#good advice hag

[murderoushagthesequel]

pro tip: scrolling through tumblr while having a breakdown doesn't help

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

Karlach is very very nice tree and I am a squirrel heh

If you need help with the game just ask because before BG3 I had no idea about the playstyle either-

god yeah me too, i want to climb onto Karlach's back and hang from her shoulders she is my favorite and i love her

thank you!!! i'm very slowly getting the hang of it (not that i'm good by any stretch), but i'm having fun!!

[aceofwonders]

ok imma just pop off about one of my dnd ocs...

the way that maizakeen is heading for a break down has me Screaming

she had the Horrors (voices of the dead/dark thoughts and strange magic) dropped on her at age fucking twelve....she overcompensated with intense optimism and kindness to beat it all back (also training relentlessly to control her magic so she could help herself and others)

she grew up so privileged and sheltered that is was working, life was good in her little bubble.... and then it shattered when her grandfather died and further more when she went out into the world

session after session she is seeing how bleak the greater world is and it is fracturing her hold on her literal inner demons ever so slowly

[ame-to-ame]

apparently my personality was built for being a bassist

[undreaming-fanfiction]

I love a good florist Steve, but what I love even more is a good but naturally bitchy florist Steve.

He'd have his own flower shop and years of dating experience behind his belt. He is not just a good boyfriend, he is THE good boyfriend. Going to his shop isn't just to buy a bouquet of flowers, oh no. It's a whole relationship coaching thing, he teaches husbands to do better, gives courage to teenagers asking their crushes out, gives advice regarding flower language to elderly ladies who just want to be slightly passive-aggressive...you know, the normal thing.

He has a catalogue with flower pictures to help people who have no idea what the flowers are called, they just know they were orange and didn't easily wilt.

He shows a local teenager the cheaper but still fancy options and throws in a bunch of free flowers that aren't really up to his standards. "Okay, you say she likes pink flowers. Does she like things to be a bit more decorated or does she prefer simplicity? You don't know? Okay, can you describe what she normally wears? No, I'm not being creepy, but you can sometimes tell the person's preferences from their clothes. Now answer or leave dateless."

He chats with the elderly ladies of Hawkins when they ask for a flower to gift to their fellow church ladies when they host their meetings. He cackles when he hears some of their orders. "Oh wow, Ethel, a yellow hyacinth? Would you like a gift card with that, something like sorry you're such a jealous hag? No? Of course I know the meaning, it's my job."

"Are you expeting her to say yes to the date with that atrocity on your face? Yes, I know it's a moustache. But it's also an atrocity. Shave it and thank me later. Now, would you like a ribbon for that bouquet?"

And most of all, he grills the unlucky conservative men in Hawkins who come to him for flowers for their wives without any idea what they like. "I see, so you want something pretty. What does your wife like? Flowers? Well, that's not specific. What kind of dresses does she wear? Expensive? Can you tell me anything about your wife's personality? ...nagging. No, I can't just mix something together, unlike you, I take pride in gift giving. Okay. I don't think this is a shop for you. Yes, that's what I'm saying, I won't play a part in your wife's disappointment. Oh sure, go take your money elsewhere, but I can give you this advice for free - you married a unique human being, so treat her like one. And if you really want a happy marriage - maybe come back when you learn something about her as a person. No need for that language, have a good day, sir."

For those that are more receptive, he goes through their partners' personalities and hobbies, suggesting date options and absolutely roasting the bad ones. "A football match. When your girlfriend hates sports. I don't care if it's your boys playing, you can try telling her that this is important to you and you'll take her out another time, but if you try to pass this as a date, you'll be single before you say "sorry". A date is for you as a pair, not for you only."

But the best thing his shop brings him is Eddie Munson, who sneaks in, absolutely ready to be roasted, and asks for a bouquet of bright colorful flowers for his best friend Chrissy. "She just got divorced from her asshole husband and I want to show her that she can have nice things. Platonically. But she deserves so much more. Uh...she really loves warm colors, so maybe yellows and oranges? What are they called...gerberas! She likes gerberas! And she likes things to be a bit messy and imperfect, so maybe some leaves there as well? A green ribbon would be nice."

And Steve just beams at him as he gets to work and says "Oh wow. Whoever your partner is, they are so lucky if you remember all of these things even for your friends. Makes a guy jealous."

Eddie just wiggles his eyebrows at Steve and mutters, "that position's sadly open. Has been for a while. Interested?" and he almost faints against the counter when Steve turns around.

Eddie is ready to run.

But Steve just fluffs his hair, reapplies his lipgloss and asks: "Where do I apply?"

[iridescentmirrorsgenshin]

before i get my thoughts down about haikaveh's progression in cyno's story quest, here is a list of things of note about the quest in general!

the boys (and collei...??) having sentimental group dinners where the traveller and paimon are mentioned fondly

cyrus canonical smoker

urraca reverse hag reveal?

kaveh buying wine and coffee beans for him and alhaitham to share, as in them trying coffee beans together isn't solely for kaveh's bday

FAMILY CAMPING TRIP??

tighnari giving cyno A Look and cyno saying he would rather not get told off okay domesticity...

tighnari + cyno canonical tent sharing, i know what you are

alhaitham and kaveh being the 'sleepwalking fungi', okay devolving into a fungus <333

kaveh and alhaitham bullying the traveller's two star blade

a flashback cutscene for no other reason to establish haikaveh's domesticity

kaveh perching on the table to gossip with alhaitham

alhaitham's fond smiles

alhaitham putting his book down to gossip with kaveh

alhaitham looking up to watch kaveh draw the emblem,,, and the cutscene making it a point to show us this

kaveh sitting on the table AGAIN to talk with alhaitham, but 0 feet apart

kaveh's fond smiles???

kaveh's admiration of a symbol prompting alhaitham to identify architectural signets...

kaveh reading alhaitham's mind and agreeing to help him search even though alhaitham didn't ask him to...

alhaitham complaining about the lack of coffee, and kaveh wishing they had brought some from home...

kaveh asking alhaitham to teach him something, alhaitham complying AND teasing kaveh at the same time

ALHAITHAM MENTIONING WANTING COFFEE AND THINKING ABOUT IT, KAVEH THEN THINKING ABOUT GETTING MEHRAK TO BRING COFFEE TO THEM

alhaitham and kaveh finishing each other's sentences

tighnari and cyno commenting how imperative it is that alhaitham and kaveh worked together to uncover the temple of silence's involvement

tighnari and cyno completing each other's sentences

tighnari and cyno not having to properly communicate to know exactly what the other is thinking, causing cyno to switch tactics

tighnari providing cyno clarity during an emotional shakedown

another comment from cyno + tighnari about how essential it is that kaveh and alhaitham are working together as their advice gives them the upper hand

sethos??? identity crisis teen angst gone wrong :((

cyno establishing that he is his own person outside of the power so highly coveted, which tighnari affirms, happy that cyno has awareness of this???

the temple of silence being able to be accessed by people who cyno and nahida deem worthy?

tighnari a descendant of the people that hermanubis was selected from to be a familiar to deshret..?? linking him not only directly to the temple of silence but also cyno,, and cyno saying that he likes this story??

collei cyno tighnari family, they use codes, it was originally cyno and tighnari's but now its extended to collei, it's their love language im-

cyno questioning alhaitham and kaveh studying together, highlighting that this is not a common occurrence and is NOTEWORTHY (also, the delivery?? im gonna get you)

kaveh stressing about reorganising the books and alhaitham reassuring him, so gently, that there's 'no rush'

cyno and tighnari saying AGAIN how imperative it is that kaveh and alhaitham worked together for a swift and beneficial outcome

kaveh expressing an interest in the temple of silence, with cyno saying that the akademiya and the temple of silence will maintain good relations because the temple of silence is IMPORTANT?? (future sumeru events...)

kaveh canonically having caffeine overload jitters whilst alhaitham has the tolerance of a tank

After the two leave the house of daena there are two pairs of two coffee cups and coffee brewers on the table?? They are bringing the domesticity EVERYWHERE

alhaitham and kaveh leaving the tavern together, they are inseparable this quest we get it

KAVEH REFERRING TO THE HOUSE AS 'HOME'. DIRECTLY TO ALHAITHAM. HELLO??

alhaitham then agreeing with kaveh about going to the house of daena before going 'home', with a 'my thoughts exactly', guys,,, they are so in sync here im eating mortar

cyno taking the traveller and paimon to his best friend tree??? also where he and tighnari spent a lot of time together

cyno establishing his self worth respective of his power!!

sethos potentially a part of the family... my heart is in my mouth <333

tighnari understanding cyno without words - "CYNO: ...It's Professor Cyrus. You guys carry on without me. I'll be right back." "Tighnari : Okay."

soft cyno and cyrus interaction, there are things that cannot be said, but the emotion is so palpable

overall i had a really great experience with this quest!! it was so great to see everyone in sumeru again and to develop the lore + character relationships. this really expanded upon cyno as a character, a person, rather than the figure of authority/power he is seen as, and established how important his family ties are to him

as for haikaveh, i have THOUGHTS which i will expand upon at another time... but overall, the progression for them is very much present here and very promising! <3

Update: my analysis of haikaveh's progression is here!

[jojikawa]

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝘽𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝘿𝙞𝙤: 𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝘿𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙄𝙩 𝙈𝙚𝙖𝙣 𝙏𝙤 𝙇𝙞𝙫𝙚? | 𝙋𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙉𝙞𝙣𝙚

WICKED EYES

🦋 — Read all the previous parts!

🩸— This is a dark romance with descriptions of violence, gore, racism, sexism, and NSFW themes. The reader is black in this AU but this story can be enjoyed by all walks of life. This chapter contains manipulation. (no smut, no gore)

Art Link Dividers 3.3k words

“(y/n), tell me, what does it mean to live?” 

You froze in the middle of your actions. “Dio, what are you talking about?” You furrowed your eyes with concern. He didn’t exactly adorn his typical cunning look, but instead, more sullen. His thumb rubbed your inner waist tenderly as he held you.

It had been an indeterminate amount of time since your lustful night with Dio. Being held captive here with a stand user warping the mansion to prevent your escape made you lose track of time. You had gotten Dio to soften up by offering your body to him from time to time. But sometimes, your body isn't enough. To him, you weren’t just a body; a means to an end for his sexual gratification. You were a person, with a mind, and he wanted to know your thoughts. Your personality and intelligence are why he’s chased after you for so long. After all, his goal was to make you more like him. Today, he humbly requested that you sit on his lap and feed him desserts in an attempt to bond with you. It was him trying to follow Pucci’s advice for being a good husband but failing to make any sacrifices on his own part.

“You’ve walked free for 100 years. I want you to tell me what it means to live.” He reiterated. “I asked Enyaba but her answer was worthless to me.” You raised an eyebrow at his choice of words. “Worthless?” You stuck the fork you had been using to feed Dio into the slice of cake you were sharing. A sigh left your lips. “Why didn’t you like her answer?” You tilted your head. Dio rested his head in his other palm. “Because, how would an old hag like her know what it means to live? I could just ask the undying beauty in front of me.” You expected his mouth to curl into a sly grin as usual. You expected his eyes to narrow at you like you were a piece of meat but—he didn’t.

Dio’s face was somewhat neutral as if he were trying to think. It was almost—cute. Perhaps, you should try to humor him…for once.

“To live is to be happy. To be free.” You told him, somewhat thinking of yourself. You were trapped and hopefully, he’d get the message.

His nose crinkled up upon hearing your words. You feared he didn’t like your answer either. What was he expecting? You gave context, hoping that it would make him feel a bit better since he wasn’t exactly getting what you meant.

“While I was by myself, I did things that made me happy. New things that I didn’t even know I could be good at. Like singing.” You smiled softly, thinking back to your days when you’d go by many different identities to keep making new music.

“Singing? How boring.” Your husband rolled his eyes and shifted his weight in his chair so that he was now looking away from you. Your smile faded and you furrowed your eyebrows at him. “What’s boring is being trapped in a coffin for 100 years at the bottom of the sea!”

“Well, Darling, I didn’t have a choice. You did and you chose to entertain others. I want to hear more about your gluttonous adventures.” Dio began to smirk. He seemed to only be interested in what he liked and not what you liked. It sort of made you sad causing your neutral mouth into a frown. Your relationship was always just you trying to appease him and then he helps himself to whatever he wants, whether it be other women when you deny him, your attention, or your body when you’d finally give in.

“They weren’t ‘gluttonous adventures’ okay? I just can’t control myself sometimes—it seems.” Your gaze shifted to the ground. You were somewhat ashamed of your behavior. The more you tried to stop yourself from being a monster, the stronger that monster became. You heard Dio ‘hmph!’ next to you. “Well, for starters, you can stop starving yourself and feed freely.” His eyes returned to you before he instinctively got angry. 

“And if you didn’t know, you can always feed like this…” He raised his hand to your neck. His large hand wrapped around your dainty throat. His claws entered your skin but it didn’t hurt. “…so when it comes to feasting on those beneath me, use your hands and reserve your lips for me.”

“You’re certainly one to demand exclusivity while you go around and impregnate other women.” You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress the newfound anger any time you thought of his unfaithfulness. Dio’s smirk returned to his handsome face. “Should I have punished you some other way? I would’ve taken your womb by force but…I already have it.” He chuckled darkly. He waited with anticipation of his first child with you. It would be just one of many and they would grow up to rule the world, just like him. He just hoped that they wouldn’t take after their stubborn mother. The last thing he needed were lions that had soft hearts like sheep. 

“And you’re oddly proud of taking away my autonomy.” Your eyebrows knitted together in frustration. You still didn’t like the language he used when talking to you…but that wasn’t a "you" problem. It was a Dio problem.

You had begun to lift yourself off of him only to be pulled back down. He secured his hand around your waist even further. “Oh, don’t you even think of leaving me yet.”

Dio leaned close. So close that his nose brushed yours. A smirk was plastered on his face and, for a moment, it seemed like he was about to kiss you…and you could tell he wanted to. His eyes were set on your plush lips that were already chapped from his excessive urge to press his lips to yours.

For a moment, it did seem like he’d kiss you until he pulled away. His eyes grew cold and he seemed annoyed that he needed to rip them away from your beauty. He looked around the room as if he heard something.

Enyaba suddenly entered the room. She mentioned something cryptic to Dio. Something about training the power of his stand. What power? The only thing you could call back to was your repeating actions the day you tried to leave him again.

His anger melted away before he released you. “I’ll come find you again.” He said as you got up from his lap. You wanted to ask what exactly he’d be gone for but you knew he wouldn’t answer you. The only way to find out would be to pry the information out of a servant..or use your stand on them.

You flashed him a charming smile. A smile that caused him to blush.

“Okay. I’ll be here waiting for you.”

Oh. So that’s what it meant to live.

Your smile. Your approval. Your happiness.

Your attention. Your body. Your mind. Your soul.

Your…everything.

Your motherly instincts made you check on Petshop. The sweet bird was just as loving as ever. Although you loved him, you couldn’t help but wonder why Dio chose a bird and not something like a cat or…dog. It felt as though he was mocking you—almost. You felt like a small bird in a cage of bones. A trap with no return. But Dio’s gift to you was a large bird. One that was free and could fly wherever it wanted. It would go out every day but return back to you with free will. Just thinking about it made your eyes fill with tears.

But before you could cry…you noticed something particular about Petshop. On his talons were…ice shards? At first, it didn’t mean anything but then you remember that you were in the middle of Egypt. It was much too hot for ice to last, let alone form at all. The bird allowed you to remove them but you’d surely bring this up to Dio later. You couldn’t help but feel like he was keeping things from you. Pet shop was beautiful but you couldn’t help but wonder where he came from. It was also clear that Petshop wasn’t an ordinary bird. He was somewhat larger than any bird you’d ever seen and despite being gentle with you, it looked ferocious. It had to be a while animal…

It was enough faking your happiness. What you really wanted was to find out how Joseph and his grandson were doing. Judging by the obvious, the boys must be successfully defeating Dio’s minions. The only other people who were close to you and Dio in the mansion were Enyaba and Pucci. In reality, he was more of a “friend” to Dio than to you but he often extended his kindness to you as well. You didn’t have any friends here. Dio’s minions “worshipped” you but the person who ultimately listened to was Dio. Any one of them would turn on you at the drop of a hat.

Some time had passed when you were with Petshop. You were mesmerized by your stand. She was so beautiful and although she looked like a humanoid creature, it felt the same as looking in a mirror when you saw her. You wished that you could fully understand her power. Enyaba refused to help you by orders of Dio and he had isolated you so much that you didn’t get to exercise your power at all. 

That was until…

“Lady (y/n)…?”

An unknown person has entered Dio’s private study. Petshop’s relaxed body was not at attention, ready to attack anyone who dared come to hurt his owner.

“Yes?”

You were lying down in Dio’s oversized armchair by yourself when they had come in. You sat up, unable to make out the figure in the darkness. The voice and build let you know that it was a man but it wasn’t anyone you had recognized. As the man got closer, he gasped upon seeing you.

“You’re just as beautiful as Lord Dio described.”

Your eyebrows knitted together. “Who are you?” You questioned, seeing the person who came from the dark. It was a tall man with white skin. He was paler than Dio and he had brown hair. His outfit consisted of a purple jacket and leotard decorated with a similar heart motif that your husband’s new yellow clothes adorned. The ones that Enyaba had just begun tailoring for him.

“Please, my lady, call me Vanilla Ice.” The odd man got on his knees, clasping his hands together as if he were begging for mercy. “Lord Dio has assigned me to be your personal servant from now on.”

Your eyebrows raised. “My personal servant?”

Petshop observed your body language before going back to rest. It seems Vanilla Ice wasn’t a threat.

“Why would Dio send you now? I don’t need to be served.” You crossed your arms. Somehow, you felt less sympathy the more often you saw Dio’s minions. Perhaps, you were jaded from knowing Dio all your life because you couldn’t understand how he was able to charm so many when he was barely charming in your opinion.

“I’m sorry, my lady, but Lord Dio insisted. I am not allowed to let you out of my sight.”

Your eyebrows knitted together. “Out of your sight? For what purpose?” You crossed your arms. “Explain yourself.”

Vanilla Ice began to sweat. You could see the droplets forming on his forehead. “M-My Lord has told me that I shouldn’t burden you with such details…”

“What? I just spoke to him. Take me to where he is right now.” You commanded, making the servant’s expression worsen. “But—” The man took a step closer to you.

“Now.” 

“Lord Dio doesn’t believe you should leave this room anymore. He’s told me that you may be jeopardizing his future plans.”

He was trying to lock you away again, huh? Well, you wouldn’t allow that. Especially not in this hot Egyptian Heat. 

“I don’t care! Take me to him right now or I’ll find him myself.” Just as you finished speaking, you felt a sense of regret. You didn’t know this man. Perhaps, you shouldn’t have yelled at him…but what is done is done.

Unbeknownst to you, Dio was only just training to harness the power of his stand, but he was taking time to create insurance for you and himself, solidifying the chances of his return. He knew you didn’t approve of his relationship with Pucci. You’d never stop pestering him about it and he didn’t want to risk your stand undoing any progress he’s made in grooming the boy into doing exactly what he wants.

Vanilla Ice couldn’t help but get antsy. He felt as though failing Dio’s orders would get him on his bad side.

Upon taking you to Dio, you saw that this room was much darker than most. Enyaba was there as well. If you were being honest, you began to dislike her. She filled Dio’s head with disgusting thoughts of plot and murder. You felt as though any progress you made in your relationship with him was undone by her. It made you want to kill her. That feeble old woman. 

“Oh? And what is this?” Dio’s voice held an innocuous tone. He didn’t see upset that Vanilla Ice couldn’t so easily contain you. Around his hands were purple vines with thorns. They looked slightly out of place as if they weren’t real. At least, you hoped that your husband wasn’t actually sprouting vines from his forearms. “I am NOT letting you lock me up again.” You hissed as you pushed your way into the room, disregarding anyone who may be watching. No matter how angry you’d get, Dio hardly saw you as a threat. He could even admit that he enjoyed it when you clashed with him. The thought of a pretty rose poking him with thorns kept him on his toes. No matter what, you fueled his love for you and his ego.

Perhaps, Ice was the wrong person for the job. 

“That’s fine. I won’t lock you away.” Dio manipulated his voice to sound inviting. Maybe he made a mistake. The two of you were doing so well together. The vibes that surrounded his hands and forearms grew and they subtly made their way over to you. Instinctively, you took a step back, not yet familiar with the variety of stand powers due to Dio’s constant sheltering of you and withholding secrets.

You backed into the chest of a large man. He held you by your shoulders, not allowing you to escape. The vines wrapped themselves around your waist, pulling you closer to Dio.

You weren’t able to resist the sensation filling your body right now. It was from the vines. You reached down to try to remove them but that only made them hug your waist tighter. A smug look covered Dio’s visage. He waited until your bodies were only inches away before he spoke.

“What is your stand power? As my wife, you must answer and you must do it truthfully.” His hands settled on either side of your waist as the ethereal plants layered themselves around you. 

You had no idea what Dio was referring to…

You didn’t know what your stand did. You just talked to people and things happened.

Dio’s eyebrows knitted together slightly at your hesitation. He opened his mouth to speak but you finally spoke first.

“Mother’s Mercy can cause its targets to make better decisions.”

The man raised an eyebrow. His fingers squeezed slightly before pulling you a bit more forward. “What else? Is that it?” He asked you. Well, more so, he asked Hermit Purple. The stand was forcing you to give information. “Better decisions?” He repeated. In a fit of frustration, he let you go. He stepped away from you and his face became one of disgust. “How worthless.” 

A stand is a manifestation of the soul. You were his Queen, his Goddess who would rule alongside him. So, why has the universe granted you such a gentle stand?

“Enyaba, can I shoot her again? Would that give her a more ruthless power?” 

The old woman shook her head. “Shooting the arrow again would not have any chance of improving her granted abilities and it could disrupt the pregnancy.” She grumbled, pointing her walking stick at your belly. It was protruding a little bit. Weeks have passed since you got pregnant and now you are beginning to show.

“No, Dio, please. Not again.” Your voice was quiet as a mouse and you shook your head, recalling the pain you were in when you were first shot with the stand arrow. It felt like you had been boiled alive. The sensations were unnatural. Even with your vampire augmentation, you were unable to resist its torture.

“What good is a stand that makes my associates join my enemy? I should just lock you up and be done with it.” He began to pace around the room. “Show her out.” 

You felt Vanilla Ice tug on you but you didn’t budge. Snatching your shoulder away from him, you stepped towards your husband. “I am not going back to that room. I’m not staying locked up. I want you to stop this and call off your henchman from attacking Joseph and his grandson.”

Dio didn’t turn to address you. “And why would I do that?”

“Because, they didn’t do anything to you, Dio.” Your furrowed your eyebrows. A “tsk” sound left his mouth once you said that. 

“Do you know what Jonathan did to me…?” His tone shifted. He sounded hurt but angered as well. Dio strode over to you and grabbed your delicate hand with force. He raised it to his neck and your fingertips tips grazed the scarred issue that kept his severed head on that stolen body. “He did this. On the night of our wedding.”

“What was supposed to be the most special night of my life that I waited years for…” He let go of your hand and you let it fall to your side. You couldn’t tell if he was being vulnerable or arrogant but it seemed personal. 

While Dio might've felt like you were the only woman to ever understand him, the reality was that you didn’t. You were just able to adapt well to his unstable personality. Perhaps, that’s why he clung to you like this. Maybe, he knew and simply didn’t care if the two of you understood each other. Maybe…all that matters to him is that he could be himself and you couldn’t run away.

“So, you’re going to kill a random child because you feuded with Jonathan?” Your thumb ran over the tip of your index and ring finger.

Already, you memorized the feeling of his scars. You barely touched them. You never wanted to even though it was clear Dio yearned for it. He was too prideful to beg for it too. You didn’t want to acknowledge the confusing reality that you could be having the child of Jonathan. It made your heart want to burst. It made you want to disappear.

“Jotaro Kujo isn’t a random child. I want to destroy what’s left of the Joestars…” He made Hermit Purple appear again. “And if my minions can’t dispose of him then what better way than to do it with Jonathan’s body?”

The stand snaked up your arm and you could feel its imaginary thorns sinking into your skin. “And if you love me, you’d understand. Do you love your God?”

The same sensation from before took control of your body. So many things ran through your head but you couldn’t form any speech. “E-Erm…” you purse your lips but soon find yourself unable to make eye contact with Dio. His face became increasingly more alert. His pupils retracted as his eyes widened.

Hermit Purple vanished. You couldn’t answer even while being forced to talk.

“Get her out of my sight and take her back to her room. If she resists, use force.”

hey. thx for the wait.

@z3r0art

i cant remember if someone else was supposed to be tagged so pls let me know if you're missed.

[urcrowley]

Floral Flame

— Florist!Touya X Reader —

(NO QUIRKS AU , I NEED TO HEAL 🤚🤚🤚)

YOGiNotes: I can’t believe I’m writing this but here we are!! We need more male reader fics guys.. I feel left out /j

(EVERYONE LITERALLY DRAGGED ME TO THE DABI BRAINROT!1!1! STOP THIS MADNESSSSSS)

Completely made this in a rush and out of boredom! I apologize for any spelling and/or grammar mistakes. It is a bit short for my liking but I do hope you still enjoy! 🙏

Warnings: some swearing ig (?) ; very unfunny author ; angst will cook soon (not in this chapter though….)

“My flower…”

Y/N muttered to himself, staring at the now-wilted flower. With a gentle touch, he reached out and tapped one of the fragile petals, watching as it detached from the wilting bloom and fell to the ground.

“I should probably ask that old hag for some advice again, huh?”

He was talking about the older yet amicable woman who ran the flower shop just a few blocks away from his apartment. He regretted not remembering her name. With a less-than-careful tug, Y/N detached his backpack from the corner where it had been gathering dust and carelessly dumped its contents onto the bed, each item making a soft thump sound as it hit the mattress. Y/N cautiously placed the flower pot into his bag once everything was out and grabbed a random coat from the rack beside the door. As he walked out, he tried to tie his shoes while keeping up with his pace.

Almost causing himself to fall.

Well, almost.

He strolled over to his locked bicycle, hopping on it shortly. He rode his bicycle to the shop. But when he arrived..

He was not greeted to the usual ‘good day’ of the kind old woman; rather, a man who didn’t look too far off his own age.

‘This guy definitely listens to mcr..’

Y/N thought to himself, as he waved at the guy. Putting up a front, smiling politely.

“Excuse me? Do you know where—“

“She’s not here today.”

…okay, rude?

“Oh.. When will she—“

“Next week.”

This guy was getting on Y/N’s nerves if he was being completely honest.

“Who are you anyways?”

Y/N was only met with silence and a cold blank stare. He stared back because— well, to be Frank, he didn’t know what else to do.

“I work here.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

He could hear the man click his tongue in annoyance.

“I don’t have to answer to you,” he rolled his eyes, “now, do you need help with anything or something?”

“Is that how you usually treat your customers?”

“…yeah? So what?”

“Nothing, just saying it’s a big.. contrast to what I’m used to.”

The man's gaze fixed on Y/N with a steely glare, his eyes narrowing as if affronted by Y/N's audacity to utter such a statement. “Whatever.. just tell me what you need so we can be done here.”

“Right.. so um..”

Y/N withdrew the flower from his backpack and gingerly placed it on the counter of the checkout. He then glanced up at the man, a sheepish smile playing on his lips.

“I don’t know what went wrong.. I did what I was told and kept managing my watering time..”

Dabi, as indicated by his nametag, meticulously examined the flower, leaning closer to get a better look. It was clear the flower was already dead, leaving him to ponder Y/N's actions beforehand. Y/N, however, contemplated if Dabi was thinking something profound like 'this plant hadn't received the precise amount of water it required,' or if it was something stupid simple and meaningless like ‘I wonder what I’ll have for dinner later.’

Jokes on him, Dabi was thinking of both.

Dabi let out a sigh and rolled up his sleeves, revealing the tattoos on his arms. Y/N was tempted to take a peek, but quickly reminded himself not to be nosy. However, despite his best efforts to focus, he couldn't help but sneak a quick glance at the intricate ink designs on Dabi's skin.

‘Shittt.. that’s sick.’

Y/N thought before quickly snapping out of it.

“Did you make sure your flower gets enough sunlight every day?”

“…what?”

“Your flower?? Gets sunlight?? Hello??”

“……”

Dabi slowly shifted his gaze towards Y/N, his face betraying a mixture of disbelief and surprise. His expression seemed to convey a silent question, as if wondering what on earth Y/N was even doing to this poor plant.

“Are you fucking with me right now?”

“…no.”

The two stared at each other…

After a moment of silence, Y/N spoke up again. “How was I supposed to know this flower needed sunlight?”

“Google exists.”

“I’m a busy man!”

“Busy doing what? Being uneducated?”

DAMN, that hurt more that it was supposed to.

“Okay.. okay, it’s a dumb mistake on my part. Can I buy another one to try again?” Y/N puts his hands on his hips, waiting for Dabi’s answer. “Well.. I don’t have a choice I guess.” Dabi said, the sound of defeat evident in his tone. He walked away to find the same flower as Y/N stood there.

Y/N found himself strangely familiar with the odd man before him. There was something about him that he couldn't quite pinpoint, and it frustrated him. Crossing his arms in annoyance, Y/N observed Dabi carefully examining the flower selection. He realized maybe he should cut the newbie some slack since he just started working here after all.

Dabi finally located the specific flower Y/N had requested and assisted in transferring it to a fresh pot. He then helped Y/N carefully tuck the potted flower into the latter's backpack, gently securing it in place.

“Thanks, I appreciated the help.”

“Ugh, please never come back.”

Y/N snorted at that, almost unable to hold his laughter. He handed his payment to Dabi, and waved goodbye.

“Unfortunately for you, new guy, I’m a regular here!”

He said as he walked out of the store.

Dabi— no, Touya exhaled a frustrated sigh once that idiot guy was gone. He hated working at the flower shop but knew he had no choice. His current situation forced him to hide, and this job was a means to keep a low profile. He longed for a better life, but for now, he was stuck here in this cramped shop, surrounded by fragrant blooms.

Welp, that’s the life of a man on the run he supposed..

YEEEE HE HAS EDGY BACKSTORY WOAHH 🫵🫵😮😮😮😮

This chapter is just me trying to get the idea out of my head, I swear I’ll cook better in the next one ☹️☹️☹️💥💥💥💥

This was supposed to be an artwork idea but I couldn’t really draw rn

Also, mind you, I’m posting this at 3AM in my timezone, PLEASE PLEASE EXCUSE THE BADWRITIGNNFNF 😭😭😭😭

(I am ashamed of myself 😞)

[hiswitchcraft]

I am a witch who's trying to get back into witchcraft after an immense amount of burn out. The burn out wasn't due to the witchcraft, it was due to things piling on my brain in general. What sort of things do you suggest to ease myself back into it? If you don't have an answer that's okay, just thought to ask

I've been dealing with this myself and I actually just made a video on it that I really like not too long ago, so I think I can help you!

How to Come Back to the Craft After Burn Out (+ A Guide to doing Witchcraft with Low Spoons) 

I was burnt out in general and because of the craft, particularly because of the way I was filtering my personal practice through social media. I realized a lot of my burnout was tied to pushing myself, and shame. I feel like maybe this is common. This is a mix of both personal and witchy advice, and I may be projecting, but I think you have to focus first and foremost on not rushing back in and getting overwhelmed by adding a bunch of stuff to your routine at once and trying to do everything right or perfect. A good practice or routine is sustainable, not perfect. Perfect is the enemy of good, and also the enemy of done. I've had to focus on this a lot recently. 

With this in mind, you might be wondering where you should even begin when it comes to actually practicing again. Remember to go slow. I’d suggest thinking about what you were doing and interested in before and start practicing and researching whatever sounds the most fun when you’re ready. You could also go over any notes you had about your practice before, if you had a blog or something look at that, etc. You get the idea! It will help you remember and might inspire you. If you really enjoyed tarot for example, you could do that when you feel inspired to. Starting slow is important. if you want go slower you could just do whatever practices you were doing before, or like now, whenever you feel like it. You could also try working witchcraft into your routine. Routine is hard for a lot of people but it doesn’t have to be intense. It can just be adding one thing. That’s all it needs to be. It could be something you do once a month, once a week, when you wake up, after you brush your teeth, only some days or whatever you think will make you feel the best.  

Of course I don’t know anything about your practice but to inspire you and others, here’s some ways you can easily introduce magic into your life. 

Daily divination  A tarot card every morning is what I like to do but you could use any kind of divination you like! 

Meditation  Meditate for a few minutes every morning/evening. Even 2 minutes makes a difference. Also, despite popular belief meditation does not have to be emptying your mind. 

Dream interpretation  Interpret or just journal about your dreams! Honestly journaling in general I think is great for witches. 

Witchy items of the day  Pick out some items to carry on you for the day. This could be crystals or herbs you want the properties of, a hag stone, or other items with properties you want to draw to you or use in your practice. 

Intention in drinks & food!  If you have coffee or tea every morning or day you can stir intention into it. Clockwise for things you want in, counterclockwise for things you want to banish. Or that’s the typical belief/way people suggest doing it. You can also stir sigils into it or add items to your drinks/food with or by intention. 

Enchanting personal care  Another way you can bring magic in your everyday life is enchanting personal care products. I’d do this for added layers of warding but you could get super creative with this and do whatever intention you like. 

Sigils sigils sigils  Sigils are fun to make. You can use them for a ton of other things on this list. Stir them into your drinks. Draw a sigil on your skin using lotion. Write them on your walls for warding. Sigils, sigils, ... sigils! 

Spritz cleansing If you have a hard time cleansing or not a lot of energy right now when you DO have energy you can put together a mixture for cleansing using a spritz bottle and then you have it done and ready to go ahead of time for many cleansing sessions. Beware of herbs and things you add if you have any allergies/pets. Actually just research any plants you handle anyway. 

Layering your wards  If you’re struggling with burn out right now you probably don’t have a lot of energy so this is a tip I like for when this happens and just the long term overall. Always add small layers using different methods to your personal and spacial wards. An example of this I love is some of the above, carrying an item with strong protective properties or writing sigils on the bottom of your shoes/sewing them into your clothes/etc are some other ideas I love. Customize as needed! Be creative! 

Basically just think of things you do everyday and try to make it witchy! Or think of practices you want to do more, like maybe cleansing, and figure out how to make it easier. 

Also I did mention research. I think in addition to picking a practice to try again or add to your routine, picking a topic to research that sparks interest may help too. Here are some ideas for that!

Intention 

Cleansing 

Charging

Grounding

Warding 

Circle casting 

Consecration 

Visualization 

Meditation methods 

Divination types (some are listed below)

Tarot 

Oracle cards 

Lenormand 

Pendulums 

Runes

Scrying

Astrology 

Palmistry 

Dream interpretation 

Spell types & spell construction 

Taglocks 

Sigils 

Other symbols & what they mean

The Theban alphabet 

Color magic 

Moon phases 

The Elements 

Correspondences of days, times, etc 

Crystals 

Moon water

Black salt

Plants, herbs, and spices in witchcraft  

Local plants 

Local history & folklore 

Pantheons & their deities 

Deity work

Spirit work

Astral projection 

Hope this helps 💕

[ctrl-alt-em]

Communication is Key

Robin

I am Morven Hellwain. You have carried my spirit in your body for the last two months. As I am sure you have not figured out, when you lose consciousness, I gain control of our shared vessel. I need you to sleep as frequently as possible. Additionally, avoid bodily harm. I do not appreciate having to cast Cure Wounds when I wake.

Dear Morven Hellwain

Are you the reason for all the strange happenings? Did you explode the wolves? Lug says you killed that monster in the bunk house.

I go to sleep every night. I guess it is every other night? I don’t think I can sleep more than that and still help.

Thank you for healing my leg. Happen says he did not aim for me. His sprites played a mean prank.

From Robin Oatcake

Robin

I cannot fathom how you think you, the village idiot, can be of any help. The only way you can help is by ensuring I am in control as much of the time as possible.

As for your initial questions, yes, I am. I cannot imagine anything of note occurring in your proximity without my influence. I am not directly responsible for the wolves’ destruction; the recent unpredictable outcomes of spells is to blame. You need not concern yourself with magic.

Dear Morven Hellwain

I was not the village idiot. That was Young Man Dan. I was the spit-turner before I lost my job seven weeks ago.

I can be a great help! I helped save Lug from those men. I even injured one! And I was the one that got help when that man turned into a monster. Happen said I did a good job. I even helped us meet our friends and join our adventuring party. You are just upset that I can help just as much as you. I understand that. I was jealous of Tilly the spitturn dog too at first.

From Robin Oatcake

Robin

From the other's accounts of the confrontation with the mob, it does not sound like you played a needed role. It is no show of strength or skill to hit a blinded, maimed man with stale bread. As for the combat at Folkmoot, others surely would have heard and come to our aid, supposing I did not defeat the abomination before their arrival. You did nothing a dog would not be capable of. A dog likely would have been of greater help and less of liability.

Robin

You will get us both killed if you disregard my advice. Your 'help' is not needed nor wanted, I assure you.

To Morven Hellwain

I was thinking about back home, all the weird things people kept telling me. Leslie, the head cook, was cross with me. She said I missed work twice and that I insulted her in the market. I had no idea what she was talking about. I assumed she mistook me for someone else and I tried to tell her so. She said I was lying and fired me! It occurred to me that she might not have been lying. Was it you she saw? Are you the reason I lost my job?

From Robin Oatcake

Robin

Of all the things you could waste my time with, you chose this? Your 'job' is hardly worth the ink we are wasting writing about it. I will acknowledge that I was in control of our body several times before our departure. I did lose my patience with several of the dimwitted residents of the village so I very well may have offended the head 'cook'. I would not consider the loss of any great consequence. If anything, it is beneficial. Your 'occupation' would have delayed your departure for Folkmoot. You may thank me for my help in your next note. Hopefully, the writing will tire you.

To Morven

And what about my house? Did you tell the apothecary she could give it to her goat? If you wanted to run me out of my village so bad, you could have written to me earlier.

From Robin

Robin

If I recall correctly, and I do, the old hag asked me, "How I am supposed to keep a roof over my goat's head if you don't pay?" To that, I said, "Give the fucking goat my roof. I don't care." And I continue to not care. Your hovel was little more than a goat's shelter anyway.

I have spoken with Happen and he is aware of a root that induces a harmless sleep state. I have procured some. It is in the outer pouch of our bag.

To Morven

It is not our bag. It is my bag. And I don't need anything to help me sleep. A long day of traveling with my friends does that enough. Seeing as I have no work or home to return to, I will be with them for the foreseeable future regardless of our mission.

If you want to be helpful, Morven, you will tell me how to use magic myself and how I get you out of me.

From Robin

Robin

You cannot use magic. It would require innate talent or years of study, neither of which you have. Unless such fantasies lull you into a slumber, do not concern yourself with such endeavors.

I am looking into potential methods to separate us. However, until magic has been returned to its original state and I gather more information on what caused my spirit to enter your body in the first place, no significant progress can be made. You need not be involved.

To Morven

How can I not get involved when I already am? You’re in my head! You walk around in my body half the time! I should be the only one in my body!

And how do you know I don’t have inate innate talent? Maybe I just haven’t had need to use it.

From Robin

Robin

Knock yourself out as soon as you see this. Lug, Cressida, and Willowfine have been captured by a group of zealots and I need to go save their skins.

To Morven

No need to worry. Me and Happen did it ourselves. You should have seen how far Lug hit this one guy with his hammer once we got him out.

From Robin

Robin

That is not what I told you to do. You will get us both killed.

Willowfine said she saw you use magic. I can only assume you located a scroll and stumbled your way into using it correctly.

To Morven

You were wrong, Morven. I do have a talent for magic, no scroll needed, whatever those are. Mine is not as pretty or orderly as yours but I can cast spells. Cressida thinks that might be why you didn’t have trouble casting in my body.

You may thank me for my help in your next note. I will not ask you to knock yourself out because I have manners.

From Robin

Robin

I have spoken with Cressida and Willowfine regarding your spelling casting. As must I detest to acknowledge it, I suppose it makes sense. Either my spirit brought my magic potential with it or my spirit was attracted to your magic potential. I do believe the first one is the more likely of the two. It still stands that between the two of us, I am the more proficient and thus should handle any and all confrontations.

To Morven

Willowfine says we should try to come to a compromise. She said our attempts to screw with each other and limit the other’s time awake is annoying.

How about a deal? If I find myself in situations that I cannot handle, I will find a way to allow you to take control if you agree to cease trying to stay awake for days on end. If the group stops to sleep, you sleep and let me take control.

From Robin

Robin

After much strong arming from the others, I agree to your terms.

Robin

Why am I not surprised you have Wild Magic? Of all sorcerous origins, you draw power from the most unruly and unpredictable.

With that said, I request that you cast something that will offer you improved defense or evasion when in a confrontation. You cannot rely on Acid Splash only.

- Morven

[blankinsidecards]

Steddie fic rec list part 2:

Fluff Edition

Part 1

These are the only the ooeyiest of gooeyiest of comfort fics. As little angst as you can get with these two.

a cinematic vision ensued (like the holiest daydream) by @fivecenturiesofverse

• Rating: T • Complete

Eddie and Steve have been spending a lot of time together since Vecna. They're co-parenting kids, getting high every night, and sleeping in the same bed. They basically share a wardrobe too.

He thinks this is dangerous, its like they’re married, the casual sharing of intimacy, this space between them which feels like something and nothing all at the same time. He thinks it’s dangerous for him to pretend Steve sees it the same way, that one day Steve’s droopy, kind eyes are going to see right through him and he’ll lose this. This being a side of Steve’s bed that is his, a nightstand where his rings always pile, a draw of shirts in Steve’s bedroom that only Steve uses. He can’t lose it, so he shuts his mouth, turns out the light, and watches the slow breathing of sleep fill Steve’s chest.

This one is so sweet; all sharing of clothes and beds and weed. It’s really short but god is it soft. The weighted blanket of fluff fics. Really adore all of Eddie’s internal arguments when he’s looking at Steve being the softest motherfucker on the planet and forcefully reminding himself that Steve is dangerous. I think about Eddie walking his knuckles down the knobs of Steve’s spine almost daily.

Linger by @yournowheregirl

• Rating: T • Complete • Modern!AU

Eddie hates the library, he hates how quiet it is and how he’s always getting shushed by that librarian hag Muriel. But he hates his idiot roommate and his tendency to hog their dorm room to have loud sex with his girlfriend all night long, even more. And now he has to spend all night in the library cramming for an exam, which would be fine, if not for the fact that some polo-clad douchebag shows up and declares that Eddie’s study spot is actually his.

Or: Steve and Eddie fight over a study spot and accidentally fall in love over coffee, Vivaldi and the horror that is finals week.

So fucking cute. I forgot how much I love college AU’s. Features: Wonderwall by Oasis (much to Eddie’s chagrin), a librarian from hell, a SickFic Chapter, and an Eddie that has ADHD. Also, this one’s for the emo-kid Eddie truthers out there. Teeny bit of angst and some miscommunication but for me it was worth it. Frickin adorable.

Date me instead by @zhuletta

• Rating: E • Complete

Every date Steve has gone to lately has been horrible. It’s impossible that there’s something wrong with the entire female population of Hawkins, so surely there must be something wrong with him.

“Why don’t you take me on a date then?”

“Wh— what?”

“Take me on a date, pretend, of course, and then I’ll tell you if there’s something wrong with you or not.”

Or: Eddie proposes a crazy idea to see if there's something wrong with him, Steve finds the fact that it works is even crazier.

So so fluffy. You will get a toothache from this one. It’s the cheesiest plot you could think of. For those of you who love a good loverboy!steve this for you. They’re just wooing eachother all the way through. Delightful.

Saving All My Love For You (and it’s sequel Endless Love) by @subtlehysteria

• Rating: M • Complete

It was decided then and there in the Buckley residence’s lounge, on their weird Persian carpet while staring up at the off-white ceiling and Robin giggling at his side. He was going to rock Steve Harrington’s platonic world, man. And nothing was going to get in his way.

Or: Eddie notices Steve struggles with touch and in trying to help his new friend, develops feelings along the way.

Really sweet. Classic touch-starved Steve and tactile affection Eddie. Bedsharing, pinkie promises, and platonic hand-holding. Eddie gives Will a makeover and some advice. A bit of subtle body worship, love that. Sequel fic is also really cute but it has a bit of a rough scene with The Harrington Parents so be aware of that.

Do Nothing With You by @red-0ak-tree

• Rating: M • Complete

Steve and Robin get a two bedroom in Hawkins. It's perfect, except for all the ways it isn't. Drafty windows, clogged drains, shitty landlord. But it's got a couch. A couch that's often occupied by Eddie Munson. Home isn't really the kind of thing Eddie has much of anymore, ever since his trailer became the primary source for all his nightmares. Luckily, he knows of a semi-comfortable couch where he's always welcome.

Despite all it's problem, the house has perks. Primarily, it's somewhere Steve can actually call home. Secondarily, it's somewhere he can share with the people he loves.

AKA: The fruity four live in a convoluted roommate situation, and romance happens along the way.

We all love a good co-habitation fic. Robin and Steve get an apartment together, it’s falling apart, and Eddie knows how to fix things. Slowly, Steve and Eddie start to help fix eachother. This probably has the most angst out of all of these, but it’s also one of my absolute favorites and the sweetness overpowers the lows.

PTA Shouldn’t Stand for Pretty Tight Ass by @samthefrank and @humanityinahandbag

• Rating: M • Incomplete • Future fic/Modern!AU

Steve Harrington - ex local legend and fearsome bully, now single father of two - returns to Hawkins after the world spit him out. With a messy life to sort through, all he wanted was settle down and get his kids through seventh grade without any surprises.

Cue Mr. Eddie Munson, ex victim of one Steve Harrington, now Hawkins Middle School's favorite music teacher.

Or: What happens when your former high school bully raises two absolute nerds, joins the PTA, helps run the bake sale, makes the best cupcakes in Indiana, and may or may not be having a bisexual crisis.

This was the very first Steddie fic I ever subscribed to and let me tell you I get so HYPED every time I get the notification they update. Steve is a single dad to twins Dustin & Max, a damn good baker, and custodian at his dad’s auto dealership. Eddie is a music teacher in the style of Jack Black in School of Rock, who’s best friends with his fellow teachers Miss Buckley and Miss Cunningham. This fic has Robin and Eddie perform Body Talks by The Struts & Ke$ha at an open-mic karaoke and it’s so fucking electric that that song earned a place on my steddie playlist. It’s a real slow burn but I’m so excited to see where they take this story.

it’s such a magical mysteria by @phantom-of-the-wapera

• Rating: M • Complete

Eddie's staring at the ceiling, eyes half closed and still giggling faintly. He looks pretty. He looks like he belongs here, in Steve’s bed, and Steve gets hit with how much he wants Eddie to stay, to crawl in bed beside Steve every night and wake up there every sunrise.

And, shit, it’s a lot. Steve's gone, completely, fully, fucking free-falling his way into everything that was, is, and will be Eddie Munson. Head over heels, ass over tits, heart-took-a-nosedive off his sleeve and into the lap of the boy beside him, gazing half-lidded at the ceiling, the glimmer of dreamy stars in the sliver of his eyes Steve can see.

or, the one where Steve's trying to figure out his future, his feelings, and one Eddie Munson.

So fluffy, so sweet. They’re all nerds and they love Star Wars. This is a tiny detail but Steve goes to college and he likes it and I love that for him. Completely SMOTHERED in hope for a bright future.

nice to meet you, where you been? by @flowercrowngods

• Rating: T • Edit: Complete • Modern!AU

When Eddie enters the tattoo parlour that Chrissy recommended to him, he doesn't know what'll hit him. Never in a million years would he have expected the pastel or the minimalistic decor or how really fucking polished everything about this place is. It's like an antithesis to Eddie's entire existence has been created with the makings of this shop.

The absolute cherry on top is the man that walks into the room to greet him, though, and Eddie can't contain the look of absolute bafflement. Because there is no way that Steve Harrington, whom Eddie has has the maddest crush on in high school, owns a tattoo shop. No way. Nuh-uh. Not dressed in pastel like he is.

Eddie wants to punch a wall. What he doesn't know yet is that he'll have the best time reconnecting with Steve. And if he gets a tattoo out of it, well, then that's just another win for the community in his book.

LOVE a Tattoo Shop!AU and this is no exception. This one is pretty new, but so far it’s the fluffiest shit I’ve read in ages. Features trans man Eddie, Chrissy Cunningham as his scheming best friend, and a lot of Taylor Swift. I literally found this one moments ago and immediately needed to put it on this list. It’s too fucking cute, I can’t wait to see where it goes.

[frankenfran]

why would the crone be lonely? a precession of maidens filter into her home daily like a flock of beautiful songbirds, each innocently asking for something that might help them. each maiden the main character of some sprawling fairy tail taking place beyond the confines of her dusty home. surely being a character in such romantic stories is the best she could hope for, no?

they come to her seeking countless things. her knowledge on this thing, a tome to help with that thing, an artifact to assist with this other thing, advice they'll ignore for another thing, and so on and so forth. even her obtuse sense of humour and unique way of speaking goes with them. pieces of her they can take and use on their journey like good luck charms. no payment is expected, no ironic fate awaits them. they expect such an outcome but it never comes.

these pieces of her scatter across the world like seeds blown by the wind. they endear people to the maiden wielding them, often leading to good fortune and even romance. the innocent maidens assume some sort of enchantment, a blessing or spell cast on them by the frightening old hag with a surprisingly kind heart?

but no such sorcery is at play. no shocking twist in the final hour that reveals the hag to be some long lost heir to the throne, or a beautiful woman placed under a disfiguring curse. all that remains is the truth of her personality, her desires and her many interests, gifted to these young women so they can achieve their goals. in this way, countless people have fallen in love with her. the mannerisms they find irresistible when they come from a maiden, the knowledge they wield proudly, the newfound appreciation for a previously forgotten thing. they love her without knowing.

she remembers all too well her youthful days of romance and heartbreak. her charm that once got her into as much trouble as it got her out of now comes off as a sarcastic joke to most. the hag knows how she looks to the bright eyed maidens pleading like children in front of her. they wince at her flirtatiousness, recoil at her playfulness, and rebuff probable advances.

after all, why wouldn't she be trying to seduce them? this lonely, fat old hag with her leering eyes. her honeyed words like a teaspoon of sugar to help the bitter medicine down their tight throats. a joke of a woman. her desire seen only as a threat and always assumed. they assume her gifts come at a price. her kind words drip with disdain to their ears and her hearty laugh is the shrill cackle of an evil witch with ill intentions.

yet still, they come to her, and still she helps them. perhaps some day they'll take every last piece of her until there's nothing left to take. motes of dust will dance in the rays of light filtering through the window illuminating her now empty shelves. "i have nothing left to give but my company" she'll say to some poor girl seeking her help. "some great witch you are" the girl will say before storming out of her empty home. the page turns and the story continues all the same.

[imperator-titus]

Ghost from the Past [Part 8]

(yes I know I just posted today) The gang deals with the creche, wander through the Underdark (offscreen), and finally head into Act 2. The Boys find a bit of comfort in each other during a trying time.

CW: Eletha continues to spiral, mentions of Gale's suicide instructions from Mystra

(Prev)[Part 7] (Next)[Part 9] [Master Post]

Astarion took Eletha’s advice, as acerbic as it was, to heart and kept to his tent all night. He spent a lot of the night wondering what she was doing out in the woods all night. Watching for intruders? Getting blackout drunk and crying herself to sleep?

An indistinct commotion in the camp encouraged him to finally get up.

“Did you hear anything?” Karlach asked him desperately upon coming out of his tent.

“Darling, I hear plenty of things. You’re going to need to be more specific.”

“Lethi’s gone. All her stuff. Bonnet too.” Karlach’s practically vibrated with distress.

“I guess she finally got sick of us,” Astarion told her with a flippant little laugh. Then tears threatened her eyes and he backpedaled. “I’m sure that’s not true, Karlach, I just meant…”

It was just about then that Halsin, in bear form, came into camp. After transforming back, rolling his shoulders to work out some minor stiffness, he didn’t seem that concerned.

“I could pick up Bonnet’s trail, it heads into the mountains,” he explained to them all. “I also found a marker similar to the ones the Harpers use to indicate their movements. It was disturbed by animals; most likely, she left in the middle of the night.”

“Let’s go!” Karlach said ecstatically, flames leaping just a bit. Gale held up a warding hand.

“While we shouldn’t dawdle, there is not much reason for haste,” he said calmly, sounding much like he was already taking over leaderly duties in Eletha’s absence. “Leaving markers would imply that she has no intention of leaving us behind. She is well-seasoned. So long as she doesn’t confront the githyanki alone, I am not too worried.”

The group spent the morning packing their things and moving on into the mountains. After some times, Halsin was able to pick up on Bonnet’s scent and eventually spotted another one of the subtle markers. Following the trail, they found a nice area that overlooked the valley and was large enough to accommodate them all. There they also found Bonnet lying in front of Eletha’s tent, already set up. With the bear was a curious ball of brown feathers.

“Aww, it’s the little owlbear from the goblin camp,” Shadowheart cooed, trying to approach. The owlbear shot up, big round eyes alert. It chittered and hopped around before fleeing into the woods.

“Bonnet tells me that Eletha found the cub in the woods last night,” Halsin told them after conversing with the bear. “She’s also concerned about Eletha.”

“Not a surprise,” Wyll said under his breath, a little more concerned than insulting. “She did pick a good spot to camp, though.”

“‘Eletha has been here before, with the dark one,’” Halsin translated for Bonnet. “‘The dark one always knows when Eletha needs help.’���

“‘Dark one?’ Sounds ominous,” Shadowheart remarked with a little bit of amusement.

“‘I have never met her, but those who came before me said that she existed in only darkness and always smelt of blood.’”

“Ah, her vampire friend,” Gale said, a small smile of understanding on his lips. “A bit poetic, hm? Befriending a vampire, then discovering her long lost love has been turned?”

“Going to write a sonnet about it?” Astarion asked with obvious distaste.

“Perhaps.”

----

Having already navigated the pass, Lae’zel, Gale, and Astarion headed towards the monastery in search of Eletha and, ultimately, the entrance to the creche. The others stayed behind to set up camp and to rest after their confrontation with the hag.

When they approached, they found the front door open. Hands on weapons, they crept inside, wary that githyanki lookouts could spring on them without question.

Instead, a certain elf dropped down from above, landing in front of them in a crouch.

“I was starting to debate going back,” Eletha said calmly, unapologetic.

“What have you been up to this whole time?” Gale asked, lowering his guard. Lae’zel gave the area one last glance before sheathing her sword.

“Cleaning up.” Eletha flicked something towards the wizard and gestured behind her. “Entrance is this way. Gith ladies first.”

“A wise decision,” Lae’zel told her dryly as she passed. Eletha turned to follow while Astarion joined Gale in inspecting what Eletha had given him.

“How annoying. I would have loved poking around in an old monastery,” Astarion said, taking the medallion from Gale and trying to catch the light on the gem. “What do you think it is?”

“Something important to the Lathander monks. Perhaps only ceremonial.”

Eletha continued to let Lae’zel do the talking. When he managed to get close enough, Astarion stealthily took a sniff of her. Just general sweat and mustiness from crawling through the crumbling monastery. He was half-expecting her to reek of the dead monks’ distillery. She was clear-eyed and sure-footed, but just as cold and stoney as the other three had described her last night.

Lae’zel sneered at her kin’s lack of discipline while Gale was enamored with what he saw. It was cute how Gale could get so excited about things. It was even charming, the way he vibrated with excitement to meet this ghustil Lae’zel was so adamant to find. Astarion would have liked to watch the two talk, because the gith seemed to be of the opinion that she was by far Gale’s superior and Gale would fail to notice for a while before catching on, thus becoming quite rude.

They watched as Lae’zel climbed into the zaith’isk. Astarion and Gale shifted their weight nervously while Eletha stood unmoving. As the strange machine began its mysterious work, they could all feel Lae’zel’s pain. She ground out a gith prayer between her teeth, bracing against that pain. 

It became quite clear that Lae’zel was not walking out of the zaith’isk.

“We’re just going to stand here and let it kill her?” Astarion asked Eletha, distressed and confused. “Is that the plan?”

“That thing looks set to kill her!” Gale agreed, raising his voice to be heard over the zaith’isk.

“Let her go,” Eletha told the ghustil, her voice hard and demanding.

“No!” Lae’zel cried out. “I will be cured! It is my right! Lash’a’kla! Lash’a’kla!”

Eletha’s longsword sang through the air and stopped a millimeter into the Stornugoss’s throat. “Release her.”

“Is’tik, this is purification! This is Vlaakith’s will!” the woman argued, unafraid of the blade.

“It’s going to kill you, Lae’zel!” Astarion yelled, trying to push through the psionic field to somehow free her.

“Release her!” Eletha commanded with a promise of bloodshed. When Stornugoos refused once more, it was the last thing she did. With all her strength, Eletha whirled on the zaith’isk and brought down her blade, wet with githyanki blood.

Lae’zel stared at the destroyed machine and roared. “No. It cannot be. Cannot! Purification is my right. I am githyanki! I will not be ghaik!”

“Quiet, you stupid girl,” Eletha spat remorselessly, already finding some place to hide the ghustil’s body. It would buy them some time to be in at least a better position to deal with an entire creche’s worth of gith. “Purification was death. You’ve been sold a lie.”

“No! You do not understand because you are is’tik! You do not know Vlaakith’s will!”

“Gods, even Vlaakith, owe you no truths. It’s easier to manipulate you if they make you believe that they want the best for you if you only follow their rules.”

“Please listen to her, Lae’zel. That thing was meant to remove your memories and destroy you, so that your experience might be an example for future gith,” Gale explained insistently, but kindly. It had rattled him, watching his companion come so close to death and be unflinching in her belief to the contrary.

Lae’zel continued to argue, spouting her usual gith rhetoric with renewed zeal.

Eletha smacked her, hard, across the face. Both Gale and Astarion gaped in shock, then tensed in panic. Lae’zel glared up at their leader, one hand to her swiftly-reddening cheek, her yellow eyes watering from the sting.

“I’m not your commander. I’m not your mother,” Eletha told her, struggling a bit with the word. “If you want to fall in line, fine, but I have one last thing to say about the matter: you are much too intelligent to let someone step over your corpse like a pile of horseshit in the street.”

“T’Chk!” Lae’zel sounded angrily, getting to her feet. Her hand wavered near her sword before wiping dirt off on her trousers. She appeared properly chagrined, if such an emotion was available to gith. “Let us meet with this inquisitor.”

----

Pilfering a priceless holy relic made up for having to fight their way out of a whole family of gith, Astarion thought to himself as they made their way back to camp. Eletha led them in silence, everyone too tired to speak. Lae’zel had to spend some time coming to terms with being labeled a heretic by her people. Gale and Astarion had no energy to spare for bickering or flirting disguised as bickering.

When they got back, Eletha immediately went into her tent to find a change of clothes and some towels. After picking up a bottle of monk liquor, she headed for the woods.

“Where are you going?” Karlach asked her, clearly worried. “You should eat something.”

“Bathing,” Eletha said, not offering any further explanation. After about ten minutes, Astarion stood and followed her trail. 

He found her lounging in a river, sipping liquor and staring off into the scenery. Coming off the mountain, the water was only a little warmer than his skin.

“May I join you?” he asked when she only barely acknowledged his presence. Eletha merely grunted and shifted slightly in her little watery alcove to make space for him. Astarion discarded his clothes and slipped in beside her. “You’ve been here before?”

Eletha hummed before taking a sip of liquor.

“I don’t understand what your problem is,” he muttered a little angrily. “Gale says you’re running away from something.”

Eletha didn’t answer.

“Are you taking back your promise? To help me with Cazador?”

“No. Point a finger and he’ll be field-dressed in five minutes flat,” she told him dispassionately. Then she stood, the cold mountain water streaming off her body.

“What do you do, when you leave?” Astarion asked, looking up at her, feeling like an idiot for caring about someone who broke his nose and didn’t have the decency to buy him a drink after.

“Forget. Stop being me.”

How incredibly depressing.

So began the cycle. They would have some lead to investigate, driven by a clear-headed, steel-hearted Eletha. While on the surface, she would spend the night alone in the woods. In the Underdark, she holed herself up in her tent, taking a few bottles of something or other with her. In the morning she would be ‘fine.’ They stopped asking if she was fine, what they could do, what was wrong.

Astarion was, in a strange way, hoping that Gale’s impending self-detonation would have some positive effect on Eletha. She seemed to only regard them when they did something stupid. Reducing yourself and everything within a sizable radius to dust for your goddess sounded pretty ‘stupid,’ where Astarion was concerned. First off, he could be in that radius. Second, gods were worthless self-important arseholes, so trying to please them was just stupid from the get-go.

Third? It was a waste of a perfectly good Gale. Without Eletha to have fun with, Astarion became very drawn to the wizard’s side. Sometimes they commiserated about their leader’s state of mind, but it was nice just trading witty banter or discussing their latest literary find.

“Tell Gale he can’t blow himself up!” he demanded of her once this Elminster character wandered off from their camp. 

“It’s Gale’s choice to blow himself up. We shouldn’t interfere with that,” Wyll told him sarcastically. More seriously he said, “There must be other options, Gale.”

“Of course, I will consider all parts of the matter, but the fact remains that Mystra has asked this of me.”

“I’ve never heard something so- Where are you going?” Astarion hissed at Eletha, who was walking away from the group.

“My tent. We have a lot of shit to do tomorrow,” she told him tonelessly, even more lifeless than the automatons in that wizard’s tower.

“Oh, go ahead, drown your sorrows while the rest of us try to convince our friend to not kill himself!”

“You think I don’t care?!” Eletha yelled at him, wheeling around so suddenly that he ran into her. Astarion stumbled back, surprised by both losing his footing and her flare of emotions. “You think it doesn’t hurt me? To have everything I love and care about go away?!”

“Well-” Astarion tumbled over the starts of several sentences. Eventually, he gave up finding the perfect one. “People fight for what they care about.”

Eletha was taken aback. Astarion started to panic as tears welled up in her eyes. Bonnet nuzzled her leg insistently. Scratch to whine while the owlbear cub trilled nervously.

“You did this to me!” she cried in elvish, straining through her tears. It made her sound girlish and shrill. “You did this to me! You broke me! You killed who I was supposed to be!”

Eletha tried to go to her tent, only to trip over the animals freaking out around her. She fell with a pathetic cry, the rough ground scraping her hands and tearing holes into her trousers at the knees. Sniffling, she let herself fall the rest of the way to the ground.

Astarion tried to approach, but Bonnet got between them, stood on her hind legs, and roared at him. The bear refused to let any of them near her, even going so far as to swipe at Halsin. Eventually, Eletha stopped sobbing into the dirt, actually trying to bury herself at some point. Instead, she chose to limp into her tent, where she sobbed some more until all was quiet.

“Yes, perhaps it is prudent that one of us take the lead from now on,” Gale said when the spectacle was over. He took a healthy swallow of wine straight from the bottle before handing it to a rattled Astarion. “We shall scout out the environs in teams, gather information. No… big decisions until Eletha is…”

“What if she never gets better?” Karlach asked, feeding their fire. This place, always in shadow, was cold. It was so cold that even Astarion had trouble with it, so Karlach had to be freezing.

“Well… I don’t know,” Gale answered rather honestly, well aware that there was no real answer. “She’ll turn into a mindflayer without the protection of the prism. We could take her with us… But she might become a hindrance. The prism has a fair amount of distance, perhaps if we can get to Baldur’s Gate, she will be safe from the parasite in… whatever place we can find to take care of her.”

“Ah, yes, let’s abandon the person freaking out about being abandoned,” Astarion said scathingly. With a false epiphany, he went on, drawing erratic lines through the air with a cunty finger, “But, oh wait, will you even be around to care by the time we get to Baldur’s Gate?”

“Maybe we should all get some rest,” Halsin interjected nervously.

“Yes, I think that would be best,” Gale agreed, trying to hide the hurt on his face as he got up and went to his tent.

After some time, Astarion invaded the privacy of the wizard’s tent. Obviously, a tent wasn’t a tower, and thus he could invade it whenever he wanted.

Gale chucked a pillow at him, which hit him in the face.

“I suppose I deserved that…” Astarion whispered, picking the pillow up to lazily toss back before entering the rest of the way.

“I may not have as many harsh words as Eletha to hurl at you, but I am not exactly pleased to see you,” Gale warned him, barely able to keep his eyes open.

“I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry. For what I said.”

“This could have waited.”

“I don’t know how much longer we have together.” Gale laid his head back down and let out a sigh. “How do you apologize to someone, when you have no idea what you’ve done?”

“I imagine that you can’t,” Gale said after a moment of sleepy contemplation.

“I don’t want to leave her in some… Ilmater temple, with all the idiots and cripples that the other gods abandoned.” To this, Gale lifted an arm, inviting Astarion to lay beside him. He did so, curling into Gale’s side and lying his head on his chest. It occurred to him that, below his ear, there was a source of immense destructive magic, now quelled by the grace of Mystra. “She’s never even been to the Gate.”

“None of us want that either. We will cross that bridge when we get there.”

“But you heard her. I did this to her.”

“She may feel that way, yes. It remains to be seen what part you played aside from leaving.” Gale took a deep breath and Astarion could hear the air filling and leaving his lungs. “Please, Astarion, I need at least six hours.”

Astarion scoffed. “Humans.”

He tried to leave, but Gale pulled him in harder instead. It didn’t take long for the wizard to start snoring softly.

[oldhagtournament]

Round 1 - right side of the bracket!!

Propaganda under the cut

Nikolai

HOT BUTCH HAG

hot butch woman from game with super good female designs. would

Gloriosa

She's a badass old biddy who advises and scolds Boa Hancock, the current Empress of Amazon Lily and Captain of the Kuja Pirates. Plus she used to be the Empress 4 generations ago. She can get thrown out of a ten-story window and land on her feet just fine.

Spoiler: She used to be a crewmate on the Rocks Pirates 38 years ago, the biggest badass group of pirates that ever existed. And she was one of the oldest members of the crew.

She's a former empress of Kuja tribe and used to be a feared pirate when she sailed with Rocks D. Xebec as a younger woman. While she doesn't live with the other Kuja and is something of an outcast, she's a very wise old lady and can provide advice if necessary.

[nothing0fnothing]

when i post things about narc abuse on my blog i occasionally get ppl being like "don't classify all ppl with npd as abusers!!!" when i didn't say that? tbh on the whole "is narc abuse ableist" thing i defer to my best friend's wisdom, he recently graduated with a BA in psychology (im so proud!!!) and he said smth to the effect of "if you're trying to diagnose them with npd to demonize them then yeah not good but also narcissistic is a word independent of that diagnosis so context is important" its like how ppl without depression can still say theyre depressed or someone without anxiety can say theyre anxious yknow? context matters! i call my parents narc abusers bc it "fits the bill" as in from the medical studies ive read from professionals, all this criteria fits their behavior, not bc i actually believe they have npd. their actions are narcissistic but actually having npd is a question i can't answer.

the point being: im sure you get a lot more comments like that on your blog than my own. the few i get make me upset for a while bc it feels so invalidating (or maybe im just chronically online lmao.) how do you deal with it all? i'm sure the answer is just "block" but does it go deeper? it must feel awful to be called ableist when all you've done is try to spread awareness about a very real thing that happened to you. i could use some of your strength bc your blog is still going strong even amidst the hate 🙏

This ask was actually so lovely to read. You're eloquent and educated and if you'd like to dm me please do any time I'd love to chat with you and check out your blog.

You're absolutely right about narcissism and NPD. Narcissism is a personality trait. One that most healthy people posses. You can't diagnose someone a narcissist, because "narcissist" isn't a disorder.

There's a misconception that NPD is the clinical diagnosis for excessive narcissism. Actually, the diagnostic criteria for NPD is very clear that one does not even have to have narcissistic traits to be diagnosed with it. And it has nothing to say about abusing others, so how recognising abuse is considered a drive by diagnosis of NPD is beyond me.

Saying your abuser is narcissistic doesn't mean you think your abuser has this specific disorder. We know this so to us it's common sense. Unfortunately common sense isn't so common, especially in the narcissistic positivity side of this app.

It's so easy to feel provoked when you know all this, and you're educated and you just want to make content that will connect you to a community of other survivors. Only for some asshole who barely knows what NPD is, decides they're going to make your trauma all about it. It's not chronically online to be made upset by behaviour like that. People like to tell us the Internet isn't real, but when it's our connection to communities of people who share our niche experiences, it is real. Don't undermine yourself when you feel upset like that. Words can hurt anyone, even when they come from an ignorant low life who thinks they can clean up the internet, one trauma support blog at a time.

Me personally? I like to wait to hit the block button till after I've goaded them into an absolute breakdown. It entertains me to no end to watch them rage like toddlers as they start to realise they know next to nothing on a topic I've absolutely schooled them in. It sounds cruel but I have no sympathy for arseholes, especially when they're intentionally spamming random accusations and slurs on my vent posts in hopes they can get a rise out of a vulnerable person. I might make a "narcissists rage at facts and logic" compilation for my own amusement... But that's not really helpful advice to anyone who isn't a bitter hag, like me.

When I first started on this platform I kept my most common response paragraphs in my notes and clipboard to paste and post when I got the same asks day in and day out. It really helped me to reply in a measured way I knew was proof read and edited without having to exert the mental energy it takes to type out a whole reply every time you get one. This of course is if you're so inclined to engage with them.

I also have a limit for how long I'll engage. Usually my rule is I stop responding when they stop asking questions, because my blog is here to be supportive, not to receive criticism from the pro narcissist community. When they stop being coherent and and start being belligerent, that's when will always I block them and that's usually the end of it.

I did have one guy who I'd blocked on 3 or 4 seperate accounts for being belligerent. He was making new accounts every time to spam my asks and reblogs with increasingly ridiculous, heinous and obviously ragebaity shit. I just reposted his replies onto reddit where the crowd is, let's say, more critical of behavior like that. He had an epic meltdown and I've never seen his username ever again. If you're not comfortable doing that, let me know and I'll do it for you. You'd be doing me a favour because I'm a little shit and I love to watch the fireworks.

My last bit of advice to you is to make mutuals and make them friends. I struggle with being sociable in any consistent way, but a few messages back and forth to foster a good relationship with the community is so helpful. It makes your blog feel like an actual supportive environment. It puts your content across the dashboards of more sympathetic people and less losers thanks to the algorithm. Most importantly, when you have friends on this app they're more likely to back you up when an absolute cretin who snuck onto earth decides to pick on you for no reason. Having that back up is invaluable to blogs like ours and it's so important to have it when you're just starting out, especially if you're already getting the narc apologists in your notifs.

That being said, I genuinely do hope you reach out to me. I'd love to be able to send you some more of my strength when you need it. 💛🤎💛

[usagirln12003]

Toko Fukawa: Hogwarts AU

Toko Fukawa is a Half-Blood witch that was born on the 3rd of March 1971 and started attending Hogwarts on the 1st of September 1982, being sorted into Ravenclaw House.

She has a Willow wand with a Dragon Heartstring Core.

Her Patronus is Non-Corporeal.

Her favorite subject is Potions and her least favorite subject is Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Toko is intellectually gifted, yet she has problems in social behavior. It's been stated that she either never learned or never bothered to learn social skills. She even considers herself a 'gloomy outcast', often deciding to distance herself from others.

Due to the constant bullying she faced as a child, Toko is highly suspicious of other people, frequently accusing them of thinking bad things about her. She expresses her opinions freely and extremely, which can come across as mean and often rubs people the wrong way, though she claims she is just being honest. She has an unusually quick tendency to self-victimize and she refuses to believe compliments from other people. She also is very self-conscious about her body and tends to think that other people consider her ugly. At times, she tries to appear as young as possible and she is paranoid that others might consider her "an old hag", However, she is also offended if her body is not considered attractive and adult-like.

During her first years at Hogwarts, Toko can often be seen stalking Byakuya Togami, seeing him as the “ideal boyfriend", behaving submissively toward him and calling him "master". After the reveal of her cursed alter, Genocide Jack, Toko's crush on Byakuya took on a more distinctively sexual undertone, and she was capable of neither proper judgment nor control over her perverse fantasies. It's also been confirmed that she's a masochist, though she also seems to have sadistic fantasies about Byakuya. Ironically, she has a tendency to scold other people for being indecent, sometimes with no good reason. Due to her paranoia, she easily assumes that boys have bad intentions if they wish to spend time alone with her.

Toko is also extremely afraid of blood and the dark due to very traumatic experiences. She also strongly dislikes bathing, to the point of fear, which might also be a result of an unknown trauma.

During the Fourth Wizarding War, Toko revealed a kinder and more caring side of herself as she traveled with Komaru while on the run. Though she remained rather pessimistic and gloomy, she was more mature and stronger. She forced herself to be strong and believed that fighting against all odds is the only way out, often echoing Makoto's sentiments and begrudgingly crediting him with the courage she had gained. When Komaru approached the point of giving in to despair, Toko encouraged her to stand up and face her fears. While not used to touching other people, she is later fine with hugging Komaru, and willing to comfort her, though she says she isn't good at it. She finally finds a true friend in Komaru and is willing to stay by her side, and says that she's found her hope in her.

As a result of her experiences in the killing game, Toko also became easily frustrated by people who give up and make excuses, calling them cowards. She accuses them of not being prepared to stand up for themselves, something that reminded her of her past self. She also took a stand in challenging her own fears; she no longer faints at the sight of blood, having taken Byakuya's advice about growing up. However, she still remained extremely disgusted at the sight of large amounts of blood.