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destinyimage · 4 months

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Intercessory Prayer—How to Pray & Watch God Move

Daniel described the invisible realm he saw in a vision when he exclaimed: I watched till thrones were put in place, and the Ancient of Days was seated… (Daniel 7:9 NKJV).

There cannot be two ruling authorities over one geographical region. There will either be ruling powers of God or ruling powers of satan. There is an ongoing battle for authority over a region that won’t be finally settled until we intercede or Jesus returns and casts satan and his minions into the lake of fire. We need to pray that God’s Kingdom authority will be established over our nations. Of course, regions will not be free once and for all from satan’s attacks until Jesus returns. Each generation needs to watch and pray over their own generation.

You might be thinking, That sounds like a huge endeavor! How can I, one person, do such a thing? Isn’t that scary or dangerous? No, it isn’t, but it does require courage and the knowledge of how to proceed in a biblical, non-presumptive manner.

Every Pray-er Matters

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This is my reply to those people who are feeling overwhelmed at this and wonder where they fit into the scheme of things. You are important and strategic in some sector of society and culture. Each person who prays—each “pray-er”—is critically important to this task. There is a sphere of authority that you have that no one can touch like you can. You simply need to determine what that is and do the part that pertains to you. God will raise up thousands of others who will do their part, and the overall job will be done. This reminds me of the old adage: “How do you eat an elephant?” Answer: “One bite at a time.”

You ask, “Well, why does it have to be me? Why doesn’t God just take care of it? After all, isn’t that His role, not mine, to take authority over wickedness?”

Again, going back to our role as enforcers, the answer is that the Lord has given into our hands the job of legislating His will on earth. He has given us the authority and weapons to do this through what we call binding and loosing:

Assuredly, I say to you, whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven. Again I say to you that if two of you agree on earth concerning anything that they ask, it will be done for them by My Father in heaven (Matthew 18:18-19 NKJV).

Binding (or deo in the Greek, “to tie”) and loosing (or luo) were used in legal terminology at the time of Christ. When the courts of His day would decide a case, they would either say, “We bind (or forbid)” or “We loose (or permit as legal) this in Israel.” They would decide what was lawful or illegal, forbidden or allowed, in their nation using this same terminology.

Note that Jesus did not say, “Ask Me to bind or loose.” He said, “Whatever you bind or loose (“in My name” is a given here) on earth will be done.” He said we are to do it in His name. Therefore, it stands to reason that if we do not take our place of authority in intercessory prayer, then wicked laws have every legal right to be put into place.

We need to pray and do. By this I mean we need to bind the powers of darkness that are blinding the eyes of those who make laws in our nations as well as become voices who speak out against sin in every sector of society.

Literally, Jesus told us that whatever we loose in prayer—or permit—will be legal in our nation, and whatever we bind—or declare illegal—in intercession will be illegal. This is the basis upon which we can “convene the court of Heaven” through our intercessory prayers and legislate in the heavens certain laws of our nations. Dutch Sheets sums it up nicely in his book Intercessory Prayer:

Although Jesus fully accomplished the task of breaking the authority of Satan and voiding his legal hold upon the human race, someone on earth must represent Him in that victory and enforce it.

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wolint · 1 year

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FRESH MANNA

THE GOD WHO SEES ME.

Genesis 16:6-14

EL-ROI: The God who sees! Yes, God sees, He’s got eyes, and He’s not blind. God sees you! God hears your prayers as you cry out to God. God sees your hearts’ desires, your labour of love, your hopes and your dreams, and your struggles, He sees your pain, frustrations and heartaches.

God sees you! And through it all, God is with you.

Nothing Can Separate you From The Love Of God.

So many people think that either God is blind and can’t see them or they are invisible and can’t be seen.

The invisibility syndrome can be mental, physical, emotional and spiritual but never from God’s point, God is all-seeing.

GOD SEES ALL. GOD SEES YOU AND ME.

Before you become convinced of your invisibility or God’s inability to see you, remember Jeremiah 1:5 says God knows us before birth. God knew before you got to that situation, so be assured that he sees you.

In other words, when we feel most invisible and forgotten by everyone else, we can remember that God does see us. He witnesses our struggles and comes alongside us.

God sees us, in whatever circumstances, wherever and whenever as He said to Moses in Exodus 3:7-8. It was just the right time for God to move and Isreal’s turn to be seen, heard and helped.

It’s a terrible thing to feel abandoned, especially if we feel abandoned by God. Most of us have felt that way at one time or another. Maybe things were going well and suddenly the bottom dropped out of your life. In the confusion of the events, we wonder, “where is God in all this?” does He even see me, Does He know what I’m going through?

That’s how Hagar must have felt when she fled from Sarai. Things had seemed to look up for a brief moment.

Her lowly status as a servant had changed when Abram, according to the custom of the day, had taken her to produce a child on behalf of the barren Sarai. But when Hagar became pregnant, she communicated an air of superiority toward Sarai, who then mistreated her.

Finally, things got so bad that Hagar took off in the direction of her homeland, out through the desert. She could have been abused, miscarried or taken captive by nomadic traders.

Hagar knew about Abram’s God, the living and true God.

She must have wondered if that God knew or cared about her situation. No doubt she was confused. What could a pregnant, single woman do, even if she reached her homeland? Her future was uncertain, her past too painful to think about.

The God who sees saw Hager, He sees you too. As Psalm 94:9 says He who formed the eye, does he not see? God is Omnipotent and can certainly assume attributes of the bodies he created when he so wills it.

But we behave like God is blind and can’t see the situation we’re in, so when we pray, we accusingly pray,

“Father, can’t you see what I’m going through, what I’m experiencing, can’t you hear what they are saying to me…..

God sees Hagar and Hagar sees God in verses 13-16.

God saw Hagar’s affliction; as a result, Hagar saw God’s mercy and submitted to Him.

If you’re calling and crying on the Lord be assured that he sees and hears. As Psalm 34:15 says God sees and hears you. He’s not deaf to your cry nor blind to your situation. Nothing, absolutely nothing is hidden from God, there’s nothing God cannot see, nothing invisible or obscured from His sight and gaze.

We may think that we found God, but He found us. We were lost and confused, wandering away from Him but He came looking and found us and will keep looking for us until we see Him and as He sees us.

PRAYER: Thank you EL ROI for always seeing me, help me to see you in every area of my life and circumstances in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Shalom

Women of light international prayer ministries

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brainwreck · 1 year

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I find myself back here again.

I've been thinking a lot recently. About you, mostly. I could blame it on the sickness crowding my lungs, but that would be a lie. You've been taking up my thoughts long before I spent my days in bed as I grow well again.

But, with nothing else to do, I am thinking of you with every waking moment. And it's getting harder. I cannot tell if it is for my affection is becoming stronger, or my fear is taking over.

I worry that I am not doing enough. Not doing everything I can to put myself in your path; to intertwine our lives.

I am mad, at myself. Mad that in my stubbornness, I wasted time I could have spent with you. If I had simply tried, things could be different now. Or, maybe, they'd still be the same. I'm not sure. As much as I would like to, I cannot see the future.

My loneliness, however, is making itself clear to me.

I hung out with those I call my friends recently. We had a very nice time together, you know. But... I felt... lost. Lost, I suppose, as they reminded me of a time from my past. Of memories I've resented, and let go of. They don't feel like home. They feel like strangers I once met on a subway at night and chatted with, shared my life story with, but when I next saw them in another 20 years, we remembered nothing about each other.

I was a third wheel with one I'd called my lifeline in a time of need. To me, the whole thing felt like an out of body experience.

I was there, yes. They were there, yes. But we were not together. We were each in our own world, walking an unmarked path that, while parallel to one another's, was divided by some invisible barrier.

I was alone.

Sometimes I feel I am getting left behind, though I can logically convince myself that is not the case. I will not be left behind, no matter where I go next. But, as I think about where I've been, I do. Feel left behind, that is.

It as if I and another are chasing each other. Crossing borders, traveling from country to country. Only, when I catch up, the other is already gone. Gone, moved on to the next stop. An endless loop of never quite being fast enough, and never quite slowing down just the right amount.

I wish with my whole heart, my whole spirit and soul alike, to let you read these words. To let you know how I feel. I'm not afraid to tell you these things, as I cannot imagine we could grow further apart than we already are. We could only grow closer, if this caught your eye. I'm sure of that.

It is the others that fawn for you I am afraid of. I have seen them at their worst, I have seen what their wrath is capable of, and it is something I wish not to feel. I have seen their anger, their confusion and delusion, and how it blinds them. I have seen their fantasies, I have spoken with them, hiding my true intentions, and it made my stomach churn.

Not because I believe you are rightfully mine, no. I was afraid because they are so deep into this story they've written, as they try to control lives that are not their own, that I feel nothing but fear for you. I fear what their fantasies would do to your psyche, what they would not stop at to have their way. I worry for you, Starbird. I worry that something will happen, and I will not have been able to even try to protect you.

Maybe you don't need protection. That's fine. Not all of us do. But we are all human, and we are flawed. We hurt. We long, we ache, we desire. After studying some of your creativity, I believe you are human too, just like the rest of us.

I feel that you are looking for someone. Someone that gets you. Someone that sees you as a person, that wants to be with you for who you are and go along with all the weird shit you do and simply stay by your side no matter what. Someone who doesn't care about the fame or money or any of those trivial values. Someone that just likes you.

You want a companion. You are seeking, yet cannot find one. I know, for I am the same.

I wonder how I can convey this to you. How I can show you that I see you for you. I can look past the facade you display for the public, I can tell when you fake your smiles. I can tell when you feel discomfort, and when you know you are safe. They can't. Those that fawn over you can't. I have seen it, time and time again, through their words. Their actions. They are blind, willfully ignorant to your feelings.

I do not resent them for it. No, instead, I simply hurt for you. I wish to look you in the eyes. To tell you you are loved, and that you matter. I wish to tell you none of the hurtful insults sent your way change the way I feel or see you. You are imperfect, Starbird, and that is how I like you. I do not wish for you to be perfect. I like you with your flaws. It makes you who you are.

I wish to stand by your side, quietly accompanying you on your journeys. I wish to be your anchor, the one that grounds you on your worst days. I wish to be your Lionheart, as you are my King. I would take great honor in walking alongside you, bearing the burden of the world, shielding you so you may smile all your life.

I wish to make some of our best memories together, and I wish to laugh over the smallest of things. I wish to exchange questions about who we are, to be vulnerable in front of one another.

I know the cost of loving you. I know the cost, and I find the debt would never amount to the good I get from it.

But I do not know how to tell you. I wish for you to see this post, I do, but I cannot achieve that on my own, I don't believe. Maybe a kind soul will stop on their own journey, stop and help me find my voice.

But like I said. I cannot see the future.

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dfroza · 2 years

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“I tell you the truth: eternal life belongs to those who hear My voice and believe in the One who sent Me.”

we don’t hear the silent and invisible Spirit who is [here, & now] with us, seeking to dwell within our own when invited (inside, Anew) as an inner baptism of Light

but we do sense inner illumination as the Voice of God accompanied by the sacred writing of the Scriptures

and this inspiration leads us to “believe…” in the True illumination of the eternal Son (in the space of the heart) and to speak of our faith since rebirth of the heart (spirit) requires each of these (silence & sound) to take on a new True nature solely by an act of grace (all we need to do is simply receive with childlike faith, a pure “imagination” to see beyond this temporal world through baptism eyes)

for the children of Light (as daughters & sons of our heavenly Father) have become the living Temple on garden earth and the voice of the Spirit to spread a pure message that is untainted by the world (conserving its genesis)

and for those who believe in the heart a baptism of the body in earth’s water is an outward sign of the inward transformation (metamorphosis) that takes place, and then there is the ongoing process of renewing the mind in Love’s truth that changes us from the inside out

A process that includes forgiveness and letting go, of moving on with life…

(please don’t follow a spiritual path apart from True Light)

Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the New Testament is the 5th chapter of the book of John:

When these events were completed, Jesus led His followers to Jerusalem where they would celebrate a Jewish feast together.

In Jerusalem they came upon a pool by the sheep gate surrounded by five covered porches. In Hebrew this place is called Bethesda.

Crowds of people lined the area, lying around the porches. All of these people were disabled in some way; some were blind, lame, paralyzed, or plagued by diseases[; and they were waiting for the waters to move. From time to time, a heavenly messenger would come to stir the water in the pool. Whoever reached the water first and got in after it was agitated would be healed of his or her disease]. In the crowd, Jesus noticed one particular man who had been living with his disability for 38 years. He knew this man had been waiting here a long time.

Jesus (to the disabled man): Are you here in this place hoping to be healed?

Disabled Man: Kind Sir, I wait, like all of these people, for the waters to stir; but I cannot walk. If I am to be healed in the waters, someone must carry me into the pool. Without a helping hand, someone else beats me to the water’s edge each time it is stirred.

Jesus: Stand up, carry your mat, and walk.

At the moment Jesus uttered these words, a healing energy coursed through the man and returned life to his limbs—he stood and walked for the first time in 38 years. But this was the Sabbath Day; and any work, including carrying a mat, was prohibited on this day.

Jewish Leaders (to the man who had been healed): Must you be reminded that it is the Sabbath? You are not allowed to carry your mat today!

Formerly Disabled Man: The man who healed me gave me specific instructions to carry my mat and go.

Jewish Leaders: Who is the man who gave you these instructions? How can we identify Him?

The man genuinely did not know who it was that healed him. In the midst of the crowd and the excitement of his renewed health, Jesus had slipped away. Some time later, Jesus found him in the temple and again spoke to him.

Jesus: Take a look at your body; it has been made whole and strong. So avoid a life of sin, or else a calamity greater than any disability may befall you.

The man went immediately to tell the Jewish leaders that Jesus was the mysterious healer. So they began pursuing and attacking Jesus because He performed these miracles on the Sabbath.

Jesus (to His attackers): My Father is at work. So I, too, am working.

He was justifying the importance of His work on the Sabbath, claiming God as His Father in ways that suggested He was equal to God. These pious religious leaders sought an opportunity to kill Jesus, and these words fueled their hatred.

Jesus: The truth is that the Son does nothing on His own; all these actions are led by the Father. The Son watches the Father closely and then mimics the work of the Father. The Father loves the Son, so He does not hide His actions. Instead, He shows Him everything, and the things not yet revealed by the Father will dumbfound you. The Father can give life to those who are dead; in the same way, the Son can give the gift of life to those He chooses.

The Father does not exert His power to judge anyone. Instead, He has given the authority as Judge to the Son. So all of creation will honor and worship the Son as they do the Father. If you do not honor the Son, then you dishonor the Father who sent Him.

I tell you the truth: eternal life belongs to those who hear My voice and believe in the One who sent Me. These people have no reason to fear judgment because they have already left death and entered life.

I tell you the truth: a new day is imminent—in fact, it has arrived—when the voice of the Son of God will penetrate death’s domain, and everyone who hears will live. You see, the Father radiates with life; and He also animates the Son of God with the same life-giving beauty and power to exercise judgment over all of creation. Indeed, the Son of God is also the Son of Man. If this sounds amazing to you, what is even more amazing is that when the time comes, those buried long ago will hear His voice through all the rocks, sod, and soil and step out of decay into resurrection. When this hour arrives, those who did good will be resurrected to life, and those who did evil will be resurrected to judgment.

I have not ever acted, and will not in the future act, on My own. I listen to the directions of the One who sent Me and act on these divine instructions. For this reason, My judgment is always fair and never self-serving. I’m committed to pursuing God’s agenda and not My own.

If I stand as the lone witness to My true identity, then I can be dismissed as a liar. But if you listen, you will hear another testify about Me, and I know what He says about Me is genuine and true. You sent messengers to John, and he told the truth to everyone who would listen. Still his message about Me originated in heaven, not in mortal man. I am telling you these things for one reason—so that you might be rescued. The voice of John the Baptist, the wandering prophet, is like a light in the darkness; and for a time, you took great joy and pleasure in the light he offered.

There’s another witness standing in My corner who is greater than John or any other man. The mission that brings Me here, and the things I am called to do, demonstrate the authenticity of My calling which comes directly from the Father. In the act of sending Me, the Father has endorsed Me. None of you really knows the Father. You have never heard His voice or seen His profile. His word does not abide in you because you do not believe in the One sent by the Father.

Here you are scouring through the Scriptures, hoping that you will find eternal life among a pile of scrolls. What you don’t seem to understand is that the Scriptures point to Me. Here I am with you, and still you reject the truth contained in the law and prophets by refusing to come to Me so that you can have life.

This kind of glory does not come from mortal men. And I see that you do not possess the love of God. I have pursued you, coming here in My Father’s name, and you have turned Me away. If someone else were to approach you with a different set of credentials, you would welcome him. That’s why it is hard to see how true faith is even possible for you: you are consumed by the approval of other men, longing to look good in their eyes; and yet you disregard the approval of the one true God. Don’t worry that I might bring you up on charges before My Father. Moses is your accuser even though you’ve put your hope in him because if you believed what Moses had to say, then you would believe in Me because he wrote about Me. But if you ignore Moses and the deeper meaning of his writings, then how will you ever believe what I have to say?

The Book of John, Chapter 5 (The Voice)

A note from The Voice:

It is impossible to imagine this man’s excitement. His entire life has been defined by his illness. Now he is free from it. Free from the pain and weakness. Free from the depression that gripped his soul. Free, too, from the shame he always knew. Now he does not just walk—he runs and celebrates with friends and family. Everyone is rejoicing with him, except for some of the Jewish leaders. Instead, they drill him with questions as if they can disregard this miracle.

This issue keeps arising from the Jewish leaders. They do not appreciate the good things Jesus does on the Sabbath. Most Jews cower at the rebuke from these men, but Jesus does not. He is very clear about this. He cares for the poor, the sick, and the marginalized more than He cares for how some people may interpret and apply God’s law. It is easy to follow a set of rules; it is much harder to care for the things of the heart. He also makes it clear that those who follow His path are put on earth to serve. His followers’ service comes out of love for Him. All who follow Him are to love and to serve, especially on the Sabbath.

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 9th chapter of the book of 1st Samuel where Samuel first meets with Saul who would become Israel’s first earthly king, although to eventually have the kingdom removed that went to an enduring promise given to David who was True to God’s Heart:

A powerful man named Kish, who descended from Abiel, Zeror, Becorath, and Aphiah (the son of a Benjaminite), lived among the people of Benjamin. Kish had a handsome young son named Saul. Now Saul was not only the most handsome man in Israel, but he was also the most imposing, standing taller than all others.

One day Saul’s father Kish had lost his donkeys, having wandered away, so he told his son Saul to take one of the servants and look for them. They traveled through the hill country of Ephraim, through the land of Shalishah, and through the land of Shaalim, but they did not find them. Then they passed through the land of Benjamin, and still they did not see the donkeys.

At last, when they came to Zuph, Saul told the servant who accompanied him,

Saul: We had better turn around. If we keep going, my father will stop worrying about his donkeys and start worrying about us.

Servant: I hear there is a man of God in this village, a man who is respected because what he predicts is always true. Before we go home, let’s go and talk to him; maybe he will have some guidance about this journey we have begun.

Saul: But if we go, what will we bring to this man? We can’t show up empty-handed, but even the bread in our sacks is gone. I have nothing to give the man of God. Do you have anything?

Servant: I have a tenth of an ounce of silver. I will give it to the man of God, and maybe he can tell us where to go.

It used to be in Israel that when people wanted to ask God a question, they would say, “Let’s go talk to the seer.” Now they are most commonly referred to as prophets, but they were called seers.

Saul: Very good. Let’s go, then.

As they traveled up to the city to visit the man of God, they saw some girls on their way to draw water at the well.

Saul: Can we find the seer here?

Girls: Yes, he’s just ahead of you. He has come here because there is a sacrifice today at the altar on the high place. You can catch him if you hurry. Look for him just as you come into the city, and you should catch him before he goes up to the high place to eat. No one will eat until he gets there, since he is the one who will bless the sacrifice. After he does that, those who have been invited can eat. Now go on. You should encounter him right away.

They went immediately, and as they entered the city, Samuel was walking in their direction on his way up to the high place.

Now the Eternal One had told Samuel on the previous day,

Eternal One: Tomorrow at about this same time I will send you a young man from Benjamin. You will anoint him to be a ruler over all Israel. I will give him strength to save My people from the Philistines because I hear their cries in their misery.

When Samuel saw Saul walking toward him, the Eternal spoke to him.

Eternal One: Look! This is the young man I told you about. I’ve chosen him to rule over My people.

There inside the gate, Saul walked up to Samuel.

Saul: Can you tell me, please, where I might find the seer’s house?

Samuel: You have found him. Come with me to the high place, and eat with me today. Tomorrow morning I will tell you what you need to know and then send you on your way. As for those donkeys that wandered off three days ago? Don’t give them any further thought. Someone has found them. Israel is more concerned today with you and your family.

Saul: I come from the tribe of Benjamin, the smallest of the tribes of Israel, and I belong to the poorest family in Benjamin. Why are you saying these things to me?

Samuel took Saul and his servant up to the hall where around 30 people waited, and he made them sit in the places of honor.

Samuel (to the cook): Bring the portion I gave you and asked you to set aside.

The cook brought the thigh along with other select parts and set them in front of Saul.

Samuel (pointing to the meat): Take a look. This was set aside for you. Eat and enjoy it all because this has been reserved for you until the appointed time. I have invited these people to be our guests.

So Saul feasted with Samuel the rest of the day. When they returned to the city from eating at the high place, Samuel spoke with Saul on the roof.

The next morning, at the break of dawn, Samuel shouted up to Saul on the roof.

Samuel (to Saul): Wake up! It is time for me to send you on your way.

Saul rose, and he and Samuel walked out into the street. When they reached the edge of the city, Samuel told him,

Samuel: Send your servant on ahead. When he’s far enough away, stop and let’s talk. I need to give you a message from the True God.

The Book of 1st Samuel, Chapter 9 (The Voice)

A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures for Sunday, October 16 of 2022 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms

A post by John Parsons about the (Full Circle) of life:

Yeshua taught us a great principle of spiritual life when he said: “Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful. Do not judge, and you will not be judged; do not condemn, and you will not be condemned; forgive, and you will be forgiven. Give, and it will be given to you: A good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be poured into your lap. For the measure you use will be the measure you receive” (Luke 6:36-38).

The image of a measure “pressed down, shaken together, and running over” comes from the marketplace where it was customary to bring a vessel that would be filled with grain. A generous seller would pour the grain into the vessel, shake it thoroughly to level the contents, and then add in more until it was “running over” or overflowing… Those who are generous in their giving will likewise receive back an overflowing supply.

Know then the spiritual principle: As we are to others, so we are to ourselves: “middah keneged middah” (מִדָּה כְּנֶגֶד מִדָּה), “like for like.” As we freely give, so we will freely receive; as we show mercy, so we will be shown mercy; as we forgive, so we will be forgiven; as we bless others, so we invoke God’s blessing upon our own lives.

On the other hand, as we withhold kindness, so kindness will be withheld from us; as we condemn others, so we will be condemned; as we refuse to forgive, so we will be unforgiven; and as we curse others, so we will be cursed. As we are to others, so we are to ourselves: “middah keneged middah” (מִדָּה כְּנֶגֶד מִדָּה), “like for like” (Psalm 18:25-26).

It is a very sobering thought that as we do to others, so will be done to ourselves. Indeed, how we think and act toward others reveals more about ourselves than them. As the Baal Shem Tov once said, “Sinners are like mirrors. When we see faults in others, we must understand that they only reflect the evil within ourselves.” On the other hand, when we despise ourselves we violate the principle as well. Hating yourself is forbidden because you are made in the image of God and you do not have the right to desecrate God’s Name.

Use “the good eye” to search for the good in others, and soon you will see the good imparted to your own heart by God’s grace. Look upon others as you would wish them to look upon you. “Blessed are the merciful, for they shall have mercy” (Matt. 5:7).

Amen. Shabbat shalom, and think on these things, chaverim (Phil. 4:8). [Hebrew for Christians]

10.14.22 • Facebook

Today’s message (Days of Praise) from the Institute for Creation Research

October 16, 2022

The Invitations of Christ

“He saith unto them, Come and see. They came and saw where he dwelt, and abode with him that day: for it was about the tenth hour.” (John 1:39)

This is the first of the gracious invitations of the Lord Jesus to “come” to Him. On this occasion, right after His baptism by John, He invited two potential disciples to come with Him to His dwelling place. Very likely, this was an outdoor mat somewhere, for He soon afterward acknowledged that “the Son of man hath not where to lay his head” (Matthew 8:20). Nevertheless, one night of abiding with Jesus changed their lives. Soon afterward, He issued another invitation to them. “Come ye after me, and I will make you to become fishers of men” (Mark 1:17), and they never went home again. First He invites us to come see and know Him, then to come with Him to win others.

There is also the wonderful invitation to come to Him for relief from our burdens and cares. “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28). And note His promise to those who do accept His invitation: “Him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out” (John 6:37).

There were also personal invitations. To Zacchaeus, the seeking sinner glimpsing Jesus from a sycamore tree, He said, “Come down; for to day I must abide at thy house” (Luke 19:5). To His friend Lazarus, dead and bound in a tomb, He cried, “Lazarus, come forth” (John 11:43), and not even the grave could prevent his accepting such a call.

There are other invitations from the Lord with gracious promises to those who come, but note especially the final invitation of the Bible. “And the Spirit and the bride say, Come. And let him that heareth say, Come. And let him that is athirst come. And whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely” (Revelation 22:17). HMM

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strawberryspence · 3 years

Text

green was the color

Fluff | Soulmate! AU Spencer Reid x FEM! BAU! Female

Summary: In a universe where you can only see colors after meeting your soulmate, Spencer Reid waits his whole life to meet his soulmate. He meets the new team member and immediately falls in love. But there is a teeny, tiny problem, you weren’t his soulmate and he wasn’t yours.

Word Count: 3,5k

Warnings: a few case information from S7E10: The Bittersweet Science, a black eye, other than that its just pure mindless soulmate fluff.

Writer’s Note: Hello! This is a soulmate AU that I wrote in one sitting, so the writing may be wobbly and there may be some mistakes. Its based on the tiktok trend where you see black and white then can only see colors when you meet your soulmates. Title is from Taylor’s Invisible String. Enjoy! 💛

Gif is mine. It’s surprisingly hard to make B&W to Color gifs lol.

Spencer Reid is a smart man. A man with an IQ of 187, eidetic memory and can read 20,000 words per minute. He knows this, but somehow he still feels inadequate over the fact that he cannot see colors.

More than anything he hates this because he was a man of science and science can explain anything, but this was something no one can explain. It’s just how the universe works, you have to meet your soulmate to see colors.

He’s not sure what he hates more. The fact that almost everyone around him can now see colors or the fact that he is aging by the minute and yet he was still as blind as a new born.

JJ met Will on a case. The stammering introductions, the glances and Will’s hand steadying her when JJ almost falls when the coloring of her world was overwhelmingly shocking. Nothing beats the blueness of his eyes, she says on their wedding day, the shade of it instantly becoming her favorite color.

Derek meets his new neighbour a week after she moved in. Her dishwasher won’t work, so she knocks on the door next door and Derek opens his door to the most beautiful woman in a red shirt. Savannah swears, years later, that Derek was wearing navy blue shirt, promising that she would never get the first color she sees in her lifetime wrong.

Hotch tells him the story of how Haley colored his world, his eyes filled with love. Hotch says he was just walking around the hallways, trying not to get lost on his first day but immediately stops on his tracks when he meets Haley’s eyes. The gray lockers, the bright yellow lights and the beautiful color of Haley’s blonde hair with pink highlights. He would laugh as he tells the story while saying, “She was going through a phase.”

Spencer finds the whole thing frustrating. He, truthfully, doesn’t want to see the colors but he just wanted to meet the person that would bring it into his life. His life that has been so full of pain and trauma. He just wants a tiny glimpse of brightness in his life.

He sighs as he stares back at his paperwork, looking up to see the desk across him where Derek used to sit. It’s been a week since Derek left the BAU. Suddenly the black and white became darker and duller. It was not the same when he was not around, but he knows that his best friend deserves the life that he is now having.

He selfishly wishes that the universe grants him something like that. An endless bundle of happiness in the hands of a small infant. He has suffered enough and being color blind just makes everything even more worse, he reasons like a child to no one in particular.

Spencer stands up from his desk to refill his coffee. He needs to slow down, it's only 9:30 in the morning and it's already his third cup, but who cares right?

The clicking of heels unto the cold floor pulls him from his deep thought and he sees you. The first thing that catches his eyes was the huge sunglasses that is almost hiding half of your face and the hardcover Pride and Prejudice that you were carrying. Spencer can’t take his eyes off you even with the black and white filter.

You, on the other hand, is stressed. You were late on your first day of work in the prestigious BAU because you're damn nephew, who is going through puberty, punched you while you were trying to wake him up.

So here you are, in your dream job, in a matching two piece suit (your sister picking it out for you because you can’t see color yet) and wearing a sunglasses huge enough to cover half of your face because you had a black eye that even a whole tube of concealer can't conceal.

"Agent Hotchner?" You knock on his door.

"Come in." The cold feeling runs down your spine. My god, he's going to fire you on your first day.

"Good Morning, Sir. I am so so sorry I am late. I am not usually like this but I was babysitting my nephew and he was late for school and I was really nervous— Oh God, I am rambling. I am just so sorry. If you still want me, I promise I will never be late again." You say this in one go, while he just maintains a straight, stoic face.

"Calm down, Agent YLN, I am not firing you. Take a seat." Thank god, you whisper as you sit down on one of the chairs facing his table.

An awkward silence fills the room, "Would you like... to remove your sunglasses?"

"I- uh... I can remove it here. But can I wear it outside?" One of Agent Hotchner’s eyebrow perks up and when you finally remove it your boss actually cracks a laugh.

"Oh god." You immediately put back the glasses. Agent Hotchner immediately straightens up on his seat. "I am so sorry for laughing. How... how did that happen on your first day?"

"I was baby sitting my nephew, I was really nervous about my first day and I completely forgot that he was there. He was already late for school so I violently wake him up and he punches me. A thirteen year old, going through a growth spurt, punched me." The smile was back on Agent Hotchner's face. His smile is actually making you feel better. Who the hell would have thought that this is how your first day would be going?

"It's really purple. You should put some ice on it." Like I would know what purple looks like...

"Okay, well we're briefing in a few minutes, so lets get you to meet the others before that." You nod, this was the nerve wrecking part. The BAU was notorious for how tight knit the team was and you knew (even if Agent Hotchner made it very clear that you were not) that you were a replacement for Derek Morgan. You just hope your black belt in karate is enough for that.

"Everybody, let's meet on the round table right now." He says to the group and you follow him like a lost puppy. You stand beside Hotch while the team slowly comes in the room. The sunglasses makes the room even more darker, as if your black and white vision was not enough.

"Everyone this is Dr. YN YLN. She's going to be our new member." Hotch introduces you. You smile and give a small wave.

"Doctor?" A blonde woman asks. You nod, "Doctorate in Psychology and Criminology." God, you felt lame, even with two PhDs, because of the sunglasses.

Spencer’s mind is running around, the woman with the prettiest smile he had ever seen and she has two doctorates? He is in trouble.

"Hey, I am David Rossi." You shake his hand and laugh, "I've actually met you before! You had a book signing and I went and watched." He laughs, and he seems genuinely proud of himself.

"Oh please. Stop inflating his ego more." You laugh and a blonde woman offers her hand, "I am Jennifer Jareau. But they call me JJ."

You turn to the next person, a tall, shaggy haired, adorable guy, "Hi, I am Doctor Spencer Reid." You shake his hand, electricity running through your hands. You drop it almost immediately because it looks like he wasn't comfortable with touch. He's cute, too bad he wasn't your soulmate.

“Doctor?” You say, curious as to what his doctorates are. He nods shyly.

“I have three PhDs in Mathematics, Chemistry and Engineering.” Your mouth almost drops but you catch it really quick, hiding it with a, “Wow...” He smiles, his lips forming into a thin line and giving you this adorable frog like smile.

"Hey! I know you!" You turn around and your mouth almost hits the floor when two new ladies come in the door.

"Tara! I didn't know you worked here!" You give her a short hug and pull away almost immediately, fearing that you’d look unprofessional. "You know each other?" Hotch asks.

"Yes. We were in school together for our doctorate! I met her when she was pulling an all nighter in a library, and crying her eyes out while listening to Beethoven." You bit down your tongue, oh no. That's not a good image for your new coworkers.

The group laughs and the other woman, with a bright smile and wide eyes. "Oh what’s your name missy? Are you the new recruit? Hello! I am Penelope Garcia! I am going to be your new best friend!" You smile at her, already loving the positivity she radiates and pulling her into a bear hug, "Oh! She's a hugger! I already love her!"

"I am YN YLN!" You say to her as you pull back but her stare lingers on you. "What's with the glasses?"

"Garcia." Hotch says in a stern voice. "Give her the ice pack I asked for."

"Oh! Yeah! Here you go. What is it for?" You scratch your head as she hands you the ice pack.

"I- uh... My nephew punched me this morning while I am waking him up and I now have a huge black eye that I am trying to hide behind the glasses." The whole group laughs at this.

"Oh you're laughing now, just wait till you see it. I've already made Agent Hotchner laugh." Their smiles grow bigger and the relief rushed over you. Okay, they’re laughing and they're not pushing me out of the door, that’s a relief.

"I am sorry to break this celebration but we need to brief. There's a new case." Penelope says, sadness evident in her eyes. She always wanted to hold on to the positivity the longest.

You pick a sit beside Tara as Penelope gives out some tablets, making you raise your hand like a child in a classroom, "Yes, Doctor YLN?" You smile at the name.

"Can I also have a file? Rather than the tablet? For next time?" You say as you point at the folder that Spencer is holding.

"Oh no! Do you also not like technology like our young doctor?" You shake your head, "I am fine with it. I just like files so I can take notes."

She nods, "Noted! Another file coming up for Doctor YLN." You whisper a thank you as she starts the presentation.

"Okay, crime fighters! You are going to Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Two men were beaten to death with a metal pipe." You look at the pictures that is now being shown in your tablet. "Sam Eeks, 58 and Sam Thomas, 32."

"This looks personal." JJ says looking over the file. "There was evidence of undoing at the crime scene." Tara says.

Rossi continues her train of thought, "He sat them up on crates demonstrating remorse."

"In 1976, George Geshwendt cleaned up the crime scene and covered all 6 victims' faces. This guy did the same thing." Spencer says and you can't help but stare. Thank God you're wearing glasses because you felt creepy staring. This man was not only cute and handsome but also SMART? How rare is that?!

You immediately look back down your tablet when Spencer looks at you, trying to avoid eye contact, which was dumb because you were wearing a huge sunglasses.

"This type of aggression, coupled with his loose grip on reality, usually leads to more..." You shyly add, as you stare down at the tablet.

"Exactly. Which is why we're headed to Philadelphia. Wheels up in 20."

The crush doesn’t leave Spencer. He cringes when calling you that, he felt like a youngster or whatever they call the youth this days. You were in so many ways his dream girl. You like watching movies in different subtitles, your love for books can rival his, you were smart and you don’t judge him for the nerdy stuff because you were just as nerdy as he is.

He tries to tell himself that it was just a crush and that the feeling of wanting to break himself into pieces because he wasn’t your soulmate would eventually go away.

“Spencer.” He looks up from the paper that he was reading and there you were standing, looming over him with some square sunglasses.

“Yeah?” He squeaks out. You were so pretty, with your hair flowing and stopping just under your shoulder.

“Tea?” You offer it to him, making his forehead scrunch, “What is it for?”

“I noticed you drink 5-6 cups of coffee in a day. That’s not good, Doctor Reid.” You smile, obviously teasing him.

“Here. Studies have shown that tea makes you feel less antsy and makes you feel calmer. In this job, you’ll need that.” You smile at him, leaving the cup on his table and his heart beat sky rockets. How can someone telling him about a study he already read, make him go crazy?

He sighs and takes a deep breathe, reaching out for the cup of tea and taking a sip out of it.

Its nothing but a simple crush. Just a simple crush. He tells himself.

Spencer Reid is plotting murder.

Spencer is going crazy. He's sure he's going crazy. He was starting to plot murder against your soulmate, if he ever comes up. He can make it look so easy with all of his knowledge. But then, he mentally smacks himself for literally thinking of murder because he just likes you so much.

How can he already like you so much? You weren't his soulmate! He was pretty sure of that because he still can't see colors and you let it slip on the first week that you also can't see colors when JJ asks why you're wearing a yellow sweater with green pants.

In two weeks, you've grown closer to Spencer and the whole team. How is it possible that a woman who was not his soulmate, be his dream girl? You were kind, smart, caring and you were cute in so many ways. You can make him laugh with your witty jokes and feel relaxed a minute later.

You were now sitting in front of him, on the plane on the way back to DC from Florida, holding a book in one hand and a cup of tea on the table, one for you and one for him. You have made it your life’s mission that he drinks less coffee, replacing it with tea and water.

You were still wearing sunglasses but its a new one that Penelope bought for you when she went shopping. JJ, Tara and Penelope has seen you with the glasses off, Spencer knows because Penelope won't stop gushing about how pretty your were without it and even with the black eye. He, on the other hand, doesn’t need to see it to know that you were beautiful.

Across the aisle, JJ, Rossi and Tara were playing cards. Looking away from the cards when Hotch comes around handing you an ice pack and you give him a grateful smile.

What Spencer doesn't know is that you were also plagued with the thought of him. You feel so guilty, liking someone in the span of two weeks, someone who wasn't your soulmate. You felt like you were stealing someone else’s soulmate and if you really did, you were sure karma would chase you down.

"God, when will this black eye leave?!" You say in an annoyed voice, setting down the book and squeezing the ice pack.

"It actually takes about two weeks for an black eye to heal. A black eye is a relatively common result of injury to the face. It's caused when blood and other fluids collect in the space around the eye. Resulting in swelling and dark—" Spencer stops at a halt as you look down at your lap, then pulling up your glasses to your hair and putting the ice pack on your left eye.

You still haven't met his eyes but Spencer can feel his heart skip a beat, which is scientifically impossible unless he was having a heart attack. Spencer wasn't one for looks, but you were so beautiful at that moment that he's actually contemplating if it would be okay to steal you from your soulmate. Would there be repercussions? Would the universe punish him?

You finally notice the silence, "Hey. Why'd you stop? I wanted to hear more about black ey—," You finally lift your head and for the first time without sunglasses, you meet Spencer's eyes.

Spencer feels a cold shiver run down his spine. The black and white surroundings are slowly turning into colors that Spencer's brain immediately categorizes in rows and columns. Looking at you now with color, Spencer thinks you were 200% times more beautiful.

You, on the other hand, almost have a heart attack. The color coming all at once making you wince at how bright everything is suddenly. You wince so loud, it makes the team look at you.

"Hey, you good?" Rossi asks, putting down the cards in his hand. You shake your head and put down the ice pack, taking a look at Spencer who is looking just as shell shocked as you were. He looked so good with the purple shirt he was wearing, the pink of his lips easily becoming your favorite shade of pink and his brown, grayish eyes burning into yours.

You turn away, looking at the team across the aisle who were still looking at you, confusion written on there face. You look down to look at what you were wearing.

"Oh what the hell?!" That was the first words coming out of your mouth after finding that the guy you were crushing on was your soulmate. Spencer can feel his heart drop, you were disappointed, you didn't want him as a soulmate. His mind runs through the worst case scenarios.

All of this worries dissolves in a snap as you continue your sentence, "Do I always dress like this? Green on green? Really?!?!" Your forehead creases more, looking annoyed and Spencer can't help but laugh. The green was bright, he thinks, but it brought your eyes out.

"That’s first thing you say?!" His laughs overtaking the quiet plane and ignoring the lingering stares. He looks at you, "God, YN, put the ice on your eyes. Its been weeks, how could it still be that green?" His nose scrunches up, in the cutest way possible, as he picks up the ice that has slid down to his side and gives it back to you. You smile back at him, a smile so wide she's scared it'll tear her mouth, as you put back the ice on your eyes.

"I like the purple on you." You say, pointing out the shirt. Spencer looks down, "Oh yeah! It does look nice."

"Wait, wait, wait, you guys are soulmates?!" JJ shrieks, standing up from her chair.

"I guess so." You say, shrugging and looking at Spencer.

"But, you've been around each other for two weeks." Tara asks, looking confused.

"I think its the glasses. It must be some kind of rule that it needs to be eye to eye contact without a barrier. I mean... I don’t know... There is no rule book." Spencer says looking directly at your eyes. He's keeping it in his mind, how brown it was and how warm it looks like.

"Congratulations!" Hotch says, standing up from his sit to give Spencer a hug while the others also congratulate you. It was a nice, small moment. It ends soon, when the team decides to give you two some alone time.

"So... we’re soulmates." Spencer has this smile on his face that reassures her the he was happy.

"That we are." You smile back, reach for his hands with uncertainty. Not wanting to overstep on boundaries but Spencer pushes your hands together, intertwining it together.

"I was hoping it was you." He admits and the smile on your face grows bigger, it hurts.

"Me too." You say in a quiet voice, as you press the ice pack in your eyes, letting your head fall on his shoulder. Spencer sighs with the contact letting his head fall unto top of yours. It immediately feels familiar, like it was meant to be. The contact makes you sleepy, so you let yourself succumb to sleep.

The plane now looks so much brighter, the books in his bag filled with colors and the shade of his shirt being the shade he’ll never forget. The color wasn’t really the most important thing, it was how you bought color into his life long before he can see it.

"Thank you for bringing color into my life." It was a soft whisper, Spencer is sure you don't even hear it as he hears your breath smoothing out.

It's okay though, because he will thank you for it for the rest of his life, you and you're green sweaters, green pants and green black eyes.

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frankchurchillsaysrelax · 2 years

Text

a light in the darkness

part of the invisible string series

Colin rouses early in the morning, awakened from a pleasant dream that he can barely grasp the corners of now. He has traitorously moved in his sleep so that he rests on his side facing away from Penelope which will not do. Softly, he rolls over and lets his eyes adjust to the beautiful view before him. The curtains are still drawn over the windows, the barest hint of light kissing the edges and casting shadows across the room and over where Penelope lays deep in slumber.

He watches her with the fascination of a babe seeing something new for the first time, for that is what he feels when he looks at her, that she is something new and ready to be explored. He has done this often enough you would think he had her memorized, but that is Penelope, always surprising him.

Her hair is longer than usual -growing constantly throughout her pregnancy- and she has it plaited out of the way. Small wisps have escaped and frame her face, the bright red a stark contrast to her pearly complexion. Like a moth he is drawn to them, longing to reach out and touch the flaming curls, but he cannot risk waking her, not yet. Her dark eyelashes brush against the tops of her full cheeks which he knows to be dusted by freckles he, unfortunately, cannot see in such little light. Seventeen at last count but fading in the dim early days of autumn. His eyes travel down the slope of her nose to the gentle curve of her top lip, slightly parted from its lower counterpart as quiet puffs of air escape into the stillness of the room.

She always looks youngest in her sleep and it is easier then for him to remember that she is only nine and ten, for with her eyes closed there are no hidden depths of wisdom and wit to wade into, only softness and vulnerability taking over her features.

The bed coverings and her nightgown have shifted during the night leaving the alluring curves of her body visible to his wandering eyes. Her breasts, already so full and enticing, have grown as well over the past few months. They spill over the neckline of her gowns, raised modestly by the modiste, like the sun peeking over the horizon at dawn, blinding and wondrous at once. Below them lies the real wonder, however, her ever-expanding belly where their child nests. With little more than a month to go, she is quite large, something he knows her to be self-conscious of, but it only leaves him in awe of her body. He has seen pregnant women before -has lived through five of his mother’s pregnancies alone- but never has he truly comprehended the miracle that it is to witness a new life form.

Carefully, he reaches out his hand to rest on her stomach. She stirs, staying on her back with her head now facing him, but her breathing does not change. He rubs his fingers gently over the material of her nightgown wishing he could feel her skin against his. After a few moments, the baby kicks against his hand causing Penelope to grunt in her sleep. He places his palm over where he felt the kick and soothes the movement.

It will not be long now before he gets to meet them, to hold them in his arms and rock them to sleep. He cannot stop the smile stretching across his face at the thought. The smile fades ever so slightly as his nerves become unsettled at the thought of the childbirth that looms in the future. A memory assaults him, the image of he and Benedict sneaking upstairs at the sound of their mother’s screams only to find a distressed Anthony pacing the hallway and casting desperate glances at her door, suddenly collapsing in on himself and letting out a broken cry of his own as Benedict pulled Colin away. Fear latches onto his soul, clawing away until his very existence threatens to unravel. Despite his best attempts, he has not been able to erase Penelope’s words from the day she told him she was with child. They haunt him, sneaking up on him at the most inopportune of moments.

With any luck, she will die in childbirth and he will be able to move on.

They make him sick, even just the echo of them in his mind. They do not speak of it. Neither of them has brought the matter up since it was first said but he knows they must. She cannot think he would be able to move on without her. She is his light in the darkness, the Penelope to his Odysseus: the weary traveler who takes too long on his journey back to her but is only met with love and forgiveness upon his return. She is his home.

“Are you watching me sleep again?” she mutters, eyes still closed.

“Guilty,” he says with zero remorse. He leans down to kiss her dry lips and feels her smile against him. “Good morning, Darling.” The term of endearment has taken some getting used to, for she will always first and foremost be his Pen, but the reaction it elicits from her is too sweet to deny. She bites her lip to keep from smiling as red blooms high on her cheeks and in patches across her chest. He can just make it out now against the shadows.

“Good morning,” she returns. Her long dark eyelashes begin to flutter as her eyes open and he is met with their bright blue hue. She stares back at him for a moment before frowning. She draws her hand up from her side and places it on his cheek. It is warm from sleep and he can faintly feel the thrum of her heartbeat where her wrist meets his skin. Her thumb reaches up to smooth his brow and the worry that resides there. “Colin? What is the matter?”

He turns his face to lay a kiss on her palm and then another on her wrist letting her pulse flutter against his lips. “I must speak with you on a matter that has been troubling me for some time, only I do not wish to upset you,” he whispers into her skin.

Penelope rolls onto her side and the hand that had still been resting on her belly moves to cup her hip instead, pulling her closer. “You can tell me anything,” she encourages, “especially if it troubles you. I will do my best to help relieve you of whatever it is.”

He is reticent, trying to find the words that are lodged in his throat where he chokes on their bitterness. “It concerns what you said many months ago regarding childbirth and you, living through it,” he says, oddly, refusing to speak of her death even hypothetically.

“Oh, Colin,” she whispers with a break in her voice on his name. She draws his face closer and stretches up to kiss him, not as a distraction but an apology and a promise. “I did not mean to say such a terrible thing. Has it really been plaguing you all this time?”

“Of course it has. You may not have meant to say the words but you thought them which is just as bad. How could you possibly think that Pen?” he pleads, desperately wanting to understand her mind, wanting her to erase the words from his head.

She is silent for some moments, her fingertips trailing delicately over his face as she thinks. “I never actually believed what I said. Sometimes,” she sighs, “sometimes dark thoughts will attack my consciousness with their harsh words. I know that they are not true, and I hardly ever believe them, but that does not stop them from coming.”

“I wish you could see yourself as I do.” Tears gather in his eyes as he thinks of all of the little disparaging remarks she has made about herself in his presence. How can she not see the beauty that he does both inside and out?

“You did not always see me this way,” she says softly, no judgment in her voice only resolve. Her thumb brushes away the first tear as it falls down his cheek. “I love you so much, Colin, and at the time I had thought you would never love me the way you do. I hated myself for trapping you in a loveless marriage.”

“You hardly trapped me,” he insists.

“I did not set you free either,” she concludes. “I could have dealt with the scandal a broken proposal would have brought upon me but I did not, and that darkness told me that you would be happier without me in your life.”

“But you did not believe it?” he demands.

“No, not truly.” There is nothing but honesty in her voice and as she maintains eye contact he chooses to trust her.

“I hate this darkness,” he tells her solemnly.

She laughs and it sounds a little watery as though she too may cry. “As do I, my love.”

Colin’s thoughts turn again to his mother, the terrifying wails of her grief, the way she disappeared into herself for so long after his father’s death. He thinks about the way she still puts fresh flowers on his grave and how sometimes she cannot look directly at his portrait. He recalls the time she called Gregory, Edmund and how she did not emerge from her rooms for nearly a day afterward. He thinks he would be much the same in her position, even the thought of losing Penelope now causing a visceral reaction. His chest feels tight as though a great weight sits atop him, crushing his lungs and heart into dust beneath his ribs. Another tear slips from his lashes as he swallows the lump of dread in his throat.

“I would never move on,” he vows, knowing it to be true.

Penelope sighs, moving her hand from his face to rest on his chest, her touch a balm to the burning sensation of being trampled upon and as the pads of her fingers drum along to the beat of his heart he feels infinitesimally lighter.

“Let us not speak further on such matters. Nothing is going to happen to me, so there is no reason to entertain these notions of what if.” She smiles up at him and he allows her words to comfort him for the time being. He knows he will still worry up until the moment the doctor informs him that she and the baby are both healthy, but he need not share that with her right now. “We shall return to London soon enough and there we shall meet our little girl.”

“You still believe it is a girl then?” he asks, amused. Fears of the unknown are replaced with the thought of a little girl with shocking red hair, chubby little cheeks, and wide blue eyes.

“I know she is,” she says with such conviction he has no choice but to accept it as fact.

He yawns, suddenly tired with the weight of their conversation easing from his body. “We should stay in bed all day,” he suggests.

Penelope giggles, bright and clear. “We are no longer newlyweds, my love, I do not think we would get away with it.” He pouts and she leans in to kiss it off of his face. “Perhaps we could stay a little while longer.” He maneuvers them until he is hovering over her as they trade lazy kisses that lack any urgency, breathing each other in as they indulge in one another.

He promises himself there and then that he will bring light to combat the darkness, to be a beacon to her as she is to him.

#my fic #colin bridgerton #penelope featherington #polin #bridgerton fic #bridgerton #missing moment from the invisible string universe #invisible string universe

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redorich · 3 years

Note

Hello! Can we get a little something for the hermit canyon AU? I was thinking something Karl centered, maybe they accidentally find his library or otherwise find out about his "travels". They're probably invisible for the whole thing, but do they do anything afterwards? Do they leave little notes and reminders? Would they try to help at all? Or would they push it to the back of their minds and try to forget about it?

Unlike most discoveries made by Hermits, Joe does not find a secret location on a normal surface run. When Etho found the Pogtopia ravine, it was a mystery to him, unsettling and vivid. When Grian found Technoblade's snowy cabin, it was on complete accident, just because Grian needed to explore, to get out of the canyon for a few hours.

When Joe exits the canyon, as he rarely does, he makes a beeline for Karl's library. Time is... not something Joe concerns himself with, but he prefers to constrict himself to the linear travel of the fourth dimension nowadays-- if such a thing as "nowadays" can be said to exist when tangling with time.

Where was he? Ah, yes. He moves quickly, because he dislikes spending more time away from Xisuma's side than absolutely necessary, even if the admin has been having a run of good health days and there are twenty-two other Hermits to attend to the admin in an emergency. He doesn't bother with invisibility, or walking, or other mundane things. Joe simply hovers in the air, flying toward his destination and perhaps fiddling with the tick speed just a little, just enough to get him there faster.

There's a residual feeling of familiarity, like a relationship with an ex-girlfriend which has long since turned sour, near the canyon. There's a whisper there of magic, of gleaming white spires, but all Joe can see is red.

"It's a shame, what they did to this library," Joe mutters with a tsk. Posters of hazy LSD-esque drawings of various time periods and locations line the walls, molding away as red vines climb on them, devour them.

He shrugs. Might as well move on; nothing of value remains here.

To the south is a place Etho has visited only briefly and in passing: Kinoko Kingdom. It's a hotspot of activity at times, and a ghost town at others. Etho didn't even know the name of the place until Puffy reported it. Joe doesn't care. For all that Etho likes to present himself as a cryptid, scaring poor innocent wood-dwelling folk who are just looking for a big fuzzy triclopean spouse, Joe is the one with experience as a cryptid. Let them see him. What are they going to say, "I saw Herobrine"?

He touches down, finally, in front of another library made from mushrooms and wood. Allowing his eyes to flash white for a moment so that he can ferret out the building's secret room, he is both disappointed and unsurprised to see it empty of life. Karl Jacobs, resident time traveller, is not there.

Joe closes his eyes. He doesn't want to have to do this. For decades, there was a place he called home, a place he built from the ground up. It was a place in between life and death, and so he called it the Inbetween.

He opens his eyes, and he is there. It's like walking down a street you've been down a hundred thousand times before; even with your eyes closed, you know where you're going. There are no longer dozens of imperfect copies of himself running around, brainless and waiting to be culled like lambs to the slaughter in order to fuel an affront against nature. Now, there are many iterations of Karl, all wandering aimlessly... save one.

The only version of Karl wearing color stands in an open-air corridor near the courtyard. Even from a distance, Joe can see his chest rise and fall far too rapidly for him to actually be getting any air. (Joe sees everything here, where his eyes are white and cannot be anything but white.)

"Why am I here?" Karl babbles to himself. "I haven't time-travelled-- or did I already forget?"

"You didn't forget," Joe reassures him. It does not have the intended effect.

Karl screams, turning around so quickly that he falls on his ass. He scoots away like a crab missing a leg, scrambling for some distance. "Your eyes--!"

"Come closer," Joe says. "I won't hurt you."

"You're Herobrine!"

Joe exhales slowly. "I was Herobrine. What I am is the only person who can help you."

Karl warily clambers to his feet. None of the other Karls dressed in white pay the two men any mind. "What do you mean?"

"You've got yourself stuck in a dimensional loop of Homestuck proportions, Karl," Joe says. "So did I, when I built this place. It took me decades to figure out how to get out of it, and I knew what I was doing. You don't have that."

"Am I stuck here forever, then?" Karl says mournfully. He waves a hand at the carefree automatons wearing his face. "Will I become one of them?"

Joe takes a few slow steps closer, keeping his hands where the stressed-out time traveller can see them. "I'll take care of things on this end. You won't ever have to come back here again."

Karl sags in relief like a marionette with its strings cut.

"Does the name Eret mean anything to you?" Joe asks. It's a name he's heard from Puffy's lips once or twice, and if her information holds true, things could get much easier.

Karl blinks. "Uh... Yeah? What about them?"

Joe continues. "Dark hair, tall, white eyes like mine?"

"I've never seen Eret without their sunglasses, but I guess, yeah," Karl replies. Of all the things he would have expected Herobrine to ask about, Eret isn't one of them.

"Imagine what Eret looks like," Joe suggests. "Think real hard about them. Imagine them here, in the Inbetween, right in front of us."

Karl has no idea why Herobrine wants him to daydream about Eret (even if their voice is very nice), but if the man is pulling his leg, well-- it's fucking Herobrine, he can do what he wants.

Speaking of that nice voice, Karl hears the voice in question scream out of nowhere. Karl flinches away from the sudden loud noise, before his eyes catch up to his brain and he realizes that he just magicked Eret into existence in the Inbetween.

"What the fuck," Eret says. "H-Herobrine, uh, long time no s-see..?"

"Sorry about that time I kinda tortured you," Herobrine says brightly. "I'm nicer now."

"I doubt--" Eret begins caustically, then remembers exactly who they're talking to and shuts their mouth. "...Why is everything so dark?"

"Take off your sunglasses," Herobrine suggests.

Eret grimaces, but obeys. This place is practically humming with magic, so they just know they're going to get blinded by it the moment they remove their glasses, but they remember what happened last time they pissed Herobrine off.

Wincing, they remove the sunglasses, expecting pain and receiving... nothing. The glint of light on quartz is a bit uncomfortable, but that's a normal human uncomfortable that Eret hasn't experienced since they were a teenager.

Herobrine smacks them on the forehead with his palm. "I take back what I said about 'living with this power for the rest of your life', and all that," he says. "You can turn 'em off now. I'd recommend not turning those eyes back on, though-- at least, not here. It's a little bright, magic-wise."

Eret gapes. All these years, they feared the day they'd meet this powerful man again, imagined what they'd say as they cursed his name or begged his forgiveness... and here he is, giving them exactly what they desperately hoped for but knew they'd never receive simply because he's 'nicer now'.

"Herobrine," Eret says, "why have you done this?"

"Call me Joe," Herobrine says.

Karl interjects, "Joe mama," under his breath. It is with the utmost shock on Eret's behalf that Karl does not in fact get immediately smited into oblivion, merely smacked on the forehead.

"Now you won't forget," Herobrine-- Joe says. "Anyway, I have shenanigans to be up to back in the canyon, so I'll send y'all back now. Those red vines are bad news, and so is their egg, so y'all better take care of that, please. It's really messing your server up."

Karl blanches. "The canyon?"

"Oh, look at the time. Have fun, be safe, bye," Joe says with affected mild disinterest.

Both Karl and Eret have so much to say, so many questions to ask, but they fade away before they get the chance.

#mcyt #hc x dsmp #hermit canyon au #karl jacobs #eret #joe hills #herobrine #me.cpp

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drarrily-we-row-along · 3 years

Text

Day 27: Home

"He's got to be somewhere!" Harry all but shouted at the bloody incompetent people milling uselessly around him. What was the point of all of these people if they couldn't even do their jobs?

"Sir," one of the junior aurors said, "We're doing the best we can, but-"

"Do better,” he exploded.

Ron gripped his forearm and led him off to the side of the room. "Listen to me," his best friend said, "I know that you are worried and I know that you are chomping at the bit for us to figure this out, but we cannot work any faster."

"We have to," Harry said. "We have to work faster because every moment that we spend in here, is another moment that he is out there with that psychopath and I don't have to tell you how vicious Marcus is."

The horrific images of the bodies they'd found a few days ago flashed to the front of his mind but instead of being the strangers bodies naked and covered in cuts and bruises, it was Draco's body. The well-loved, all but worshiped body of the man that Harry was desperately in love with. And Draco didn't even know, he'd never even told him. He shook his head, biting back the urge to vomit, trying to keep the panic to a dull roar. "We have to find him."

"I know," Ron murmured, putting a warm, steady hand on his shoulder. "I know and we are doing everything, we have everyone on this. The moment anyone finds anything they'll let-"

"Sir!" Darcy called, dashing into the room, "I think we've got him."

(Read more below the cut)

"Give me the coordinates," Harry said, reaching for the paper in her hands.

"You can't just go in there," Ron protested, trying to snatch the paper away from Harry, "we need a plan of attack, we need to figure out how to coordinate our people."

"Yes," Harry agreed. "You're in charge of that and you can meet me there. I'm sure I'll need the back up."

"Harry, don't-"

But it was too late, obviously, as if Ron could have ever expected him to stay, as if there was anything on this earth that could have kept him from Draco.

Harry wasn't especially good with blind apparation, but he knew the instant he arrived that this was definitely the spot. The air around him when he landed felt tainted and dark, sparking with evil that touched the depth of Harry's soul and set the hairs on the back of his neck on end. A cabin sat just at the other side of the clearing, smoke rising from the chimney.

Casting a silent spell that would show any hidden wards and traps, Harry pulled out his invisibility cloak, enlarged it to it's normal size, covered himself, and set off across the clearing, deftly avoiding any of the places that quivered gold from his magic.

His heart hammered against his ribs, so loud that he feared it would give him away the moment he got into the house. He crept to the window and peered inside, Draco sat slumped in a chair near the fire place. His long blond hair was dirty and Harry got the sickening feeling that some of the darkness was where blood had dried. Bruises and abrasions mottled his pale skin, covering his face and neck, and undoubtedly places that Harry couldn't see.

The only relief was that he was obviously still breathing, labored though it appeared to be.

Marcus was no where in sight.

He cast several spells that Bill had taught him one summer when he was considering becoming a curse breaker and the ward fell apart around the window, leaving him a space to crawl through.

No sooner was he through the window when that tickle of awareness prickled up his spine, he spun and cast, "Expelliarmus," before he'd even fully realized why. A wand clattered to the ground and he cast, "Petrificus Totalus, incacerous," in rapid succession and Marcus hit the ground wrapped in ropes. Harry yanked his cloak off and glared at the man on the floor, "Give me one reason," he growled at Marcus, "One reason and I will fucking end you."

When the man made no attempt to move, he rushed over to Draco, "Draco," he murmured, "Draco," he repeated, carefully brushing his fingers over the other man's swollen, bruised cheek.

His silver eyes flickered open and he flinched away from Harry's hand.

"Oh, love," he managed, his throat tight around the words. "I'm here, you're safe."

Draco's eyes widened when he realized it was Harry, a tear slipping down his cheek.

"Okay," he breathed, "We have to get out of-" he began but the door behind him was blasted open and he cast a hasty "protego" preparing to fight off whomever had just come barreling through.

"I cannot fucking believe you," Ron hissed as he stomped in.

"Is the perimeter cleared?" Harry asked as he turned back to Draco, far more at ease now that Ron was there guarding his back.

"No it is not," Ron replied. "I broke a million protocols to get here while everyone else is working their way in-"

Harry stopped listening as he took the gag off of Draco. "Are you alright?"

Draco nodded weakly, "I'll be fine," he assured him.

He untied him quickly and efficiently and then helped him to stand before pulling him into his arms.

"Harry," the other man gasped, "We shouldn't. Everyone can see-"

"Let them," he whispered, tears stinging the back of his eyes as he held the other man, "Godric, Draco," he rasped, "I was so bloody worried about you."

He pulled back minutely and cupped the other man's cheek, brushing a finger over his bruised cheekbone. "He hurt you," he said, "We need to get you to St. Mungo's, get you checked out."

"It's superficial," he said, shaking his head, "I can heal them myself. Just," he swallowed, "Can we go home?"

"Ron?" Harry called.

"Yeah?" the other man replied.

Harry turned his head, but kept Draco in his arms, "I'm leaving. I'll owl you with a report of what happened prior to the team's arrival."

"Harry," Ron said, lowering his voice and stepping closer, "You're going to be in a lot of hot water about this."

"I don't care," Harry said.

"I mean all of it, going rogue, coming here without any plan, without back up, leaving now will be the least of your worries."

"You're right," Harry replied. "But I'd do it all again in a heartbeat. What are they going to do? Fire me?" He rolled his eyes, "They'd be doing me a favor."

Ron shook his head, "Go on, then."

"Thanks," Harry said, nodding once at Ron before he turned to Draco, "Ready?" he asked, "I'm going to apparate us."

Draco nodded and Harry focused on Draco's living room, even though his own sofa and fireplace beckoned him, before he apparated them out of there.

When they landed, Draco looked around, looking a bit crestfallen, "This is my flat," he said.

"Yeah, you said home?" Harry replied. "Oh, did you mean the Manor? I can take you there-" Harry started even as it made his heart ache, he knew he wouldn't be welcome to stay there.

"No," the other man interrupted, shaking his head for emphasis and wincing a bit at the motion, "I was rather hoping we might go to your home?" he asked uncertainly. "I feel safer there," he added, a little hitch in his voice.

"Yes," Harry said. "Yes," he managed again because his heart was racing and soaring all at once and he wasn't sure what else he could possibly say.

He apparated them into his home and stroked Draco's hair back from his face, "You're sure we shouldn't go to St. Mungos?"

Draco nodded, "I'll be fine. I've left a kit here with some potions and such since you're always injuring yourself," he added with a pained smile. "I'm just going to use the restroom so I have a mirror."

Harry nodded, "I'll light the fire. Are you hungry?"

"A bit."

"I'll heat up some stew," Harry said, "I could make a batch of the biscuits you like?"

Draco nodded, "That would be nice."

"Draco," Harry called once the other man started limping to the bathroom.

"Yes?"

Harry crossed the distance between them, cupped his face and gently, so very gently, pressed his lips to Draco's.

Draco pulled back, "I'm covered in blood."

"I don't care," Harry whispered, brushing his lips over Draco's once more. "Call me if you need help, yes?"

He nodded and started toward the bathroom.

After starting the fire and making them food, Harry went to get a pair of sweatpants (the grey ones that Draco always stole when he stayed over for breakfast) and a tshirt (one from when Harry was training to be an auror that was worn and faded, Draco always borrowed it when they went out flying) and wandered to the bathroom. He knocked once before opening the door to find Draco sitting on the closed toilet lid with his head in his hands.

"Oh," Harry murmured, moving to kneel at Draco's feet.

"Sorry," the other man said, wiping at his eyes, "Circe I'm sorry, every time I look at myself in the mirror I lose it."

"Okay," Harry murmured, "It's okay. Let me help."

"I fixed my rib already," Draco said, "Episkey ought to do the trick for the rest."

With as much care as he could muster, Harry tenderly healed all of the wounds on Draco's body. He was covered in gashes, and scrapes, and bruises and Harry ached with all of the words that stuck in his throat, with everything that had remained so desperately unsaid.

After he finished healing him, Harry drew the other man a bath and filled it with the lilac soap that always left Draco smiling and pressing his nose to Harry's skin to smell it. Draco reached out a hand for the flannel but Harry whispered, "Let me?" and the other man nodded.

He cleaned his body of all of the dirt, the grime, the blood; washing every inch of him until there was no trace of the horror the other man had endured. Then he moved to his hair; he carefully washed, conditioned, and detangled his hair before helping the other man out and drying him with equal care and diligence, and helping him into the clothes he'd brought in.

"Sit for a minute?" he asked, gesturing to the toilet seat and the other man obliged him without a word. He carefully brushed his hair and then braided it the way Draco so often did before bed, starting at the crown of his head and drawing in section after section, braiding all the way down to the middle of his back.

"All done," he whispered when he finished, pressing a kiss to the top of Draco's head.

"Thank you," the other man murmured, reaching back to cover Harry's hand where it rested on his shoulder.

And all of the things that had been scratching at Harry's throat, trying to claw their way out at once and stuck there now, "I'm so sorry," he managed, "Godric, Draco, I'm sorry." Tears welled up, prickly and hot at the back of his eyes.

"Hey," Draco said softly, clearly recognizing that Harry was about to break. He turned so he was facing Harry and grabbed his hand, "This isn't your fault."

Harry shook his head, "It's always my fault. Everyone that I love-" he broke off abruptly realizing what he'd just confessed.

"You," Draco started, brows furrowing, "You love me?"

He nodded miserably, "And I should have told you before now. You're going to think it's just the trauma, but Draco I should have told you every day for the past year," he added. "All I could think today was that I was going to be too late and I'd never be able to tell you how I really feel. Because I am completely gone on you Draco Malfoy and I wanted you to know."

A smile tugged at the corner of the other man's lips, "I love you, too, Harry Potter."

"Yeah?" he whispered.

Draco nodded.

"Will you stay? Here?" Harry asked.

"Of course," Draco replied.

"But like, forever?" he asked.

"I'd like nothing better," Draco affirmed, smiling as he leaned up and pressed a kiss to Harry's lips.

Harry kissed him back for a long moment, letting the kiss assure him that Draco was going to be okay, that he was here with him, and he wasn't going anywhere. He rested his forehead against Draco's and said, "I still have so many things I need to say."

"They'll keep," Draco replied, stroking a finger lightly over Harry's cheek. "Let's just have dinner and then I really just need you to take me to bed and hold me."

And if they held each other a little tighter than usual that night, there was no one to know but the two of them.

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

Ah!!! Please go and look at the gorgeous art that @pato-roldnart drew for this ficlet. It’s stunning and heart wrenching and I’m so overwhelmed by how amazing it is!! You’re seriously spoiling me!

Day 26: Broken Bone | Day 28: Shopping

Thank you, @atticus-bluejay for the prompt! I hope you enjoyed it!

#100 drarry drabbles in 100 days #drarry #drarry ficlet #drarry drabble #hurt/comfort #bamf harry #auror harry #happy ending #Harry saves the day #boys in love

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bokugaos · 3 years

Text

because i’d spread my legs and holes any day for him

length: ~1k

tags: fisting, desk sex, male worship (bokuto, only and only bokuto), squirting

there is nothing like the sear of bokuto's hands on your body, everything pales in comparison and drives your mind out of your head. his kisses always leave heat trailing from every single brush of chapped lips and it makes you go insane. it doesn't matter when or how he does it, it's just that he can and will always make you ache for him.

there is an invisible collar around your neck with a string, red as fresh blood, strong as a leash of steel, curled around his wrist. bokuto owns you, every breath you take and every move you make belongs to the man.

it's why you are so pliant right in that moment, pressed flat against the table and has a silent war insisting to break between your teeth and tongue. why the hands gripping your hips are bruising you through the thick fabric of your clothes.

bokuto is a fire that you cannot contain, and he burns like an endless force, blinding your every sight and tearing you apart through your veins.

teeth clash against your lips and you think that maybe today is the day, the day where bokuto realizes that he is the sun, burning bright during his days, and decides to scorch you until there is nothing left, that there is nothing for the cover of night to fully heal again.

you are a slut for pain, you think while you arch your hips to have those greedy hands drag your panties down and off of your ankles, baring your skin to the furious fire that roamed. he urges you to twist and lay on your front, groping at the curve of your ass to only make you go faster.

when will he learn that you never needed the prompting, that whatever he would like, you would do for him?

that you would kneel at the man's feet and would not ask for a single thing from him?

you shift your body, the edge of the table digging into your abdomen and you shiver at the cool drizzle of liquid down the small of your back. it slithers, slicking a path down the dip of your spine and between the crease where his fingers eagerly smear it across your opening. your breath stutters and you can hear the smug hum as he presses a single digit inward.

bokuto doesn't often take his time at things like this, but today it seems he will and you wonder how long it will take you to beg.

the finger slides in and out, crooking this way and that, your breath getting caught in the pit of your chest. It crooks just the right way and you don’t hold back the whine that spills out of you. you don't need to look at bokuto to know he's smiling, teeth bared and enjoying the submissive posture you are providing.

one finger becomes two, two becomes three and three becomes four before he speaks, fiery in his own way, "wonder if you could take my whole fist," he muses.

you can only take a sharp breath and nod your head in reply, because you would. because you’d do anything he asks and not think twice.

your thoughts break apart as you feel bokuto's thumb tucking right against your entrance and more cool lube is poured on you, then he pushes it in carefully, stretching you more and more. You can hear yourself whimper because everything, as it should mean when in reference to bokuto, is on the deliciously painful edge of too much.

And you cannot think of anything but maybe, maybe this is something you cannot take. knuckles brush against you and push against it before popping through, the thickest part and the rest of the hand follows easily.

bokuto hums his satisfaction, pushing until your hole closes around his wrist and finally curls his fingers into a fist and rocks it gently. lightning flickers up your spine and you fall forward as his knuckles grind against your insides. your pussy is tingling and aching and your lips are almost numb. you don’t remember biting down so hard, but you have.

"i think you'll come just from this," bokuto tells you as if there is anything he does to you that your body wouldn’t obey to, "can you do that for me?"

of course you can and you will, anything for bokuto.

it is excruciating, the pleasure you’re given and how slowly it takes your burning ember to gain footing in the new thing he’s forcing your body to do, but it is so worth it as he finds his stride. every rock leaves you breathless and painfully in need of more, you start to beg as the pace increases.

you come gushing with a helpless scream, your legs losing its footing on the ground, only the table holding you up. you wail as he continues, refusing to let it finish and you are still squirting in spurts. faintly, you hear bokuto laughing heartily, dark and beautiful at the mess you willingly become for him.

he shifts his hand again and the pressure is off of a certain angle on your guts, though he continues to play with you like you’re his new toy. exhaustion is creeping up fast and as he finally pulls his hand free and aligns his dick to fuck your hole, a softer laugh escapes from him and you take the chance to glance over at his unrelentless burst of sunlight, his silver and black strands matted to his forehead with eyes piercing gold daggers into your skin.

"i’m getting tired," you tell him when your breath has slowed down, with a lazy twist up the corner of your mouth.

fingers card through your hair and you find a finger popping at your mouth to be granted entrance. As the digit finally presses down hard against your tongue, you close your teeth over the skin and hold it there and listen well to him, "that’s fine! I'll just have to fuck you until you wake up."

with a smile, you are thumped back against the desk, groaning as he shoves himself in roughly and begins to take his own pleasure.

eyelids flutter and slowly come to close, you think, relaxing yourself into a doze, that you can’t think of ever giving yourself to anyone else, anyone better than bokuto.

#bokuto smut #bokuto x reader smut #bokuto x reader #haikyuu smut #.bokuto!#.drabbles!

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mimzy-writing-online · 4 years

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Writing A Blind/Visually Impaired Character: Canes, Guide Dogs, O&M

Wow, back in June I decided to take a few months break from blogging to recharge and focus on my mental health. About a month ago I began writing this specific post, slowly and in stages because of how demanding, detailed, and long it is.

I’m not sure when I planned to come back. I have about 200 posts with tags and image description in my drafts folder, waiting to be queued, but I wanted to finish this guide before I fully came back.

Come back with a bang, right?

But this blog, and specifically, my Writing a Blind or Visually Impaired Character guide, has gotten so much traffic and support that I felt incredibly motivated to come back now.

So I finished the guide, and now here it is. It’s been a year+ in the making. Since the very beginning of this writing advice series about writing blind characters, I’ve promised to write a guide specifically about canes, guide dogs, O&M, and other accessibility measures the blind community relies on.

In fact, if you look at my master post for this guide (now pinned at the first post on my blog) you’ll find that it was reserved as Part Four, even as other guides and additions were added over the last year.

In this post I’ll be explaining

What Orientation and Mobility (O&M) is

How one learns O&M

About canes, from different types of canes and their parts, as well as how to use a cane.

I will be explaining the sensory experiences of using a cane and how to describe it in narrative.

I will include small mannerisms long-time cane uses might develop.

At the very end will be a section on guide dogs, but this will be limited to research because I have no personal experience with guide dogs, being a cane user.

Disclaimer: I am an actual visually impaired person who has been using a cane for nearly three years and has been experiencing vision loss symptoms for a few years longer than that. This guide is based on both my experiences and my research. My experiences are not universal however because every blind person has a unique experience with their blindness

What Is Orientation & Mobility

Orientation and Mobility (O&M) is the specific skill of understanding and navigating the world safely and confidently with vision loss.

I’m going to quote Vision Aware’s specific definition [link]

"Orientation" refers to the ability to know where you are and where you want to go, whether you're moving from one room to another or walking downtown for a shopping trip.

"Mobility" refers to the ability to move safely, efficiently, and effectively from one place to another, such as being able to walk without tripping or falling on steps or elevation changes, crossing streets, and using public transportation

O&M can involve :

-learning how to use a cane, as well as what cane works best for you

-safely navigating obstacles with your cane, including stairs, ramps, elevators, uneven or curved sidewalks, through crowds, around furniture

-learning safe strategies for crossing the street

-planning routes to new or recurring locations

-using technology enroute, including GPS and apps like Uber and Lyft

-safely accessing public transportation

-how to ask for help when needed

-working with human sighted guides

A Note on the Blind Community and Their Relationship with Canes

The Perkins School for the Blind estimates that only 2-8% of the blind community rely on canes for navigation. The rest rely on remaining vision, guide dogs, and sighted guides. Only about 2% of the blind community relies on guide dogs however, and to get a guide dog in the first place, a person must go through O&M classes and use a cane for six months before they can sign up for a guide dog.

What this means is that 90% of the blind community don’t use a cane.

I didn’t know this fact until I begun research for this guide, and that number astounds me.

Truth be told, while I have navigated my life without a cane before, I can’t imagine going back to the way it was before I got it. Even if I only need my cane some of the time, I can’t bear to not use it in the situations I need it. Having a cane made my life a lot easier, a lot safer.

I don’t know what to attribute this number to.

I might attribute it to the concepts of invisible vs. visible disability, internalized ableism, or the feeling of ‘not being blind enough’ for a cane, as well as accessibility to the blind community and knowledge, and access to buying a cane in the first place. I could write a thing about it, but if I try it’s gonna be its own post.

Onward~

How Do You Learn O&M? How Will My Character Learn?

You will have to find an Orientation and Mobility instructor and have them personally teach you O&M skills.

The O&M Instructor is a sighted adult who has gone to school for a bachelor’s degree and gone through O&M training themselves while blindfolded, usually fulfilling a certain requirement of hours (one program required 400 hours of O&M practice blindfolded before you could become certified), and apply for certification to teach O&M.

(Or, as is the process to become an instructor in the United States, where I am from. Becoming an instructor would vary in other countries, I’m sure)

To find an O&M instructor, you would reach out to your local school or foundation for the blind. Finding your nearest school for the blind could be done through…

Google search

Your Ophthalmologist (eye doctor) referring you to a school for the blind

A Social Service Worker reaching out to you and helping you contact the school

Possibly your school (as in grade/primary school, high school, university) reaching out to the nearest school for the blind on your behalf.

Unfortunately, there is not an abundance of schools and foundations, so your nearest might still be a far travel distance. My local school is a 45 minute drive away. For some it might a few hours away.

This is, again, a U.S. experience, because our land mass is spaced out, and something like a six hour drive feels like nothing to most people (although is highly impractical and very difficult to a blind person who cannot drive themselves), but in other countries a six hour drive would mean crossing several borders, and other countries have different social programs.

There is not a full and complete database of every available school for the blind either, no one website to find every possible option. For example, the school I went to wasn’t listed in most of the website resources I found, even though it has seven branches and locations.

This is more a complaint at the real life struggle to find disabled services, that there are few comprehensive resources out there. If you ask me, it should be made significantly easier to find and access your local blind communities. Accessibility and disabled services should be easily available everywhere.

If your story is based in a real world location, googling ‘school for the blind (city/county/country)’ should suffice in finding the one most local to your setting.

What might a school for the blind provide for your character?

Well, on top of helping your character connect to an O&M instructor, a school for the blind might provide other rehabilitation classes and access to additional resources.

Those rehabilitation classes could include lessons on:

-Reading/Writing Braille & using brailling machines

-Technology classes for screen readers, magnifiers, etc on your computer and smart phone.

My local school has separate classes specific to Andriod, iOS, JAWS, Zoomtext Fusion

-Independent Living skills (cooking, cleaning, organizing, planning how to get groceries and medications)

-Self Improvement (dancing, art, music, self defense. These were classes my school taught)

The additional resources form these schools might include-

Referrals to counselors for coping with vision loss

Access to their audio-book and braille library

Access to magnifier devices, brailler machines (think of a typewriter for writing braille)

Some schools also offer grade-school or high-school education, meaning blind children/teens learn there instead of a mainstream school.

Some schools have lodgings for clients to stay at while going through rehabilitation, especially if the vision loss is sudden and severe. They live on-campus and take part in classes. Other schools only have day classes offered and you need to find transportation for every visit. Many schools might have a rehabilitation specialist or O&M instructor visit you in your home.

My local school did the last two. They had on site classes, but the school is a 45 minute drive from me, so I only visited a few times. They were able to send an O&M instructor to me.

On Wednesdays at 3 pm she would drive to my house and give me lessons on using my cane. Those included her driving me to different locations to practice certain skills (like using stairs and escalators at the mall, or crossing a moderately busy intersection, or visiting a bus station to practice boarding a bus safely and communication with a bus driver where my stop was).

She also brought multiple different types of canes for new students to try out and determine which felt best for them.

The Many Types of Canes

Long Canes are used to sweep the immediate area in front of the cane user as they’re walking. This is the cane type that the general public is most familiar with seeing. There are several sub-types of long canes. They can also be called white canes or probing canes.

[Image Description: Man in business clothes traveling on the side walk with a white and red cane. End Image Description]

White cane can be a misnomer for two reasons: One, the concept of the standard cane for the blind can look different in different countries. In America, the standard is white with a red tip. In some countries the standard is an all-white cane. In some countries an all white cane might mean the user is blind while a white cane with a red tip means the user is deaf-blind.

Two, some companies like Ambutech allow customers to customize their cane colors and tips. Example: Molly Burke’s hot pink cane. My white cane with a purple tip. An all black or all sky blue or all red or all purple cane. A black cane with a blue or purple tip. Ambutech also allows customers to request neon-colored reflective tape to make their canes more visible at night.

Probing cane is not a term I’ve personally heard before, but it is a term Vision Aware uses on their website.

There are three main types of long canes:

Non-folding Canes: a cane that has no sections, cannot be folded or collapsed.

[Image Description: stock photo of man in business suit with a non-folding all white cane. End Image Description]

Folding Canes: The cane has 3-6 sections depending on its height. The taller the cane, the more sections it has. The sections are separate pieces that are made to snap together and are held together by a strong elastic rope inside the sections.

[Image Description: a folding cane with four sections, white with a red tip, and a rolling marshmallow tip. End Image Description]

Telescopic Canes: in which the sections slide into each other, similar to a telescope/spyglass, rather than pulling apart and folding. The handle is the widest section, and the tip section is the thinnest.

[Image Description: Three stacked images of a blue telescopic cane. First is of the cane completely collapsed. Second is of the sections partially sliding out. Third is the cane sections completely out and locked.]

Beyond that is also the Identification Cane. The function of this cane is to visibly identify the user as blind. It’s not used for O&M the way long canes are, there is no sweeping out the next two steps. It can be used as a support cane, however.

It’s appeals most to the elderly who not only make up a huge percentage of the blind community, but might also benefit most from having both a support cane and an identifier for their blindness, in case they need assistance.

[Image Description: identification cane with curved handle. All white with red tip. End Image Description]

A note: From what I’ve heard in the blind community, some people prefer solid/non-folding canes over folding or telescopic canes. The reason for this is that solid canes transfer vibration better than folding or telescopic canes. It’s said that the more sections a cane has, the less precise the vibrations are.

Some cane users train themselves to understand the vibrations of the surfaces their canes are touching. It tells them what kind of surface they’re on (wood vs. marble vs. concrete), if there are nearby objects to their cane. While I rely somewhat on cane vibrations to tell me what surface I’m walking on (more on that later), it is beyond my current O&M abilities to use cane vibrations to sense nearby walls or objects.

Cane vibrations are just an additional information-sense to add to the others in use, and extra bit of data input.

Parts of the Cane: Materials, Handle, Tips, Sections, Elastic Band

Material

The three most common types of materials used to make canes are aluminum, carbon-fiber, and fiberglass. Each material has some drawbacks and benefits.

The ideal cane is lightweight and durable. It should be strong enough to withstand hitting something solid without bending or splintering.

Aluminum is strong and durable, but heavy. If it’s damage, it’s more likely to bend than break entirely. A bend can be straightened out, but it takes considerable strength.

Carbon-fiber is lightweight and durable. It’s stronger than fiberglass, and it can bend out of shape rather than splintering.

Fiberglass is lightweight but a bit rigid. If it breaks, it splinters.

Handles and Elastic Bands

While some canes can have specialized grips (plastic, wood, corkboard) the most common handle material is a black rubber handle that is about ten inches long, give or take. In the previous photos you’ve seen, the canes have had black rubber handles.

Here is an example of a cane with a wood-mesh material used as the handle.

[Image Description: a four section white cane with a red tip and a orange wood mesh handle, with black elastic band attached. End Image Description]

The benefits of black rubber handles over others are that it’s easier to hold onto, especially if your palms are wet or sweaty, than a plastic or polished wood handle. It also wouldn’t show the indents or scratches from wear and tear daily use. I’m guessing that is cheaper to make on the manufacturing standpoint, and thus is conveniently the standard.

Pay attention to the black elastic band attached to the handle in the above photo. Notice how it has a tied off loop? That is so that when the cane is folded, that loop can be stretched over the folded sections to hold it together.

[Image Description: a four section folding cane folded up with the black band around them. End Image Description]

Additional benefits or functions of the elastic could be to use it as a wrist strap while using the cane, or hanging it up on a hook while not in use. I tend to have my cane folded up and tuck my wrist under the strap to hold it more securely while carrying it. Images of that ahead in my cane-isms section.

Cane Height

Ideal cane heights depend on the user. For most users, you want your cane height to be to your shoulder, give or take a few inches. You might need a longer cane if you are a fast walker with long strides, or a shorter cane if you prefer to hold your cane at a lower angle than is traditional.

What I mean when I talk about holding your cane at a certain angle is that the standard is to hold your cane handle in your dominant hand and position it in front of your belly button, moving it side to side with each step. Traditional grip methods are holding your hand palm side up with your cane in hand, or to hold the cane at the section joint closest to the handle with what is called the pencil grip, holding the cane like a fat pencil.

Depending on the height, a cane can have anywhere between three and six sections. Longer canes have more sections. The top section includes the handle, and the last section includes the stripe color (traditionally red, unless customized) and the tip.

The sections of the cane are generally slightly reflective, regardless of color. If you hold a cane up to the light you’ll see tiny specks of light reflected back, almost like very fine, tiny particle glitter paint. This detail is important in cane production because it makes the cane more visible at night, especially if something like car headlights reflect off it while someone is crossing.

Additional visibility at night can be added by wrapping stripes of reflective tape along the shaft.

Cane Tips

There are several different tip options for canes.

[Image Description: four different types of cane tips on a blue background with labels. From left to right: marshmallow tip, ball tip, pencil tip, glide tip.]

[Image Description: a rolling marshmallow tip with a blue background. End Image Description]

[Image Description: Bandu basher tip with a white background. For anyone not familiar with the name, the long, curved cane tip that looks like a hockey stick. End Image Description]

Some of these tips are better for the tap-tap method of cane travel, as in tapping the spots where you plan to step. They can also be used to feel out the shapes of objects, stairs, etc.

marshmallow tip, pencil tip,

They should not be scraped over surfaces, the tips will wear down much faster than they should. There are better tips for rolling over surface

Some tips are better for the rolling method of cane travel, which is the method I use. They aren’t great for tapping, but it can be done in a pinch.

rolling marshmallow tip, ball tip, glide tip

The Bandu Basher tip, the hockey stick shaped tip, is best for hovering an inch off the ground and lightly tapping objects. It could be tapped. It should not be scraped over the ground like a rolling tip. It hovers.

After enough use, the tips will wear down and need to be replaced. The part of the tip that has the most contact with the ground, usually the edge of the shape, gets scrapes, sands down, and eventually begins to look like it was shaved off while still having bits of plastic still gripped to it.

Never fear, cane tips can be removed and replaced when they wear out, replacing the whole cane is not necessary.

Some tips slip on or twist on. Others hook on. By hook on I mean that the elastic that keeps the cane sections together also has a loop at the tip end that a hook onto and stay held into place. Look back at the photo of the rolling marshmallow tip and you will see the hook that attaches to the black elastic.

Cane tips sell for about 5 - 10 U.S. dollars, plus shipping, so it’s advised to buy several back up tips with your cane. I replace my rolling marshmallow tips once every six to twelve months. I don’t know if that’s considered too much or too often. The last time I needed to replace mine was June 2019 (It’s July 2020 at the date of writing this, but I’ve hardly left my home for the last six months because of COVID-virus related quarantine/social distancing.)

Sensory Details/Describing What Using a Cane Feels Like

Every surface type feels and sounds different when tapping or rolling a cane over it. It’s this difference that tells us a lot about our environment.

It tells us when we stepped off the side walk onto the grass, when we’ve walked inside because the concrete changes to wood or carpet flooring. These little details become trail markers too, useful for places we anticipate traveling to a lot.

Example: A week before every semester in college, I would travel to each of the classrooms and learn necessary routes. I learned that certain paths had giant cracks in the sidewalk that would be distinct enough to use as a trail marker to where I was on a path, or that certain paths went from cement to gravel, or cement to brick.

Carpet: The sound is very soft, and if you’re rolling your cane across carpet it sounds like a quiet swish-swish-swish. Tapping sounds depend on how thick the carpet padding underneath is, the thicker the carpet the softer the sound. If there’s a lot of padding then taps don’t make much sound, but if the padding is thin or underneath the carpet is tile or concrete then you hear a louder thudding tap. It’s still pretty quiet. If you’re rolling the cane you would feel a little bit of drag, the cane moves slower over the carpet. The thicker or shaggier the carpet is, the more drag it has.

Wood floor: Cane tips make rumbling sounds when rolling over wood floors. The smoother the wood, the less it rumbles. There’s a little vibration moving from the cane tip, through the cane and into your hand as you roll over wood planks. Very small. The more sensitive you are to vibrations, the more you feel it. Tapping makes hallow, thudding sounds on the wood. Sometimes they sound a little snappish if you’re tapping harshly. You feel stronger vibrations when tapping. Older wood feels softer, with more give. New wood is stronger, more vibrations in the cane.

Tile:It depends on the size of the tiles and the wideness of the grout lines, but it’s not a pleasant feeling. Tiles have grout lines, which are little divets between the tiles. The smaller the tiles or rougher the grout lines are, the more the cane vibrates in your hands. Every bump is felt running from the cane to your hand. The sound is a little grating too. Imagine fifty sets of stiletto shoes walking on tile, that’s what it sounds like when you roll your cane over rough, small tiles. Larger tiles with smoother grout lines aren’t so bad. Tapping the tile with your cane sounds like one really loud step of a stiletto heal, one step for each tap. Tile floors are usually found in bathrooms, kitchens, and industrial locations where the room is going to have harder walls (more tile, concrete, etc) and few furniture, so the room echoes more.

Linoleum: is a smooth even surface. It feels like your cane is gliding when you roll it, barely feeling any vibrations. The rolling sounds are very soft because of the lack of bumps, however tapping sounds are a bit louder. Not as snappish as tile or marble, but almost.

Marble: is similar to linoleum in its smoothness. Your cane glides when rolling. Tapping sounds are sharp. Because marble floors are common in high end malls, luxury homes, and fancy office building entries, places that usually have high ceilings and hard walls with minimal decorations and minimalist furnishing, those sharp tapping sounds may echo. Assuming there isn’t too much noise and the environment is relatively quiet.

Concrete: (I’m referring to concrete found in parking garages and industrial buildings, not sidewalk) It depends on the age of the concrete and how it’s maintained. Old concrete with lots of cracks and mini-craters feels very different from smooth concrete that was set less than a year ago. With old concrete there’s a rattling sound as your cane tip rolls over the bumps and those vibrations travel up your cane. New concrete can feel similar to marble or linoleum. The taps are loud thuds on dull concrete and sharper on new concrete.

Sidewalks: are made of concrete, but in my experience they feel a little different than the above example. Sidewalks have a grittier surface, they’re slightly rougher, more dry. There’s a bit more rolling cane vibration with sidewalks and the taps have more of a thud sound. And because they’re outside, you’re unlikely to hear any echoes unless you’re walking in an alley or between buildings.

Asphalt: is one of the worst surfaces in my personal opinion. Asphalt is the material used in roads and it’s made to be rough and gritty so that car tires can grip onto it and not lose traction while driving. The older and more damaged it is, the rougher it is. Because it’s rough the vibrations are much stronger, sometimes irritatingly so. I can’t roll my cane over asphalt because the bones in my hand can’t handle those kinds of vibrations, so I almost always use the tapping method instead. The sounds are gritty and dull. Unfortunately, asphalt is an unavoidable surface, unless you can find a way to never need to cross a street or walk through a parking lot.

Note: the white or yellow lines that have been painted into asphalt sometimes feel smoother because of the material they’re made of and because they’re added after the asphalt has been laid down.

Note: There’s something called tarmac which is similar to asphalt, used for a similar purpose, and more common in the U.K. (I believe) but I can’t say that I’ve ever knowingly walked on it so I have no personal experience to give you.

Gravel: Another one of those evil surfaces. Gravel is just loose rocks and they’re common in rural roads, driveways, some landscaping. The looseness of them is what makes them untrustworthy. It makes a crunching sound. If you roll your cane, you’re likely to end up tossing small bits of rock and dust here and there. If you tap, you’ll hear the crunch but your brain might not translate that into “it’s gravel” until you’re walking on it and only realize when you walk over it and the sharp rocks begin digging into your shoes.

Wood Chips: I don’t have any experience with this since vision loss and getting a cane, so I’m using my memories of being on the playground in grade school because the surface on the playground was wood chips. I’d say wood ships are a love child between gravel and wood floors. The surface is loose and rolling your cane over it would kick up loose chips and dust. It would probably sound similar to walking on sand I think, because wood chips are much softer than gravel but not as consistent as wood. If it’s rained recently, then the waterlogged wood chips sound even softer.

Hard Dirt: I’m thinking dirt roads here, which are a lesser evil to asphalt and gravel. They can be rough like all roads, but the material isn’t has hard and solid. Rolling your cane will kick up dust on a dry day, but if it rained a few days ago you might hear a soft crunch as you roll over wet dirt. Tapping will have a very soft thud.

Soft Dirt: Think gardening dirt. Because it’s so soft, it makes very little sound and is easily kicked up. There’s a bit of drag, about the same or slightly more drag than grass or sand. Tapping has almost no sound but you might feel a slight give as your tip lands in the dirt, a slight resistance as it sinks in.

Mud: Yuck. I’m imagining this getting in my cane tip and how gross it would be after. Sound and feeling depend on how wet the mud is. Wet mud sounds slurpy. There’s more squish if you roll or tap your cane. Your character might not identify it right away until their shoes begin slipping as they walk over the mud. This is a personal experience. Drier mud sounds soft and feels almost solid underneath your cane. Wetter mud has more drag for a rolling cane. Muddy areas are also generally uneven because top soil has been displaced, so muddy hills and fields have unexpected but usually subtle changes in elevation.

Puddles: have both a slurpy and splash-splash sound. The slurpy sound is more common with rolling cane techniques. The splash sound is more common with tapping. The deeper the puddle, the louder is sounds and the more drag you experience. I am not fond of this texture/experience.

Snow: I have zero experience with snow since the development of blindness. So no experience of what it’s like to walk through with a cane. This is something I hope a blind reader can inform me on so I can edit this at a later date. My best guess is that it has a soft crunch, softer than the crunch of shoes in snow. A lot of drag too. Rolling through snow would probably be near impossible, especially if it’s deep snow or hard packed. Again, my best guess. The last time I experienced snow was when I was twelve.

Grass: One of my least favorites personally. Too much drag. Worse than shag carpeting. It’s very soft and doesn’t make much sound either. Like a crisp crunch you can barely hear. If the grass is wet or frosty you hear it a bit more crunch.

Surface with fallen Autumn leaves: Leaves everywhere! This is a bit dependant on whatever surface the leaves are on. It would soften the sound of cement, but there would be a louder crunch on grass. If the leaves are big and very curvy/pocketed then they’re easy to push aside. Smaller, flatter leaves don’t push as easily. The driest ones will crunch under your cane. It’s fun sometimes, if you’re the kind of person who likes stepping on leaves on purpose, but if you can’t see the leaves it might lose some of its fun and be more unexpected.

Sand: I’ve never personally taken my cane to the beach, despite living so close to the coast. The reason is because beach sand is so squishy and loose that it’s already impossible to stay steady on your feet. The sand is always sinking under your feet, unless you’re next to the water line and the dampness has made it firmer. So a cane isn’t very useful to me at the beach. Not to mention that sand isn’t something you want inside your cane joints if you want the cane to last. Sand will erode and damage the joints, regardless of if they’re metal or plastic. If I were to take my cane to the beach, it would make the softest crunching-swishy noise of sand sliding over sand, similar to what your footsteps sound like on sand, but possibly even quieter because canes are lighter.

Side Note: My mother sarcastically asked about rolling your cane through dog poop or gum left on the floor. Can’t say I’ve ever rolled through it, so couldn’t tell you. Use your imagination I guess, Mum

The Invention of Tactile Paving

These are amazing! Tactile Paving are those yellow (or sometimes grey) bumpy squares you see on ramps leading into parking lots or when crossing the street. In 1965, Japanese engineer Seiichi Miyake used his own money to develop a tactile brick that you could feel even when walking over it with shoes, and he designed this because a friend of his was losing their vision and he wanted to help. These are amazing, and accessible to everyone, even the blind who don’t have a cane or guide dog. These are literal life savers. Before I got my cane, if I felt those bumps under my shoes I knew to immediately stop because I was about to walk into the road. Because less than 10% of the blind community uses canes or guide dogs, this is the most accessible form of blind aide available.

[Image Description: a yellow rectangle of tactile paving in front of a ramp leading into a parking lot. End Image Description]

Note: similar detail, most doors in commercial buildings (in my localized experience) have a metal plate on the threshold to hold the door in place so there are no cracks underneath. The metal scraping sound when you roll or tap your cane on it is distinct but temporary and non-repeating, so it’s a good indication that you’ve reached and passed the threshold.

Blind-isms

I have a section in this guide about blind-isms, but these ones are focused specifically on cane use.

-Do. Not. Touch. My. Cane. Don’t. Just fucking don’t.

-The above ism comes from the fact that our cane is our safety net, an extension of our body, our eyes, the one thing that makes sure we’ll get somewhere safely. For that reason, blind people hate having their canes (or their on duty guide dogs) touched by strangers, acquaintances, friends we’re not very close to, some family members.

Important Note: That is a universal thing for disabled people. Don’t. Touch. Their. Mobility Aides. It’s assault. Touching someone’s wheelchair or pushing them around without their expressed permission is assault. Moving their wheelchair while the user is currently standing is assault. (Most wheelchair users are not paralyzed, but they still need the wheelchair because of their medical condition, which is not your business to know). It doesn’t matter if the wheelchair is in the way, the disabled person needs it right there, do not touch it. Touching or grabbing someone’s support cane or their long cane is assault. Touching or moving someone’s walker is assault. Touching, poking at, or tampering with someone’s hearing aids is assault. Touching their oxygen tank or cannula is assault.

Back on topic-

-Idle motions with your cane while waiting in line. I often rest my chin on my cane or lean on it

-twirl my cane like a staff when I’m alone and no one can see. I would not ever do this in front of anyone because I don’t want anyone thinking it’s a toy or they can just touch or grab it. I’m just a little childish and bored sometimes and idle motions are a common thing for people with ADHD.

-When carrying my folded cane inside (like say a store) I hang it from my wrist by the strap.

-Keeping my cane within arms reach at all times, even in situations where I don’t need it currently. Example: if we’re doing a classroom assignment where I need to leave my desk, I know the classroom well enough to not use my cane, but I won’t leave it at my desk, ever. (This does not apply at home. And in the homes of a very few, very trusted friends I will leave it somewhere I deem safe.)

-Having a set, specific place in my home (living with my immediate family, who almost never have guests) for my cane. In my case, it’s the top of an antique dresser in the living room, across from the door. It has a little bowl for my sunglasses as well. If I move out and have roommates, my cane will be in my room.

-Love me a bag or backpack that has enough space to discretely store your cane, but most of my bags cannot do that.

-People with folding canes develop a muscle memory for folding and unfolding their cane, so they can do it without really thinking about it.

-Unfolding my cane: I hold the black handle between my thumb and palm with my other fingers folded over the remaining three sections, cane tip pointing up. I slide the elastic over the tip, loosen my four fingers and roll my wrist to the side. The red colored section unfolds first and snaps into place with its neighboring section. I roll my wrist in the opposite direction so the next white section can unfold and snap into place with it’s neighboring section. Roll it back in the first direction and the third section snaps into place with the handle. My four section cane is now unfolded and straight.

-Sometimes I just grab the black handle and let the sections fall and unfold as they will, but this is less controlled and risks your cane bumping into something or someone.

-Folding my cane: I start with the black handle, lifting it up so the joints unlock. I fold it down, grab both sections in my hand and lift the second section away from the third and fold it over. Wrap my hand over all three sections and unlock it from the red section.

-Because I have a four section folding cane, the cane tip and the handle are on the same side while the metal joints are on the opposite side. Those metal joints are what my elastic slips over.

-A three or five folding cane will have the head of the handle (and its elastic) on the opposite side of the cane tip, and you will be folding the elastic over the cane joints and tip.

-A six section cane has the tip and handle facing the same direction like the four section cane.

-People with non-folding canes like leaning their canes up against walls and other objects when not in use. Corners are popular, the corner of a desk up against a wall too.

-But oh god the frustration when the cane randomly rolls out of place and hits the floor, it’s a combination of “Not again” and “did that really just happen” and “you had one job. one job.”

-Sitting with our cane tucked between our legs. Picture a bit of man spreading, the cane tip leaned against the side of our foot to keep it stable and the cane leaning against our shoulder or opposite knee, possibly also held securely with our fingers too.

-The no-manspreading alternative of that is with the cane leaning against our shoulder, cane tip resting on the toe of our shoe or the outside of it, held securely with our fingers or our arm wrapped around it, elbow hooking it.

(Okay, a while back I was looking for photos of someone using a cane to use as a reference for drawing Ulric. I only found three, and two of them were Daredevil promo photos. Which, no offense to Charlie Cox, but he is not blind and he does not use a cane in his daily life, he does not have that relationship a blind person has with a cane and the concept of a fifth limb, and it shows. So the photos were stiff and unusable, so I had to like use several photo references of different poses and Frankenstein them together to get what I wanted.

And I still haven’t finished the painting... fuck)

-In a car with a non-folding cane:

-Right passenger seat- The cane tip goes all the way into the corner of the foot well to the right of my feet, with the handle resting over my right shoulder or on the seatbelt. It pokes a bit past my headrest. The longer the cane, the harder it is to tuck into a car.

-The U.K. / Austrailian / New Zealand / Japan version of this (because they drive on the left side of the road with their drivers seats on the right side of the car) it’s like this: Cane tip in the foot well to the left of my feet, handle on my left shoulder or on the seatbelt.

Backseat: the absolute worst. There’s less foot well room, and if you’re in a sedan there is almost no room behind your shoulder for the handle. I position my cane diagonally with the handle on the shoulder closest to the door and the tip next to the foot closest to the middle.

-For this reason, no one with a non-folding cane will want to be sitting in the backseat.

About Guide Dogs

While my knowledge of guide dogs is limited only to what I can research and not personal, I will give you some basic facts and practical knowledge from said research.

Guiding Eyes for the Blind estimates that there are 10,000 guide dog teams out there in the world. That makes up 2% of the blind and visually impaired community.

Guide Dog Training

Becoming a guide dog is the most difficult form of dog training there is. The majority of dogs who enter guide dog training wash out and either become family dogs or go into a different type of service dog training, like medical response or PTSD/anxiety response, or possibly become therapy dogs, which is a career altogether different from being a service dog.

Guide dogs go through two or three years of training, which includes puppy training, basic socialization, proper behavior when on duty and actual guide training. Most service dogs only go through a year to a year and a half of training before they are partnered with a disabled handler.

Between the cost of training, the cost of housing and feeding the dog and the cost of vet bills from birth until being partnered with a blind handler, the overall cost of a guide dog is something like 30k to 40k. While most service dog training organizations require handlers to fundraise and pay for the cost of training (usually something like 15-30k), guide dog organizations give their dogs to qualified blind clients for free. These organizations pay for the dog costs through their own fundraising and charities. Fortunately for these organizations, guide dogs are a highly respected field and have a lot more charity directed their way, while other service dog types have less public interest when it comes to charity.

Guide Dog organizations have an application process, requirements, and a wait-list before you can be partnered with a guide dog.

Requirements to get a guide dog are (usually) as follows:

Must be legally blind (as in not visually impaired, but legally blind) and have had at least six months of O&M with a cane and demonstrate enough O&M stills to navigate by oneself. They also require you to be responsible enough to independently care for a dog, able to keep up with training and retraining of the dog, as well as financially able to handle food and vet bills (which are at least a few thousand dollars every year).

The reason for cane training before getting a guide dog is because the dog cannot do everything for you. You, the dog handler, are responsible for knowing where you are and how to get where you need to be.

The dog can’t read stop signs or tell when a light is green or red, nor do they have GPS to find a brand new location nor can they learn that route on the first try, nor will they know exactly where you want to go when you say “Starbucks” or “library” or “school” or “mom’s house” and guide you all by themselves. That falls on you, the dog handler, having enough orientation and mobility skills to know when a street is safe to cross and knowing how to learn new routes and how to keep on route and make sure you make the correct turns. A guide dog can’t communicate with bus drivers for you either, they don’t know which number bus to use or what stop to choose. That falls on the blind person’s own skill.

Other Guide Dog Resources

Molly Burke is a guide dog user and has made several videos about what kind of work guide dogs do, her personal experience being a guide dog user for over ten years, how she got a guide dog, specific commands, unique experiences with things like travel, etc. She has a playlist all about guide dogs, but here are some of my favorite videos.

How Guide Dogs Guide A Blind Person

Guide Dog User Answers the Most Googled Questions about Guide Dogs

How I Met My First Guide Dog

Final Thoughts:

There is a lot more to be said about Orientation and Mobility, such as:

How do you safely cross the street with a cane?

How do you learn new routes?

How does getting a cane significantly change your life?

How do family, friends, and strangers react to you “suddenly” having a cane?

I could also write a ton on other tools the blind community relies on so strongly, such as screen readers, magnifiers, etc. In fact, I originally promised to include those in my master post when Part Four was titled Part Four: What Your Blind Character Needs to Survive and Not Die. However, this guide is ages long and it feels better to focus on this specific topic for here.

Did you like this guide?

Consider checking out my other guides, links of which can be found on the master post here.

Follow my blog, I write and curate writing advice guides outside of blindness, I reblog writing memes with image descriptions, reblog soothing aesthetic photos with image descriptions, talk about disability, lgbtqa+ issues, ableism, and mental health.

If you want to further support me, this is the link to my ko-fi (however there is no such requirement nor pressure to do so, and please don’t worry about it, especially if you are in a financial situation that can’t afford it)

#writing advice #writeblr #writing community #writing tips #blind character #character crafting

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mayaree-darling · 3 years

Text

Gojo Satoru Headcanon: Physical Affection

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x GenderNeutral!Reader

A/N: Okay. So. I watched Jujutsu Kaisen during breaks from school. And I shit you not I found myself reading the manga after episode 10 and I caught up to 132 chapters in two days OuO. I needed more Gojo Satoru in my life. This was supposed to be a dating headcanon piece but I ended up pushing that idea for another day because I ran wild with this idea. (For those waiting for more KnY pieces, they’re in the making don’t worry. I’m just pushing out as much writing as I can to kick myself back into gear).

Warnings: Occasional swearing. Completely SFW

＝＝✿＝＝｜✧••❀••✧｜＝＝✿＝＝

Okay so I can get behind the sex god headcanons for our favorite sensei (coz I am a fan of that shit, too)

But hear me out y’all - Gojo Satoru who isn’t used to physical affection

This is the guy who always has an invisible shield up and canonically cannot be touched unless he initiates it

There aren’t a lot of people to touch either (jujutsu families don’t seem to be the most loving)

Bro may be hesitant of getting close to anyone, too, almost as much as he wants to be. He’s lost so much. It’s gotta be hard being alone on the top.

So when y’all start going out you’re a bit surprised when Gojo seems even more reluctant when it comes to touching

And I don’t even mean the kind you should be keeping behind closed doors

Bro jumped and practically ran off when you grabbed on to his shirt when you almost lost him in a crowded street. Meaning - you ended up literally losing him to the crowd. (He apologizes and makes an excuse later on)

You’re a bit confused and hurt ngl coz??? y’all are dating now but suddenly he’s shying away?

There are moments you wonder if he’s become distant because that’s it, you’re going out already - no need to show off for the object of his affections if they’re already his, but you just as quickly brush off that idea.

He wasn’t like that. That wasn’t the man you fell for.

The man you fell for was a silly little shit whose personality can only be explained by the amount of sweets he eats and confidence for his abilities stacked over the years

It took a while to realize that something so normal would have evaded his life nor how he didn’t exactly know how to react to that now

You didn’t realize until you woke up at an ungodly hour in the night to, surprise surprise, Gojo’s snoring

He had left earlier that day on some important business halfway across the country so you weren’t expecting him back so soon

But this was Gojo Satoru we were walking about, and he was called strongest for a reason

“Toru?” what completely wakes you up is your inability to move. Hearing Gojo’s breathing at the very least calmed you down enough for you to wait for your eyes to adjust in the dark.

When the drowsiness clears up, the first thing you notice is how uncomfortable your position felt. Maybe it was the mattress or maybe it was the fact that Gojo has most likely tried to pull you to lay on his chest but stopped halfway through from exhaustion

So here you were, half your back pressed to his chest and the other half of your body crushing Gojo’s arm wrapped around your waist and stopping you from completely lying on the bed.

His other arm was preoccupied intertwining your hands together

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t delay waking him up to bask in the feeling of holding your hands together

You reach for the night light switch with your free hand and almost immediately when the lights open, Gojo shifts. You have a split second of hindsight when you hear him groan and he retracts his hand from yours

He was sleeping. He wouldn’t have his blindfold on.

Fuck, did you just blind the Six Eyes sorcerer?

“S-Satoru…?” you were pretty terrified to turn around, but considering your hadn’t been vaporized by his infinity, you turn to face him

One eye was still underneath his blindfold, but just like the half-assed attempt in pulling you close to him, the other was already open and staring at you blearily

You wait for him to push you away or something, but instead of that, he smiles at you, taking off his blindfold completely

“Good morning, Sunspot. Atleast, that’s what I wanna say, but,” he finally lets go of you, stretching his limbs. “Doesn’t look like it’s morning yet. What time is it, anyway?”

“Uh, around 4 AM, I think. What time did you get here?”

“Pretty sure it was a bit past midnight. An old lady on the bullet train told me it was bad to eat mochi as a midnight snack.”

He turns back to you with the laid back smile you’ve come to love. Gojo adjusts in his position, lying down on his side to face you and pulls you flush against his chest.

“Go back to sleep, Sunspot. We can eat more mochi in the morning.”

He yawns one more time, makes sure you’re as close as possible before closing his eyes. You blink once and he was already fast asleep

You snuggle closer to him, basking in his warmth, completely forgetting to remind him that he didn’t even live with you, because whatever doubts you felt earlier were pushed away from here in your place between his arms

Atleast, that feeling lasted ‘til the morning

You were abruptly woken up at the feeling of being roughly pushed

Your eyes snapped open to find Gojo holding you at arm’s reach, his eyes are blown as wide as yours, if not wider

“Ah, shit, Sunspot, I, uh…” he stares at you blankly for a beat longer, eyes shifting to his hands holding on to your shoulders, before his eyes snapped back to yours, very much awake.

Before you know it, you were lying back down on the bed, alone.

You raise your head in time to see Gojo’s outstretched hand waving at you from outside your room

“Sorry for barging in on you, Sunspot. There’s mochi in your fridge. See you at school. Bye!” “Satoru, wait-!”

Well. There goes your boyfriend.

You would’ve thought badly about him leaving so abruptly

But waking up to the sight of the usually calm and laidback Gojo Satoru’s blushing face - completely red they clashed with the blue of his eyes - was something you’d treasure for the rest of your life

＝＝✿＝＝｜✧••❀••✧｜＝＝✿＝＝

A/N: ah, so, if this felt like it was cut short - that’s because it was. I realized halfway through I had a working plot for a whole fic now so yeah. I’m gonna make a whole fic for this AHHAHAH consider this a teaser, if you will.

✨ Masterlist ✨

🌙 Disclaimer: Characters are not mine and belong to their respective creators. Their portrayal is merely my own interpretation of them and may not be accurate to their intended characterization. I stake no claim to the original works, only to the ideas and plot of the fictitious stories I’ve written them into.

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru headcanon #gojo satoru imagine #gojo satoru scenario #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo satoru x reader fluff #gojo satoru x reader headcanon #gojo satoru x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader

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esmealux · 3 years

Note

Hi there! For the two-part drabble, may I request Deckerstar in situation 13 (someone does something stupid) with sentence 6 ("Do I love you? Yes. Do I like you? That's still up for debate.") Thank you, and I've really really been enjoying your the updates on your Planning a Hell of a Wedding fic!

Hey! It took me two months (including more than one month of writing) but I've now finally finished your prompt. Another anon had requested 25 (being somewhere you're not supposed to) + 6 and dear @my-crazy-awesome-sox had requested 26 (a very cheesy date) + 6, so I've merged all your prompts into one 7K+ long 'drabble'. Hope you don't mind!

And I'm glad you like the updates on PHW! I'll try to write some more now that I've finished this.

Hope you like this!

Also, an immense special thanks to @my-crazy-awesome-sox for helping me with this fic. She truly has been a godsend, and a lot of the wording (especially in the later parts) is kindly and almost directly borrowed from her mind. Thank you again, babe!

Also thanks to @lightbringer-666 for assisting me with some French. If all the French isn't perfect, it's because I also googled my way to a lot of it. Apologies in advance (and please do let me know if there's anything I should change!)

Someone does something stupid + being somehwere you're not supposed to + a very cheesy date + 'Do I love you? Yes. Do I like you? That's still up for debate.'

Rated M. Post 5B - contains spoilers!

Read on AO3 (includes list with English translations)

It’s ridiculous, really. The butterflies fluttering in her stomach like she’s a schoolgirl waiting for her prom date. It’s not even their first date. It’s not even their second. The thing is, between becoming God and Consultant, revising a few laws of the cosmos, fixing some bugs in humanity, bringing Dan to Heaven, and going to therapy, she and Lucifer haven’t had much time for, well, each other. At least not in ways that didn’t involve discussions about the redesign of the afterworld and how to sate world hunger. So yes, she is a little giddy with excitement at the thought of having a whole evening to themselves—no celestial craziness. Just the two of them and a bottle of the restaurant’s finest.

If Lucifer would just show up.

She checks her phone. 06:14. Unlike last time she anxiously waited for him in a restaurant, there’s a text.

Running a bit late. Please forgive me. Can’t wait to see you ❤

And one more.

Sorry. Can’t wait to see you naked*

Chloe shakes her head, a stupid smile spreading across her face. She resists typing back a flirty reply—he’ll be with her in a minute, and she is nota schoolgirl—and puts her phone back in her clutch. Hands trembling a little, she smooths out invisible creases in the dress he’s bought her. It’s short and tight, of course, but perfectly so. Reaching mid-thigh, with a small slit revealing a bit more of her left thigh. Black, unsurprisingly; he still hasn’t gotten over how delectable she looked in the LBD she wore on their last ‘date’. And this one makes her legs look even longer, which is undoubtedly the primary reason Lucifer picked it. Still, it isn’t skimpy. He could have opted for a deep neckline and cold shoulders—she almost expected him to when he said he’d bought her a dress—but he didn’t. Instead, the short and skin-tight skirt is perfectly balanced with a high neck and long bell sleeves that are cut open just above her joints, making the soft fabric flow around her bare underarms. She likes it—would probably have bought it herself if it weren’t crazy expensive. Likes how it makes her feel both sexy and classy and most of all comfortable, likes that he knows her so well.

She fidgets with her earring and traces the rim of her empty wine glass with her fingertip, watching people as much as she can from their semi-private corner. She spots an Oscar-winning film director, a retired NFL player, that pop star Lucifer pretends to hate, and just how expensive isthis place?

She’s immediately distracted by the shift in the air and the sound of Italian loafers approaching her.

‘My me, Detective!’

His brown eyes roam her figure as she stands to kiss him. Their lips meet in a soft peck that could easily have turned into more if Lucifer hadn’t pulled away to look her up and down.

‘You look like a goddess.’

Chloe snorts and chuckles, not yet used to the title he insists is hers if she’ll have it. She puts a hand on his chest, gazing up at him with a smile.

‘You don’t look too bad yourself.’

He hums and leans in for another kiss, but something comes between them this time. They both look down—at a dozen red roses.

‘Those for me?’ she asks, warmth spreading in her chest.

Lucifer hands her the bouquet with a nod and that soft smile she loves more than anything. He pulls out her chair, a gentle hand on her shoulder as she sits down, and sits down himself.

There’s a card nestled between the velvet petals: ‘For the Detective & Consultant’, her old and new moniker scribbled side by side in his annoyingly elegant handwriting. The latter nickname, however, is written in smaller, cramped letters—an afterthought. She smiles.

She turns the card, expecting to find a dirty, eye-roll-deserving comment on the back. But there’s no lewd joke or naughty promise.

It simply says, ‘I love you.’

Her heart swells, filling her chest till it aches. It’s all so new still. Not the love between them, but how it’s uninhibited now. It’s not like they don’t have their obstacles—just yesterday they had a fight—but there’s no doubt anymore, no voices telling them some dreams simply cannot be. They might have a whole universe to deal with, but for the first time ever, things between them are easy. No words are left unsaid. No feelings are squashed. No time is wasted. Every day is spent wrapped in each other’s love. Finally.

‘I love you too,’ she tells him, and he lights up, amazed. Confident. Their hands find each other on the table, fingers intertwining.

A waiter comes by with two menu cards and a vase for the flowers. Chloe reads through the menu carefully, pretending to know what kind of food hides behind the fancy French names. Lucifer sees right through her, sighs, and orders some hors d’œuvres, two of something she couldn’t pronounce if she tried, and a bottle of red.

‘So, were you stuck in traffic, or…?’ Chloe asks him with a glint in her eye as the waiter pours her a generous glass of wine. The celestial being with the supernatural metabolism can drive home.

The being in question looks confused for a moment before he answers, ‘Ah, no. I’m sorry I kept you waiting.’ For a brief second, he looks at her as if he’s apologising for more than tonight, but she strokes his knuckles and smiles at him, you’re here now, and he moves on to explain himself. ‘I just couldn’t find this bloody suit. Only when I’d ransacked the house did I realise it was still at the penthouse, so I had to make a detour.’

He is a little excused; so many things are impossible to find right now, with more or less unpacked boxes spread out between her apartment, Lux, and their new home. In hindsight, moving in together while taking over the almighty family business probably wasn’t the best idea, but they’ll get settled soon enough. Besides, right now, what’s important is that Lucifer was late because of a wardrobe crisis, and she will not let that slide.

‘You couldn’t just wear one of your three hundred other suits?’

A flicker of hurt and sheepishness flashes across Lucifer’s face.

‘Well, this one is special.’

Chloe takes in his suit: the navy jacket, the matching waistcoat, the royal blue shirt.

‘Oh.’

He smirks at her as heat creeps up her cheeks (so much for not being a schoolgirl).

‘You remember?’

She does. Of course, she does. She remembers vividly—how shocked he’d been at first, how new and soft his lips had felt against hers. How they’d held onto each other until the sun was setting and she really did have to go home and feed Maze and Trixie.

She also remembers how she, later, behind closed lids, had ripped off the shirt and waistcoat in desperate need. How it’d earned her a husky chuckle and a breathy ‘D’tective!’, and the sinful Heaven that was his hot and open mouth.

‘You okay, darling?’ Lucifer looks at her, his expression somewhere between concerned and amused. His thumb brushes the back of her hand.

Chloe takes a sip of wine and clears her throat. Adjusts her necklace.

‘Yeah, just, you know. Reminiscing.’

He studies her flushed face for a second before his curious smile spreads into a full-blown Cheshire grin.

‘You had a wet dream about me, didn’t you?! After our first kiss?’

Chloe glares at him. ‘Say it a little louder for the people in the back, will ya?’ He opens his mouth, and she immediately feels the need to clarify, ‘Do not say it a little louder for the people in the back.’

His smile doesn’t falter. ‘I’m just ecstatic to know our first kiss left you all hot and bothered. I mean, not that I’m surprised.’ He brings his wine glass to his lips and lets go of her hand to gesture down himself.

Chloe rolls her eyes. ‘Yeah, like you didn’t go home and wanked yourself blind that night.’

He laughs, surprised by her bluntness, and shamelessly answers, ‘Why, of course I did. That night, other nights. Before and after that kiss. This morning. You serve as quite the spank bank, my dear.’

She definitely doesn’t blush at that. But she does glance down at his waistcoat, at the soft skin and hard muscles she knows hide beneath it. She gives him a slow and dirty smirk, appreciative.

‘You too, baby.’

Lucifer raises an eyebrow, his eyes darkening. Much to Chloe’s satisfaction, his neck and cheeks redden a little. Then he gives her a lopsided grin, smug and impressed.

‘Pray tell, Detective.’ His eyes glide down her face, her chest, her stomach, and slowly back up again.

In another time, she would have given him a stern look and told him it was none of his business, but she doesn’t. She also doesn’t tell him about lonely nights and long showers and crying his name into her pillow when they were still just friends. Instead, she leans across the table and half-whispers—

‘If you behave yourself tonight, I might show you.’

He gulps. Squirms a little in his seat, and—when he’s regained his composure and quite indiscreetly adjusted himself under the table—leans forward till there’s only mere inches between their faces.

‘Is that a promise?’ His voice is low and husky, his breath hot against her face. His eyes drop to her lips.

‘Pardon, monsieur, mais l’entrée est prête.’

They lean back in their seats and turn to the poor, young waiter, who’s balancing two seemingly heavy plates, a carafe of water, and a basket of crusty bread in his arms.

‘Lovely!’ Lucifer’s eyes follow the food as the waiter puts it down in front of them. ‘Merci beaucoup, Olivier.’

Olivier smiles at Lucifer, shy but with a look in his eyes Chloe knows all too well. She doesn’t blame him.

‘Ça va?’ Lucifer asks, his voice lined with genuine fondness.

Olivier nods. ‘Oui, ça va. Et toi?’

Lucifer looks to Chloe, beaming. He takes her hand on the table and interlocks their fingers again.

‘Tout va très bien,’ he answers, looking back up at Olivier with a dazzling smile.

Olivier’s eyes drop to their hands and, probably, to the ring, white and pearlescent, on Chloe’s third finger. His lips tug up at the corner.

‘Je peux voir ça. Félicitations!’ Before Lucifer can respond to that, whatever it means, Olivier gestures towards their food. ‘Et bon appétit.’

Lucifer replies with a friendly ‘merci’ and calls out something like ‘Salue ton père de ma part!’ as Olivier walks off.

Chloe stares at Lucifer, twirling the smashed bullet around her neck between her fingers.

‘What?’ he asks, curious.

She tilts her head, smiling. ‘French suits you.’

He smiles back, lasciviously. ‘Yeah?’

‘Mm-hm.’

The look he gives her leaves no doubt that, sooner or later, he’ll be whispering foreign phrases against her skin.

But right now, they have other appetites to sate. They dig into the first course, and the (assumedly) insanely high prices suddenly make sense, because it is frigging good. The main course is even more delicious—divine, actually, to the point where Chloe has to ask Lucifer if he accidentally spiked the food with a blessing or two. He assures her it’s all Olivier’s father, no holiness involved, apart from Chef Beaumont’s heavenly cœeur de filet de bœuf. Chloe moans in agreement, savouring every bite.

He watches her with a smile, jokingly apologising for not serving her grilled cheese, and she makes a bad joke about this date being cheesy enough as it is. Because it is cheesy. Him buying her a dress, bringing her red roses, the love note, the candlelit restaurant, the French food, not to mention the suit. It’s like a rom-com parody.

But it’s also perfect. It’s everything she’s longed for, an over-the-top romantic date night with her- with her partner. A date that isn’t cut short by a horny stewardess (may she rest in peace) or a failed attempt at exorcism; where Lucifer actually shows up and isn’t just trying to outdo another man; where Chloe isn’t trying to make him ‘do something good for a change’; and their parents aren’t tagging along on a headache-inducing surprise double date that is also a sting in disguise.

So, in some ways, it is kinda their first date.

And it’s a really, really nice date.

They laugh—they laugh so much. More than they’ve done in the past few months combined. Or so it feels, at least.

They laugh, and they talk. About movies they cried to, favourite drinks, and how they’re gonna paint the living room. About the summers spent under the plum tree in Nana’s garden, and all the pranks pulled in the gilded meadows of Heaven. About chasing Amenadiel through the clouds, and how Chloe always wanted a sibling. About her short-lived Hollywood experience and that one time she may have gotten a little high at a Backstreet Boys concert. (He seems impressed by that, her ‘abhorrent’ taste in music aside.) They exchange secrets they never told anyone, stories of bad kisses—Jed used too much tongue; Will was always better with words—and tales from drunken nights out. They reminisce on the first time they met—how annoying she’d found him, how compelling he’d found her—and the many, many cases, some really weird, that first encounter led to.

They talk about Dan.

About missing him, even though he’s making waffles with Charlotte now.

About Trixie, and how therapy seems to be helping her, too. How she still sometimes breaks down crying, but no longer crawls into their bed in the middle of the night, shaking and gasping for air. How she’d laughed the other day, and it’d made them both cry. How incredibly strong she is, that little urchin.

They talk about going to Paris one day, all three of them—the French do make excellent chocolate cakes—or maybe somewhere else she wants to see, once everything is calmer. They talk about some of the prayers Lucifer has been hearing, about faith and free will, what they miss about solving crimes together, what they don’t miss, and how they’re still very much partners, even more so now—in every corner of life.

They talk till their cheeks hurt from smiling and Chloe’s half-drunk on expensive Burgundy. Lucifer asks for the cheque, their food long gone, and pays with cash, making sure to leave a tip possibly the size of Olivier’s monthly salary.

They leave the restaurant giggling about a stupid joke Lucifer makes, his hand splayed out on the small of her back. Her own hand is placed much lower than what is decent for such a fancy place like this, practically cupping his ass, but she’s tipsy enough not to care, and he doesn’t seem to mind the attention. It’s his own fault, anyway, for having his pants tailored to hug his butt like this.

Naturally, Lucifer drives. He doesn’t hold back his comments on how slow and boring her car is, but at least he stays somewhere close to the speed limit. She wishes he’d also wear a seatbelt, and keep both hands on the wheel, but his palm is nice and warm on her thigh, and she trusts he’ll get them home safely. She leans back in her seat, her head comfortably buzzing from wine and him, and watches the blurry city lights through the window. He’s turned down 2ndStreet.

‘Where are we going?’ She looks over at him, curious.

He smiles in the shadows, his fingers stroking the skin left exposed by the slit in her dress. His touch leaves hot, tingling paths on her thigh.

‘I thought we’d go for a second desert.’

Chloe is beyond full, her dress stretched over her now slightly rounder belly, and she can think of other things she’d rather do (things that include pinning Lucifer to their bed and making him groan and beg and laugh), but she’ll never say no to a freshly brewed latte and watching Lucifer obscenely enjoy some Sicilian pastry.

She turns up the radio, fumbling a bit, and closes her eyes with a smile, more content than she’s been in… a long time. His hand stays on her thigh as they move through the night, fingers tapping to the beat of the songs against her skin, creeping higher, teasing, just enough to make her breath hitch, but nothing more, and then back down again. Maybe they’ll just take that latte to-go.

The car comes to a final halt, and first then does Chloe realise they haven’t stopped outside the late-night café and bakery that’s opened down on Spring Street.

‘Lucifer, what’—she looks around, double-checking—‘what are we doing at the back entrance to the precinct? You said we were getting desert.’

He leans across the centre console, fingers spreading on her thigh, and brings their faces so close their noses touch. Chloe swallows.

‘We are,’ he assures her with a wolfish grin, his gaze lingering hungrily on her, and she could jump him right then and there. But he takes his hand off her body and clicks her seatbelt free, pulls the key out of the ignition and exits the car. He strides to her side and opens the door for her, gentlemanly as ever, and she watches him with narrowed eyes as she takes his hand and steps out, sceptical even in her cloud of lust and inebriation.

He heads directly for the back entrance and opens the black iron door with ease, rudely ignoring the state-of-the-art security locks. A part of her knows she should stop him right there and give him a stern talking-to about respecting human laws—he still can’t do whatever the hell he likes just because he’s God now. But another part, the part of her who helped him empty two bottles of French wine, really wants to step over that threshold, to intertwine their fingers and go on a late-night adventure. And that part of her must overpower the other, because she lets him snake his arm around her waist and lead her through the door and inside the familiar building.

She senses him grinning by her side, his fingers curling around her hip in a deliciously tight grip that only stokes the heat pooling low in her belly. He takes her down the corridor, around the corner, and then they’re there, in the middle of the precinct. Everything is covered in darkness, the wide, open space only illuminated by a never-resting info screen and the purplish glow from the vending machine. Still, she can make out the shape of their desk, the door to Ella’s lab, the interrogation room. The fridge in the breakroom still hums obnoxiously, and the air smells like strong coffee and sugary glaze—or maybe that’s just a phantom. Either way, it all tugs at her heart, beckons her down memory lane, and she lets herself be pulled. Through the good, the bad, and the crazy.

Lucifer is quiet beside her, probably lost in nostalgia himself, or maybe just letting her have this moment. But not for long. With titillating eagerness and a devilish smirk, he wraps his fingers around her wrist and pulls her by the hand—towards the evidence closet.

He presses her up against the door, his body hot and hard against hers, and pins her hand against the cold glass of the frosted window. His dark eyes sparkle with mischievous excitement.

‘There’s something we never got to try.’

Her pulse quickens, blood humming loud and hot.

‘Lucifer, we can’t.’ She tries to sound firm around her suddenly heavy breaths and dry throat, but he doesn’t seem discouraged in the least.

He leans in, closer, his smirking lips brush against her ear. ‘Can’t we, now?’

And as if he hadn’t done enough already, he takes her earlobe between his teeth and bites it.

Chloe smothers a gasp.

‘We shouldn’t.’ She puts her hand on his chest and pushes her head against his, nudging him away from her neck so she can thinkfor a second. He reluctantly obeys and settles for placing his hands on her sides, dangerously high, thumbs almost stroking the underside of her breasts. She pushes his hands down to her waist. ‘We shouldn’t have sex in Evidence—shouldn’t have broken into the precinct in the first place. I mean, do you want us to get arrested?’

He only laughs at that, of course. ‘I’m God, darling. I won’t get arrested.’

Chloe rolls her eyes. He would probably charm his way out of it if they were caught, God or not—but that doesn’t make any of this okay. She’s about to tell him as much when he adds-

‘But if you wanted to cuff me and tell me what to do, resisting would be the last thing on my mind. In fact, I’m sure we can find some cuffs lying about-’

‘Lucifer, no.’

Her tone is sharper than she’d intended. He pulls back a little, studying her face. His eyes flicker to her parted lips, her flushed, heaving chest, and then back to her determined gaze. His brows furrow.

‘Do you really not want to do this?’ His voice is soft, serious.

They stare at each other, hot breaths mingling. He’s still pressed up against her, a six-foot-three wall of muscle and love, and his scent—spicy cologne and smoke—floods her head like ambrosia, a dizzying fog of him. Her skin burns beneath his palms, his touch sending embers through the expensive fabric and down, flames licking at her inner thighs. Her heartbeat thumps in her ears.

‘We don’t even work here anymore,’ she rasps, deflecting his question. It’s a weak excuse, but she is fraying at the edges.

A salacious smile forms on Lucifer’s face. ‘We’ll just pretend we do.’

He takes a step back, putting a more ‘professional’ distance between them, adjusts his lapels and attempts at a neutral expression. ‘You wanted to show me something in Evidence, Detective?’

And there’s that word again, want—because she still hasn’t answered his question and her consent means more to him than anything. She loves him for that, she really does, but right now, it’s not that simple. She wants, every cell in her body wants, wants him to shove her into that closet and take her apart. Has wanted it for so long, thought about it for years—at her desk, in the shower, while sitting next to him during interrogations. Thought about it in the self-same evidence closet, as she was pressed up against the wall by someone else. Imagined tugging at his hair, feeling him between her legs—even had to swallow his name. She still thinks about it, thought about it the other night, briefly, wistfully, while making a cup of tea. Thought about how much fun they could have had, sneaking off to secret corners of the precinct like two horny teenagers—if it hadn’t been for, well, mostly Michael, and all the chaos he’d released upon their lives.

In fact, it’s only fair they have at least one reckless, semi-public rendezvous. Just one. To make up for the honeymoon phase they never really had. With all the hurt and heartbreak they’ve had to go through, alone and together, they deserve to have one night of stupid fun.

On the other hand, and this is why it’s not that simple, it’s a bad idea. It’s a really bad idea. And also, pretty illegal. If she asked him to, if she said no now, he would take her home and push her up against the nearest surface, bury himself in her faster than any of them could get their clothes off, bring her to ecstasy-

But it’s not the same. It just isn’t.

With as much innocence she can muster, she looks up at his anticipatory face and puts her hand on the doorknob. The cold steel is a soothing balm against her burning skin.

‘I do want to show you something in Evidence.’

He lights up like it’s a declaration of love, all unrestrained enthusiasm.

‘After you, darling.’

Their lips crash against each other before the door is even closed. He pushes her backwards in the semi-darkness, between shelves and boxes, hands low on her hips. His fingers dig softly into her ass as they stumble towards a sliver of wall together, panting and laughing against each other’s mouths. He doesn’t break contact with her lips as he quickly sheds his jacket on the way and throws it over his shoulder, for the moment uncaring of dirt and creases. Then her back hits the wall with a thunk and she’s instantly struck by déjà vu, until Lucifer grabs her thigh inside the slit of her dress, and the unwelcome memory quickly evaporates in the heat of their clashing bodies as he wraps her bare leg around his waist and pins her to the wall with the hard press of his hips. Their unison groans fill the cramped space.

‘We shouldn’t be here,’ she murmurs breathlessly against his lips before opening her mouth to let his tongue back in. He tastes like wine and crème brûlée.

He hums in disagreement. ‘We should always be here, Detective.’ With the hand still on her ass, he pushes their bodies impossibly closer together and rocks against her. She moans, despite herself.

‘We- I-‘ Chloe stammers, leaning her head back as he kisses his way down her neck, her mind and body pulling in different directions. ‘This is- why am I letting you get away with this?’

She feels him smirk against her throat. His hand slowly glides up her inner thigh—her pulse quickening with every inch—until his thumb brushes past damp fabric.

‘Because you like me.’ His beard rasps against her hot skin in the crook of her neck, a contrast to his soft lips placing slow, open-mouthed kisses from her jaw to her collar. ‘Because you love me.’

Chloe scoffs.

‘Do I love you?’ she questions, her breathing erratic, her eyes turned to the ceiling as he sucks a mark onto her neck. With the hand that is still between her legs, he pushes her underwear to the side and rubs against her, nice and slow. ‘Yes.’ Her gasped answer has a proud, almost victorious chuckle rumbling from his chest.

‘But do I like you?’—she bites her lip and stifles another moan as his fingers press just right—‘That’s still up for debate.’

He breaks off the assault on her neck and looks up at her, eyes black with desire.

‘Allow me to try and tip the scales, then.’

She’s bereaved of his fingers as his hand moves to the edge of her underwear, pulling it down as he sinks to his knees. She almost stumbles when he slips it over her feet, but he grabs her leg, steadying her, and helps her out of her stilettos. Once she’s barefoot, his warm palms slide up the side of her legs, pushes the hem of her dress up a few inches, and then his mouth is on her.

He licks her, slowly, tenderly. She reaches down to pull at his hair, commanding him to give her more, to take more, and he does. He starts feasting on her, all tongue and lips and-

‘God, yes.’

He chuckles smugly into her core. ‘I do love it when you moan my name, darling.’ Eyes fixed on hers, he gives her a nice, long lick before he dives back in. He kisses her clit, sucks it, circles it, laps at her like he can’t get enough, and she’s reduced to a quivering, whimpering mess. She bucks against his face, needing more, and he does that thing that she likes, tongue flicking her clit, warm and wet, as he pushes a finger inside her.

Her eyes clench shut, her head falls back against the wall. She doesn’t bother holding back her groan this time.

Lucifer hums against her, low and greedy, taking as much as he can, before he pulls away with ragged breaths. ‘Ma déesse, que tu as bon gout.’

The meaning is forever lost on her, but his hungry tone, the way his tongue wraps smoothly around the French syllables, the words dripping like sin from his glistening lips, sends warm shivers down her spine.

He slows down his pace inside her, places kisses on her lower belly, seeks her ticklish spots and the ones that make her breath hitch, and then trails down to her hips, studying her sharp bone with his lips and his teeth, before moving down to her thigh, stubble prickling her tender skin. As if he’s got all the time in the world, he lets his mouth travel to the insides of her legs, already spread for him, and kisses a path up her inner thighs, getting closer and closer to where she aches with need,but never quite there. His finger, still moving slowly—too slowly—curls a bit, reaches that spot deep inside her that usually makes her see stars, but he pulls back before she’s even done gasping.

‘Lucifer,’ she breathes, a threat and a plea.

He places one last kiss to her sensitive thigh, nuzzles his nose against her heat, before his tongue finally finds her clit again and his finger starts pumping inside her, fast and hard. Then faster, harder, and, fuck, deeper.

‘Baby,’ she begs him to continue, fire spreading through her body, from her curling toes to her already heated cheeks.

He slows down for a second, and she reaches down to scratch at his scalp in frustration but quickly forgives him when he adds another finger and resumes his perfect pace, thrusting up in her to the beat of her racing heart.

‘Je veux te faire jouir.’ His thumb replaces his tongue as he looks up at her, eyes sparkling with lust and determination, but also patience. Like he could do this for hours, the whole night, as long as she falls apart around his tongue and fingers in the end.

He doesn’t need all night, though. She’s close, so close, can feel the beginning of that blissful high burning in her lower belly, between her thighs, where his mouth licks and nibbles and sucks. A building warmth pumping through her veins. She grabs at his hair, wraps her leg around his shoulder and pushes his face closer into her heat, needing that last-

‘Fuck, right there,’ she gasps. Right there right there right there.

He smirks against her, always eager to please, and does as she says. As she’s teetering on the edge, he curls both fingers inside her, goes impossibly deeper, and reaches the same spot as before, except this time, he doesn’t stop, and she comes with a shudder and a gasped ‘fuck!’ as he licks her through it.

‘Tu es tellement belle, ma chérie,’ he tells her, voice soft with awe as she comes down from her high and opens her eyes. She understands enough of the words to smile down at him, at his dishevelled hair, his swollen lips, and warm, chocolatey eyes.

‘You too, baby.’

She still hasn’t caught her breath when he, after wiping his mouth on her thigh, slowly rises from his feet and starts making his way up her body. His fingers skate lightly up her dress, his knuckles brushing against her rising and falling ribs as his hands sneak higher and higher, closer and closer. With a feather-light touch, he starts tracing the curves of her breasts, deliberately avoiding her aching nipples. He teases her with his fingers, kisses her neck, lips trailing, hot and slow, up to her jaw and the sensitive spot behind her earlobe.

‘J’ai envie de toi,’ he says into her ear, his voice rough with want and determination.

Chloe can’t take it anymore. She fists his waistcoast in one hand and grabs him by the hair with the other to pull him up into a hard kiss. He tries to stay in control, to hold back his obvious desire for just a little longer, but he quickly loses the battle and lets a bit of hunger take over. They pour equal heat into the kiss, tongues pressing and teeth clashing as their mouths slide against each other. She threads her fingers through his curls, he bites her lip, and they both groan and gasp into the kiss.

Chloe’s the one to pull away, needing air sooner than him. They’re looking into each other’s eyes, both panting, when he says it again, ‘J’ai envie de toi.’ This time, breathy desperation shines through his voice. ‘Je veux être en toi.’

And then they’re kissing again and both of them are working at his belt and pants in a flurry of hands until he’s finally inside her with one quick thrust. He fills her to the hilt, deliciously stretching her inner muscles, warm and hard. For a moment, they’re both so overcome they can only pause and breathe, Lucifer’s forehead cradled in the crook of her shoulder as her hand gently strokes the short hairs on the back of his neck.

He pulls back to look deeply into her eyes, and starts off slow. Not teasing, just tender. He kisses her cheeks and neck, every inch of skin he can reach with his lips, and whispers sweet nothings against her skin. She can’t know for sure, of course, because it’s still in French, and she doesn’t catch all of it, the sounds alien and muffled—‘t’es incroyable’, she hears, ‘j’suis fou amoureux de toi’—but something about his tone tells her it’s not as dirty as whatever he was saying before. Still, it makes her just as wet, the words tingling across her skin.

He picks up the pace, wraps her legs tighter around him, and pushes her harder against the wall. His hand grasps her breast roughly, seeking purchase, then rhythmically strokes over her nipple in apology, and she moans her relief. The shelves on either side of them hit the wall with a consistent thump, thump, thump as he thrusts up into her, fucks her, their harsh pants mingling in the small space between their parted lips. Chloe claws at Lucifer’s shoulders and back, hands scrambling for something to hold onto. Even through the two layers of fabric, she can feel his warmth and muscles, and a sudden urge bubbles up within her. With desperate fingers, she starts undoing the buttons on his shirt, but it takes too long—she needs him—so she rips open both shirt and waistcoat and frantically pushes them off his shoulders. He pins her against the wall with a hard thrust, letting go of her thigh and breast to shake the material onto the floor, and Chloe scratches at his finally bare back and shoulders, nails digging into slick, freckled flesh. She arches back into the wall and bares her neck for him to nip and kiss.

‘Fuck, Lucifer!’ she whines. ‘Oh, God, baby, fuckyes!’

He growls at the sound of her noises and bites her ear.

‘J’adore baiser avec toi.’ One hand slides down to her ass, holding her and pushing her dress higher up as the other bites into the now bare skin at her waist. The sharp touch sends a jolt down to her throbbing clit, making her clench tighter around him. ‘J’adore ton corps. T’es vraiment une déesse.’ The last word is a groan against her lips as he kisses her.

It’s wet, messy, and so delicious they both grasp tightly onto each other’s mouths with lips, tongues and teeth, neither of them wanting to ever let go.

‘Je veux t’embrasser,’ Lucifer pants when they break apart for a second, his gaze fixed on her mouth as their lungs fight for air. His dark eyes soften when they look into hers. ‘Chaque jour de ma vie,’ he adds reverently as he leans in. ‘Pour toujours.’ And then he kisses her again, like he wants it to last for all eternity.

His thrusts turn slower and deeper as they kiss, harder, until kissing becomes panting into each other’s mouths and Chloe’s head falls back in sheer pleasure. He tightens his grip on her ass and runs the hand on her waist up her side, brushing his thumb over her nipple as he passes her breast, up her neck, and cups the side of her face. She lets their eyes meet, and the way he’s looking at her, with absolute awe and gratitude, makes her heart flutter and her hips buck against his bare stomach. Her hands slide from where they’ve been clutching his mess of a hair to his back, trailing down to where he’s most sensitive. She places her palms on either side of his spine and presses lightly, carefully.

‘Tu me-’ he cuts off with a gasp when her nails skim over his hidden wings, ‘Tu me rends- fucking hell, Chloe.’

She keens at the guttural sound of her name. He leans his forehead against hers with a grunt, the slight change in angle making his rhythm falter, one hand slamming against the wall next to her. She watches the rest of his control slip through glazed eyes. She did this to him. She rendered God himself lost to his own bliss. That knowledge itself is nearly enough to push her over the edge.

‘Close,’ she breathes.

He grabs both her thighs with strong hands and presses her flush up against the wall, going impossibly deeper inside her. She hisses through her teeth and sputters all kinds of incoherent, unholy prayers into the sweltering air between them. Every hard thrust pushes her closer to ecstasy.

‘You make me so happy,’ Lucifer whispers, sounding so wrecked and raw her eyes clench shut. ‘I want- I hope- fuck- I hope I make you, nnf, just as happy.’

‘You do, baby. You make me so- so-’

Heat floods her veins as she comes, the sweet tension snapping all at once. She cries out, arches her back, and moans long and low as he continues to fuck her through it. His thrusts are quick and inelegant, his arms and thighs trembling, and she knows he’s close. She intentionally clenches around him, whispers his name, and then he too is tumbling over the edge, the only type of falling she ever wants him to feel again.

They smile at each other as they try to catch their breaths, sweaty foreheads still pressed together.

‘I love you,’ he says. ‘So much.’

She hums with happiness, her heart pleasantly aching at the sound of the words he couldn’t say the last time they were here.

‘I love you too, babe.’ She reaches up to lazily nuzzle the hairs at the nape of his neck, still smiling.

‘Maybe you even like me?’

She lets out a breathy chuckle and slides down the wall to land on her bare feet. Her legs are… wobbly, to say the least. Lucifer smirks at her.

‘We’ll see about that.’ She smoothes out her dress as he tucks himself back into his pants and fastens his belt. ‘If anyone ever finds out about this, your chances are pretty bad, buddy.’

She collects his clothes from the floor and helps him into his shirt. Two buttons are missing, lost to the force of her hasty ripping. It gives her an odd sense of satisfaction, the fact that the shirt he wore when they first kissed—the shirt she dreamt of tearing off his body—now is marked by their little escapade. (At least until he gets his tailor to fix it.)

‘Well, I’ll just have to keep trying to convince you then, won’t I?’ He licks his lips and lifts his eyebrows as he offers her a hand to help her up from the floor once she’s put her shoes back on. Chloe bites her cheek so as to not smile at his suggestion and intertwines their fingers.

‘You can start by helping me assemble that new shelf system tomorrow,’ she tells him, waiting for him to groan in response, or mumble something about hiring some people to do it for them. But he doesn’t. He just opens the door for her and lets her go first with a soft smile on his still flushed face.

‘Anything for you, my love.’

The door shuts with a gentle click behind them.

#writing #deckerstar fanfiction #deckerstar #chloe decker #lucifer morningstar #lucifer #lucifer on netflix #fluff #smut #established deckerstar #lucifer is god #post 5b #post s5 #two part drabble game

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mari-lair · 4 years

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Norray halloween week Day 1: Ghosts!

If curious, below are some random info about this Teacher/ghost AU

Ray got a gun and he can use it. The ghost gun isn’t able to touch, much less physically hurt anyone, but it replicate the sound of a real gun, which contributed a lot to how low priced his haunted house rent has become. It nearly gave Norman a heart attack the first time he heard it.

After being dead for a while, Ray learned how to turn visible and invisible at will and play around small objects such as paper, shoes and butcher knives. He can control up to 4 small objects at a time or something relativaly heavy like a chair if he really concentrate. The more he got the hang of controling and moving small objects the lower his house rent become, rarely getting aggressive but still able to physically hurt people. On All Hallows Eve he can posses people’s bodies and get out of the house he haunts, but he always ends up back to his empty ‘home’ when the night is over.

Ray is an incredibly fast learner. Just by observing the people that visits his house, he learned a decent amount of modern english and understand the basics of how tecnology is a thing now -he wished this advanced tecnology was invented when he was alive. It would make the of lack of food and nutrients less of a deadly nightmare in open sea.

As a pirate, Ray used to be the one in charge of doing most of the bloody work and take the night watch, protecting his captain’s back from both outside and inside forces. He was constantly alert, borderline paranoic. But as the years in death passed, he grew more calm, very patient. He usually don’t mind new people in his house, happy to learn more modern english and befriend the guests willing to tolerate him. If a new guest cross a line however, Ray will do his best to scare them away. Hurt them or kill them by manipulating knives if he sees fit.

It’s very rare for adults to see Ray as anything other than a nonsense they have no energy to deal with or a warning sign for their crumbling lives, so he usually hang around kids. The childish company mellows him with time.

Ray is from a time where death was common and getting hurt was inevitable so what people consider pretty serious is something Ray considers mild “Why are you being so dramatic about seeing some bone? Be grateful your hand is still attached to your wrist after you slaped your daughter. If it wasn’t for her wishes you wouldn’t have legs to run away.”

Norman is considered a genius and have countless prizes under his belt. He wanted to go to the moon when he was a kid but because of his weak health, he knew he would not be acepted in the space program. He decided teaching was the next best thing later on, accepted as a teacher in a prestigious school while still young. He enjoys and understand all subjects but love history the most, unable to deny it was hard and frustrating to teach a whole class of teens at times but still liking his job. Having one student that was genuinaly interested in his class was more than enough to make his day.

When Norman first started teaching, he felt more responsable than he had his whole life. It wasn’t a bad feeling per see, but it made him anxious so he called his little sister Cherry once a week to ask her questions about her teachers and make sure he was doing a good job.

Norman may not be the funniest of teacher but he’s still a favorite for his palpable cares for his students. He does not make the subject easier than is requested but he put a lot of effort into making people enjoy their world history, teaching with passion and seriously answering any questions, no matter how silly or joking it sounds. He’s understanding and try his best to help those with dificulty with the subject, always giving people second chances, having lost countless nights of sleep correcting re-writen essays after deadlines and turning his test questions into podcasts for students with adhd, aware the big historical excerpts are fundamental for answering the test but too hard to focus, specially with limited time.

The lambda crew are problem children. Norman went the extra mile to save Barbara and Zazie from failing classes even outside history and left Vincent startruck with his wide knowladge about not only world history but a ton of subjects he could be teaching too if he wasn’t overworking himself. Norman is both happy to inspire the squad to study hard and also very awkward by their blind admiration.

The teacher had a firm “ghost don’t exist” mentality, which is one of the reasons he brought the haunted house in the first place. He had chalked Ray up as an halucination from his sleep deprived brain, having the rotten luck of buying the house right after a bad guest owned. The ghost got more annoyed than usual from things as insignificant as Norman keeping the lights on for too long, putting music Ray doesn’t vibe with, or just acting unfairly cute, to more personal matters such as Norman studying about Ray and his family lives. They used to have a distant and bad relationship but once Ray noticed Norman had only admiration for history, being genuinaly kind when trying to talk instead of mocking his existence, Ray apologised. Norman was still wary at first but they quickly hit off, enjoying to learn what the other had to offer and matching in wits.

When Norman catch a fever or a bad cold Ray gets wary. He know, on some level, that medicine have evolved a lot, but he remenbers way too clearly how serious even the weakest of diseases could get if not imediatly treated. He always stick by Norman’s side when the teacher sneezes, not taking his eyes off him. Usually Norman keep working when he catch a cold, so Ray learned to float Norman’s grading papers out of his reach when coughing joined his sneezes. Floating a paper is enough to get Norman to take a break most of the time, but if the get stubborn Ray will stop playing nice. Just lower his voice to comander mode and order “Rest. Now. Or I’ll make your life a living hell.” and Norman does what he’s told, it’s very unconfortable to have a gun in the face and he does feel very tired.

When Norman is seriously sick, not just coughing but stuck to his bed. Ray freak out and fear for his life. When it reached this level, most of his crewmates died or had to be thrown in the sea to not infect other. Yes Ray know it’s not as bad anymore, but even when he observed guests, they rarely got sick, and when it got bad they where taken to a doctor. Norman lives alone so he got no one to feed him and bring him blankets or take him to the doctor if he lies for hours in bed. Ray was all the help he would get and he is fucking dead, he can’t measure his temperature or take care of him properly. Ray does tries his best though. He concentrated a lot to float heavy blankets and pillows towards Norman. Imediatly fetching any pills asked of him and doing his best to make him tea. It isn’t tasty, but Norman still appreciates his care.

Ray is the first to fall in love, he think “If only I could kiss this fool and hug him, I would do it on the daily. I wish he was alive back then... He would love meeting Emma...” at least once a week but a big part of him is just “Forget scurvy! Norman would die of cold or malnutricion before he reached 10. Thank god the helpless bastard took his sweet time to be born.”

Ray cannot touch any eletronics, he can’t even come close without phones, computers, and tvs turning to statics, so Norman buys an illustrated book about the Red Mane Pirates for Ray to see his crew again. He know is not perfect but is the best he can offer whenever Ray expresses missing his family.

They read together. Norman occasionally teaching a new word to his ghost and Ray correcting any historical inacuracy. It’s fun.

Norman finds an illustration of an alive Ray sleeping in the mast waaay too beautiful. Ray snort at the romantized draw, disolving into laughter by how Norman failed to hide his blush.

It became a habit to read history books together and tease each other. More often then not, it lead to a history class and way to much sass on both ends.

“Wait, so there really was a world war? I heard about it from old guests but I thought they were exagerating when they called world war! And what do you mean 2? There was a second one??”

“How did miss the second one? It was HUGE, quite horribl-”

“You were not even alive when it happened.”

“Tecnically, you weren’t either Ray-”

Ray is a bit scared of how attached he got to Norman, knowing eventually the man would die. He hopes it will take a long time, and that once he had a painless death, he will become a ghost too, but he doesn’t really believe Norman will ever turn into a ghost. Ray knows not everyone that dies became a ghost. Since someone as compassionable as Emma -even if she was forced to have blood and dirty choises on her hand to survive the merciless seas- was not cursed to became a ghost, he was confident someone as kind as Norman would dissapear from Ray’s afterlife once he died too.

More of this AU here

And since you reached the end of this text wall. You can have this bonus Norman being awkward/excited about their growing friendship.

#norray #the promised neverland #tpn norman #tpn ray #norray week #norrayweek #i still can't draw adult BUT THERE WAS AN ATTEMPT #i don't know much about history so guyhiluojikço #NORMAN SLEEPING POSE WAS SO HARD TO DRAW HOLY SHI-#but i love this au #yiouhoji freaking ship week anxiety tho

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