#forty writes

[comfortyart]

Forced Retirement AU- Prologue

As promised, I'm working on writing my AU! I'll continue to post arts and chapters here. I've decided to write the AU in a way that avoids direct manga spoilers, though the AU is inspired by a manga spoiler. Read at your own risk! Summary: After recovering from an accident, Katsuki learns to deal with the aftermath both physically and mentally. After spending his life assured of his future, he needs to find his place in the world when that's no longer possible. This is a BKDK fic, featuring an established relationship.

WARNINGS: Panic attacks, mental health talk, depression, self loathing. May have sexual themes in the future but will be marked accordingly. Teeth rotting fluff to balance it all out. I'll edit to post links to future parts here. Enjoy!

Ringing pierced his ears as he watched a muted mouth move as it spoke to him. The sound of his heart pounding silenced the world around him as his body began to panic. His breathing felt erratic as his throat threatened to collapse in on itself. He could see it in her eyes, the nurses’ speech pausing as she scrambled to his side as shock trembled his entire body. He remembered staring down at his hands, vision blurred, convinced he was going to die in the moment - because what was left worth living for? _________________________ Shrugging on his coat, Katsuki pushed aside the memory that prodded at his mind. He’d never forget that feeling of his blood running cold, losing the ability to hear. He wished he could forget. It’d be easier. He cursed under his breath as he felt his chest tighten. He wasn’t doing this, not today. He slid his hands down his coat slowly, smoothing the soft cotton. His suit was a stylish maroon, with a dark blue t-shirt underneath. It was a bit fancier than he’d prefer, but for the occasion he was willing to make an exception. He met his gaze in the glass reflection, scanning over himself. His throat tightened, eyes wrenching shut to wish away the negative emotions. Fuck, fuck, he could not do this today. “Kacchan?” Katsuki’s eyes snapped open to meet the bright, green ones in the reflection. Turning his body he met them directly, Izuku’s disquiet look making his stomach flip. The last thing he wanted was to ruin this day, ruin it with his stupid fucking thoughts. “I’m almost ready, sorry.” 

Katsuki managed to keep his tone flat, lips tightening into a line as he willed himself back to composure. Izuku returned a small smile, reaching to take the blond's hand firmly. He looked down at their hands, taking a deep breath as he squeezed, running his thumb over the changing textures of the scarred hands. Katsuki stiffened from a sudden contact to his face, looking up to meet pools of verdant green as a warm hand rested against his jaw. “You know I can tell when you’re lying,” he teased, tone soft. A warmth spread through Katsuki’s face as he averted his gaze, a frown pulling at his lips. Intimacy was hard - impossible, even - at the best of times. It’d taken years of consistency from Izuku to not perceive his own vulnerability as weakness, and still he tried his best to hide his weakness. 

Anything to not feel like a failure. “Pft, bullshit, I have the best poker face in the damn country,” he scoffed, giving a gentle smile as he met Izuku’s gaze once more, causing them both to chuckle warmly. The moment hung as the silence started to grow uncomfortable with each second. Katsuki’s pulse raised as he swallowed thickly. He hated this. What could he even say? “You know..” Izuku trailed, looking down at their hands. He dropped the one from Katsuki’s face to grab his other hand. “You don’t need to come,” he said plainly, attempting to hide what would be disappointment. Afterall, he wanted Katsuki by his side for everything and anything. Katsuki’s brow knit together as he scowled.  “Like hell I’m missing this,” he growled. “You’ve worked your fucking ass off for this! No way in hell I’m not going.” Izuku smiled warmly, squeezing Katsuki’s hands. “You mean, we’ve worked hard for this. I couldn’t have done it without you, Kacchan.” 

With a roll of his eyes Katsuki leaned down, roughly pulling Izuku against him as their lips met. It was firm, chest heaving slightly with a sigh as he released the tension building inside of him. Pulling away, Katsuki leaned his head against Deku’s. “Always so fuck’n modest,” he whispered. Untangling their hands he wrapped his arms around the other tightly, Izuku bringing a hand to his hair as the other rubbed down his back. Izuku listened as Katsuki swallowed thickly against his ear, a shaky breath leaving his lungs as Katsuki clung to the smaller man. “Listen,” he spoke carefully, praying his voice would not betray his last scrap of dignity. “I’m not gonna lie, this is hard. I want this for you, more than anything, but I still- fuck.”

Katsuki grit his teeth, a tear rolling down his cheek as he buried his face into Izuku’s neck. “Kacchan, it’s ok to feel this way, you don’t have to explain yourself,” Izuku reassured. “I can’t imagine what you’re feeling.” He ran a hand through Katsuki’s hair, pulling back to hold his head in his hands, smoothing bangs away from his eyes. “I love you, you know. Nothing will ever make you less of a hero to me.” With a scoff Katsuki smiled softly, moving one of Izuku’s hands from his face so he could rub tears from his eyes. “Fucking sop,” he teased. “Always gotta be the fucking hero, whether its a big bad villain or my fucked up self confidence issues.”

Izuku pouted. “Kacchan-” “Yeah yeah, I love you too, nerd,” he huffed, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “Sorry, just got in my own head.”

Izuku shook his head. “Hey, it’s alright. You know you don’t like asking for help, but I’m always happy to uh, rescue a damsel in distress. I mean, it’s sort of my job,” he teased, Katsuki feigning a frown, trying to hold back a laugh. He playfully pushed Izuku off him, crossing his arms. “Fuck you, I may not be a hero but I ain’t no damsel.” Izuku’s laughter filled the room, Katsuki feeling the warmth spread throughout his body as he watched tears prickle at the side of the other’s eyes. He’d felt this a few times in his life, the realization of why Izuku would someday be #1 - and this was one of those times. His panic attacks had been nothing new. His head often too loud, void of silence, but he’d learned to live with it. It was different with Izuku, though. There were never long, hollow hours after crying, no zombie-like days of feeling numb. There was light. In fact, the deeper the darkness grew, the more dazzling the light shined. And that light to him was Izuku. He was still picking himself back up every day, learning to exist in a world where his dream was a barred, closed off possibility. But with Izuku there it felt less bleak, less exhausting. He had a reason to keep fighting for a day where he felt adrenaline for life once more. Katsuki smiled, letting out a small huff as he watched Izuku regain his composure. “I swear to god, no one deserves that damn spot more than you.” Izuku met his eyes, the sincerity gleaming behind the statement left Izuku nearly on the brink of tears. “I’ll fucking kill them if they even think of putting you back in #2,” he growled. Izuku held back a smile. “Kacchan!” he chuckled. “What? Name one hero who worked fucking harder than you? I still think it’s unfair they didn’t place you there after all that All For One crap,” he scoffed. “Kacchan, you know they can’t just put a 16-year old under that much responsibility,” he laughed. “Does it look like I fucking care? That place is yours,” he smirked, shifting to place both hands on Izuku’s waist, and placing another soft kiss to his lips. Slow, intimate. A letter to the other for his gratefulness, for pulling him from his mind once more. “Let’s go get you that #1 spot.” Izuku smiled widely. Eyes determined, he nodded. 

[fucknofortunato]

im trying to create, I need to vent these stupid thoughts, its all fucking cringe, I want this poetry in my brain to stop churning out

[magpie-trinkets]

continuing that "maya tries to contact claire" post, i present you the post-Spirit of Justice follow-up

[smallpapers]

Commission I did a few months back for @gracefulsouffle ‘s Hunter-centric time loop fic, Again and Again, (Chapter 17!) Go check it out!!

[taddymason]

I genuinely don't know how they're going to redeem Jay "I got my ass beat once so I'm joining the fascist group that wants to destroy all the kingdoms" Walker

[thecleverqueer]

Friendly reminder:

Ahsoka is in her forties.

She’s tired.

She has to go to bed before 11PM or she feels hung over even though she drank nothing.

She has random joint pains.

She feels weather.

She needs readers, but she’s in denial about it.

She has zero tolerance for anyone’s bullshit.

She is easily annoyed by said bullshit.

She’s no longer 16.

She’s no longer “snips”.

No one in their forties acts like they did in their teens. They’re not even the same person they were in their thirties.

She’s sage. She’s old. She’s going to act old. It’s okay. It happens.

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

🚨CROOKED KINGDOM SPOILER ALERT!!! 🚨

I’m once again thinking about how genius it was of Leigh Bardugo to kill off Muzzen near the start of Crooked Kingdom, simultaneously foreshadowing Matthias’ death and leaning us away from thinking it would happen

[everybodyshusband]

uhhh in My Feels™️ so woe, ansgt be upon ye !!!

disabled rain, angst, hurt/not much comfort, it's just sad and a bit weird and bad i'm sorry ksdfjnsfkdf divider by the icon that is @/wrathofrats

Rain is a jealous ghoul. He’s always known it.

It’s fun, sometimes. Fun to let his packmates play with his jealousies until he just can’t help but snap. Until he’s got one of them over his lap, turned on beyond belief, skin red hot, as they beg for his mercy. As they apologise for daring to belong to anyone but him.

So yes, his jealousy is fun, but he never expected for it to manifest like this.

The first time, he thought he was just overtired. Anger boiling inside of him caused by lack of sleep the previous night rather than jealousy of one of his packmates. After all, this is a stupid thing to be jealous about, and the night before, well… He’d been rather too busy being taken apart inch by painstaking inch by Zephyr to really have had any modicum of decent sleep at all. So again, why was he jealous? Why is he still jealous? What motive did he have to be jealous of the ghoul that was in his bed only the night before?

It wasn’t until Aeon was summoned that he figured it out. Until the sensation of his blood boiling could be tied to more than just an abstract feeling of annoyance bubbling under his skin. With Aeon, he’s never felt his usual jealousy—the quintessence ghoul is in his bed more often than not, so why would he? What he has felt however, has been that awful, sick feeling of hatred every time that new ghoul stumbles. Complains of his ailments. Asks to borrow one of Zephyr’s old canes or pairs of forearm crutches for stability on a particularly bad day.

That’s when it had all clicked together. Aeon. Zephyr. Sometimes even Mountain or Cumulus.

But never Rain.

His jealousy stems from the fact that they get help. They are allowed to be in pain, to be uncomfortable. They have a reason. They have been seen by Omega, by Aether, by the team in the infirmary, and they all have something different about them.

Rain doesn’t.

Rain, with the hyperextended legs that apparently cause him no medical difficulties and yet still stumbles during practice or onstage. Rain, with the perfect iron count whose vision still turns to static when he stands up. Rain, with joints that ache, bones that pop, a head that never quite seems to be able to pay attention as well as the others, but he’s fine. No matter how hard he presses that something is wrong, he’s fine. Nevermind that he’s been Up Top for years, nevermind that he’s done all that he can to treat this on his own. Nevermind that he’s getting worse. He’s fine, at least that’s what Aether had told him the last time he took a trip to the infirmary.

So yes, he’s jealous. He’s jealous of Zephyr’s chair on their bad days and the fact that Aeon feels no shame in asking to borrow mobility aids from ghouls that aren’t using them. He’s jealous that Cumulus only needs to ask Aether for a wrist splint before one is in her lap, being meticulously fastened by the quintessence ghoul himself. He’s tried to reign it in, the intensity of his emotions about this, but no matter how hard he tries, he just can’t. He knows it’s not anyone’s fault, least of all Aeth’s or Meg’s—they’re just doing their jobs, there’s protocol they have to follow—but that knowledge doesn’t stop the jealousy, the aggravation, the hatred of his beloved packmates for simply existing in a way that he’s not allowed to. For getting help in a way that he’s too scared to ask for.

He often thinks that perhaps this is why he’s so angry, so jealous. It’s his own fault he can’t—won’t—ask for help from any of them. He knows he’s allowed to. He knows that Aether and Omega would be more than happy to bend the rules a little to help him out, or that Zephyr wouldn’t mind lending him a (literal) something to lean on when Rain needs it. But he’s scared. Scared that if they can help, he won’t be in pain anymore and he’s been lying this whole time. And scared that if they can’t, that he’s unfixable, untreatable. That this vessel is just another one of God’s mistakes that Satan never bothered to fix. Maybe it is. Maybe there’s no fixing him. No helping him.

He hopes that’s not the case. As much as getting whatever this is fixed scares him, he knows he can’t go on like this forever. His pack knows it too. Zephyr had noticed it first. They’d sat him down one day in their room and had simply waited until it had all come pouring out in a mess of tears and snot and helplessness. Since then, the pack have known what’s been happening and as a collective, they’ve been doing their best to help him. It’s nice, he thinks. For them to be so kind to a being as broken as himself. One day he’ll try his best to repay them all. For now though, he just needs to work up the energy to swing his legs over the edge of his mattress, to muster up the courage to call Aeon and ask for his help, and maybe a cane.

Or maybe he’ll just stay in bed a while longer...

[sabrinasideblog]

so i found this picture (i’m unsure of the source so let me know if you know it) of roger’s designs for a band logo and name (an interesting concept for sure)

but i also noticed at the top of the page, he’s noted down freddie’s family home address in feltham, as well as directions to get there! i’m sure the other scribbles have meanings too, but that was the only obvious one to me :)

[miraclewoozi]

[ 22:38 ] - b.sk

pairing : seungkwan x fem reader. content : smut. literal pwp. (MINORS DO NOT HAVE MY CONSENT TO INTERACT.) w/c : 1.5k. notes : i’m down horrendous for boo seungkwan and his fucking hands. what else is new? SMUT TAGS UTC.  notes 2.0 : my first timestamp! wow. how fun. (i honestly just needed to get this out of my system, so. sorry about it.) boosadans, u guys are are so starved. pls accept this little token of my love to you.

smut tags : soft!dom seungkwan, sub!reader. swearing (obv). physical restraining (if you squint there’s maybe the tiniest implication of a size kink but not really?), some possessiveness but it’s minimal and mc likes it, unwrapped piv sex (he pulls out but still. be safe out there team), nipple play, clit stimulation, praise, pet names (baby, princess, sweetheart), some orgasm control. LET ME KNOW IF I FORGOT ANYTHING.

Both of your wrists fit so perfectly in just one of his hands. 

It’s the best revelation he’s ever made. In the months you’ve been together, there have never really been any true power dynamics at play in the bedroom, both of you always too caught up trying to please instead of dominate. But when you release your hands from where they’ve been tangled in his hair and they fall onto the mattress just above your head, something clicks inside him. Seungkwan finds himself now gently pinning your arms down to your bed sheets as he leans over you, his long fingers spread wide to keep you in place, his hips rocking against you rhythmically. Just hard enough to rile you up. Just a little too slow to have you shaking.

It’s perfect, Seungkwan thinks, because it keeps his other hand free to use however he desires. He can cup your cheek, and murmur ‘my pretty baby’ at you as your eyes roll back into your head. He can toy with your nipples, if he wants, and tell you how perfect your tits look when he thrusts hard enough to make them bounce. He can grip your waist, holding you still as he fucks into you slightly rougher, watching your smooth skin depress under his touch. 

He can even tease his fingers over your clit and make you squeeze your sweet little pussy around his cock. That’s his favourite, he thinks. By the way you react, it might just be yours, too. 

“Harder,” you gasp as he readjusts his hold on your wrists, and he looks down his nose at you with that raised eyebrow, sideways smirk signature he has. You swallow, biting your lip briefly before you say, “fuck— please, Kwannie. Hold them tighter.”

“Oh, princess,” he coos, cock throbbing at how you sound so angelic and beautifully fucked out. More-so as you whine in desperation when his fingers curl more harshly, giving you enough pressure to immobilise your hands entirely. “Is this it? This how you like it?”

“Yes,” you tell him, nodding and tugging against his hold, testing it, but it’s to no avail as he presses you further into the sheets, rolling your clit now between his thumb and forefinger on his other hand. “Fuck, I’m—”

“Not yet,” he interrupts you, shaking his head with a pout that you’re almost inclined to believe is condescending. “You can’t come yet, okay?” 

Well, fuck. You’ve never been too good at holding your orgasms off, and thankfully Seungkwan has very, very rarely asked you to try. He loves the way you feel around him when you unravel, and he’s always so eager to get you off before he does that the moment you tell him you’re close, it’s music to his ears. You’re just so velvety around him. So warm and wet and he sometimes feels bad that he can’t always last that long, but it’s all your fault for being so damn perfect.

You try your best, but you don’t even have anything to grab onto. You can only ball your hands into fists to try and anchor yourself as he snaps and snaps and snaps his hips into you, as he pinches and massages at the bundle of nerves between your thighs. That little smirk makes a comeback on his features, but you don’t notice. Not until —

“Wish you could see yourself right now,” he sighs as he angles his thrusts a little bit deeper and your eyes fly open, your lips parting in a squeak of surprise at how far up in your stomach you feel him. “God, you’re doing so well, baby. Feels like this pussy was made for me.”

It makes your head spin. This is the first time he’s ever said anything like this in bed — he’s usually so… shy, so decorous. But thinking about how every vein in his cock must surely leave imprints on your insides, how the fucking your cunt takes multiple times a week makes you inarguably his? You’ve only ever been turned off by a possessive man, before now, yet this, from your usually so sweet boyfriend? Sends pulse after pulse of pleasure straight to your core. 

You think you need to try and bring this out in him more often. 

Talking back to him is a waste of the effort you’re using to try and hold yourself back from the edge, so you just nod, pinching your lips together as you swallow the words. The issue here, though, is that in your silence, your ears are left to pick up on every single other thing. The lewd sounds of your hole sucking him in over and over. The way your old bed frame squeaks with every single movement. His breathy sighs and moans. The slap of skin on skin when he eventually uses that free hand to hike your left leg up around his waist and he manages to get even closer, still. 

“Please tell me you’re—” you start to say, the fire inside you warmer than it’s ever been without you letting it consume you. “I don’t know if I can…”

“You really need it, huh?” he asks, dipping down to kiss your lips softly, slowing until he almost stops. “You gonna come?”

“Please,” you beg, trying to move beneath him, trying to fuck yourself on his length. You’re so close. You just need a little more. “Please, please, please—”

He lets go of your wrists altogether and immediately, you wrap your arms around him, pressing your fingertips into his back as he settles back into a delicious rhythm. 

“Okay,” is all he says, the word hot as it fans over your parted lips, as his exhale disappears into your mouth. But it’s all he needs to say. Frankly, it’s all he gets the chance to; it happens before you’re ready, before you can communicate it, even though you’ve spent what feels like forever being built up to this. All of your muscles stiffen as it hits you and you’re seeing stars behind your tightly closed eyelids. Your breaths escape you in a series of moans and whines, each inhale more like a gasp. He feels you clenching around him, feels how you try to pull his whole weight down against your stomach, feels how much wetter your cunt gets and how your leg tightens around his waist to try and keep him buried inside you. 

It almost tips him over the edge, too, and even though he stills, he finds himself having to go back naming all of his highschool teachers in his head just to try and keep a shred of composure while your walls do their best to milk him dry. Thankfully, it doesn’t take too long for your arms to go slack around him, and (though reluctantly) he hurries to pull out of you. Seungkwan takes his cock into his hand instead and he fucks into his fist at the same pace as before – and no, it’s not as plush or warm or tight as you, but it doesn’t need to be. You take him to the point of no return every time — this just needs to be enough, and wow, it is. In seconds, his balls tighten and his forehead scrunches and he grunts as he releases in spurts all over your stomach.

He comes, and he comes, and it feels a bit like he’s never going to stop coming. But whenever it does end, when his agonisingly sensitive length starts to soften, and squeezing out every last drop onto your waiting body is almost an impossible task, he feels exhausted. He made such a mess. It’s everywhere. All on his hand, on the sheets, on you; you’re lying there looking so fucking pretty, breathing like you’ve just finished a race, and your belly is pearlescent with his cum, and all he wants to do is go to sleep. 

But you half-sit up and reach out to him, taking hold of his wrist, now. He lets you (he’d let you do anything in these afterglow moments, and he knows that you know it too), softening the muscles in his arm to straighten at the elbow, and he watches you. Watches you drag your tongue over the skin between his thumb and his pointer finger. Watches as you lap up and swallow back the cum he was about to get up to wipe up with a tissue. Watches as you clean up every trace he left of his orgasm on his own hand, before you flop back onto the pillows, giggling and licking over your kiss-swollen lips. 

He almost feels like he could get hard again at the sight of it. But — much to his own dismay — Seungkwan’s refractory period has never been quick. Even if he did pop another hard-on right now, he knows he’d be way too sensitive to do anything with it. 

“You can’t do that to me,” he pouts, leaning over you to the bedside cabinet to grab a few tissues to start cleaning you up. “Not without a warning.”

"A warning wouldn't help and you know it," you tease him. He gives a 'hmmph', pulling a few free from the box and rolling his eyes as you squirm, ticklish when he starts to wipe his release from you. “You’d whine about it anyway.”

“I don’t whine,” he-… well. “Come on. Get up — bathroom, baby.”

You think that this is supposed to be distracting, to stop you being able to call him out for his immediate contradiction. On the other hand, maybe this is just his way of looking after you — it could be both, even. But you reach both arms up, first, silently asking him to come down to you one more time. He does, rolling his eyes and meeting you in another kiss, the tissues still scrunched up in his palm.

“Two minutes?” You ask, locking him into a cuddle he could probably escape from, if his strength ever happened to overpower the love he has for you. Yet, he rolls onto his back and tosses the tissues with alarming accuracy into the bin next to your dresser, pulling you into his chest.

“One and a half,” he agrees, nodding up at the ceiling.

He can never say no to you. Not especially when you hum into his collarbone and drag your fingers down his arm to take hold of his (clean) hand.

thank u sm for reading!! as always, likes, reblogs & feedback are all greatly appreciated.<3

[comfortyart]

A poem about The Pale Elf

[lost-estradiographer]

I

know that voting for the status quo sucks.

To say it "sucks" massively understates the exact amount of suffering that exists under the status quo, an amount that I acknowledge I am too privileged to ever fully grasp.

I cannot magically provide some viable third-party candidate just barely a month before the election. I cannot solve Israel/Palestine Conflict that has haunted the world for over 70 years. I am a 29-year old transgender woman working her way through her own mental illnesses, trauma, and an undergraduate degree. I was never going to be the one to solve anything here.

All I can tell you is that regardless of whether you vote or not, there will be a presidential election. It's going to be a shitshow, regardless. Whether you vote or not, there will be a different president in January. Voting for the status quo may not be directly in your interests.

We had four years of Trump and we are still trying to unfuck ourselves from that. The beginning of my antagonistic relationship with the government was protesting in the streets of DC under his administration. I've fled from the Metro PD. I've put on a change of clothes and slipped out the back door of a gay sports bar.

Fucking vote.

Fucking vote.

Fucking vote.

Honestly, I

I don't want to see this voter apathy shit anymore.

People are going to keep dying under any president. Any president can, and probably wil, be morally culpable for the deaths of innocent people, both in the country and abroad. Carter might be the last president we had that wasn't overtly a war criminal and we still had foreign civilians killed by U.S. military involvement under the Carter admin.

I'm torn between asking you to block me, or asking you to message me, if you're taking the route of voter apathy. I'll tell you right away, here and now, that I probably don't have a solution to whatever problem is keeping you from voting for Harris. I can't even solve my own problems right, tbh. The government isn't really here for me, either.

But there isn't going to be some sort of miraculous revolution that results in The Ending Where Everyone Lives. If there's a revolution, then supply chains will falter and children and the infirm will die of preventable diseases and infections and complications in hospitals that would have otherwise been able to easily deal with such things. That's what happens in a revolution. I'm after the long-term idea where Humanity as a species lives. I'm after the route where we don't have an ending, we keep going.

Fucking vote, because exactly one of the two leading presidential candidates believes climate change is real, and it is the single greatest threat to all life on earth. We have spent the past 250 years, not just playing God with the environment, but actively creating an ecological niche in which future generations of humanity must continue to play God with the environment, dragging it back to a healthy place drop by drop, inch by inch, a degree at a time.

Or, I mean, don't vote. Either way, we'll all die at some point. Perhaps some of us will be lucky enough to die standing by our principles.

Those lucky few will become soil one day, just like I will.

I am begging you on my hands and knees to fucking vote, though, because our options are The Status Quo vs. Worse. That's

That's it.

There is no door number three right now. Our system, our flawed and broken and imbalanced and unjust system, does not accommodate for a third door. Whether you vote or not, you will be dragged through either Door 1 or Door 2 with all of humanity, as we whirl through the cosmos upon our tiny little speck of dust. The only other legitimate option is to allow oneself to become trampled; to become soil early. I don't say legitimate to give this option legitimacy, but to make clear that again, there is no door three. Door three is a casket. A one-way bed.

I didn't vote in 2016, and I'm hoping that you'll vote for the status quo this time, because that's the route that gives me the best odds of having a long and healthy life to regret my failure through inaction.

Just please

Fucking vote.

Or again, if you're taking the apathy route, probably just save me the time of blocking you, because you're not going to magically pull a viable third-party candidate out of your pocket less than six weeks before the election.

[kawareo]

Nsfw alphabet

A- aftercare

Can we know for Gortash/durge compared to astarian/durge?

I'm fascinated by the differences in those relationships

(Gonna say for pre-tadpoles because after that the dynamics obviously change)

Astarion and Durge are very much friends with benefits, and (mostly for Astarion's sake) their aftercare is them getting back to normal as soon as possible. That includes breaking any potential tension, starting a conversation about something unrelated, healing whatever injuries Durge has given to himself during sex (their bondage tends to be improvised and not exactly safe for Durge when he's tied up) but they do also cuddle. Often Durge falls asleep and Astarion gets to lay there and think about when he will do when Caz is dead, or just whatever, because he does feel safe enough to dare think about things Cazador wouldn't like when he's being held by a Bhaalspawn.

On the other hand, Durgetash... They're more domestic. More quiet. Silently undoing Durge's binds and Durge quietly checking up Enver to see how badly his body took it. Enver often has a flareup in his bad hip after sex and they both pretend not to notice but Durge is mindful of it. They often take a bath if they have time and whichever is injured less helps the other there. Healing potions and quiet prayers are a staple of their aftercare. Neither of them is supposed to care enough about the other to provide aftercare tbh, so they do it almost silently and pretend it never happened.

So yeah the main difference is that (in Bhaal's eyes) Durgestarion is just casual necrophilia and Durgetash is a fucking blasphemy and aftercare is treated accordingly

[neverpoor]

lifesteal's going great

[erythriina]

Autism creature

[galaxy-fleur]

I hope it's okay to drop this here, since i've been seeing it pop up alot in this fandom sooo here goes

What kinda dad do you think Leon would be like? Parent in general and all that wonderful jazz :D

Also it seems to be quite popular headcanon that he'd be a girl dad, i can see the appeal and i find it super cute lol

Girl dad Leon, my beloved... I'm gonna be writing this with post-Death Island Leon in mind, since that's the best way I can imagine him being a father in my mind!

Leon is a family man at heart, it's nice to imagine him having the freedom to retire and build a simple, comfortable life he deserves. It definitely wouldn't be easy to adapt into a much simpler lifestyle after the one he's known practically all of his life at that point, and there will be challenges associated with that process, but it'll all be worth it in the end. The idea of actually starting a family of his own was always more of a distant idea than anything else for him. Something way on the back of his mind that he never once considered becoming an actual reality he could achieve in his lifetime.

After all... no kid deserves a father that's not only absent for long stretches of time, but also poses a danger to them due to his occupation. Not to mention his drinking problem. The idea of burdening someone with having to raise a kid practically alone, all while also having that same kid at constant risk of kidnapping or something even worse happening to them because of their association with him... Leon wouldn't want to inflict that upon anyone. It wouldn't be fair of him at all, regardless of his own selfish desires.

But once he gets to settle down and get comfortable with a simpler life? That distant thought of his suddenly becomes a very real possibility he might start to consider more often than he's willing to admit. Though I do think his partner will have to be the one to bring it up with him directly. He might become almost painfully obvious with his inner workings without even realizing it: smiling wistfully at the kids goofing around with their parents out in the neighbors' yard, bringing up his childhood memories in conversations way more often than usual, even looking into silly family videos out on the web instead of the usual trashy romantic comedy.

He thinks he's being subtle about it, he really does. Still, it's one thing to think about becoming a parent, and it's completely another to actually have it as an approaching reality. Whether the decision to have a kid is going to be planned, or a somewhat unexpected surprise (if we're talking the natural way here), I kinda feel like he might have a little nervous breakdown about it at first.

It's excitement, happiness, anxiety, and doubt crashing on him all at once. A part of him is so insanely happy and in absolute disbelief that he'll actually be a dad for fuck's sake! Moreover, that someone he loves actually wants to start a family with him! On the other hand, he's almost more terrified than he's ever been before.

What if he's terrible at it? What if he disappoints his partner because he has no idea what he's doing? What if he hurts them both accidentally? And if his partner is pregnant, what if they end up getting hurt, too? Pregnancies are mortifying!

Point is... poor guy is going to have to sit down and calm down for a moment. There will be a long, important conversation in order. He needs to realize that he's not in this alone, and that there is no need for him to put so much pressure on himself. Take it one day at a time. He has that luxury now, after all.

He might get a tad overprotective and overbearing with his partner if they are pregnant. He means well, he really, truly does. He just wants to be the best partner he can be. But it can get rather frustrating when he keeps following them around like some kind of guard dog, not even letting them do as much as cook for themselves without butting in with the: 'you don't need to do anything, sugar, I got this'. While some might have no issue with it at all, a more independent person can start feeling a tad suffocated.

His protectiveness comes from a good place. In his point of view, having an entire kid growing inside you is an insane feat in and of itself. He doesn't want to be one of those partners who do nothing and just sit back while their spouse struggles on their own. In a way, he sort of overcompensates for his own feelings of inadequacy. And while he will always be a bit paranoid and overprotective, he will back off if asked to. It really depends on the kind of person his partner is. But healthy communication goes a long way.

Though he'll still be a nervous wreck when his kid gets born. He won't show it in front of his partner, though. If there's anything good that came out of his career as a federal agent, it's an ability to push through his fears and anxieties, and stay cool in stressful situations. He'll actually be a great supportive presence to be around. It's kind of humorous, really. He was such a major worrywart throughout the entire pregnancy, but at the most stressful time of it all, he's cool as a cucumber. He'll ensure that everything is in order, take care of all the rising issues on the go and keep murmuring soft encouragements.

He can't do much about the way his hands are shaking, though. And he'll definitely full-on collapse onto nearest chair or bench once it's all over. And yes. He will cry when he sees his baby for the first time. Depending on how tough the birthing process was, it might turn into a full-on ugly cry, too. Poor guy is overwhelmed and just can't help but let it flow free out of him in a form of tears. I also feel like he'll end up holding his partner's hand and thanking them tearfully. For giving him something so wonderful like this. He's a bit of a mess, but it's very heartwarming to see.

I also feel like he'll be so very torn at all times between staying by his partner's side and visiting his baby (since this IS a girl dad Leon ask, let's say it's a daughter! :3). He can't help but wish he could clone himself, so he could be at two places at once. He'll still get emotional whenever he sees his daughter for a few days at least. It just doesn't feel real to him at all. That this tiny little human lying in the cradle in front of him is his daughter. Something created out of love and happiness, instead of blood and violence.

Would be straight up terrified of holding her despite literally learning all the proper way to do that months prior. She's so small and fragile, and while his form is no longer as robust and muscular as he remembered, he still feels like he might hurt her without meaning to. Needless to say, he'll be standing there like a wooden post once she gets put into his arms. It's a bit funny to look at. Watch him absolutely melt however, when he reaches out to gently brush his finger over his baby's cheek and she grabs onto it with her tiny hand.

...Needless to say, another crying session might be in order. He'll get his bearings together soon enough. Just give him time.

As an actual dad, Leon is clumsy and a bit of a goofball, but he truly does his best. He makes some stupid mistakes sometimes, can be a bit overbearing, and is awkward with discipline. But he's also fiercely affectionate, very involved in his daughter's life, and is always there to be her support when she needs it.

He adores his daughter to bits and pieces. Leon is a quick learner, so there is no need to worry about him being unable to take care of the baby when she's in her first months of life. In fact, he gets almost scarily good at it. Him being pretty unaffected by having to deal with gross tasks is a pleasant bonus. After encountering all kinds of disgusting things in his career, changing diapers and burping a baby is a breeze. He's also a great entertainer. And while a newborn baby might not get any of his cheezy jokes or lame one-liners, she sees her dad smiling and laughing down at her, so she joins in on the fun as well. It's cute.

And hey, his daughter might be onto something with finding the jiggling of his keys the most hilarious thing in existence.

He's bad with dealing with her crying, though. Not because it annoys him or anything, but because he instantly gets a bit too anxious for his own good. What if she's in pain somewhere? Babies can't tell you where it hurts! Do they need to call a doctor? Oh, no, it looks like she was just hungry. That's a relief.

His heart is too fragile for these scares, or so he says.

As his daughter grows up, some things get easier, while others get harder. Leon always knows how to make her laugh and cheer her up, though some of his jokes will make her groan and roll her eyes at him as she grows older. But it's sweet to see him be his silly playful self with her. It can get hard for him to separate from her as she grows older. Leon knows just how rotten and dangerous this world can be all too well, and the idea of not being there with her to protect her when she needs it - is terrifying to him.

But he needs to accept that his daughter needs to make her own decisions, even if they might not always end in her favor. What he should be focusing on, is showing her that she can always come to him when she needs it. And he can't do that if he smothers her. It's a process, and it'll probably be stressful for all parties involved. But he'll come to terms with it eventually. And it'll definitely make his heart feel way lighter once he sees his baby having fun on her own and flourishing in a way he always knew she would. Even if it tugs at his heartstrings to know that she's not that tiny bundle of joy anymore. But she'll always be his precious baby.

Leon is also a bit clumsy when it comes to discipline, mostly because it's hard for him to distinguish that delicate line between being too harsh and being too soft. So, he just starts avoiding enacting any discipline in the first place. Not the best choice of action on his part, and he knows that, but he just can't help himself. I do think he'll have at least one moment of accidentally raising his voice at her, probably as a gut response to something like seeing her try to touch a hot kettle or something of that sort. He'll feel terrible for scaring her right afterwards. He might need some encouragement from his partner on that front.

Overall, I see Leon as a dad who's not perfect by any means, but he tries his best and loves his kid with all his heart. And that's what really matters at the end of the day.