#self indulgent trash

[tixuctoad]

Grab the forest monster and SQUEEZE him!!!!

(you have a step ladder)

[strawberry-flavored-rotting-bugs]

♡ LEON KENNEDY RENTRY RESOURCES ♡

[calehenituse-brainrot]

Faith

Kim Rok Soo; a conversation about faith.

"Do you ever think of believing in something before?"

Kim Rok Soo raised his head when the question slipped from their lips. It wasn't particularly an odd question, but it did give him a twinge of unease at the pit of his stomach. His dark eyes turned to them, and he saw a flicker of curiosity in their eyes.

When he stayed quiet for a second too long, they added for clarification, "Faith. Gods and religions and whatnot."

Rok Soo lowered his eyes from theirs. The question surrounding faith wasn't something he spent his time mowing about when they lived in an apocalyptic world where everything around them was despair personified. If he were to confess, the idea of a higher being existing and seeing all of this pain and not doing anything to stop it made him feel slightly bitter.

But then again, such an omniscient being can't possibly understand the pains of a mortal, smaller being.

"I don't..." Rok Soo began, choosing his words carefully. He noticed a gap he hadn't noticed before with this question and he didn't want to destroy the semblance of understanding between them that had been built over the years over the matter of faith. "I don't really do that."

"I see," they replied with a faint hum. "I'm sorry if that was something invasive to ask."

"Can't be invasive if there's nothing to invade," Rok Soo replied, taking a swig from his bottle of soju.

They let out a soft chuckle. "I suppose so."

There was a moment of silence that hung in the air between them before Rok Soo added slowly, "It's not that I haven't thought about it. I just... don't have that connection."

They smiled. "I understand. I struggle with it sometimes, too."

"You do?" Rok Soo raised an eyebrow.

They laughed when Kim Rok Soo leaned back in interest at their confession. "I do, yes. It's so hard believing in something you can't see or prove. I believe there's an analogy for it using teapots."

Rok Soo tilted his head. "Russell's Teapot."

They clapped their hands once. "That's it, that's the one!"

"I constantly think about it," they murmured quietly with a wry smile. "It's exhausting."

Another silence between them. Rok Soo didn't know what to do or say to respond to that admission. Was he supposed to tell them he's sorry? Reassure them that their faith is right and they shouldn't be worried when he himself does not hold onto a belief?

"If a god were to exist," Rok Soo began carefully. "It's hard to imagine that they'll understand us."

"That's the opposite of what I had been taught ever since I was young," they replied with a hearty laugh. "That whatever we do, our God will understand us, because He is a merciful God."

Rok Soo looked up at the ceiling and they simply looked at him with a smile. "Tell me."

Rok Soo looked back at them. "What?"

They leaned to him and then tapped at his temple twice with their finger. "Tell me what's in here. What you're thinking."

Rok Soo made himself comfortable on the floor, his tailbone slightly hurting. They had been sitting on the floor of the balcony of his apartment for a while now, their empty bowls of ramyeon stacked by his side and two empty bottles of soju between them both. The cool wind blew against his dark hair and their own, which made him turn to look at them properly.

"I think the idea of a god being perfectly loving, all-knowing, powerful, and everywhere present could not exist without contradictions," Rok Soo began quietly.

"Me too," they admitted with a wistful smile. "A loving God. Yet why does the devil receive no mercy?"

Rok Soo adjusted his position, suddenly interested in the mention of the devil. "You think the devil deserves mercy?"

"Only He could give it to 'em," they said, gesturing at the sky lazily. "Does that mean... even the worst of the worst could still not be forgiven?"

They look up at the sky. "Do you think... our comrades could forgive us?"

Rok Soo grew quiet. He suddenly dreads this conversation.

They chuckled in resignation. "God, who am I kidding? If a God can't even forgive me, then how can--"

"Enough." Rok Soo sighed. "The soju is getting to you."

"Maybe it is," they hummed, leaning to him and closing their eyes. "I'm sorry."

Rok Soo stayed in his position, holding onto his bottle of soju and looking at it thoughtfully.

"You know," they began softly to him. "I may struggle in believing in my God, but not you."

"Never you."

[cecoeur]

He's having a banana | 2024 monaco grand prix red flag stoppage

[jeffy-reblogz]

more hotel redesign stuff (previous ones here and here) because I got inspired

[airborneice]

sooo two days late here's my thing for @sketchbookweek Day 2 - Past/Future / Hilda

uhh this one is a fic, unfortunately for everyone. the fic part is. under the cut. I'm gonna go hide in my fridge now byeee

In which Hilda reflects on how life has changed since she left the wilderness.

———

The wilderness never seemed to change, when Hilda returned there. Sure, new plants sprung up and new creatures made their homes there, it was one mountain short and a few woodland paths had become overgrown in her absence (which made trekking through them more fun, actually), but everything that mattered was still there.

The trees cast dappled patterns on the ground the way she remembered as she made her way underneath them. The grass felt the same underfoot, just like when she’d walked these paths as a child, even after all these years. There was the same gentle breeze rustling her jacket and catching in her hair, the same sense of peace that settled in her soul, that told her she was back where she belonged.

It was all just as it had been the day she left. Well, except for one thing - 

“You’re it!”

Hilda jumped as something small and pink crashed into the back of her leg, slightly knocking her off-balance. Before she could react, her little sister bounded away from her, taking off up the forest path.

“Wha - hey!” Hilda called after her with mock-indignation, while Mattie ran further up the trail, giggling gleefully.

“You can’t catch meeee!”

Hilda grinned. “Oh, it’s on,” she said, getting ready to break into a run. Before she could move, she heard Mum’s voice ring out behind her.

“Hilda, just don’t go too far, okay?” She called, making Hilda turn her head. She and Kaisa were standing at a fork in the path several yards back, but in the quiet of the forest, her voice carried easily. “We’re going to find somewhere to set up the picnic.”

Beside her, Kaisa shifted the picnic basket she was carrying in her arms, watching Mattie ping-pong around the woods with an amused expression.

“You know you’re about to be outrun by a six-year-old,” she pointed out helpfully.

Hilda stuck her tongue out at her.

“Yeah, we won’t go too far,” she called back to Mum, turning on her heel and locking eyes with the six-year-old in question.

Mattie, who seemed to have come to a stop while the others were talking, shrieked in delight and took off running. Hilda shook her head fondly. Maybe being in the wilderness really was doing some good for her. They hadn’t been able to play like this back at home. 

“Hey, wait up!” She called, running after her.

Mattie pivoted on her toe and fixed her with a grin.

“Nope!”

Hilda wasn’t sure what else she had been expecting, really.

She ran after her at a leisurely pace - making sure to stay just slow enough to let Mattie get a decent lead - watching as the girl ducked in and out of bushes and getting the odd spike in heart-rate as she tripped over a tree root and righted herself at the last second, only to take off again. She’d gotten quite far ahead now, to the point she was barely visible through the expanse of trees. It wasn’t as if Hilda had to worry about losing her, anyway, not with her high-pitched giggles carrying through the trees like some kind of sonar. That child couldn’t be stealthy to save her life.

Until Mattie ducked out of sight, and the laughter stopped.

Hilda came to a stop for a moment, feeling the silence grow uncomfortably heavy.

“Mattie?” She called out, to no reply. 

Cautiously, Hilda picked up the pace, pushing past the now thinning-out trees. She knew from experience that there was nothing dangerous - or at least, nothing that dangerous - out here, but this felt off, to say the least. Laughter and shouting she could deal with, but as far as she could remember, “quiet” was not a word that ever appeared next to Mattie in a sentence.

Turning the corner though, she could suddenly see why. Instinctively Hilda slowed to a halt.

Of course. Of course it was here.

Up ahead of her, where the trees thinned out, was the Northern Elf County. And just behind it, even more tattered and broken than she remembered, lay her old house.

The wilderness had almost fully reclaimed it now. Moss and lichen covered every inch of the decaying boards, the remaining wreckage of pipes and wood sunken into the earth. Weeds had sprung up around it, including a blue nettle which had woven itself through the debris like a fine thread. If it hadn’t been hers, she might not have known it used to be a house at all.

Just in front of it stood the small form of her sister, seemingly locked in place. Hilda watched as she stood there a moment, not moving an inch. Then, slowly, Mattie turned her head to look back at her, a slightly fearful look in her eyes.

“Oh - oh,” Hilda hastily closed the gap between them, putting an arm around her sister, which the child promptly latched onto. “Hey, it’s okay!” She said quickly. “It’s not scary.” She smiled at her reassuringly, knowing Mattie wouldn’t fear it if she didn’t. “This is just my old house.”

Still clutching her sleeve, Mattie blinked, the frightened look in her eyes melting into something resembling curiosity. She looked between Hilda and the ruins, a tiny crease forming on her brow. Then - 

“It’s quite small,” she said quietly.

Hilda snorted.

“It was bigger when I lived in it,” she replied, dropping down roughly onto the grass. Though she still looked unsure, Mattie followed suit, crossing her legs under herself while maintaining a grip on her sister’s arm.

“It used to be a little cabin,” Hilda explained. “Our great-grandad built it. It’s where me and Mum lived before we moved to Trolberg.”

“…Oh,” Mattie replied, looking again at the heap. Her grip on the sleeve had relaxed, and Hilda exhaled in relief. It was a good sign Mattie was speaking a bit more, even if a little confused-sounding. Now she thought of it, Hilda wasn’t entirely sure she’d talked about her old life to her little sister before. It had all been over long before she had been born, after all.

Beside her, Mattie tilted back on the grass, staring at the ruins as if trying to picture them as something other than wreckage and moss. But she looked more curious than confused now.

“Did you like it there?” She asked.

Hilda followed her sister’s eye-line to the wreckage, and sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

She sat back on her hands, the grass soft under her fingers, and lifted her gaze to the horizon that was so achingly familiar.

“We always had the best view of the woff-migration,” she said, noticing with a smile how her sister perked up immediately (and making a small mental note to find a good spot for woff-watching later). “And it was always so peaceful out here. It felt like it was just me and Mum and Twig in the whole world.”

“Why did you leave then?”

“Oh, um,” Hilda paused for a moment, wondering if this was straying into too-scary-for-a-six-year-old territory. “Well…” she hazarded, “... a giant kind of trod on our house. Accidentally,” she said. “It was sort of my fault, I was trying to help him find someone - that sort of thing doesn’t happen anymore, though,” she added quickly, seeing her sister’s eyes had gone wide.

To her relief though, her words didn’t seem to have the impact she’d feared. After a moment Mattie just hummed thoughtfully, turning back to the cabin remains.

“That’s sad,” she said quietly.

Hilda hummed softly, watching the spot on the horizon that had once been hidden behind the cabin roof.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Yeah, I was pretty sad about it for a while.”

A stray breeze ruffled the grass around them, making the blue nettle sway. If she squinted she could almost still see what it had looked like before, the patches of warm amber light that shone from the windows at night and the spot where Twig would curl up by the fire. They were probably sitting right where she’d met a troll for the first time.

Beside her, Mattie shifted slightly, bringing her swiftly back to reality.

“Oh, but  - I mean - it wasn’t all bad,” Hilda added quickly, wondering if this might also be a bit much for a six-year-old. “I still got to go on adventures. And I got to meet Frida and David, and Tontu and..”

Hilda trailed off, lost in thought. Now she thought about it, so much of the life she knew now had only come after they moved.

In the wilderness it had just been her and Mum and Twig, and she had never wanted - never even contemplated - anything more. But from there her family had only grown. First with Alfur, then Tontu and…then Kaisa, and sometime later down the line, Mattie too. Somehow, despite spending her life bringing home all manner of strange creatures to join the household, that had been the biggest surprise. Not just the slightly scary witch from the library coming to live with them (which, yeah, to begin with had felt kind of weird), but how much things had changed with her.

It had taken a while, of missing the wilderness and feeling awkward about all the changes going on, but before long she’d had to admit that life was better with this new family in it.

Little moments were coming back to her, as she sat there in the grass in the afternoon sun - Mattie had gotten bored and got up to investigate the elf village by this point, tip-toeing around the tiny houses with the utmost care - not moments from her life in the cabin, but what had come since. What couldn’t have been if they’d stayed.

…Struggling through homework at the kitchen table last thing on a Sunday night with Kaisa (in theory helping but usually just joining her in staring at her textbook in despair). Forlornly muttering something along the lines of not being smart enough for this, only for Kaisa to take her head out of her hands to look at her with a glare that could bore through steel.

“Hildie. I studied advanced transmutation magic to the nineteenth level and I have never in my life seen something as fucking complicated as this,” she deadpanned, while Hilda subsided into giggles. “Seriously. I’m going to hex your maths teacher.”

…Sometime after they had returned from the Fairy Isle, standing at the doorway of the flat, open-mouthed, watching as Mum reached for a book off the high shelf with her feet not quite touching the floor. Opening her mouth to call out in excitement before feeling a gentle tap on her shoulder.

“You know she’ll only worry that other people might see,” Kaisa whispered, having somehow silently appeared beside her. Kaisa turned her gaze back to Mum, a loving look in her eyes, and Hilda had the distinct impression that she hadn’t been the first to notice.

“Let’s just let her have this, for now.”

…A year before that, hovering uncertainly by her parents' bedroom door, the morning after they had left for the hospital, excited and a bit scared and a well of emotions stirring in her chest. Mum and Kaisa calling her in with hushed voices and her climbing onto the bed in the early morning sun, cuddling up to them and the bundle in their arms and being assured that everything was fine, Mum was fine, and “Why don’t you say hello?” and… everything stopping as she laid eyes on her sister for the very first time. 

Coming back to the present moment, Hilda watched as her now more grown sister cautiously approached the blue nettle and very gently ran a finger over its petals. How strange that something beautiful could grow out of so much loss.

After a moment of inspecting the nettle, Mattie turned back to Hilda and pointed at it excitedly.

“Hildie! There’s a blue nettle!” She called.

“Oh wow, really?” Hilda called back in feigned surprise. “Is that good?”

“Yep!” Seemingly satisfied with what she’d found, Mattie started making her way back towards her, carefully dodging the elf houses as she went.

“Tildy says they’re good for magic, but I didn’t want to take it because…” She paused as she stepped over the final elf house, teetering a little as she cleared it. “...Because there’s only one and the elves might like it being there.”

Briefly Hilda remembered the last time she had tried to take a plant from an elf settlement without permission, and had to agree.

“Yeah, I think that was a nice thing to do,” she told her. Mattie smiled, then plonked herself down by Hilda’s side again.

“So…” Hilda said, once her sister was settled. She nodded her head towards the ruins. “Not scary?”

“Nope, not scary,” Mattie replied, a hint of pride in her voice. “I bet it was nice there. Blue nettles only grow in nice places.” She was quiet for a moment, then - 

Hilda felt the familiar weight of her sister leaning into her arm.

“Sorry your house got stepped on, Hildie” Mattie said softly. “ ’Specially after you were nice to the giant. It’s not fair.”

“Aw, Mattie,” Hilda smiled, wrapping an arm around her little sister and pulling her to her side. Mattie snuggled in, contentedly burying her cheek in Hilda’s jacket. “It’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

She turned to look at the girl beside her, all bright eyes and a curious smile. It was hard to believe she’d had a life before where she wasn’t in it.

“You know…”

Hilda lifted her gaze, laying eyes on her old house and, for the first time, feeling something other than mourning. Something much warmer and kinder, and unshakingly certain.

“I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

[piosplayhouse]

Binghe winning by a huge margin in the same round Shen Qingqiu loses the queer character poll despite not even knowing or caring what sexuality is is really funny and incredibly canon

[t00thpasteface]

btw i wrote my own spin on the "arcade was the guy the king punched" bit. it's super quick. tl;dr:

[azurendays]

Me: There is a lot of interesting discussion around Jason being a father and what that means to him. The new fears that keep him up at night, the long looks in the mirror about his past and present decisions that have hurt others and himself. The isolation he put himself in and is combating now, and what it means for his kid. Jason looking at the examples of fathers he has had and terrified in how he’ll end up emulating them (either continuing their good or being stuck forever in their shortcomings)

Also me: Hehe girl dad Jason with a meta kid hehehe

So anyway; this is Ballad. Don’t ask me nothing about her I just work here (pls ask me I have so many ideas)

[lemonsrosesandlavender]

Personal Rolan Headcanons… via the NSFW Alphabet

Look these are going to be wildly biased to cater to my own taste and I don’t care. I’ll also be specific about both Rolan x Catrin and Rolan x Steel Weave Tav (my main fanfic pairings) where relevant because…fun!

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

I think Rolan likes cuddles from his romantic partner a lot (and is generally very touch-starved: I don’t headcanon Cal and Lia having a particularly cuddly relationship with him despite their closeness, and I don’t think he’s been close to anyone else in a long time). However, I think he is truly ABYSMAL at talking about sex and only wants to do it when already turned on - so it’s up to his partner to prise opinions out of him on what he did and didn’t like (though he gets a bit better at that with time and encouragement from Steel Weave Tav). I also think he likes a hot, luxurious bath, and back rubs. Things the road from Elturel was short on!

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

I think Rolan thinks his horns and claws are elegant and imposing - but in bed, it’s his neck and ears that are incredibly sensitive. (I don’t think tiefling horns feel sensation personally).

As for body parts - for Steel Weave Tav, it’s 100% her muscles, especially her biceps. He likes seeing (and feeling) how much stronger she is than him physically. For Catrin, he tried to stop himself having a crush by thinking about her human attributes… and it backfired, filling him with secret, shameful curiosity about her blunt teeth and body hair.

C = Cum

Er… normal? Lmao. This question. Tastes a little bitter and salty, like he is.

D = Dirty Secret

Doesn’t think that his submissive fantasies fit with the competent, self-contained Archmage he’s always pictured himself being… so he is very embarrassed and secretive about them.

E = Experience

Not a lot. I think he’s previously had one or two short relationships, but I think after their mother died, he stopped all of that to work hard and provide for Cal and Lia, with all of his spare time going to studying magic.

I also personally headcanon that he’s never taken it in the ass before, but just because I’m trash who loves him both wanting that and being nervous about it.

F = Favourite Position

On his back, looking up into his partner’s eyes as they either ride him or fuck his ass (with his legs over their shoulders). Plus, from there it’s an easy movement up to sit on his face. I think he likes a lot of different positions though, just as long as he’s getting absolutely fucked senseless. Bent over a desk, face down on a bed…whatever.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

He likes some flirty back-and-forth, but mostly he’s serious. He certainly doesn’t like deliberate silliness, but he will crack for moments of amusement if something silly happens - though only with someone he knows well and trusts.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Personally, I headcanon most tieflings not to have body hair at all. I don’t think it really makes sense with the ridges! (And Rolan is so fussy I think he’d get rid of it if he did have it. He likes things neat and orderly).

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

I think that though Rolan isn’t keen on sweeping romantic gestures, he loves very deeply, and on those days when he’s having slower, gentler sex (or had the brat fucked out of him), looks up very adoringly at his partner. I also think he likes to be held tightly when he comes, and when he’s a washed-up, overstimulated wreck.

It takes a lot of trust and intimacy with a partner for him to be able to be honest about his fantasies (and even then, it’s slow going… but without that connection he wouldn’t say anything at all).

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Rolan’s pretty repressed and tries to detach himself from caring about people he knows, because they might interfere with his responsibilities towards Cal and Lia, and with his learning of the Weave. So he often jacks off about getting fucked by anonymous strangers. Once Tav… or Catrin… or whoever… enters the scene, he jacks off over them instead and feels very weird and ashamed about it. (Sorry, I love repressed Rolan. It features a lot in my work lol).

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Firmly a sub (lol, who would have guessed this was my headcanon). The only switching that man does, in my opinion, is between being a well-behaved submissive and a feral, bitchy brat.

I think he likes humiliation more than praise. I know praise kink is a popular Rolan headcanon, but I actually think he finds praise very uncomfortable if he doesn’t feel it’s been immediately earned - so he likes being told he looks good once, but after the fifth compliment he often starts to get irritated. Being told he’s a whiny little slut though? Definitely going to make him whine harder.

I think he enjoys a variety of D/s, humiliation and pain, but especially likes being pushed around and held down (in Steel Weave Tav’s case), or in Catrin’s case, bitten (hard). He also develops a bit of a ravishment fantasy in Planar Tears since he feels so conflicted about his desire for Catrin; his fantasies involve her making that decision for him.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the deed)

Balconies, studies, wardrobes, desks. Beds too but a little risk of discovery is fun. Sorcerous Sundries once all the customers have left.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Someone who takes control, shows strength and determination, and who is as hardworking and passionate.

And really, any teasing. A whisper in his ear about how much they’d like to fuck him when they’re somewhere public… a hand slipping up his robe when he’s trying to work… he gets worked up very easily.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

I think that after Lorroakan’s abuse, Rolan would struggle with face slapping/hitting. I also think that once he becomes Archmage, he prefers not to have visible face or neck bruises, though everywhere else is fair game. (In Planar Tears, he’s sufficiently enamoured by Catrin’s teeth that he throws such caution to the wind… and sometimes regrets it after).

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

I think he enjoys receiving, but LOVES giving. He loves the taste and the sensation, and giving his partner pleasure. It’s also a matter of pride for wizards to have skilled tongues… so I think despite his relative experience he’d put a lot of effort into learning how to give great oral.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Rolan prefers his partner setting the pace, but generally fast and rough. He likes it intense. Exceptions being contented lazy afternoons, or when recovering from some serious magic… but mostly he likes a railing.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

I feel like Rolan does not do things by halves. He wouldn’t be super opposed to quickies, just… disappointed by them, when there could be more.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Has a lot of kink interests he wants to try, and is prone to biting off far more than he can chew. Rolan definitely overrates his capacity for pain, tends to be overambitious and doesn’t think enough about his own safety (so he needs a partner to order him to be careful and to push for communication on those subjects when he won’t do it himself).

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Not a lot. Gets overwhelmed very quickly and comes very quickly too unless deliberately edged. Will totally go several times in a day though.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Not at first, but once he gets a supportive partner, and a steady income, I think he’d like to explore a lot of things with toys. Primarily restraints and plugs and spanking implements to be used on him. He would probably get jealous of his partner using toys when his tongue and fingers are right there. (Is that good? Not really. Is it Rolan behaviour?… yes. Lmao)

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Not at all at the start - he’s way too desperate. After a while, he likes to try it on, but only so that his partner will either pin him down or tell him to shut up before they fuck him harder.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Very fucking loud. He already has a pretty loud, carrying voice… and he’s so easily to overwhelm that there is absolutely no shutting him up. Whimpering, moaning, shouting - he just needs to let those feelings out (for once in his goddamn life).

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Ok well… I love the idea of Rolan’s ears being INCREDIBLY sensitive, to the point of overwhelming him.

I also think that being called Archmage or Master whilst being absolutely, relentlessly put in his place gets him off like nothing else. Oh, you are a powerful wizard, Master Rolan… and also a pathetic little slut who happens to be drooling everywhere.

Finally, I love the idea of him studying sex just as assiduously as magic to please his partner… but being embarrassed and hiding it. Anal training or practising oral techniques or whatever. He’s going to practise, and then absolutely deny having done so, insisting it is simply natural talent.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Has a big dick (though nothing wild) and gets hard very easily, much to his embarrassment. I personally think that he has ridges at the base of his dick, that someone riding it could grind against - but I don’t think he has them on his dick.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

HIGH. Oh my god, he’s had years without it. Once he lets himself feel that need again, he has a lot of lost time to make up for.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

I imagine Rolan usually falling asleep very quickly afterwards, because he likes very intense fucking and uses up all his energy. And that man needs some goddamn sleep anyway; he’s probably up reading magic books til late on the nights he’s not getting railed. And sleepy Rolan is So! Fucking! Cute! Case closed, baby.

[squishi-bunni]

"I'll always love you."

Howl x Reader Drabble

Hurt-Comfort

Reader has abandonment issues

"Love, what's wrong?"

"Are you going to leave me?" I ask.

His eyes widen at me. "What?"

I felt tears prick my eyes. "Are you going to leave me?" I repeat. "When I stop being interesting, are you going to toss me out? Will my true self repulse you?"

Howl grabs my shoulders firmly, forcing my eyes to meet his. His gaze is stern, but his eyes still have some softness.

"Even when I learn everything there is to know about you--every quirk, every flaw, everything you may for some reason hate about yourself--I will stay by your side."

For some reason, I broke into a fit of sobbing. I don't know why exactly, but at those words--words I've never heard from anyone before--everything I had been holding back broke through the damn I'd built.

Howl pulled me close, pressing my chest flush against his, and he gently caressed my face, wiping away the tears.

He held my cheeks like porcelain pots and made me look into his eyes. "I know you're used to being left behind, but I promise my love, I'll never leave you. No matter what, I'll always love you and always be yours."

There was nothing else I could do but smile into his hands. I held his face in the same way he held mine and said, "I'll always love you, too."

[tixuctoad]

Get rizzed loser ☝️☝️

Late night posts are BACK IN TOWN BABEY

Alts + other stuff under the cut

The silly!!!!

[lizstiel]

Dean’s sitting at the kitchen table eating meatloaf when it all sort of hits – and he’s desperate to remember it exactly how it happened.

With his fork raised halfway to his mouth, a dollop of meat and sauce perched precariously on the tines, his eyes wandered over to where Cas stood by the sink in a pair of ratty pajama bottoms and one of Dean’s old t-shirts. (One of Dean’s old t-shirts, because once Cas gets his shoulders into them they never really sit the same way.)

He’s got soap up to his elbows, scrubbing methodically at the dishes Dean just dirtied, his brow a taught, concentrated line. He’s bringing the same kind of meticulous focus to the dishes that he used to bring to leading the armies of Heaven; that singular kind of attention, both unnerving and admirable. (Dean had once tried to explain that he didn’t need to wash them quite so vigorously, to which Cas had deadpanned, “Do you know how many food particles remain on the dishes you wash, Dean?” It quickly became his job, after that.)

It’s early July. About 6:30pm. The window over the sink is cracked, and the front door is wide open, letting the sound of cicadas and crickets drift in with the summer breeze. The sun’s starting to set behind the field, casting the world in that particular orange glow that has always made something in Dean ache. In the other room, the record player Sam got them for Christmas plays a beat up Janis Joplin record he’d found at a secondhand store in town. The opening chords of Me and Bobby McGee have just started, and the cicadas are humming, and the crickets are singing, and the sun is setting, and Cas is standing in old pajamas washing dishes Dean just used to make them dinner and –

Cas tilts his head.

This isn’t revolutionary. He does it a lot. A very ingrained behavior, some might say. But he isn’t confused, he’s reacting. To the song. He doesn’t react to music the way Dean wants him to, never has, but in his own way, it’s almost like he’s leaning closer to hear it. An infinitesimal thing. The smallest gesture. The corner of his mouth twitches, and Dean has never loved him more than he does at this moment: backlit by a summer sunset in their house in the middle of nowhere, hand washing dishes and listening to Janis Joplin.

Cas turns when the sound of Dean’s fork clattering on the plate sounds, but Dean just scoops him into his arms, chases any worries away with a kiss, and then another, and then one more for good measure. Cas laughs against his mouth, desperately trying to keep his soapy arms away from Dean’s dry clothes. “Dean,” he chides, squirming and chuckling, trying to extract himself from Dean’s grip. “I’m not finished.”

“I’ll get ‘em tomorrow,” Dean promises, peppering sweet little kisses down the line of Cas' throat. He hasn’t shaved in a couple of days. It tickles all the way down. “Love you so much,” he says, because he wants to. Because he’s so full with it he’s overflowing. Because if he doesn’t tell him right now, in this moment, and every moment after this one, he might die. He needs him to know. It’s vital that he knows.

Cas’ laughter warms, and he slides one soapy hand to the back of Dean’s neck, eyebrows raised in challenge when he shudders at the sensation. When Dean doesn’t immediately shoo him away, he slides the other soapy hand up Dean’s arm. “Dean?” He’s not worried, the timber of his voice is honey-smooth and light, but he’s confused. Not that Dean doesn’t tell him often, and loudly, how much he loves him, but to be fair this did kind of come from nowhere, so he understands. It’s just much too much. It’s not enough and it’s everything. It’s everything in the world Dean has ever wanted.

Janis Joplin is singing freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose, and Dean’s arms are loose around Cas’ waist, and he loves him, god he loves him so much, so he kisses him on one corner of the mouth, and then the other. Janis says, nothin’, don’t mean nothin’ hon’ if it ain’t free, no, no – and he rocks their bodies together, slow, to the beat of the music. Cas’ arms come to wind around his neck automatically, and his smile starts to sprawl into something reserved for only the really good moments. Wide and gummy and for Dean – and feelin’ good was easy, Lord, when he sang the blues. He presses his forehead to Cas’ and they just sort of sway there like that, smiling at each other like this might be the last chance they ever get.

Cas says – “I love you, Dean,” just as Janis is singing, you know feelin’ good was good enough for me – and it occurs to Dean that he’s dancing in the kitchen with the love of his life. He thinks back to the longest, loneliest nights he spent staring up at the night sky, believing wholly he’d die bloody and alone on the backend of some random hunt, and how the smallest (but loudest) part of him had wished for exactly this. For someone to hold him and see him and dance in the kitchen with him, barefoot and covered in soap.

He kisses the tip of Cas’ nose, the lines under his eyes. Doesn’t realize he’s crying until Cas is wiping tears away with the pads of his thumbs and soothing hands through his hair. He’s crying, too. Laughing and crying and telling Dean he loves him, he loves him so much, he’s loved him from the first moment he saw him.

It settles in Dean then – really settles deep, and true, and good – that he was meant for this. He wasn’t born to be a weapon. Wasn’t born to be a son, or a father, or a brother. Wasn’t born to save the world or to end it – was just meant to dance. His arms were meant to hold. To sway them both around the cheap linoleum floor, to sling low around Cas’ waist and spin them both ‘til they were dizzy with it.

They laugh and kiss and Janis is saying – good enough for me and Bobby McGee – and Dean is thinking – Yeah. Yeah, it really is.

[sodapopseagull]

I'm not gonna do nanowrimo for the obvious reasons, but I do think I'm gonna cook up a little personal challenge for November so I can 1) have something to look forward to and keep me busy so US election anxiety doesn't eat me alive and 2) get some of these fucking wips out of the way... I have written well over 150k words of BG3 fic and posted less than 8k of them LMAO

Maybe I'll make a little chart so I can track my progress. If I do I'll share it so anyone else can use it too~

[stardustvi]

redesigned an old oc

[feddy-34]

literary genius at work here folks