you didn’t say anything, Shoko reached out to you, rubbing your arm. “Come on. It’s been five years. I bet Satoru regrets what he did and he’s willing to at least be nice. Can you do this? For me?” 

She twisted her lips into a pout and widened her eyes, the effect comical from her deep set eye bags late nights at the hospital gave her. You inhaled deeply, closing your eyes for a split second to ward off the migraine festering in your right temple.

“Fine.” 

Sunshine split across her face like the dawn of a new day, and you sincerely hoped the twinge of resentment you felt flickering in your chest would not drown out her happiness. 

Shoko deserves this. She went through so much to get this ring—from Getou’s stuffy upper class parents to his equally snobbish friends—and you couldn’t bear to ruin her hope.

You sighed. “But, if he’s creepy with me, I deserve the right to sock him right in his face.” 

His stupid, handsome, fucking pale face. Your venomous thoughts spilled out onto your murderous expression, tinging them with righteous violence—you could never really hide your emotions from your best friend.

Ieiri laughed, throwing her head back and clutching her midsection. The pretty, blue pastel dress she wore for tonight’s announcement party showed off her curves and delicate collarbones perfectly. You loved her too much to ever make her sad, and forced yourself to swallow the apprehension, going through with the motions to see both your friends happy. 

“Don’t worry, you know I’ll help you to hide the body. Always.”

You flashed her a smile and defrosted your stiff limbs to wrap one arm around her.

“And that’s why I love you so much… bitch.” 

Lavish Italian sunlight spilled onto the marble floors, warming your white-tipped toes. 

You stepped out onto the stone-tiled balcony and caught sight of Maki pushing Mai into the pool, her shrill complaints reaching the third floor of this glamorous villa. Fronds and ivy edged the walls, and the huge private pool would be the scene where Geto and Shoko would profess their lifetime love for each other. In the distance was a small greenhouse which grew the prettiest lilies you had ever seen—a flower native to Tuscany which held a huge meaning for everyone in your entourage.

When you had seen pictures of this gem on AirBnb, the first thing you asked Shoko was how much it cost. Your friend had then waved you off and shared that Geto would be footing most of the expenses—perks of a boyfriend who came from old money.

At least I have my own room to unwind and relax. It was good to have some time alone to yourself before the groom's party came. Shoulders aching and heart racing, you drew in a few deep breaths to centre yourself. 

Mai was splashing water onto Maki, and from somewhere inside the kitchen, you heard Nobara yelling at them to not slip and fall. Chuckling to yourself, you almost didn’t hear a pair of footsteps coming behind you. 

With your hair tousled, dark circles pronounced, and smelling of a 17 hour direct flight, you spun around and met a pair of crystalline ocean-blue eyes. 

They were glazed over with a softness you had not seen for five years, though the same mouth you remembered kissing over and over again was puckered into a smirk. 

Your breath was stolen from you, and it felt like someone had sucker punched you right in the gut. 

Gojo Satoru stood before you in a neatly pressed suit and tie, looking like pure perfection under the warm, orange sunset, the shadows throwing his angular features into greater clarity. 

“Y/N—”

Your feet moved you towards him before your brain could catch up, and he relaxed, as if expecting you to pull him into your embrace and welcome him back after what he did to you. 

The long nights you spent crying, typing up a long paragraph to send to him only to delete it because you were sure he would ghost you—came flashing through your mind. 

Satoru’s smile dissolved bit by bit when he noticed your tensed shoulders and clenched fists. 

“Baby—”

Your palm flew right into face, knocking his smug grin right off. 

“I can’t believe you would do something like this to him!” 

Shoko wanted to sound angry, but you couldn’t take her seriously, not when she was holding a bag of frozen peas and had a flower crown perched on her head.

“One hour. I left you alone for one hour—”

“He started it first,” you muttered hotly, scowling at your throbbing knuckles. 

According to Geto, Satoru had decided to take the earlier flight to surprise Shoko, the both of them having not seen each other for the past two years. But, even the groom had no idea why his best man chose to stumble into your room when Shoko’s was right down the hall. 

You liked to think he was there to spite you. 

Ieiri sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. “What exactly did he say?” 

“He called me baby.” 

The silence after your admittance burned hotter than a thousand humiliations. You came to the realisation of your hasty actions the very second those words left your grimacing mouth. 

“And you punched him. Right in the face. For calling you baby?” 

You could tell Shoko was barely holding it together, but in your defence, Gojo Satoru was a 6 foot 3 walking trigger for you. 

“He doesn’t deserve the right to call me that.” 

Shoko’s shoulders dropped a little at the sad note in your confession. 

“Babe… I think it’s high time you try to let this go. Satoru is older now, and—”

“He didn’t even call me,” your whisper ricocheted around the room with the force of an armed squad, drawing the atmosphere right into the war’s heart. Your conflict unfurled like an old, bloodstained scroll, finally revealed for the world to see. Shoko had spent years trying to get you to open up about your fallout with Satoru with little luck. 

This was the first time you were volunteering to give any information without any coercion. 

You clutched your chest with two trembling fists, trying hard not to break eye contact with the floor in case the flood of sorrow collecting at your lash line would break their composure and slide down your cheeks. 

“After I found out about him and Mei Mei… he stopped texting me. He didn’t even come to find me and we live just five minutes away from each other. He—” you broke off, biting down on your lower lip. 

You felt the bed beside you dip, and a pair of calming arms surrounding you.

“He was an ass—I’ll give him that,” Shoko hummed empathetically. “But, you’ve done so much better for yourself now. You’re the Head of Production for Tokyo Today. You have your own apartment. You’re even thinking about adopting a puppy. You’ve got shit going on for you, Y/N, and I’m proud of how much you’ve grown. Don’t let a man from your past—a man like Satoru—make it all feel trivial, okay?” 

You sniffed, nodding weakly. Wiping at your cheeks, you finally summoned enough courage to look up into your best friend’s gentle face. The beauty mark under her right eye always seemed to crinkle more when she smiled, and you adored how sweet it made her look. 

“Thank you, Ieiri.” 

She squeezed your shoulder, standing up. 

“I’ve got to refresh that big, whiny baby’s cold compress, but once I’m done, let’s have a drink, okay?” 

“Could I also have a smoke?” you asked in a timid voice, anticipating her to lecture you on the demerits of a tobacco addiction—never mind the fact that she smoked a pack in a day. 

“Of course,” Shoko said, her smile crinkling the corners of her eyes. “I’ll let you bum one—on one condition.”

“What?” you asked, suddenly terrified. A million scenarios of blackmail flitted through your mind, and you wished you hadn’t opened your mouth to ask for a smoke, not when you explicitly knew how devious your best friend was. 

But, her next words left you reeling in shock, wishing you could defy her even if it was her wedding week. You could never go through with it—your clenched jaw spoke volumes. 

“Be nice to Satoru.” 

For Shoko, you would try despite it feeling like you were swallowing a vat of poison anytime you looked at him.

You would try because unlike that selfish, white-haired bastard, you would never sacrifice someone else’s happiness just for a shot at your own. 

“Jesus Christ, Satoru, which bridesmaid did you offend now?” 

Yu Haibara’s chirp tone and inoffensive question that was wildly inappropriate at this time was not what the young CEO needed right now. 

He grumbled, pressing the bag of peas to his swollen right eye. Gojo had forgotten how strong of a right hook you had. 

In fact, Gojo Satoru had almost forgotten a lot of things about you. 

From the fall of your hair to how the sunset looked painted across your skin, the foolish skip of his heart was a bigger sign of his crumbling feelings than any other emotion you might have elicited in him. 

When Geto had told him you would be in Tuscany too, as part of Shoko’s bridal entourage, he shamelessly begged his oldest friend to let him be a part of his groomsmen. 

The dark-haired heir had only laughed, sharing that Satoru had taken the words right out of his mouth—he was about to ask Gojo to be his best man anyway. 

But, what Gojo never expected was that stupid slip of endearment to lay waste to his efforts to win you back.

Baby. 

Four characters. One word. A world of meaning he could never forget no matter how much time had passed. 

It brought him back to late night ramen dates around campus. Staying over at your dorm to study hard for exams which he aced effortlessly only because he loved seeing your face scrunched up in concentration. 

Then, the party flashed in his mind. 

The lights were blue. He remembered they were blue. There was a drink in his hand, or maybe he had two. 

A girl was pressed flush to him, seductively grinding her hips over his twitching bulge. 

The alcohol was strong, and it was enough to dull the voices clanging in his head, demanding for him to step away. Put a stop to this before he did something he would regret. 

In his mind’s eye, he liked to imagine someone must’ve told you about his sins. That you didn’t have to watch him bend down and steal another white-haired girl’s lips as she giggled into his mouth. 

That you didn’t hear how he broke down in the emergency room, screaming his head off with blood on his hands.

“Satoru?” 

Suguru’s voice echoed through the tangled mess of his memories. He came back to find a room of men looking at him with varying expressions of curiosity and worry on their faces. 

Plastering on his signature grin, Gojo nodded at Haibara, hearing the tail-end of his comment.

“Tough luck out there for us men, huh? She must not have been too interested in me, but you know what—her loss.” 

He tossed in a cocky smirk for good measure.

Appearances are everything, Satoru—remember that. 

His father’s voice echoed in his mind, unwelcomed and disagreeing with everything Satoru was feeling inside his conflicted chest. He chose to bury the sticky and dangerous emotions six feet under in favour of shrugging, putting on his best, cheerful grin and hoping no one would notice the wavering sheen of wetness glistening in his eyes. 

“Oh shit, I forgot—welcome to Tuscany boys.” 

continuing this series will rely heavily on feedback and reblogs my bad cause if this flops, i'm gonna go ahead and scrap it to focus on other schtuff kthxbye (i sincerely hope with every fiber of my soul that you enjoyed reading this)

©️ all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or claim as your own.

Love and Deepspace as text posts pt 2/?

MARRY THE TRAITOR ; gojo satoru

includes: fem!reader, reader is a florist in our world, arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, slow burn, yandere!gojo, prince!gojo, princess!reader, reader is in cerena's body, princess cerena is described to have pink hair and feminine features, isekai-ed reader, mentions of death, mentions of blood, assault, injuries, smoking, mentions of terminal illnesses (cancer), language

⟡ masterlist

ACT 1, SCENE 1: MIRI'S REPRIEVE

It was horrifyingly cold tonight. 

Your body seized with bouts of shivers the second you stepped out of your shop, the smell of roses lingering in your hair. The lights are already switched off, the tulips you were shearing just a few seconds ago placed in crystal vases by the shop window to keep them from wilting overnight. 

However, as much as you try to distract yourself, there’s a shake in your hands you cannot ignore.

Pulling out a crumpled cigarette from your jacket pocket, you burn the end of the white stick with your cheap convenience store lighter, watching the flickering flames cast shadows across the wet road as you’re suddenly struck by a thought from a long, long time ago. 

The great Greek philosopher, Plato, once theorized that humans were born whole. 

Each of us, regardless of race, creed, or religion, shared one body, four arms, four legs and two faces fused together on a singular head. 

However, the gods—vain as they were—feared the human’s increasing power and Zeus himself devised to split them into two separate parts, forever condemning mortals to search for their other half in a journey filled with despair, longing and loneliness.  

The first time you heard this in Philosophy 101, a part of you was intrigued, if not a little terrified at the notion. While you weren’t a particularly huge subscriber to the idea of having a soulmate, it did have a sense of appeal for a girl raised on stories of handsome princes saving dainty princesses from their castles of grief and isolation. 

But, tonight, your jumbled mind can’t stay on Plato or distractions for too long. It constantly circles back to your mom.  

The scans she took had came back positive, and the doctor’s bleak voice on the other end of the line read like a death knell to your flimsy hopes that the cancer hadn’t spread further than her stomach. 

Your eyes weighed heavily, the burden of knowing sanding you to the bare bones till you felt close to breaking down on the cold road, screaming and shaking your fist at the night sky; cursing the gods for tearing the only person in the world who still loved you from your side.

Why they did it, you will never know. 

You weren’t exceptionally powerful nor did you pose a threat to the deities above. You were a simple florist in the middle of the city, trying to make ends meet and pay all your bills on time; nothing but a tax-paying citizen and a role model for small business women trying to make it big in a competitive city.

Smoke curls around your figure and you suck on the nicotine, letting it coat the back of your throat and numb the ends of your fingers.

Oblivious to your surroundings, you tread past an alleyway, ignoring the scampering of rats and smell of garbage burning through your nose. You inhale another toxic breath, expelling it out and watching the plume of smoke disappear upwards.

“Hey.” 

Nothing could prepare you for what came next. 

Turning around to appraise the voice calling you from the shadows, white hot pain cracks through your head, leaving you blind from the sudden assault.

Your cigarette falls somewhere at your feet, and you tumble to the gravelly ground on your hands and knees, skinning your palms as your ragged breaths echo in this dilapidated and abandoned alleyway. 

A hand shoots out to grab your purse, and before you can croak a yell or blindly turn to confront your assailant, another blow cracks down your skull, making you collide face first into the dirt-packed ground. 

Pain explodes in your face, white-hot and agonizing. Your breathing and the sound of blood rushing through your ears is the only thing you can hear as you breathe in the smell of dirt and blood, your head feeling like a thousand sparks of pain were going off at once. 

Cracking open your good eye, you catch a sliver of light in the distance; it washes over you, potent and soothing. The light at the end of the alleyway shimmers, and you think this is it—this is the last thing you will see from this world. 

Not your mother’s smile, or your best friend’s laugh. There are no flowers in your hand, no loved ones standing over your sickbed to kiss your cheek one last time before you depart this world.

It’s you, the floor, the blood trickling in your mouth, and your consciousness slowly ebbing away.

The last thing you remember before your world snuffs out like a pathetic candle is seeing the beady eyes of a rat shining in the dark, its long tail curling around its dirty body as it scampers closer and closer to you. 

And then, nothing else remains.

“... care to explain yourself?” 

The world is too bright, much too loud and you cringe back, a loud ringing clanging in your ears like the high-pitched squeal of a thousand nails on a chalkboard. 

What… is this scene? 

Your eyes struggle against the bright light and you wince, throwing your hand up to your face to ward off the glare. 

When your gaze finally focuses, you’re confronted by a pair of ice cold blue eyes, his sneer tearing through your mind like a bloody gash on white canvas. 

“Are you an imbecile?” His chilling tone laced with arrogance and contempt sears through you, leaving you mute and dumbstruck from this stranger’s sudden hostility. “I asked you if you would like to explain the accusations brought against you for hurting Miri.”

A girl with bright red hair and freckles splashed across her cheeks looks up at you with fear in her eyes. You take a step back, assessing her attire and countenance with open horror. Her pale face like the moon, dirt-streaked hands with stubby nails and a uniform splotched with indiscernible stains. 

But, that isn’t what draws your attention: it’s the look of contempt secretly masked under her woeful and pitiful expression. Those green eyes burn through you with the force of a thousand deaths, each one more painful than the last.

“Cerena.” 

Your eyes grow wider when you realize this strange man is speaking to you—calling you by an unknown name. 

As your attention shifts back to him, you’re stunned and breathless. His shock of pure white hair, towering stature and cruel, azure gaze never yields from your expressions, thin lips twisted into a baleful grimace. His attire is one you have never seen before: a regal, embroidered jacket and matching pants in the darkest shade of navy blue. Regalia and military medals drip from the lapels of his jacket like icy tears, each metallic glint striking more fear into your heart as you take in his majestic and imposing demeanor.

“I said, speak, wench!” 

Dexterous and pale fingers, like that of a violinist, grasps your jaw painfully as he jerks your face towards him. Instinctively, you tense and push him away, a petrified look on your face.

“Who are you?” 

Obviously, it wasn’t a question he was expecting. The princely man gives a dignified scoff, the corners of his lips twisting into a terrifying sneer. 

“Oh, so now you're playing the short term memory loss card? Stop begging for attention, Cerena, and own up to your mistakes.” He moves aside and the maid cowering behind him lifts her teary eyes to him, her pitiful state clearly tugging on his heart strings and his protective instincts. “Miri told me you slapped her when she wouldn’t braid your hair fast enough, and you even threw your tea at her. Pray tell, is that a way how a princess acts, Your Highness?” 

His words drip with venomous sarcasm. You open your mouth and then close it, unsure of how to respond to him—what you could even say in these circumstances.

But inside of you, welling deeply and painfully, is a surge of anger at being falsely accused for something you did not do. You have no idea who he is, who Miri was to him and who even is this woman called ‘Cerena’ he keeps on referring to you as.

What you do know is that he has slighted you with his openly hostile tone and body language, and if years of being a florist in a cutthroat business has taught you, it’s that you should always stand your ground against unruly customers to safeguard your reputation and dignity.

“I have no idea what you are speaking of,” your words come out frostier than you intended. Your sharp gaze sweeps to the other maids observing the spectacle with stony faces. “I wish to go back to my room.” 

Turning on your heel, you take one step forward and realize just how heavy your gown is. Lace and organza with dangling pendants woven through the thick fabric, you move as if walking in a vat of molasses, slow and controlled, when all you want to do is storm off. 

“Hey. I am not done speaking to you—”

It’s easy for him to catch up and grab your arm, impeding you from making your swift exit.

“Is this how you are to treat your subjects when we become wedded, Cerena? I would think that the princess of Kraith herself would have better manners and not behave like a barbarian!” 

His words snap something tight in your chest, and your nostrils flare. You break free from his grasp and spin around, fists clenched to your sides.

“Do not touch me,” your deathly warning stills the entire room. “Do not speak to me like this and if you wish to protect her reputation—”

Your eyes fall on the maid still cowering on the floor, her eyes turned to the ground, but a shadow of a smirk on her face belies her true intentions. 

She was attempting to frame me… or, Cerena. She is trying to get us in trouble with this powerful, spiteful man. 

“—next time, choose someone else who doesn’t make it obvious that this is all a ploy to smear my name.”

mtt fun fact: maids are divided into different tiers according to the nobles they serve. miri is at the bottom tier, and her scope of work mainly focuses on cleaning the hallways and stables

dawn says: it's bit of a shorter chapter, but trust, the drama is gonna hit you like thief-kun when he smashed our heads in yayy <33

!! reblogs and feedback and asks about this series are so beloved and appreciated and will motivate me to update and write faster <3

©️ all rights reserve to lalunanymph. do not copy elements of my story, repost or claim as your own.

Pagination for your likes is back!

…if only in a more annoying way, but still. Here’s an explanation.

Okay. So. With the old desktop Tumblr, you could browse your likes by entering a page number. Super simple. With the new dash, pagination disappeared. Without pagination, there’s no way to get into your likes except by starting at the most recent. And if you’re like me and have several thousand likes dating back years, that isn’t going to work.

Pagination is now back but now it looks like this: https://www.tumblr.com/likes?before=1590290753

That bolded number at the end is now a Unix timestamp, so that URL would show you your likes starting right before May 24, 2020 @ 3:25am (UTC). Use a Unix timestamp generator/converter to get the number for the date you want, and just use that URL with the Unix time you want.

You can google “Unix timestamp” or “Unix time converter;” based on my 5 minutes of testing I like EpochConverter.com* because it has a pre-filled human date which means less typing of minutes and seconds for me, but there’s a bunch of others.

Side note: you do not need to have endless scrolling disabled for this to work, you can copy and paste the URL above. (But if you wanna disable endless scrolling, Settings > Dashboard > make sure “Enable endless scrolling” is turned off)

Other side note: as I type (July 2020), pagination is back only for likes, not for the main dash yet.

(Update: pagination for your dash is back in 2021, but it uses Unix timestamps that go to the nanosecond or something and I can’t consistently generate a date and jump to it like I can for likes. My best suggestion is to disable endless scrolling so your dash will have pages, and that should make it easier for you to keep your place if you’ve got a lot to go through.)

*Not actually linking in this post since Tumblr tends to hide posts with external links

This work is so beautiful I can't express it in words

😌🤌✨

last piece masterlist

summary a new family move in next door, your adorable son megumi couldn’t help but befriend the pink hared identical twins, nor could you help the buttflies that sore at the sight of the blond man. will your crush be able to develop into more or will your ex-husband try to win you back?

pairing nanami kento x fem!gojou!reader x fushiguro toji

genre parent!au slice of life!au

warnings mature content, sexual content

one two three four

playlist

Fic Hoarders Alignment Chart

tag yourself i'm chaotic good