#but i recognize that it's absolutely useless if no one can see anything

[emperorofthedark]

The Hills Community Center in Riverblossom Hills.

[loveandpeaceanddoughnuts]

postwar!Levi absolutely chafes under enforced bedrest, unfamiliar and uncomfortable with doing nothing

his useless legs feel like cinderblocks holding the waterlogged sack of his body to a riverbed, drowning slow

his nervous system hasn’t caught up to the uneasy peace, flooding his veins with adrenaline that has nowhere to go, leaving him gasping for air and sick over the side of his bed

he can’t clean the mess, and that might be the worst thing of all, the helpless wait for someone to witness his weakness

postwar!Levi can’t tell his fevered dreams from reality, follows the green smudge of Erwin’s cloak across an endless battlefield, calls to his commander till he’s lost his voice and wakes up tasting copper

the people who come to check on him are not who he wants to see- why hasn’t Hange visited, changing his bandages with her steady hands?

he leads Isabel and Furlan up a set of stairs that never seem to end, crunching over the hollow bones of birds that died searching for the sky

postwar!Levi finds his clarity has returned one featureless morning and he weeps for the first time since the battle of heaven and earth, mourns the loss of the delirium that had left the door open for his loved ones to creep through

he begins to recognize the recurring figures at his bedside, the gentle touch on his forehead that signals your arrival with water or blankets or bread

the light of anything more than a candle burns his blind eye, so he learns your face only by the flicker of firelight, the absence of shadow

postwar!Levi is desperate for something to occupy his fractured mind, painfully empty without the urgency of strategizing survival

you hide your surprise when he asks you to read to him in a voice rasped with disuse, saying he doesn’t care what it is, just something to focus on outside of himself, and you understand

you begin to visit him every evening, reading softly from your favorite books as he lies taut and silent in bed, brow furrowed in concentration, breathing through the pain that wracks his battered body

postwar!Levi finds unlikely comfort in your voice, your consistent presence, the slow walks along the winding paths of the stories you tell him

you take a quiet pride in the way he seems to soften each night, just barely, the deep black shadows under his haunted eyes fading into the color of an old bruise, his furrowed brow smoothing into satin as you read

postwar!Levi is sitting up when you arrive one evening, gives you the barest incline of his head in self-conscious greeting

he frowns and shrugs off your praise for his progress, doesn’t want to hear of how miraculous it is that he can heave his once-superhuman body up against the headboard, doesn’t confess how long it took or how much it hurt

he does, however, ask you for tea, not telling you that it would be the first time he’s accepted a cup he hadn’t prepared himself, swallowing a sick resignation with the request

postwar!Levi makes eye contact with you for the first time when he offers gruff thanks, shivering as your fingertips brush around the warm ceramic

something clenches in your chest and you turn away to hide it, occupying yourself with invisible specks of dust on his bedspread

you’re busy swiping the corner of your apron over the nightstand and miss the way his eyes go wide, then soften as he watches you bustle around him

“it’s alright. you don’t have to-” “-I know.”

the two of you speak at the same time, fall into the same embarrassed silence, watching each other warily in the low candlelight

your shadows overlap where they are thrown onto the wall as if they don’t realize the distance between the bodies that grew them, or refuse to recognize it at all

[ko-existing]

the reliance on an AI bot (or on anyone/thing for that matter) seems so counterproductive. a thought appears that says "i don’t understand", you identify with that thought and take it to be true, and then look for ways to resolve that thought because you consider it to be your problem that you now have to deal with. you think you don’t understand, you think you’re not there yet, you think you’re not fully realized and you act accordingly; you go to different sources, asking questions, seeking answers, collecting more useless information. but how do you know you "don’t understand" besides the thought that tells you so?

in reality, there’s nothing to understand because what you are cannot be understood. you can only be that. and you already are it, all the time.

the thought that you do understand, and the thought that you do not, are both equally illusory. the key is to do nothing* about any thought. stand apart from them. leave them alone. you act on the thought "i don’t understand" because you take it to be you, you self-soothe and read more, you think "now i understand" and are relieved momentarily, that thought eventually passes too, and then you’re back to square 1. stuck in a constant loop. thoughts are baseless. meaningless. they appear, then disappear. they are harmless. the only power (reality) they have is that which you give them by taking them to be true. you’re a slave to empty things that you have given authority to. 🫰wake. up. 🫰

there is absolutely zero knowledge to be gained. no more reading to be done, nothing. here and now, you are totally ready. you are at your full potential right this very instant, in every instance. at every moment you are choosing the experience. you are absolutely no-thing right now, dressed up as "this person" in "the world". you have the option to be any person in the world, to go beyond this illusory world to another one for that matter, to be/do/have literally anything… but you keep choosing the same experience out of habit and convincing yourself you’re "stuck" as this. you’ve got so used to what you’re doing that you don’t recognize it anymore, you think it’s forced upon you, that this is the life you were born into, but i promise you it’s all your choosing. investigate it just a little and see.

searching for more and asking more questions is totally useless. you are a dog chasing it’s tail. you can do absolutely nothing to become what you are seeking, because you are already that. act accordingly.

"you need not stop thinking. just cease being interested. it is disinterestedness that liberates. don’t hold on, that is all." —Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj

*in case it’s not obvious, by "do nothing" i do not mean don’t eat/drink/walk/talk etc. you can never do nothing. even the act of doing nothing is doing something. staring at a wall all day is still a doing. continue to tend to your tasks, look after the seeming body, socialize with family and friends — just fix your attitude. don’t get involved. don’t be pulled in any direction by any thought. be like a calm sea, unstirred by whatever happens. know yourself to be beyond it all. when a thought arises, and the impulse comes to act on that thought, study it. inquire about it. peel it back. break down your beliefs. you will soon see how "reality" naturally follows your lead, bends to your will, moulds to fit your ideals, because it is all just you. you have always had total dominion.

Well said, thank you💯🕉️

[imaginehappyhavoc]

Heya! Could i ask for some headcanons of the thh boys with an ultimate crafter reader that likes making little trinkets for them? -🔥

A/N: Naww Crow!Reader!! (◠‿◠✿)

Pairing: thh boys x Reader

Genre: Fluff!

Warnings: N/A

Makoto Naegi:

♡ Oh, this makes him SO HAPPY.

♡ He’s the type to love absolutely anything homemade. Art, cooking, you name it.

♡ It’s honestly comedic how fast his face lights up when you say “I made something for you.”

♡ Just immediately the brightest smile he can manage, and all but running to see what it is this time.

♡ Sometimes he’ll even make you things in return! Though, it normally doesn’t come out as good as he’d like. His damned luck cycle gets in the way.

♡ He keeps everything you make him, no matter how much space it takes up.

Byakuya Togami (platonic):

♡ No one’s… ever done that for him before.

♡ He was raised to recognize an item’s worth by its price tag. Mainly because no one in his life actually cared enough to take time out of their day and make something for him.

♡ He’s honestly flabbergasted every time you do this tbh.

♡ He’ll just hold whatever you made in his hands, staring at it for a just a bit too long. It’s the only time you’ll ever see him speechless.

♡ You tell him it’s okay if he doesn’t want to keep it. He says he won’t.

♡ He does.

Yasuhiro Hagakure:

♡ Did you mean: Ultimate Hype Man?

♡ He’ll get a gift from you and he’s bolting to the common room of the dorms to show it off to everyone.

♡ Always something along the lines of “look at what my SUPER amazing, SUPER talented partner MADE for me!”

♡ He loves anything you have to give him, obviously, but especially if he doesn’t know what the fuck it is.

♡ The things he treasures most in the world are useless lil trinkets that look funky and cool. So if you like metalworking, he might marry you on the spot.

Leon Kuwata:

♡ He loves it so much he loves you so much and no he is totally not about to cry shut up-

♡ Leon is an unexpectedly emotional guy. He reacts to everything, especially positive things, with so much enthusiasm.

♡ So when you come up to him and sheepishly give him a small trinket you made for him, his “cool guy” front just melts.

♡ He’ll like. Hop. Just bounce in place like a really excited rabbit, because that’s basically what he is in this moment.

♡ He keeps it on him wherever he goes. Either he’ll fashion it into an add on for his chain necklace, or he’ll make use of one of his many pockets.

♡ Anytime someone asks about you, he’ll smile so wide and take it as an invitation to show them everything you’ve ever made for him.

Chihiro Fujisaki:

♡ Hugs. Just the tightest, most love-packed hugs you’ve ever experienced in your life.

♡ They try really hard not to cry, they really do, but they can’t help it. It just means so much to them that you would go out of your way to do that!

♡ They’ll ask you to teach them how to make stuff like what you make, so that they can return the favor.

♡ Whether you agree or not, Chihiro’s riding the high for the rest of the week.

♡ They go to class the next day and wait so impatiently for someone to ask about the new charm on their school bag so they have an excuse to ramble about you.

♡ Another person who will keep your trinkets with them all the time.

Mondo Owada:

♡ What a coincidence! He loves making things for you, too!

♡ Only difference is that, while you love to make small trinkets, Mondo likes to make larger, wooden trinkets.

♡ It’s a match made in heaven, honestly. Biweekly gift exchanges.

♡ When you give your gifts to him, it’s kinda like watching a big dog trying to play with a much smaller animal.

♡ He’s so excited, and he knows he has to be gentle, but it’s so hard for him to contain himself! He’ll hold it so gingerly so as not to break it, but every other part of his body’s wiggling because of how happy he is.

♡ He admires your craftsmanship so much, and he loves being able to see all your little design quirks in the things you make for him.

Kiyotaka Ishimaru:

♡ He will straight up cry, and he does not care how many people look at him weird because of it.

♡ It was rare that Taka received gifts at all, never mind gifts that were so personal!

♡ That was, until he met you.

♡ Any gift that you make for him by hand will be treasured so dearly, but especially things that are related to his interests.

♡ You once made him a keychain in the form of a teeny tiny Kendo sword. He kissed you for a solid ten minutes because he was so deeply moved by your affection for him.

♡ He insists on repaying you in some way for everything you make him, though he doesn’t quite know how.

♡ He settles on: anything you need, you get.

Hifumi Yamada (platonic):

♡ The crowd goes WILD.

♡ Of all people, Hifumi can appreciate handmade gifts. He’s given so many of them before, after all.

♡ He loves your trinkets so much that he actually— and stay with me here cause this is a doozy— takes down his figurines and puts your crafts up instead.

♡ Your classmates are convinced you just triggered The End Times because of that but whatever.

♡ He shows them off just as proudly, too.

♡ Like: “Hey, Yamada, what’s all that on your bookshelf?” “I’m SO glad you asked!” *pulls up a 300 page PowerPoint essay.

♡ In return, you get any art you want. Free of charge. You lucky dog.

[pocketramblr]

Absolutely love your writing for all the AU/5 headcanons asks. Can I ask: AU where Rei cheats on Endeavor with All Might? It happens after AM's injury, so she doesn't recognize him, and he ofc doesn't know that she's married in the first place, much less to whom

you make this very difficult for me by giving me a window of 6 and half years for them to have an affair and for every single moment of that window, Rei is institutionalized. how am i supposed to get them to meet, much less take their clothes off. ok. think. there are other fic writers who specialize in this kind of thing, surely. what would they do....

1- ok so. The fire alarm at the hospital goes off. Rei doesn't know if it's a drill or not, but she's been there for seven years and generally does not need a lot of support during something like this like other patients do, so the nurses wave her out and she stands around outside a bit waiting for the fire alarm to stop and them to go back in. (It isn't a drill, they wouldn't have evacuated everyone if it was, but Rei is on the other side of the building and facing away from seeing any smoke) (This smoke is from a villain attack that All Might is taking care of, though he's only got seconds left of his power to use that day. he quickly rushes off, deflating and stumbling out on the other side of the hospital. Where Rei is.)

2- Rei is like "huh that guy doesnt seem to be in good shape" and kinda waves attention at him, and a nurse who's passing out water to patients and keeping an eye on the road gives Toshinori some too, getting more concerned when he dazedly answers that he's All Might and coughs up blood, but the nurse figures he's concussed since he smells of smoke and must have been closer to the fight, and is just reeling from being able to see the number one hero in person. Then they get distracted and wave Toshi to wait nearby, where Rei offers to chill his water and asks if he's alright, if he breathed in any smoke.

3- They chat and then go back into the hospital as it's un-evacuated together, Rei hanging out in the lobby where he sits as the hospital staff focus on getting everyone else back to their rooms. It pays to be low priority sometimes. Eventually she tells him her name is Rei and that she's in room K18, if he ever wants to visit or call. She doesn't get to talk to anyone except doctors, family visitors, or other paitients, and most of them don't stay nearly as long as she does. It's been seven years, and she's very lonely. Toshinori is lonely too, and when he's out of time for a day and feeling useless with nothing to do, he likes to talk to a friend.

4- Rei has been in the hospital for eight years when it gets physical. At that point, Toshinori knows a bit about her family. She has kids, mentions visits from a son and daughter, and then quietly mentioned when her son turned seventeen- her daughter's already twenty. She's been there for so much of their lives. He asks if she's married, and she admits she isn't sure how to file for divorce in a hospital like she is, if she even can, if she wants to because she'd lose custody, if it matters when she's not raising them anyway. He doesn't ask much more, knows there is a dead child and a baby she says isn't safe with her there. Toshinori never called Nana 'mom' to her face while she was alive, and had a reason for it, and has a similar reason for not asking more, not asking for the other names when he gets Fuyumi and Natsuo's. Yes, the doctors and nurses all know Rei has a boyfriend who visits. they don't say anything. who would they even tell, anyway. I debated the humor of reusing the bit from candlelight shoto that Toshi and Rei could have a kid with a fire quirk, but yeah here? Rei ain't getting pregnant, absolutely not.

5- When Natsuo turns eighteen, Rei does actually file for divorce, or at least tries to get the ball rolling on that. Toshinori's trusted her that her marriage is over in all but name, but he's more at ease with it ended fully. Fuyumi is crushed but burying it all deep inside. Natsuo is like 'what are you talking about. divorce is the most normal possible outcome here.' But anyway, Rei also begins to bring up being discharged- something she never bothered with earlier, when it seemed like she'd never be able to go home while Shoto was there, and never would want to go back anyway. (Her parents are absolutely not an option either so where would she go once discharged? the hospital was her only security.) Toshinori then tells her at this point about his diagnosis, that he's supposed to be terminal, in a way. He doesn't have a lot of time he can give her. Rei says that's ok, she'll take what she can get. She moves in. Fuyumi still goes out to eat with her once a week, though Rei doesn't say she's moved in with a boyfriend, just says she's in a safe place and it's not Fuyumi's job to worry about it, please, let her do that, relax, be her daughter instead of a mother. Natsuo adds her to his cellphone plan and gets her one. Rei doesn't tell Toshinori her ex's identity. Toshinori doesn't tell her about OfA, though she does know he's mentoring a student for heroics and is very proud of him. (Toshinori is a secretary at Might Tower, he's a great mentor. Oh huh, he got a job position at UA at the same time as All Might, she wonders if they carpool.)

+1- OK THE REVEAL so the reveal is. Toshinori gets home from the SF. And Rei almost knocks him out by the door, eyes wide and panicked, asking if he's ok, if Shoto's ok. Toshinori is like "... young todoroki? yeah he's alright? i know his fight with young bakugo looked bad but- Rei???" And that's when it all clicks for him, he's having dozens of horrible realizations at once, all while Rei weeps over her youngest. Toshinori's been a hero for a very, very long time. He's felt hopeless, before. But even then, he's known what needs to be done, he just isn't able to do it. But now? he's at a complete loss with no idea what he should do.

[abugsjournal]

A Cowboy's Cup of Coffee ☕

Arthur Morgan x male reader

Summary: After a sweet apology from Arthur your budding friendship grows! You have plans to meet Arthur outside of work for the first time, but must deal with some drama in your café first.

Content Warning: Mention of drinking, men being creepy, threats of violence.

Chapter 2: Headaches

Arthur's POV

It's been about a week since your social blunder at the café. You've been offering to go on hunting trips to avoid going into town. You would rather come face to face with a bear than make a fool of yourself in front of Y/N again. You kick yourself for being worried about his opinion of you in the first place. That shouldn't matter, why are you even thinking about it?

Luckily, you don't encounter any bears, but today's hunting trip with Charles was the most successful one you've had since you settled down in this spot. Everyone back at camp was elated. So elated that as the hearty deer stew was being served, bottles of whiskey and rum were opened and passed around the campfire with equal enthusiasm. You remember the women's tipsy giggles, and the men getting a little loud and rowdy, but not much else.

As you open your eyes you feel your head screaming in pain. You roll out of your cot, swallowing and forcing the rising bile back into your stomach. The morning light is blinding, you squint and shield your eyes as you exit your text. As your vision adjusts you can see everyone else feels just as miserable. There's a collective groan as the gang members each start working on their tasks for the day. You know you'll be absolutely useless until you nurse this headache, but the smell of the coffee over the fire almost makes you gag. The only thing you think you could stomach is the coffee from the café in town. You sigh, weighing your options, and decide you would do anything to make your head stop pounding, even if it means risking an awkward conversation. As you ride into town, you rehearse a long overdue apology in your mind.

Y/N's POV

A few slow, monotonous days pass by you. You find yourself watching the door to your café, silently willing it to open. Every time you hear that bell ring you get a small rush of excitement, but it's crushed every time you look up and see a regular's face.

Did I somehow scare him off? You replay your last interaction with Arthur over and over again in your mind. It wasn't the first time you had caught a customer staring at you, but it was one of those rare instances where you weren't mad about it. Small towns feel smaller the longer you stay in them, so new faces excite you. Maybe you got too excited. You begin to convince yourself that you were too forward, or he was just traveling through town, or is flat out avoiding you when you hear the bell above the door ring once again.

Expecting disappointment at this point, you can't keep your eyes from widening in surprise when you see Arthur in the doorway. He is fidgeting with his hat in his hands as he approaches the counter. He has dark circles under his eyes and squints slightly as he looks in your direction. Working in a coffee shop for so long has taught you to instantly recognize a hangover. You intentionally keep your voice at a lower tone and quieter than usual as you greet him, "Hey friend, welcome back. Rough night?"

"Very fun night from what little I can remember, just a rough morning," He closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Listen, I just wanted to apologize for the other day."

"There's no need, really, you didn't do anything wrong-"

Before you can finish your sentence, Arthur interrupts you, "I was rude to you after you were kind to me and you didn't deserve that." He stares directly into your eyes, and you can see they're filled with sincerity, "I'm truly sorry if I made you uncomfortable at all, and for rushing out the way I did."

You feel paralyzed by the weight of his stare, and you can see the guilt in his eyes. Even though you don't think he did anything warranting such a genuine gesture, you can tell he won't let it go until you accept his apology.

"Alright," You sigh, "All is forgiven."

The beginnings of a smile quickly shift into a wince of pain on Arthur's face. "I'd love to accurately express my gratitude but I think I might die if I don't get some coffee in me soon," He slides some change across the counter towards you, "And whatever you have on the menu today smells amazing, I'll have one of those too."

"Thank you! It's mini strawberry shortcakes today, now go sit down before you pass out or puke on my floors." You smirk, trying to ease some of the remaining tension.

Arthur lets out a small chuckle, "Good idea." He slowly walks over to his usual corner table.

As you prepare his order you think about how to handle Arthur. Based on how he's acted the past few times you've seen him, you come to the conclusion that you'll have to let him come to you, like a stray dog. Being too friendly too fast might scare him off again. You're also thankful that instead of letting one awkward conversation snuff out the sparks of a new friendship, you were both able to move past it.

Small talk comes easy to the two of you now. Arthur comes in nearly every day. You ask him questions about work and he gives you vague answers. He asks you about baking and why the décor in the café is so "unique" as he politely put it. About a month of these pleasantries go by. One day he asks you what you do when you're not working.

"I sometimes try to come up with new recipes for the menu! Or I go to estate sales for cups and furniture."

"That doesn't count, that's just more work!" A laugh escapes you as you realize he's right, "Come on, you've gotta have other things you like doing."

You shyly mention that you like to draw and document the insects and plants in the area.

His eyes widen and the corners of his mouth curl up in excitement, "No way! I have a journal that I draw in."

"Really? I'm surprised, hands like yours usually aren't holding pencils." You smirk at him, narrowing your eyes and hoping your snide comment might pry more information about his unspecified line of work out of him.

He simply laughs, "Ha! Explains why I'm not very good at it."

You roll your eyes at another failed attempt to learn more about his job. Is he avoiding the subject on purpose or just being dense? "Well if you ever want to share of see some of my art, my house is just a ten minute walk down the road. It's the little one with the wooden wind chimes."

Arthur seems taken aback by your invitation and takes a moment to respond, "I'd like that. When should I head over?"

"I close up shop at two and if I get through my cleaning fast enough I can probably be home by four. Does that sound good?"

"I'll have to run a quick errand but it shouldn't take too long." Arthur drains the last of his coffee and stands up, "I'll see you later, Y/N."

"See ya, Arthur!" You wave goodbye as he leaves. You can't help but smile to yourself as you clean off his table. You check your pocket watch and sigh, it's only ten.

The minutes sluggishly pass by you as your giddiness grows. You try your best to avoid checking the time in between each task, knowing that will only make the day go by even slower. You're washing plates behind the counter when two unfamiliar men stumble through your doors. Before you can greet them they walk right past your register and over towards one of your customer's tables. You follow their gaze and see they have their eyes locked on Eva, the eldest daughter of one of the local farmers. She comes here in the afternoons to read without having to worry about her rambunctious little brothers bothering her.

She's so engrossed in her book that she doesn't notice the men saunter over, about two steps closer than they should be. The hair on the back of your neck stands up as one of the men clumsily places a hand on the table, knocking over her cup and spilling coffee into her lap.

"Hey! Watch it-" Eva looks up from her book and sees just how close these men are. Her eyes widen as they lean over her.

"What's a pretty thing like you doing sitting here all alone?" The shorter man's words practically slosh out of his mouth. He tries to put a finger under her chin, but Eva slaps his hand away.

The taller man grabs her wrist. "That's no way to treat someone who's just being nice to you, missy." He hisses through gritted teeth.

You clear your throat and stand with your arms crossed over your chest, hiding your shaking hands, "Excuse me gentlemen, I don't take kindly to folks that harass my customers. I'll give you to the count of three to back away from her and get out."

The men glare menacingly at you, "Or what?"

"Or this pot of boiling coffee is gonna make it real easy for the law to identify your ugly mugs." The thugs glance at each other, and then back at you, "One. Two-"

"Fine." The taller man drops Eva's wrist and drags his companion out the door behind him without another word. The scent of whiskey lingers in the air behind them.

You let out a long exhale. You knew you wouldn't have been able to win that fight if things had escalated, but they didn't need to know that. "Eva, are you alright? Do you need me to walk you home"

"Oh I'll be alright," She stands up and tries to wring the coffee out of her dress, "Thanks for scarin' them off!" She gives you a big smile as she collects her things. You wrap up the remaining shortcakes and send her off with a treat for her troubles.

You check your pocket watch again and you're grateful to see it's finally two. You flip the sign on the door to "Closed" and rush through your closing tasks, quickly forgetting about the incident as your planned meeting with Arthur grows closer. You can't remember the last time you were this anxious to get home. You finish your chores in record time, lock your café doors, and begin walking home. You're so caught up in your excitement that you don't look around for insects to draw like you usually would, but you do notice the squirrels and rabbits in the surrounding forest are skittish. They seem to make much more noise than usual as you follow the trail through the woods.

As you unlock your front door and turn the handle, you hear a voice behind you.

"Look who's all alone now."

//

Thank you so much for reading! Forgive me for the long absence, April is a terribly busy month for me and I was also getting extremely burnt out from work. To be super real the only reason I was able to get this typed out and posted is because I got sick and couldn't get out of bed all day (lol). Tumblr is also being super weird and not letting me indent no matter how I type this out or where I copy and it paste from. Anyone else have this issue?

Chapter 1 / Chapter 3 coming soon!

Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

Taglist: @photo1030

[brutal-nemesis]

big question!! dude can we please see a scene in the AU where castys has his tongue cut off and he has to deal with that? like man, the shock and the pain and the fuckin grief? and neteri just being herself ofc

anyway the latest erebus chapter was heartbreaking you’re so good at being awful to these lads (i can’t stop reading)

Thank you I try,,,,,

Okay strap in fellas I think this is banger as hell I had a great time and let me know if you have any other requests for the AU!

Castys & Terror AU Masterlist - Castys Masterlist - Next→

Ingredients: shockingly, tongue gets cut off! some suffocation as well

Castys wasn’t great at sitting in chairs normally, something his parents had always reprimanded him for, but, hey, they’d never taken it as far as to fucking tie him to one, and Castys was grateful. This shit was uncomfortable. Like, yeah, the rough ropes around his wrists and ankles were tight and itchy, but also the position just sucked. Not that he’d rather be standing or something-

“You must be Castys!” The door had swung open, and now this little lady with a white coat on was walking up to him. 

“Yes, I’m Castys,” he said flatly as she scurried behind him before coming back without her bag. And then she just…stared at him. Castys wasn’t sure what she was looking at, since there really wasn’t much to see, just, like, him. Eventually her eyes wandered up to his, and she jumped in place a bit.

“Oh, right, I’m Neteri.” She stuck her hand out like she expected him to shake it.

“You know I’m tied up, right?”

“Ah. Yeah.” Her skin was dark enough that it wasn’t immediately obvious that she was blushing, but Castys was pretty sure she was. She ended up awkwardly grabbing his right hand and shaking it a bit. “I, um, I’ll be preparing you for this afternoon. Sorry, I’m just a bit nervous.”

“Well, you’re not tied to a chair so I think you’ll be okay.”

She laughed. “You’re right, you’re right, but I’m just…I think I’m going to do something I’m not supposed to do.”

Castys raised an eyebrow. “Let me go because I’m funny?”

Neteri rolled her eyes, but she was smiling, so clearly she did think he was funny. “No, you’re staying put, sorry bud. But I think I’m going to keep you. You’re kind of perfect.” She tried to cup his cheek in her hand, but Castys leaned away, staring at her with wide eyes.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” His mouth was really dry all of a sudden, he wasn’t perfect, he was a fuck-up, a useless heir, that had been his goal, he wasn’t good at anything he was supposed to be good at, he wasn’t well-mannered or polite, he had a huge fucking scar on his face and a lopsided smile because of it, he was filthy and vulgar and didn’t have any interest in getting married he was absolutely anything but perfect. So why the hell did she want him?

“It’s not important right now. You’ve got a big day ahead of you!” She clapped her hands, dismissing the subject entirely. He wanted to press her further, but after seeing the lovely object she pulled out of her pocket, everything else was forgotten.

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Aw, what are you gonna do about it, Castys? I thought you were tied to a chair!” Great, now it was his turn to feel his face grow hot, because, yeah, what the fuck was he gonna do?

Normally, he doubted he’d immediately recognize it for what it was, but today, right now, after just being told this lady wanted to keep him, it was instantly clear. And Neteri was right, he was only able to squirm uselessly and lean away as she wrapped the collar around his neck without much trouble. His first swallow after she’d sealed it shut felt horrible, and he absolutely did not want to get used to it.

“See, it’s not so bad. It looks cute on you!” She ruffled his hair, which only made Castys more uncomfortable.

“I don’t want to be cute. I’m not a fucking dog.” He wasn’t sure whether the collar was part of Neteri’s weird desires or just to humiliate him, but either way he hated it.

“No, you’re not, but you’re also not a prince anymore, and you’re the property of the Xernan Empire, and this is a good reminder of that,” Neteri said as she walked around behind him, probably to her bag. Castys rolled his eyes. He didn’t need to be reminded that he wasn’t a prince, since it was his favorite new development in all of this. Unless…unless it wasn’t just a reminder for him, but for everyone else, too…He really, really hoped there wasn’t going to be some sort of public display, but given how Neteri’d said he had a “big day” ahead…fuck, that was probably the case, huh?

“Now, I’m going to…oh, I might get in so much trouble for this,” Neteri muttered as she stared at the floor, standing in front of him once again. She had leather gloves on, which would have been nice earlier when she was touching him, and she was holding…a pair of shears? He didn’t think she’d put on gloves if she was just going to cut his hair, and given that she thought she might get in trouble for it, it seemed like she was going to…maim him somehow. Castys curled his hands into fists as Neteri slapped her cheeks with her palms, still talking to herself. “No, I’m going to do this. I deserve it. It’s not that far off from what the emperor wants. Okay,” she held the shears up and gave Castys a concerningly bright smile. “Any last words?”

For once, Castys didn’t take the opportunity to speak.

Instead, he locked his jaw shut tight, teeth clenched so hard it hurt, lips pressed together, walls of protection around his tongue. 

That’s what she wanted, wasn’t it?

Neteri cocked her head, watching him. “Nothing to say all of a sudden? No jokes?” Her smile disappeared as her eyes narrowed. “You figured it out, didn’t you, Castys? What I’m going to do to you.”

He didn’t bother nodding.

Neteri stepped up to him, her knee on the chair in between his legs, leaning over him, her face right above his as he craned back to avoid her. “You’re going to have to get used to obeying me, Castys.” The cold metal of the shears rested on his cheek. “So open your mouth.”

If there’s one thing Castys was good at, it was disobeying orders.

After a few moments of neither of them moving, Neteri pinched Castys’s nose shut with her free hand, not saying a word. Fine, he could play that game. Hold on as the pressure in his chest built, as his head started to spin, as his vision started to darken, every fiber of his being screaming at him to just give in to the inevitable and take a breath. He could do it quick, a little gasp, fast enough that she wouldn’t be able to do anything. Okay, three, two…

The exhale was shaky, but it was fine, just a quick inhale as he snapped his mouth shut-

His teeth scraped against metal, the sensation sending shivers down his spine.

Neteri stared at him with a detached coldness as she rotated the shears, forcing his jaw open wide, wide enough for her to stick her hand in and grab his tongue, pulling it out despite his attempts to pull it back, turning the shears to the side now, opening them up, the cold blades-

Snip.

Castys’s mouth was hot it was burning he was choking the smell of blood was so strong he was suffocating on it her hand was still in his mouth her fingers pressed against his wound magic piercing through his jaw he’d scream if he had the air and then that was it her hand was gone he lurched forward coughing and spitting blood and saliva all down the front of the threadbare shirt he’d been given and once he saw the discarded little piece of pink flesh on the floor he couldn’t look at anything else he couldn’t believe that was it it was gone it wasn’t in his mouth his mouth was empty there was only the blood still dripping out and when Neteri laid a hand on his back he wanted to growl at her not to touch him but he couldn’t he couldn’t say anything anymore he was quiet nothing to say no thoughts or opinions of his own just how his parents had wanted him-

“It’s alright, Castys, just breathe. It was a little more difficult than it needed to be, but you did it.” And why did it need to be at all? “Just two more things left today and then you can rest. And then hopefully…” Her hand slid up, resting on the back of his neck, on that awful collar, and Castys wanted to scream. He never, ever wanted to belong to her.

But what he wanted didn’t matter anymore.

Castys was dragged out and whipped and branded and left out on display, brought back and patched up by Neteri and given soup that he couldn’t taste, and when the door slammed shut behind her, he finally allowed himself to cry.

His back and chest hurt, of course, the wounds aggravated no matter how he moved or what position he laid in, but he could deal with it. It was nothing compared to what he’d lost, the little pocket of empty space inside his mouth.

Words were all he’d ever have to really fight back, complaining when he was forced to do things he didn’t want to, scaring off all the suitors his parents picked out, jokes keeping him calm when he was scared or upset, even when he couldn’t do anything he could still say something, make sure everyone knew how he felt, and now he was more helpless than ever before and he couldn’t say a single fucking thing. 

He didn’t even know where he was going to end up, either sold off to some asshole or left in Neteri’s clutches, and no matter what, he wasn’t going to be treated like a person. The collar made it pretty clear. He was less than human now, a pet, a lab rat, property, something that didn’t need to have thoughts or opinions anymore. 

He’d rather be a prince after all.

Castys Cult: @as-a-matter-of-whump​ @blackrosesandwhump​ @fanmanga1357-blog​​ @thehopelessopus​ @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

@hearse-song​ @muddy-swamp-bitch @whumpasaurus101 @yet-another-heathen​​ @galaxywhump 

@starnight-whump​ @his-unspoken-words​ @misspelledwitch @suspicious-whumping-egg​ @pumpkin-spice-whump​ 

@painsandconfusion @i-can-even-burn-salad @befuddled-calico-whump​ @whumpinggrounds​ @whump-queen​

@whumpedydump

[princess-leaorgana]

What Tieflings Do Chpt. 3

Summary: After the takedown of The Absolute, Zelphie finds her city in need of more help and her home destroyed. She won't stop helping, but who can help her?

Rolan x Tav (Zelphie; ~30y.o AFAB, Sorcerer, Tiefling, not really described physically on purpose <3)

M/F

Author's Note: I fucking love tielfings. Along with this being a budding romance/smut/fluff/word vomit fanfiction, it's also my case study in DnD 5e tieflings, how they act, what sets them apart from humans and devils and elves. That being said, I have a few artistic liberties in here as well where I couldn't find a straight answer, if you'll amuse me.

Warnings - Spoilers for Baldur's Gate 3, alcohol consumption. This bad Larry is another fluff. Don't worry! Also, if you catch the easter egg in this one I'll give you one lil forehead smooch.

Chapter One Chapter Two

One tenday spent in the luxurious wizard’s tower in Baldur’s Gate. The shop was still a little chaotic, but it was open for business and Rolan was hiring out for help. He had Cal and Lia and Zelphie, of course, but Cal and Lia and Zelphie were not learned spellcasters. Zelphie had the best understanding of the Weave, but she couldn’t understand conjuring the Weave manually. Rolan would attempt to spend time with her, teaching her how to read scrolls and tomes, but she was absolutely useless. And during their private lessons, Zelphie was usually very distracted with her strongly budding feelings for her teacher. That absolutely destroyed her concentration. Nothing had yet happened down that road, and it had almost been too long for Zelphie to feel comfortable bringing it up. She left the siblings that day to head out into the city. She had a few things to sell and was in the market for a redecoration for her room. Larroakan’s taste was high class but cold and dark. The room was beautiful, but it needed more love. She hadn’t done anything about it until then as she still had a gnawing feeling in the back of her mind that she wasn’t to stay with the siblings. She would get an occupation of her own and allow the family to be one again. It didn’t seem like that was going to happen. Lia would scold her if she ever brought it up.

Old potions and elixirs and small trinkets she had picked up on the road were sold quickly for decent coin. Anything she had that was impressive she donated to Sorcerer’s Sundries to either use or sell. Rolan fought with her on that, but she insisted it being a complimentary rent for now. Rolan still fought with her. 

The streets were still a mess, but a livable one. People were back to life a little. It wasn’t normal, but it wasn’t apocalyptic. After a decent amount of shopping and many compliments from people who recognized her on the street, she headed for some lunch. She hadn’t seen any of the other tieflings since the battle, and she was very ready to see some happy and familiar faces. Lakrissa, an absolute menace of a thief, had gotten a job at The Elfsong Tavern, the nicest spot in the whole city for a pint and relaxation. Zelphie was very excited to see if her friend was there today, and if she had time for a drink. Walking past two hired hands at the entrance, she was met with the most people she had seen at the tavern. Good, she didn’t want any more compliments, she just wanted to be a normal patron. As she made her way to the bar, to order from the barkeeper, Alan, Zelphie stopped as she heard her name shouted.

‘Zelphie! The beautiful hellspawn who saved Baldur’s Gate!’ Lakrissa, the little shit. Zelphie’s nose scrunched as attention in the tavern fell on her. She turned her head to see Lakrissa sitting on a patron’s lap of all places and she was looking right at her, her arm raised in the air. Zelphie got a cheer and shook her head, staring at Lakrissa. ‘The person who buys our hero her first round wins also buying a round for me!’ She announced to roaring laughter. Lakrissa hopped off her perch and walked over to Zelphie. ‘There you are, hero,’ she said and Zelphie sighed.

‘Here I am, thank you for the announcement, pity, you used to be my favorite,’ she said and took an empty seat at the bar. Lakrissa laughed at her. Alan walked over with a glass full of ice and an amber liquid. ‘Hello Alan,’ she greeted the bartender and she gave her a charming smile.

‘Where’ve you been then? I need you to find me that Minsc fellow. Rented a room here after you all left and started fighting for coin in there. He owes me,’ he said and Zelphie laughed.

‘I wish I could say I bear responsibility for Minsc, but I’ll do my best to settle his debt,’ she said and smirked.

‘So, how IS your favorite, hm? Heard you got a room at the wizard’s tower,’ Lakrissa said, sitting next to Zelphie. Zelphie turned back to Lakrissa.

‘I got very lucky, Lia caught me while I was wandering the streets like a tom cat. I could barely stand. My place was absolutely decimated, I’m surprised the tavern is still around,’ she said and took a sip of her drink. Rum. She hissed and looked up at Alan. ‘It’s barely after breakfast,’ she said and Alan just grinned.

‘You are very welcome,’ he said and walked off to help another patron.

‘Come on, tell me, tell me,’ Lakrissa said and shook Zelphie’s leg. She took another sip and laughed.

‘What is there to tell? It’s not like before I wasn’t constantly on the move. I have a big beautiful comfortable bed to sleep in with a roof over my head. I get fed three times a day AND I’m bathing every day. I am living the high life,’ she said and Lakrissa shook her head.

‘Yes, that big beautiful bed, whose is it?’ She asked, leaning in. Zelphie leaned in with her, smirking.

‘Mine,’ she answered and Larkissa scoffed.

‘Either you’re a tease or Cal is a liar,’ she said, straightening up. Zelphie knew what Lakrissa was getting at, if involved Cal. Although nothing had really happened between her and Rolan and she would have liked for something to have happened, Cal was not being subtle at home about trying to get the two closer. She would have loved to be closer to Rolan, of course she would have, but she wouldn’t allow her new home to be ruined by those feelings. She would rather have good friends than anything.

‘Cal is a liar, but who said I’m not a tease?’ Zelphie said and Lakrissa laughed.

‘Oh, there she is. Gods I’m glad you are alright,’ she said and Zelphie smiled at her.

‘The feeling mutual,’ she said softly. The rum was getting to her quicker than she would have liked. ‘How is Alfira?’ She asked and Lakrissa smiled.

‘She’s perfectly fine, a little set back with her big plans, what with the total destruction of the city, your fault,’ she said and Zelphie nodded and laughed.

The two caught up and Zelphie was given a second drink and was quickly feeling silly. Lakrissa was forced to end her little break and Zelphie left the tavern, hungry and drunk. She walked very slowly back to the tower. On her way back, a little gray kitten began to follow her home. Zelphie swayed when she knelt down to pick up the little sweet thing. 

‘Oh hello you little fella,’ she said and lifted the kitten in her arms. ‘You must be starving, come let’s fill that belly of yours,’ she said, deciding in her drunken state that she would adopt this little kitten. It clung to her with its little claws and Zelphie cooed down at it. ‘Oh aren’t you sweet?’ She said and rubbed the kitten’s chin. She continued to walk to Sorcerer’s Sundries and she moved out of the way of a very upset looking half-orc. She stumbled into the shop happily, her eyes and all attention still on the kitten. 

‘There you are, I almost sent a search party out for you,’ Rolan called from the counter and walked over to her happily.

‘Look what I found Rolan!’ She cried happily and held the kitten up. Rolan’s happy face turned to concern as he looked at the little kitten in Zelphie’s hand. ‘He followed me home, isn’t he sweet?’ She asked and Rolan sighed at her, giving the sweet little kitten a pet.

‘Have you been drinking?’ He asked her, not ready to entertain the topic of the kitten until he squared away why her eyes were so sleepy looking and why she was swaying a little.

‘Yes, Lakrissa made me, but I guess she didn’t really because I did it anyway,’ she said with a snicker. ‘Only two rum drinks, but you know me, cheap date,’ she said and giggled and Rolan smirked a little.

‘I don’t know that about you, in fact,’ he said and she giggled.

‘Yes, because you’ve never taken me on a date,’ she said and poked him in the chest. She was plastered.

‘Alright, alright, up to bed with you, come now,’ he said, escorting her upstairs.

‘I said I was a cheap date, not an easy one,’ she said and barked out a laugh. She leaned on Rolan and held the little kitten close to her. Rolan burned red, but would ignore her. He wrapped an arm around her to keep her upright. She was loving that sensation. She was aware that she was drunk, and as obnoxious as she was, she wouldn’t make him angry. ‘Is it okay that I have a kitten? A little familiar? I can’t have a real one you see, I didn’t go to school,’ she rambled.

‘You’re fine, I’m sure with everything you’ve accomplished a cute kitten wouldn’t be much of a leap in responsibilities.’ He said and Zelphie giggled.

‘You do think he’s cute? Oh good. I always knew you were a cat person. All good people love cats. The real good ones, because dogs are all lovely and good but dogs love you unconditionally. Cats, cats are as smart as people and are choosy, so I say anyone who can get along with a cat is a good person,’ she rambled on and hiccuped. She felt his thumb rub her arm and the warmth and comfort of his touch led her tail to curl around his.

‘Yes, I do think he’s cute,’ Rolan said simply. Zelphie's attention went back to the kitten, who was very happy to be held. Zelphie scratched the little one under his chin. He was a perfectly gray cat with a small tuft of white on his chest. He was going to need a bath.

‘We are going to get you all cleaned up my little one, and we’ll feed your hungry little belly,’ she cooed and stroked the top of the kitten’s head. ‘How has the shop been today, and who was that lady who was leaving the shop so angry when I came in?’ She asked Rolan.

‘Oh, I’m very glad you’ve been off today, the amount of disappointing interviews I’ve had today…’ he said, tutting. He was much more comfortable talking about this sort of thing, others bothering him. ‘The last one, she claimed to be a cleric of Helm. More like a Paladin of Cyric the way she bumbled about. She couldn’t even bring a desert plant back to life. I’m not looking for a prodigy, but if your god doesn’t give you gifts, there is nothing I can do for you,’ he said and chuckled. Zelphie shook her head, Rolan was lying. He would only want the best in his shop. Perfection at the bare minimum. ‘We did find a budding wizard. She’s a bit under motivated, but I’m sure with my teachings she will flourish in no time,’ he told her and Zelphie put on a little pout.

‘Ah, so our lessons are all over? You’ve given up on me?’ She asked him and he looked down at her and laughed at her silly face.

‘Not even a little. I’m going to get you to master prestidigitation one of these days, I promise,’ he told her and she smiled. She hummed and looked back down at the kitten.

‘I’m jealous of your new apprentice, you’re a wonderful teacher,’ she said and Rolan sighed down at her.

‘Oh, do not be jealous. If she doesn’t perform, she’s out. You on the other hand, I’m too stubborn to let you quit,’ he told her and she smiled to herself. Was she jealous of this person she’d never met? A little. Would she keep up whining at Rolan? No. Did she want to? Yes. The pair got to Zelphie’s bedroom and Zelphie walked in, placing the little kitten on her bed.

‘Now, that’s nicer than the streets, isn’t it?’ She asked the little kitten.

‘Did you want help with him? He certainly needs a bath, I’m not even a fan of him being on the bed,’ Rolan said and scooped the kitten back up. Rolan did like cats, which was great for him; the streets of Baldur’s Gate were littered with them. The kitten took to him quickly, purring and rubbed his face hard against Rolan’s hand. Zelphie giggled and removed her bag and outer jacket.

‘I would love some help. And it looks like he loves you Rolan,’ she said and walked over to the pair. ‘Did you have cats growing up?’ She asked and Rolan nodded.

‘Yes, a lot of cats. Mother spoiled me a lot. She called me sensitive. I used to hate it when she referred to me like that. Like I was weak, but I know now what she meant by it,’ he said, still enjoying petting the kitten. ‘She meant that I was sensitive to others. Those smaller or weaker than myself. When someone needed my help,’ he continued and Zelphie’s smile grew.

‘Like me,’ she said softly and Rolan nodded.

‘Yes, you have the exact same instinct as me. You understand people who need help,’ he said and Zelphie shook her head.

‘No, no, I mean, I’m one of those people who needed your help and you gave it so freely,’ she said and walked closer, reaching out to pet the kitten. Rolan looked down at her and raised an eyebrow.

‘It was a privilege to help you, Zelphie. I finally had a way to pay you back for everything you have done for me. And my family,’ he told her honestly. She looked up at him and chewed on her bottom lip a little.

‘And when will this help run out?’ She asked him softly and he raised his eyebrows.

‘I don’t know…’ he whispered after a moment. ‘But when it does, I ask you to help me out once more by continuing to stay here. Because you being here, it’s more…a selfish want than a payback,’ he admitted and Zelphie’s eyes grew. There was another little silent moment and then Rolan looked back down at the kitten. ‘So,’ he cleared his throat and Zelphie’s eyes fluttered a little. She had been lost, sweet words from Rolan and two glasses of straight rum were an easy recipe for a mindless Zelphie. ‘Shall we start with his bath in the sink? You can’t get their ears wet, I think we’ll have better control of that in the sink than the bath,’ he told her and she sobered a little and nodded.

‘Oh, yes, yes, that’s a good idea,’ she said and the two walked to the bathroom together. She turned in the tap and walked to her bath for soap to use on the poor little kitten. She grabbed two towels as well, one for the inevitable mess and the other for the kitten. Rolan tested the water and held the kitten under the water, holding his scruff. The kitten immediately wiggled and cried. ‘Oh, no no, it’s okay, it’s okay little one, you’ll feel so much better,’ Zelphie cooed and helped get the kitten wet quickly and lathered up some soap. Rolan used his free hand to stop the kitten from swatting Zelphie. He was getting a few cuts, but was about as stubborn as the kitten was. The bath was very quick. The vermin and dirt and whatever else was in the little guy was removed and Zelphie scooped him into a towel, wrapping him tight. He kept crying. ‘Now now now, this is better, hm? Nice and warm, oh lucky you,’ she said and walked out of the bathroom, cradling the cat. ‘You can watch me take a bath later, you’ll see it’s not so bad,’ she continued to talk and Rolan walked out with her. ‘Thank you so much for helping. That would have been a fiasco if I had tried it alone,’ she said and Rolan grinned.

‘You did most of the hard work,’ he said and she shook her head.

‘Let me see your hand, cat scratches are awful things,’ she said and he gave her his hand with a little hesitation. She reached out and lifted his hand up, closing her eyes. ‘Te Curo,’ she whispered easily and with a cool blue flash of light, the scratches were gone from his hand as was the growing itching sensation he was getting from the cuts.

‘Well, thank you,’ he said softly and Zelphie smiled up at him.

The pair helped the kitten get as dry as possible and Rolan led Zelphie to the sitting room so the kitten could be in front of a fireplace. Zelphie began a fire as Rolan sat on the floor and let the kitten out of his towel wrapping. The kitten took his freedom happily and shook his body of water and took to licking the rest off.

‘I’m glad it’s still light out, he’ll be dry in no time,’ Zelphie said and sat down next to Rolan.

‘He’s a lucky little thing, finding you of all people,’ he said and looked down at Zelphie who smiled. She felt her own tail curl up happily. She scooted closer to Rolan and with all the liquid courage she had left in her system, she leaned against him gently and looked over at the kitten, who was fervently grooming himself. Rolan froze a little, the feeling of her body against his. She had leaned on him earlier because she was drunk. She was still drunk, wasn’t she? ‘H-how are you feeling?’ He asked her softly and she smiled.

‘I’m perfect,’ she said, meaning it. Was there a little rum floating in her head? A little. Enough to be a little sleepy and a little bold. But not enough to ruin her senses. The screams of a kitten in a bath had sobered her up considerably. But besides that, she was sitting in front of a fire, very close to a person she trusted and adored. Watching a kitten groom himself. She had no complaints. There was another moment of silence before Rolan’s arm coiled around her waist, holding her a little closer. Zelphie’s heart did flips in her chest and her tail found his quickly. She felt Rolan’s lips in her temple before he spoke.

‘Yes you are,’ he whispered and Zelphie felt the warm rush again. This time, she wouldn’t let it hang. She turned her head to look at him properly. He was looking right down at her, his yellow glowing eyes, his strong and sharp features. Zelphie wouldn’t remember who moved first or who moved the most. She just knew that both of them had and the pair kissed. Simple as that. Had it been too soon? Had it taken too long for such a simple, lovely little thing? It didn’t matter, it was happening, and Zelphie felt every spark of electricity in her body zap her skin. She refused to break this kiss. She had been wanting to kiss Rolan for a very long time. She felt his hand on her cheek and then the absence of his lips. He placed his forehead on hers. ‘Was that alright?’ He whispered softly and she nodded, a little speechless. He was more than alright, he was everything. She reached up again, needing to be back in their first kiss. A first kiss for lovers, what a dream. He kissed her back and she gave way to a grateful sigh. She felt his fangs against her lips, she could taste him. Her heart was beating terribly quickly.

‘How long have you been hoping to do that?’ She asked him softly, their foreheads and noses still connected. She was no longer drunk from the rum, but drunk from something else entirely. He grinned and nuzzled down against her.

‘A while…a long while,’ he admitted. She giggled in response. ‘Please tell me you’ve felt the same.’

‘Yes, if only you hadn’t hated me so much,’ she said and he laughed.

‘I did hate you, though, I’ve always been a supporter of the fact that hate and love are not mutually exclusive,’ he told her and her heartbeat quickly. He didn’t mean what he just said, of course. He couldn’t have. Love her? Love her. Not like that, certainly. ‘Because I do, I do love you, I cherish you. And I’m a fool for trying to hide it. I only wanted to make you comfortable around me, I…but everyone is so quick to poke and prod at my feelings for you, I wasn’t very good at hiding them,’ he told her. She felt his thumb rub her cheek gently. She could have melted into a puddle.

‘It shows you have respect for me, but you’ve made me comfortable Rolan. I trust you. I-‘ she said quickly and chewed on her cheek. ‘I love you too.’ She finished and looked into his eyes. He was as close as another person could be. She giggled again and he leaned down to kiss her again. Love. Real, trusting and respecting love. She’d never had that before. Love was more than kisses in front of a fireplace, love was bonding, understanding, trusting, wanting, caring. She would count what she and Rolan shared as love. But like lovers, they had that one more inch of feeling. For did she not love Lia and Cal? Yes. Did she love Jaheira and Gale and Shadowheart and Karlach and Wyll? Yes. Rolan was a different love, with that extra special something that made her stomach flip. He was handsome, he had a velvety low voice. He was commanding and mighty stubborn. Zelphie was attracted to him and it was clear, in the very least, that Rolan was also attracted to her. It was very nice to feel him want her. His hand holding her cheek, the other holding her side, holding her close. Possession. She felt fiery. She was all his. She placed a hand on his thigh and she heard him sigh out. She didn’t want to start anything else, but she did want to touch him.

‘Too, too long. You were right. Wizards are stubborn,’ he said and she laughed. ‘I should have done that ages ago, though…I don’t know if it’s stubbornness or the fear that…I was wrong about how you might have felt about me,’ he continued and Zelphie just kept smiling.

‘I’m glad for your new bravery,’ she whispered softly and Rolan took a minute and spoke again.

‘This isn’t all because you’ve been drinking, is it?’ He asked, clearly nervous about asking that. His voice quivered a bit and he was quick with his words.

‘No, but that’s a very kind question. No, listening to him screaming was enough to sober me up,’ she said and glanced at the kitten, who was still quickly attempting to lick himself dry. She laughed at the sweet sight and looked back at Rolan. ‘Like I said, I’ve been feeling a special way about you for a long while now, Rolan. Since the party, actually, back at our camp…’ she said and Rolan’s eyes widened. She laughed again. ‘Well, you were happy and a little silly, it was a very nice side of you to see,’ she said and Rolan’s smile widened.

‘Well, I can’t blame you then,’ he said playfully, Zelphie laughed lightly. ‘But…silly? Mmmm not my favorite word,’ he said and Zelphie laughed.

‘Then don’t act silly when you’ve had too much wine,’ she told him and he chuckled. ‘But you know, I feel very lucky to see a more relaxed side of you,’ she explained and Rolan nodded.

‘If you see me relaxed it's only because of how you make me feel, my dear,’ he told her and she smirked. My dear. It wasn’t the first time he had called her that. It was very sweet, maybe a little too innocent and careful, but too careful was better than too strong.

‘Now that is the best compliment I think anyone has ever paid me,’ she said and he laughed.

‘I don’t believe you, but I’m going to pretend you’re telling the truth,’ he told her and glanced at the kitten. Still going at himself. Poor little thing. ‘What shall we name him then?’ He asked and Zelphie looked at the kitten.

‘Surely Rolan Junior,’ she said and Rolan barked a laugh.

‘No, gods no, please do not call it that,’ he said and Zelphie hummed a laugh. He looked down at her and shook his head. ‘No, I know that look, I forbid it, both you and the kitten will be street urchins again,’ he told her and she laughed. She leaned over and scooped up the kitten who grumbled a little and went back to his grooming.

‘He is as stubborn as you, it appears,’ she said and Rolan smirked.

‘Hush you,’ he said softly and kissed her temple. She leaned back on him. This was very nice.

‘Ronald,’ she said and he laughed.

‘Please don’t,’ he said, his lips still her hair.

‘Rolanda,’ she added.

‘Zelphie.’

Silence passed between the two of them, Zelphie thinking and enjoying the moment, Rolan’s face buried in her hair. What was he thinking about, she wondered. Was he as happy as she was? She hoped he was, for she was very very happy. She continued to think about a good name for the kitten, no more teasing Rolan. After a moment she gasped.

‘What?’ He asked her, as if she had woken him up.

‘Elminster,’ she said and he laughed loudly and looked down at the kitten.

‘That is the most offensive way to honor Mystra’s chosen,’ he said and she grinned and rubbed the top of the kitten’s head. The poor thing was only concerned with drying himself off. Rolan sat up straighter and held his hands near the kitten, his hands beginning to burn hot. They stayed still together and very quickly the cat dried up. Zelphie looked up at Rolan and smiled.

‘Thank you,’ she said and Rolan smiled.

‘Lajy,’ he said simply. Zelphie blinked at him. Lajy was Infernal, Infernal for love. ‘I used love just then to conjure that heat. We should name him Lajy.’ He used love to dry off the kitten, wizards had to use emotions and memories to call upon The Weave, and Rolan has just used love to burn his hands enough. She smiled up at him, feeling as warm and as comfortable as she could be. She leaned back on him and his grip got tighter on her. He held her while she held the little cat.

‘Lajy,’ she repeated and stroked the kitten’s newly cleaned fur. He felt Rolan leaning against her temple again, their horns clinking a bit. Rolan’s horns were incredibly graceful, almost economical in their shape. They were large, but they swept back and up, out of the way. Zelphie’s were less economical. They went up and out. She found it very difficult to lay on her side at night, and with Rolan so close, she wouldn’t move, as if she did, she might take his eye out. They found a perfect position and the nice peaceful moment was only interrupted by the sound of a hungry belly. Rolan would blame it on Lajy.

[bangsinc]

Heyyy uh, I love your work! Your idea of The Spot just feels so in character and I absolutely adore the sad soggy noodle of a man (I mean that in an affectionate way)

If your commissions are open, Id like to make a request…

Are you comfortable writing for an Autistic Reader (with or without ADHD involved)? It doesn’t have to be anything specific, maybe just how he would deal with the pros and cons of it all?

No pressure in doing it, just take care of yourself and remember to set yourself at a comfortable pace and to make sure to care for your needs!

OhmygodivbeentalkingforsolongIamsosorryillshutupnowhaveaniceday!!!

🖤Spot x Nerodivergent Reader🤍

YES!! I’m also autistic so I’d love nothing more than to feed y’all. Autistic readers and readers with ADHD are never common and it’s really sad to see.

AUTISTIC READER:

The Spot, with his own experiences of feeling misunderstood, demonstrates empathy and acceptance towards their partner's autism. He recognizes and appreciates their unique perspective, and even try’s to promote it as much as he can. You can truly understand him in that sence, and it makes him even more likely to be able to open up to you.

The Spot and you easily bond over shared special interests, whether it's science, technology, or other intellectual pursuits. You both engage in passionate discussions, exchange knowledge, and explore these interests together. Sometimes it might even be hard to have a conversation without accidentally interrupting one another!

In many situations (myself included lol), it’s often hard to stim as you might think of it as embarrassing or useless because of how ‘stupid’ you look. The spot of course, loves to see you happy and express yourself, even if it isn’t conventional. If he notices this pattern of behavior, he might try to help by stimming with you! He thinks it’s sweet and he wants you to feel comfortable around him after all.

Sensory issues are one of the many obstacles that come with having autism, and the spot most likely is aware of this. Even tiny things such as the fabric of your pants Can set you off, and the spot tries his best to make you as comfortable as he can. If you happen to become overstimulated, then he’s going to stop everything and aid you. Even if you feel guilty about all of the attention, he hates to see you distraught.

If you’re feeling overstimulated at home, then he might turn off/dim the lights and give you something to fidget with. If you don’t want to talk about how you feel, he understands, and is willing to console you physically if you wish!

If it’s in a public setting, then the spot is willing to safely (and hopefully slowly, the poor boy might be freaking out alongside you) get you out of the situation and somewhere more quiet and secluded.

Dates during sensory hour at certain places! The options are limitless, but I can imagine he’d enjoy taking you to places such as the aquarium during those hours. It’s quiet, nice, and you both get to see the sea creatures :).

Sometimes you want to be quiet but also in his presence, the feeling of just being around him comforting enough. He can understand, although it might be hard. Sometimes the spot has a tendency to talk your ear off, but in certain situations, espically if you convey so, he might just relax and do something while you do something else.

The spot is also willing to adapt if you have issues with certain ways of communication, maybe to the point of going non verbal or needing cards. Spot is a fast learner, and because of such will quickly be able to affectively communicate with you. He finds ways to accommodate different communication styles, such as using visual aids, written communication, or allowing time for processing thoughts. He’s very patient and knows that your feelings are complex.

Reader with ADHD

The Spot recognizes that your attention and focus may fluctuate and that you might exhibit hyperactive or impulsive behaviors at times. He can understand the feeling of being impulsive, and uses this to connect with you on a certain basis. Reminders are very common with him!

Back when The Spot worked worked as a scientist, he developed an incredibly strict schduale. If you have your own issues keeping schduale and keeping track of your own work, he might implement some of your own tatics for you. (And he’s kinda a total worrywart about it. He cares, maybe wayyyyy too much about if you get your things done on time.)

The Spot uses his powers to create a calming environment for you when needed. He may manipulate dimensions to create serene spaces or offer soothing sensory experiences that help reduce anxiety too!

[atlantis-just-drowned]

hiya! do you have any hurt // comfort headcanons for pluto x reader? or really just anything pluto x reader. i have to keep going to your post since there is NO pluto content out there. thank you!

A/N: Hi Anon, hope you'll like this, because I had so much fun writing it!! Thank you so much for your ask, I always love receiving new requests from you guys! Don't hesitate to drop some more ideas in my askbox :] Also this small story has barely been edited so I hope it's not too wonky! I might come back to make some small changes later. This can be read as romantic or platonic I think? Anyway, TW for anxiety/panic attack, slight PTSD symptoms, and also this man has little to no self-esteem.

"Who did this to you?"

Please reblog to show support! Likes don't boost posts on Tumblr :(

Masterlist

Thinking about where Pluto went after discovering what Monty has done to his best friend. The way this asshole threw away the few belongings Duke has taken into death, like he has never – not even for a second – seen the magician as a human being. Who deserved respect. Dignity. And was now trapped somewhere, out of the black-haired boy’s reach.

Pluto was unable to get to his friend. All of the efforts he could put on would always be useless. He was defeated. Confronted to Montresor’s absolute hatred of others. Something he could never even fight.

And he has nowhere to hide either, because even his room was shared with one of Annabel’s arrogant little puppets. Where could he go now that his best friend was surely doomed to die again while he was standing there, a weak, helpless, wandering soul, his sore eye bringing up to his mind fuzzy, almost unintelligible words from a past he wish he could forget when he barely remembered it.

His sight was blurry, he was barely able to see the corridors he walked in. It took him far longer than it normally would, before he was finally knocking at your door. He realized only after that he has no idea what to tell you. But it was too late; before he could turn back and hobble away, your door opened, and the abstract form of a face was in front of him.

“Pluto?”

He wouldn’t have been able to recognize you if it wasn’t for your voice. Your tone was laced with a surprise and concern he couldn’t see on your face, but still made his heart tighten. You were worried for him.

What a pathetic thing.

His physical state was probably pitiful enough to give away how beaten up, broken and exhausted he felt, and he hated it. For a second, Pluto would have preferred you to be the one deprived from sight, so he wouldn’t have to be feeling your troubled gaze piercing him. He held himself tighter, and tried to give you a wobbly smile in reassurance.

“H-h-hi…!” he mumbled, and his voice came out so much more broken than he meant it to. He looked down, body trembling, humiliated and wishing he could vaporise in the air rather than stay here.

Right now was too much, he couldn’t handle any more of it. He was going to crumble down any minute.

“Can I… C-Can I come in please?” was all he could stutter out through a tight throat. The mere thought of his breathing being restricted sending alarms in his brain that only succeed in making him panic more.

“Y-yeah of course!”

You sounded shocked, almost. More than just concerned by this point. But he couldn’t even see clearly and your voice was the last thing he could anchor himself to. So he would take it.

The door opened wider and Pluto practically burst into your room before his legs could get a chance to give up on him. Resting his back against the wall next to you, he let himself slide down until he sat on the floor. Legs bent and arms wrapped around them. His head down, forehead pressed against his knees, face hidden in his small, curled up form.

He couldn’t breath. No matter how much he tried, oxygen went in and out of his lungs chaotically, too fast, occasionally missing and choking him up even more as he tried and tried and tried but his efforts were vain and he couldn’t do anything couldn’t think clearly couldn’t stop choking couldn’t stop wishing for it to stop just stop.

Thoughts were swirling in his head so fast he couldn’t catch up on them, the feeling of being small and helpless and in danger at the forefront of his mind, and a distant voice telling him Duke was surely dead and he would probably follow soon enough along with the others and everyone else who wasn’t cruel enough because they were doomed they had been since the moment they had all passed those gates when this unfair wicked stupid painful game has started and now he wanted to get out he just wanted it to stop all he has ever asked for was something to live for a hope for a better future for someone to tell him he would be okay in the end for the world to be brighter he wished it could stop he just wanted-

“Pluto.”

His head shot up and he looked at your figure, barely distinguishable in the blur of nonsensical colours. He hasn’t registered you had kneeled down to his level. Or that you’d been calling him. Or that he has been crying.

“Pluto, can you see me?”

He opened his mouth to answer you, but not even a sound could go past the lump in his throat. So he closed it and shook his head no.

“Okay… Okay.” Your voice sounded like a headlight in the middle of a storm for the shaking mess he was.

“Is it alright if I touch you?”

He didn’t respond right away. Not because he had to think about the answer, but because he struggled to make sense of your distant words, in the chaos howling inside his skull.

Ultimately, he nodded with a slight hesitation.

You didn’t need any more confirmation. Your form moved closer to him, before Pluto felt the palm of your hands on his shoulders gently pulling him forward, until he sat on his knees and his head laid against your chest.

The moment he felt you arms cradle him in a warm embrace, he let out a small, choked up sob. Like a sort of tension has just been released from his body. Before his hands found purchase in the back of your shirt and he almost mechanically clung to you. As if you were a lifeline. Or something warmer. Perhaps a safe haven. A place where he could rest.

His face buried into your chest, he could hear your breathing. Calm. Tranquil. The kind words you were repeating to him like a mantra created a constant melody he could feel behind your ribcage; and he finally allowed himself to get lost into your soothing presence.

Tense muscles relaxed, loosening his tight grip on you. The shaking of his body finally finally subsiding while his breathing calmed down enough to let him get the oxygen he so desperately needed.

The debilitating fog of constant anxious thoughts clouding his brain replaced by you. Your warmth. Your voice. Your kindness. Your fingers running through his hair.

Oh, this was heaven.

He wished he could simply never open his eye again.

For now, he wouldn’t have to.

“I’m… sorry.” he said, his throat no longer as tight as before but still leaving him with a raspy, drained voice.

He listened to you breathing in and out peacefully, before you answered him.

“You don’t have to be. You did nothing wrong.”

Another day, Pluto might have argued that he was still sorry nonetheless. That he felt bad for annoying you this way. But he was too tired to argue, so instead, he tried to give some credit to your words.

It was hard. But if he didn’t unclench his jaw, he would probably get a headache soon enough, and he didn’t want to deal with that now. So he told himself that what you said was true, and pretended to believe it.

Your chest moved up in a deep inhale, and then you sighed. Maybe somewhere, deep down inside of you you knew he didn’t completely think you were right. But if you were aware, you didn’t bring it up.

Instead, you caressed his hair some more before cupping his face and bringing it up and away from your chest to observe him better. Pluto took one more moment to enjoy the relaxing darkness of his closed eyelid, and then his right eye fluttered open again, with a sting, to an abstract blur of colours. So close to you, he could make out a few details – the ways your eyes darted across his face, and the displeased frown on your lips.

“Who did this to you?” You asked softly, carefully approaching a thumb to the blackening outline of his eye, getting a hiss and a withdrawal reflex from him when you brushed the skin there.

You knew the dark-haired boy has spent most of the afternoon searching for his friend. He has asked you for help, and seeing his panicked state, you hadn’t been able to say anything else but “yes”. Sadly, none of the people you had spoken to knew anything about the French magician’s disappearance. But this new bruise told you some more things might have happened since you last saw the one-eyed man a few hours ago.

Replacing his cheek against the palm of your hand, Pluto looked away, a distant, annoyed expression on his face as he grumbled “Monty. Who else?”

You scoffed at his answer. Now that he mentioned it, Montresor has definitely been shooting you some of his annoying, oh-so-punchable self-sufficient glares while you searched for someone who might have seen Duke. You could easily imagine at least a dozen reasons why Pluto and him would have gotten into an argument.

Though, for now, it would probably be better not to ask for any further explanation. Instead, you brought his face closer to yours and pressed a kiss to his forehead, before leading him to lay back against your chest.

He needed comfort. This, at least, was obvious. You’d do your best with the very few informations you had.

“Whatever happened, I’m sure Lenore will find a way to solve this when she comes back.” You spoke softly, holding him tightly against you.

“Right.” He groaned back tiredly, seemingly trying to let your warmth sip through him to make him forget about his day. Sighing, he paused before repeating your words, more to reassure himself than anything else. “Right. Let’s wait for her. She’ll come back. She’ll have a plan.”

“I’m sure she will.” You emphasized his point to help him calm down, while you stroked his back, getting another sigh out of him.

There was a moment of silence, where the two of you simply held each others, allowing yourselves to relax a bit, especially after the events of today. And then, after some time…

“Thank you.”

Pluto’s whisper almost startled you. Opening your eyes in surprise, you looked down at his resting figure, before repositioning your arms a little tighter around him with a sigh, and whispering back.

“You’ll always be welcome.”

Speaking of being welcomed... You remembered about his roommate. The fuss his argument might have caused. And another idea flashed in your head.

“If you want to, you can stay here for tonight.”

The proposition stayed suspended between the two of you for a moment. You couldn’t really tell if Pluto was simply reflecting on his options, or if he was fighting some sort of inner demon telling him he would be a burden.

Knowing him, there might have been a bit of both.

“I… I think I’d like that, actually.”

You’d be a liar if you said you weren’t a bit exited to have him with you tonight. The thought of spending more time with him always brought a smile to your lips. Holding him tight, you buried your face in his hair in contentment.

“Well I like that too. So it’s decided, I’m kidnapping you for the night.”

And when you heard him laugh at your words – timidly, for no longer than a second, but a laugh nonetheless –, you felt prouder of yourself than you had ever been.

[vampiricgf]

i feel like a big missing piece in any conversation about "oh your husband actually hates you, ladies you need to wake up and realize how much these men actually hate you" is that you guys don't understand fundamentalism actually

per exit polls approximately 52% of white women voted for trump, ik that figure differs a little depending on what source you look at but it's always solidly above 50%. fundamentalist white women know that their men hate them. I was raised fundie, my adoptive parents were fundies. I think it was abundantly clear to my mother that our dad didn't love her, probably barely liked her, and barely liked any of us as his kids but to a fundie that isn't even important. all that's important is that you fall under that "familial blood" umbrella because one of fundamentalisms mandates is to have as many children as possible, it doesn't say anything about liking them nor liking your wife. your wife is a means to an end, practically speaking, a tool to be used until it is no longer useful and most of those women were taught the same mandates (seven mountain mandates for anyone unfamiliar) and follow the same beliefs. they're not secretly oppressed, they don't need rescued, in fact they would spit in your face and mace you if you even suggested their husband was in fact a domineering fuck whom they should leave. watch any of them on tiktok, sure they're brainwashed but most of them absolutely love it and actively gloat about it because it whips reactionary libs into a frenzy so they get a high from the fake outrage attention and they get a pat on the back from other "good" fundies for "standing up for traditional values"

think ballerina farms, that woman everyone and their mother just couldn't stop talking about how sad it was and how trapped she was and how tragic it all was that she had to give up her dream and pop out babies. then she comes out and goes "oh actually im fine I love my life and family and you all got played by a journalist with an agenda". but she absolutely did soak up all that sympathy for a good month or two before speaking up about that because it was beneficial to her for a time. that's fundie women to a T. they make the active choice to participate they are not victims in the sense that they just don't understand or don't know what's good for them or were coerced, largely because they believe it will benefit them, but will indulge people's sympathies for attention when it benefits them. none of those "scary" policies in the heritage foundation handbook would affect them, they're doing their part as a good little wife and follower of christianity. the only people with anything to fear are the ones going to hell. that's the usual fundie woman thought process. it doesn't matter if the men hate them, they see it as they get protection out of the arrangement so why bother with all that liberal nonsense? (they don't recognize nor care that in reality there is no protection, not for them or their children, when it comes to the violence of white supremacy and fundamentalism)

so no, it doesn't matter that they're hated because they're aware of that. to them it's a mutually beneficial arrangement at the end of the day, and you get to "own the libs" if you're thirsting for some attention online. and im telling you this so you can start saving your breath. arguing with them online is useless, you could scream until you're blue in the face and it means nothing to them not a single word gets through all that it does is make them feel like they're right, it makes them feel vindicated because "you're attacking family values!". you're not gonna save that fundie woman, she doesn't want saving in fact if she could she'd have you thrown in a 20 ft deep well to be covered with cement and would make a family day of it. your time and energy is better spent on community action, mutual aid, volunteering, and taking care of yourself then it is trying to make any of them "see the light" or whatever because that's a losing battle. and bringing up things like climate change policies also means nothing, the reason they don't care about that is because "if god wanted it fixed it would be fixed". it's as simple as that. that's the answer you'll be met with on most topics, god either will or will not fix it but it's not my responsibility to do anything about it

[sheena-is-a-punk-rocker]

Sometimes a family is a girl, her pet rat, a traumatized soldier, and his feral girlfriend

Got a prompt over on AO3 that was basically just Sebastian being Rick's lil buddy and it turned into Rick and Harley accidentally adopting Cleo and Sebastian.

Rick jolts awake at the sound of a soft knock on the front door. He can just make it out over the sound of the torrential downpour that’s going on outside. The knock gets louder. Harley stirs beside him but doesn’t wake.

As a precaution, he grabs her baseball bat from the corner of their room and goes to answer the door. He cracks it open, bat hidden behind the door, and is shocked at what he sees.

Ratcatcher Two is standing out in the hallway, soaked to the bone and shivering. She’s got Sebastian the rat cradled in her hands.

Before he can say anything, Harley comes up and wraps her arms around him from behind. “Who’s at the door, baby?” she asks sleepily.

“Uh… It’s Cleo and Sebastian.”

“Hmm?” It takes a second for her brain to catch up but suddenly she’s wide awake and shoving him aside. “Oh my god! Get inside, hun, you must be freezing!”

Cleo sniffs and tells them, “I had to leave my living situation—it was becoming dangerous. We didn’t know where else to go. Sebastian figured out where you lived a while ago, Colonel Flag, since you saved him from Peacemaker.”

Sebastian waves from his spot in Cleo’s hands and Rick awkwardly waves back. It’s true that they’d saved each other back in Corto Maltese but it still feels weird to be waving at a rat.

He can hear water running and then Harley’s back. “C’mon, sweetie, let’s get ya into the shower so you can warm up. Towels are on top of the toilet and I got dry clothes for ya when ya get out.”

Once Cleo silently slips into the bathroom, she turns to Rick and says, “Baby, I love you but you’re absolutely useless right now.”

“Right, sorry. Lemme get the couch set up for her.”

Harley helps him wrangle a fitted sheet over the couch and stack several blankets and a pillow on top of it. Once that’s done he goes into the kitchen to make some quick breakfast sandwiches—his specialty. He even makes a tiny one for Sebastian.

He brings them out to the living room and he sees Cleo sitting on the couch with Harley. She’s wearing an oversized t-shirt and a pair of fuzzy pajama bottoms. He can hear her saying, “I had to get out of there. We were fine until it started raining and we couldn’t find anywhere dry to sleep.”

“Well you’re stayin’ here as long as ya need to.”

He sets the sandwiches on the coffee table and Sebastian immediately starts eating his but Cleo looks wary. “C’mon, eat up. You must be starving.”

She reaches for the sandwich and takes a small bite. “Thank you, Colonel Flag.”

“Please call me Rick.”

He goes to the bathroom to clean up the wet towels and hang up Cleo’s soaked clothes, figuring that she doesn’t want an audience while she eats.

Harley’s tucking her into bed on the couch when he gets back, Sebastian fast asleep on the pillow next to her head.

She creeps back over to him, flicking the lamp off and bathing the apartment in darkness. They stand there and watch the pair for a second. She leans against his side and sighs, “Can we keep her?”

He chuckles. “Yeah, we can keep her. C’mon, let’s go to bed, Harls.”

----------------

Cleo awakens slowly from the best sleep she’s ever experienced. It takes her a second to recognize her surroundings but then she remembers last night. She stumbles towards the sound of voices and the smell of bacon.

“Sometimes I wish I had two of ya,” she hears Harley say.

As she walks into the kitchen she vaguely registers the couple wrapped up in each other’s arms as Harley sips from a coffee mug. “Why do you want two Colonel Flags?” she asks sleepily.

Harley promptly spits her coffee all over Colonel Flag, which immediately wakes Cleo up. Had she said something wrong? He’s now blushing furiously, which just confuses her more.

“I’ll tell ya when you’re older,” Harley manages to wheeze out once she’s done coughing.

Oh. Oh! That explains a lot.

Colonel Flag excuses himself so he can change his shirt and Harley busies herself with getting a plate down from the cupboard and loading it up with scrambled eggs and bacon. She sets it on the table and says, “Dig in!”

Colonel Flag comes back with a dry shirt on and says, “Okay, so we’re all just gonna forget the last two minutes and focus on finding Ratcatcher Two here a place to live.”

“Oh. No, that’s okay, Sebastian and I will be okay on the streets again.” It’s really all she’s ever known besides the four walls of a prison cell.

“Fuck that!” Harley says. “Sweetie, we can’t in good conscience just let ya be homeless again.”

“Why?”

“You… you literally told me you got threatened with a knife yesterday, hun.”

“Oh well we’re not gonna go back there obviously.”

She’d been squatting at the old orphanage with a group of homeless teenagers and that had been working out fine for the last month. That is, until things turned violent when one of them got too high and had a bad trip.

She doesn’t argue this time when Harley insists that she needs to be off the streets and that she thinks there’s a few units available in their building.

-------------

Cleo trails behind the couple as they make their way down to the leasing office. Her heart is pounding and she’s trying to keep her breakfast down. She already knows she can’t afford a place in this building—she doesn’t even have a job. She’s been resorting to petty theft to stay afloat but hasn’t tried anything big like a bank robbery again. The last thing she wants is to get thrown in jail again.

The property manager—a balding man in an ill-fitting suit—eyes the three of them as they approach. Cleo hangs back in the corner while Colonel Flag and Harley stand there imposingly.

“So, here’s the deal,” Harley begins. “Our friend Cleo here is lookin’ for a place to live. Got any openings?”

He snorts. “Sure, but I highly doubt she can afford them.”

She can feel her face heating. He’s certainly not wrong. She clutches Sebastian tighter, who squeaks at her soothingly.

“How much?”

“Fifteen hundred.”

“Nah, that ain’t gonna work. Here’s what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna rent a place to her for three hundred a month, no more than that.”

“Do you know how much money I’d lose if I did that? I’m already renting to you two assholes practically for free!”

“Ya say that like I’m supposed to give a shit. Listen, we’re the reason you don’t have more supervillains crawlin’ all over this place but if that won’t persuade you, I got a baseball bat with your name on it.”

The property manager pales and manages to stammer out, “Ah, I think I do actually have a unit. But, uh, it won’t be available ‘til next month.”

“Perfect!” Harley chirps. She turns to Cleo and throws her arm around her shoulders. “Looks like you’re stayin’ with us for a couple weeks!”

As they’re leaving the property manager’s office, Harley remarks, “Ya know, I think that License to Kill shirt I got ya for your birthday really helped our case.”

Colonel Flag sighs and says, “Harls, we really need to do laundry.”

“Not it!”

The couple continues to bicker about whose turn it is to do laundry as they make their way back to the apartment.

“I could do it,” Cleo pipes up from behind them. It’s the least she can do to thank them.

They immediately stop arguing and turn to look back at her. In unison, they say, “Abso-fucking-lutely not.”

Harley elaborates, “You’re our guest, hun. We’re not gonna make ya do chores. Especially because it’s his turn to do laundry!”

Colonel Flag pinches the bridge of his nose and says, “Harls, we’ve been over this. I gave you a break last week because you were hungover. It’s your turn!”

“Most of it is your laundry anyway!” Harley whines.

“Because you keep stealing my shirts!”

“… Okay, ya got me there.”

------------------

Cleo wasn’t exactly sure what to expect when she knocked on Colonel Flag’s door. She wasn’t entirely surprised to see him living with Harley Quinn, after their epic love confession in the ruins of Jotunheim. What she was surprised to see was just how domestic the couple’s life had become.

Over the next few weeks she listens to them bicker like an old married couple about some of the stupidest things but she also sees the way Harley comes up behind Colonel Flag for a hug every night while he cooks dinner, and how she’s always making sure he’s taken his meds at bedtime, and the way he carries Harley to the couch when she’s complaining of cramps and just wants to lay on the couch and eat raw cookie dough all day.

He’s even carried Cleo to the couch once when she embarrassingly fell asleep at the breakfast table—she really doesn’t function well early in the morning.

She’d woken up with her head on Harley’s lap and the TV volume on low.

“Mornin’, sweetie! Sleep well?” she’d chirped, just as Colonel Flag was carrying her abandoned breakfast plate over to the coffee table.

Having been homeless or in prison her whole life, she essentially needs a crash course in being a functioning adult in society. She’s never opened up a bank account, learned how to cook, or had a job.

The first order of business is opening up a bank account, which Harley helps her do. Ten thousand dollars magically appear in said bank account the next day and Cleo doesn’t question it. It’ll give her a nest egg to live off of until she figures out the whole job situation—if she even wants one, Harley comments. Being a criminal is a perfectly respectable career, in her opinion. Cleo needs to think on it.

While Harley is dragging her all over Gotham to various stores so she can buy things for her new apartment and clothes and other necessities, Sebastian is having the time of his life with Colonel Flag. It warms her heart to see them interact. Sebastian helps with the cooking and every Friday they watch football together.

“Baby, we’re gonna borrow the d-bag truck. Where’re the keys?”

“Stop calling it that,” Colonel Flag deadpans, without even taking his eyes off the TV. He rummages around in his pocket and tosses the keys over his shoulder, Harley catching them easily.

“Why do you call it a d-bag truck?” Cleo asks as they make their way to the building’s parking garage.

The car they stop in front of is a massive black pickup truck, and suddenly the moniker makes sense.

They come home from furniture shopping three hours later to find the boys sulking.

“Did your sportsball team win?” Harley asks.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Sebastian squeaks indignantly in agreement.

It’s with a mixture of sadness and hope that she receives the keys to her new apartment on the first of the next month. This place has become home for her. She’s never felt safer or more cared for than she has in the last few weeks. She’ll miss watching movies on the couch with Harley and watching Colonel Flag and Sebastian cooking together. She’ll even miss the couple’s constant bickering about who’s responsible for doing laundry (somehow the answer always seems to be neither of them).

The sadness doesn’t last long though. She’s been moved in for two days when the couple shows up on her front doorstep, inviting her over for family dinner, as Harley puts it.

She ends up at their place every Tuesday and Saturday night for dinner going forward.

[sort-of-dying]

So I have a theory. A lot of people are mad at Aziraphale for his choice. But I think that most people, especially the people on Tumblr, have a specific way of processing (religious) trauma that is similar to Crowley's. Basically be rebellious and push away from the experience/people that caused you trauma. It's harder for people to understand Aziraphale is because he is too contradictory. Aziraphale is kind, but petty, generous, but a hoarder, idiotic, but intelligent, etc. Crowley is more of an explicit character, the kind and curious dork masquerading as cool and suave. A big flaw between them is that they both process everything with Heaven differently, and they don't communicate about it. I will give them that it's hard to communicate that you are going through the same thing, but differently with someone. But something these ineffable idiots lack is communication skills. It's what makes them idiots, but it is also what makes their love interesting.

Aziraphale also doesn't like change. He doesn't change his clothes, or his way of life, or anything, because he likes how it is. That could tie in to his relationship with Heaven, because he thinks that maybe if everything is perfect then no one can ruin it. He has this naïve belief about Good and Evil, partly due to everything he was taught by Heaven. Aziraphale has not been told what to do. He wants to do Good, but what is Good when Good tries to destroy things? I think he might be a bit bat at insinuated things. For someone who has been a follower since forever, making your own path is hard. But when you make your own little nook in the world, a clear and decisive path of interactions and routine, then it isn't as confusing. Aziraphale and Crowley have their dance, their routine. The way they talk and interact shows that. But when Crowley breaks it in the last 15 minutes of episode 6, Aziraphale doesn't know what to do. Over the years he has carved a space in the rock walls of what was said to be Good, which he wants to impress upon Heaven and make it Good again. But Crowley recognizes the flawed machine and Aziraphale sees the faults as separate. Neither are wrong, and neither are right. They are both entitled to thinking their own thoughts. But once again, they cannot communicate. Aziraphale tries, but cannot say, "I want to make it better, the way the system was made to be so no one is hurt again, and I want to do it with you," and Crowley cannot say "The system is not just flawed, it is broken. Broken beyond repair, so I want to leave while we still can so I can be with you without the influences of a flawed system." But what they say is very different. Aziraphale is being direct as he can, but Crowley isn't listening because of his hurt. His angel is talking about returning to a broken system, which is basically inconceivable to Crowley. And one big thing is that Crowley never explicitly states his thoughts on Heaven. The best he says is "Heaven and Hell are toxic," which is true, but can be interpreted as they can be made better. Aziraphale can't understand all the implications, and so the break from routine is nearly useless.

Both of the ineffable lovelies are right and wrong, doing both the right thing and the wrong thing. But the timing was absolutely terrible, which is not their fault (it is the Metatron's, so go hate that passive aggressive bastard). All I'm doing is attempting to explain Aziraphale's side as a more Aziraphale-coded person so that the angel's side isn't forgotten or discounted.

[cannibalismyuri]

coming out as a passive jopper hater bc the insane level of capitalist pandering they did with s3 (with ERICA who is like. one of the worst, stereotyped portrayals of a black girl ive ever seen, bless her heart) was truly crazy. combine that with the copaganda and the general attitude of hopper in s3 which was played off as 'awkward loser guy doesnt know what to do with Feelings more at 8' was a bit .... Eh :/ to me. because it is so obviously a fictional character and show but like. disliking hopper/jopper bc of the ideals st is perpetuating and the fact that they arent compatible at All in s3 (to me, atleast) is valid. some ppl might just think that jopper is unhealthy and/or 'overrated'. because they do sort of pay a disproportionate amount of attention to jopper, compared to the other canon romantic ships (afaik, bc of the screen time counter) and that can be Weird, esp with the... how should i say this? balancer/savior role hopper takes in the relationship (we constantly see him placating joyce, sometimes even being slightly patronizing, and also they place a lot of importance on him saving joyce from a lot of stuff, which is cool and sick if it wasnt for the fact that it directly correlates with him being a cop, yk). and the general power imbalance bc he's a Cop and abuses his position of power constantly, and that is exactly Why anything that joyce does is seen as a #insane girlboss category 5 woman moment because she simply has the short stick in the power race and when she does manage to make an impact DESPITE her economic/social/'general uselessness in say in Major decision-making when it comes to authorities' shortcomings it is seen as an amazing win. hopper on his own is extremely fleshed out as well, because we get to see his arc play out with his relationships with his daughter and ex-wife and el and re-learning how to be a parent and how to not let love allude him, and that is lovely! it's so great to see the adults in the show being focused on! but joyce is absolutely disregarded and underdeveloped as a character of her own right outside of her relationships with hopper or her kids. we see that she is determined and a force to be reckoned with and that she cares very deeply for the people she loves and would go to insane lengths for them but all that doesn't Mean anything, because we never see a backstory for her. we never figure out who she is without her family or hopper, or what her motives and aspirations and emotional shortcomings and stumbles and mistakes are. for a character to be fully fleshed out, they need to be an interesting, refreshing and palatable character On Their Own without their relationships with other characters, and we just don't see that with joyce. like u have Thee winona ryder on ur show, and u forsake developing her character in favor of developing hopper's character with /not the best taste/ and causing her to be a blank slate of a mother, lover, woman and friend, but not a PERSON. all she's been reduced to is a Mother and Hopper's Girlfriend, and honestly, that's the worst decision they could've made in relation to her and her relationship with hopper.

anyway, all this to say; these are my thoughts on the matter, but i'm definitely not hating on people who enjoy jopper passively and DEFINITELY not any by/ler (the most predominant fandom im part of in the parent fandom of st) who enjoys them as a ship with their own dynamic separate from canon. because the by/ler fandom is NOT a monolith and nobody is obligated to agree with me or change their opinion if it doesn't align with mine or be forced to look at my opinion and feel bad for shipping anything. im not going to act Holier Than Thou for expressing my opinion and u should definitely continue shipping jopper if it makes u happy! as long everybody recognizes the copaganda and capitalist mindset grind propaganda shit in st (which is Pretty Obvious) and respects that while shipping what they want, i have no problem with it. all that is to say; peace and fucking love. can we (the by/ler fandom) stop fighting abt jopper we all have our own opinions this is bc we are Not a hivemind or a monolith and not obligated to have the same opinions relating to all aspects of st just because we happen to ship one thing. i am a hater and a lover

[dnfao3tags]

a guide to dnfao3tags!

hello there :] i'm kay, the admin of this blog. i've been running this blog from april 29 2022 when i made my dnf starter pack post for all those new to dnf fics. since then, i've made more than 700 posts and have added many features to my blog.

here's a little guide to everything and anything dnfao3tags!

(highly recommend checking my blog out on a pc, a lot more features are easily visible that way)

new to dnf?

as mentioned above, i have a starter pack; along with that i'd like to recommend :

my personal favs

my tag navigation page so you can easily find fics according to your wishes

i also have a masterpost of a significant number of fics i've recommended on this blog, however i don't often update it so its a little useless

every month (or whenever im free), i try to make a monthly fic roundup which i post in the first week of the new month; stay tuned for that

my trope wise reclists

spotlight fic recs from my bookmarks (dnfao3tags bookmarks)

all of my fic rec posts (dnfao3tags recs) - including reclists, spotlight fic recs, fic was founds, etc

posts made by authors themselves for their own fics (author post)

fic recs made by writers themselves (author recs)

there's also a dnf ship wiki surprisingly which might be useful if you want to get familiar with them

if you're confused about any references or something, feel free to send me an ask and hopefully me or my followers can help.

'can i help you?'

absolutely! while i don't accept any more mod/admins on this blog, you can still do the following :

rec/submit a fic (self-promo encouraged)

send me a quote you liked from a fic and view some dnf fic quotes here

here are a bunch of fic not founds that unfortunately were never found. take a look and see if you recognise any!

you can also send me fics to submit in the monthly fic roundup

sometimes i can't find fics for certain tropes so i crowdsource; check if know any fics for that particular trope and send them in

send some fic ideas you have!

deleted fics

i already made a guide to how i deal with deleted fics on this blog.

my Finding Deleted Fics: A Multi-Method Guide post.

if you're an author and would like me to take down your fics then send me a dm and i'll happily do it. if you'd like, i could also only share them in dms too.

fic not found

feel free to ask about any lost fics and i'll see if me or my followers can recognize it. please please Please be as specific as possible and also mention if you think it may be deleted.

i will post your ask asking my followers if i don't recognize it and if someone helps me out, i'll reblog your ask with the found fic so just keep checking the reblogs or the tags fic was found & fic potentially found.

searching my blog

if you open my blog on pc then you'll see one search bar in the header:

and one like this below the updates box:

the google enhanced search box is more accurate so i recommend using that one ! however, it is definitely not foolproof so i also recommend using my tagnav to search for a specific post because i tag pretty much everything. you can also send me an ask.

cool features

i have a music player ! you can send in songs for me to add to it

any tips and tricks i have for ao3 will be in this how to ao3 tag

want some writing inspo? here are some fic ideas

you can also ask me for song based reqs

i also have author archives for anonymous authors (eg. mario anon), deleted authors and orphaned authors

click this for a random post of mine

more stuff

i have a twitter (though i am inactive there)

please read my about/faq page before sending asks

i have a tag for any posts that aren't specifically fic recs and just me talking (kay talks) which you can mute if you aren't interested

occasionally i get asks about dreamnotnap which i sometimes answer; you can also mute that tag along with my not dnf tag

and that's all i can currently think of!

i'm thinking of adhering to a posting schedule so i might post about that later. i'm a bit more free these days so i'll probably be a bit more quick to asks.

hope this helped you guys out; thanks for reading :]

[akirakirxaa]

Auraugust Day 15: Rainy Day

Akira was soaked through. No one spared her a single glance; in the weeks since her return, her hair had grown out to the point that no one recognized her unless they were a friend or were looking closely.

No one in Labyrinthos was looking closely, and she was actively avoiding friends.

She heard footsteps approach behind her, closer and less harried than the scholars bustling quickly through the rain, desperately trying to keep their tomes dry. She was unsurprised when she turned slightly to see Hades, holding the umbrella she never used and looking very distinctly annoyed.

"It's foolish enough that you took off without a word, but you didn't even bring an umbrella in this weather?"

"In my defense-" Akira countered with the faintest of smirks that didn't reach her eyes. "It wasn't raining when I left." Hades gave a heavy sigh, moving closer to cover them both with the umbrella, despite the fact that she was already soaked to the bone.

"Do you realize how worried Hythlodaeus and your friends are?" It was chastisement, but his tone didn't quite match, softening as one snap later Akira was as dry as if she had been lying in the sun.

Yes, I'm sure they were the only ones worried. The sarcastic thought came unbidden, but she was absolutely sure she was right. She was learning Hades didn't really like to acknowledge his own feelings. Perhaps he'd had to bury them for so long it was hard for him to.

"I'm sorry," she didn't turn fully to him, not trusting the stinging in her eyes not to become something more. "I just needed to get out of Sharlayan for a little bit."

They stood quietly in the rain, listening to the patter on grass and pavement as they both struggled with their own thoughts.

"I just feel so useless," the words came out as a whisper, Akira clenching her fists at her side. "I've climbed mountains and fought dragons and now I can barely take a walk through Labyrinthos without-"

Without becoming too exhausted to walk back. Or to even find shelter from the rain. The pain in her limbs and her back that she thought had eased came roaring back with a vengeance and returning to Sharlayan had become an impossibility and it was embarrassing.

She didn't know if she turned to him first or if he pulled her to him, but then they were leaning into each other. He spoke of worrying others, but he was the one that came here to find her.

His grip was tight, though not enough to hurt, and it said So do I.

"Let's get you back, Hero," though the words were light, his voice was rough with some unspoken emotion. "Before anyone does anything drastic."

"Indeed," she agreed with a small huff of almost-laughter. "We wouldn't want anyone doing anything dramatic after all."