#this is what your books feel like severely

[bogleech]

What's your stance on Kobolds as lizard-things vs Kobolds as dog-things.

I like every incarnation of them, and D&D's combo version of those two is also fun. But even though I was definitely more exposed to Fantasy Gaming Kobolds, I still primarily think of them as spooky subterranean elf things, and I just realized my mental image of them is specific enough I had to have seen it somewhere, but I can't remember where. The word "Kobold" conjures exactly this in my head:

I feel like I can remember black and white artwork of this little guy, the beak nose and shiny eyeballs and everything, but that maybe it wasn't a kobold in the original context. It might be several other creatures, maybe even from other early Dungeons and Dragons books, that merged together in my memory.

[f0point5]

MAD MAX FIGHT SCENE WHEN?? I have never needed a written piece more than right now

I also reserve the right to imagine Emilia throwing a shoe at someone in this scenario. Idk why i just feel like it could happen. She is not happy about it

MAD MAX FIGHT SCENE NOW!!!

Tell me why this went four different ways before I came to this version. The alternate version took place in a club and had Emilia spraying champagne at a bunch of people but fundamentally it didn’t work as a written piece because you can’t hear what anyone’s saying in a club for shit 😂 No shoe throwing but I hope you like it anyway 😂

Me writing action scenes is like something out of that book After it’s so bad I’m sorry but I hope you got where I’m going 😂

✨set after the Monaco Grand Prix 2018✨

I don’t regret it one bit, ‘cause he had it coming

Another Monaco GP, another yacht party. You’re not even sure whose yacht it is but you don’t care. During GP weekend, drivers can pretty much walk onto whatever boat they want. You, Max, Clara, and Laurent had wandered onto the biggest boat with people having a party and set about forgetting Max’s nightmare weekend. The party is chaotic, you’re not sure how long whoever is in charge of the marina will let the noise and overcrowding go on, but you’re enjoying the high, four shots down with Max on the upper deck, lazily moving to the music emanating from the DJ playing his set downstairs.

“Where’s Laurent?” Max asks, practically shouting in your ear. He’s tipsy, which he deserves to be, his arm slung over your shoulder as he looks around, jerking your body as he turns. He’s out way too late, you can tell by how his t-shirt is clinging to him, and the fluffy top of his hair has completely broken free of the gel hold. He looks positively feral. You don’t hate it.

“I don’t know,” you shrug, pushing up onto your tiptoes so you don’t have to shout. “Probably fucking Clara in a bathroom somewhere,”

Max chuckles at that, taking a sip of his Red Bull. He offers it to you but you shake your head.

“I thought you were supposed to be supporting me,” he jokes as you avoid the can.

“Not by rotting my insides,” you tell him, squirming in his hold as he bops to the Dua Lipa remix he’ll pretend he’s never heard before. He manoeuvres you in front of him as if you don’t even have feet, wrapping his arm around your stomach so that you’re still trapped, but comfortable.

“Je bent niet leuk, schatje,” he says into your ear. The air on your neck makes you shiver against him, and he must think you’re cold because he holds you tighter.

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” you tell him, which makes him smirk. “And I’m not your baby,”

“Ja, maar-“

“Max!”

You twist in Max’s hold when a guy you don’t recognise appears from somewhere in the crowd. Max lets go of you to greet him, and without being entirely engulfed by 80kgs of Red Bull and audacity, you realise you’re parched. You tell Max you’ll be right back and scoot out of reach before he can say anything. You creep through the crowd and then downstairs to where the drinks are without twisting your ankle, which, given how drunk you felt back upstairs, sort of surprises you.

There’s several ice buckets lining the edge of the deck and you peruse the options. You’ve certainly had enough to drink but one more vodka couldn’t hurt. You glance over at the cans of Red Bull and make a note to take one with you as you pick a glass off the table.

“Do you come with the bottles?”

Well, that’s a choice of opening line, talking to a girl like she’s a phone charm.

You turn to see what, not whom, actually felt comfortable saying that out loud and there he was. The epitome of a guy who would say that. He’s older than you, maybe mid to late 20s, all tan and tight jeans, dark hair cut in a fade, gold watch that could be seen from space and those Louboutin loafers. His cologne smells like Dubai.

You look him up and down very slowly and deliberately. “Not if you’re buying them,” you say, turning back to the ice bucket.

“Aw, come on, don’t be like that,” his voice is closer now, almost in your ear. You turn only slightly and find his face already next to yours. ”Come have a drink over here,” he nods over to a seating area where a few guys sit with girls that look too young to be there.

You know the type - down on a girls trip for the weekend with only party outfits in their bags, they’d likely hung around the marina until the pack of jackals had brought them here to ply them with alcohol they didn’t have to pay for. You’re half offended that this guy thought you’d be anywhere near that easy.

“I’ve got enough, thanks.” You say, firmer this time, as you give up on the vodka and just grab one of the many bottles of champagne in the ice bucket. When you turn to leave, you practically collide with the hunk of meat now towering over you.

“Who do I have to speak to to get you to come have a drink with me?” He asks, as if that’s meant to be sexy.

You roll your eyes. “Your hairdresser.”

“Come on, just one drink. I’ll make it worth your while,” he says, his eyes glancing down. You follow his gaze, already steeling yourself for some vulgar gesture, but he pulls out the edge of his wallet from his jeans.

You roll your eyes again. “I’m not pay for play. Now leave me alone.”

You step around him this time, starting to make your way back towards the stairs when this experiment in protein shake consumption blocks your way. You almost trip trying not to crash into him, not that he would have minded if the way he leans into you Is any indication.

“Look, I’m not some nobody, baby, I’ve got real fucking money. I’m what all you pretty girls come out here in your skimpy dresses for,” he says, the noxious smell of chemicals and tequila almost making your eyes water. What makes you feel sick is the way he uses his height advantage to look down your dress. “So have a drink with me. It’ll be fun, I promise,”

Only now does he employ an actual smile, the kind that you’d never want to be in a room alone with. Suddenly, you don’t feel like making any more jokes, you just want to get as far away from this guy as possible. Turning on your heels, you figure you’ll double back around the deck, but a hand tight on your wrist stops you in your tracks.

“Don’t walk away from me,” the words are growled, and you feel your pulse spike. Now you’re scared, but showing it will get you nowhere.

“Get off me,” you snap, trying to shake the giant cretin off you without causing a scene. He doesn’t let go and you’re just about to bottle him over the head when you hear Max’s voice.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Max strides towards you, looking as angry as you’ve ever seen him. He must have been watching from up by the railings of the top deck.

“Oh, here we go,” the guy grumbles, rolling his eyes as he looks at Max. You take the opportunity to wrench your arm free of him. “Don’t worry, bro. You can have her back when I’m finished with her,”

“You arrogant piece of shit,” you snarl at the guy, almost taking a step towards him before thinking better of it.

“Watch your mouth,” he snaps back, pointing a finger at you. “Your ass isn’t that nice,”

“The fuck did you just say?” Max yells over the music. He guides you behind him effortlessly and you don’t argue, though you do keep hold of his arm.

“You heard me, you prick,” the douchebag says, flashing Max a cocky grin. That won’t go down well.

You pull on Max’s arm. You can tell from the set of his shoulders that this is getting out of hand.

“Max, leave it,” you tell him, pulling him again, and this time he listens, sighing and shaking his head. He knows he has to let it go.

“Jesus,” the arrogant pig sneers, and you cringe. “Has this bitch got a magic pussy or something?”

You don’t even have a chance against Max’s reaction speed. He’s moving before your eyes can even follow, shoving the guy backwards so quickly that the drunkard stumbles slightly, but not as much as you thought he would.

“Shut the fuck up,” Max growls at him.

Dickhead doesn’t take this well, shoving Max back. You’re too scared to get in the middle now. People are starting to stare, a couple of them even have their phones out.

“Max,” it’s more of a plea than anything. “Stop it,”

You know Max isn’t going to just drop it. He doesn’t know how to walk away from a fight, it’s just that normally his fighting involves being protected by a ton of carbon fibre, not that he thinks he needs it.

“You don’t want to mess with me, man,” the guy shouts, looking over Max’s shoulder to glare at you. “Certainly not over some dirty yacht slut,”

Once again, you’re no match for Max’s reaction speed. You don’t see his arm move. You’re barely able to process his fist connecting with the guy’s face. You just see Dickhead fly backwards clutching his jaw as he tumbles to the ground.

“Max!” You scream, but this time he totally ignores you.

“Fucking pussy,” he yells, at the same volume but now that the music has been turned down so that everyone can pay attention to the spectacle, it feels like the whole marina can hear him.

He steps towards the disoriented drunkard on the floor and this time you manage to catch up with him, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him backwards.

“Max, come on,”

He’s fighting it a little, and you press your nails into his skin as you fight harder, dragging him away from where Douchebag’s friends have swarmed around him trying to help. You know they’re looking in your direction but you ignore them and you’re hoping Max does, too.

He turns to look at you and it’s like barely recognises you, his face is flushed and his pupils are dilated and you don’t entirely recognise him either. It knocks the wind out of you, and for just a second you swear everything stops, even your heartbeat.

“You’re okay?” Max asks you, through frenzied breathing.

Your mouth is dry but you speak anyway. “I’m fine.” You don’t know if you’re lying. “Let’s just go,”

You don’t give him time to argue, and it seems he’s calmed down enough to realise now is a good time to cut your losses, because he follows you without complaint.

You don’t let go of him until you’re on the concrete pathway up towards the stairs that have street access. More accurately, that’s when you become aware that you’re still holding onto him. When two toasted revellers try to walk between you but can’t, and shout something at you in Spanish for walking too slow. You let go of Max but he still doesn’t say anything. You keep stealing glances at him as you walk. His shoulders are still tight, his jaw is clenched. His hands are clenched into fists at his side. He still looks livid. That’s why you’re nervous, that’s why you can’t catch your breath, that’s why it’s hard to look away from him. You’re worried about him.

“Well, that was stupid,” you say with a sigh, once you’re sure your words won’t come out as some kind of breathy invocation of a worse kind of chaos than anything you’ve already been involved in tonight.

“That guy was stupid,” Max shoots back, grinding his teeth.

“You could have got hurt, Max,” you tell him, shoving him in the arm. He rolls his eyes. Of course. When taking your own life in your hands is what you get paid for there’s not much you can afford to be scared of. “What would have happened if you’d broke your hand? Your dad would actually kill me,”

“My dad would have done the same thing I did,” Max counters, and you can tell by the several expressions that cross his face in quick succession that he doesn’t quite know how to feel about that.

“Your dad is an idiot,” you remind him. He doesn’t argue. “And so are you,”

He scoffs. “So I was just supposed to let him talk to you like that? Touch you like that?” It’s not really a question, more a general statement of unadulterated disgust and you can’t really blame him. “Fuck that. I’m not going to just-“

He cuts himself off, his jaw ticking again. Neither of you have ever spoken about it, but you know men behaving like sentient sewage is a sore subject for both of you. Maybe, you think, you shouldn’t make him feel bad for standing up for you. You’d never needed anyone to stand up for you, and you still didn’t, but the fact that Max always did means more to you than you know how to articulate.

You lean over and kiss him on the cheek, catching more of the corner of his mouth than you intended, but he doesn’t say anything. He just stops walking and looks at you, the left side of his lips twitching.

“You kiss idiots?” Max asks, tongue darting out to lick at his bottom lip.

“Exclusively,” you shrug, “judging by my dating history,”

That makes him laugh, a proper one, with that bark he does when he’s surprised how funny he finds something. All traces of the menace from the boat filter out of his body, and something in the back of your head tells you it was just in time.

“Hey,” a loud, obnoxious, and lovable voice rings out behind you. You turn around and see Laurent walking towards you with a well satisfied Clara on his back, holding a large bottle of pilfered champagne. “Where the fuck have you two been?”

#max Verstappen x reader

[dutifullylazybread]

Headcannon jealous Rolan

Rolan and Tav have an established relationship

However, Rolan is jealous of Gale. I need to know how this man handles jealousy and Gale around Tav. NSFW or SFW.

So I ended up writing a bit of a scenario while also giving an idea of how Rolan acts while he is jealous. Some mentions of sex below, but nothing overtly NSFW. I'd argue this is more of a hurt/comfort headcanon list.

As a note, I focused on why Rolan might be jealous of the relationship between Tav/Gale to keep this as concise as I could. I think it is possible that Rolan might be jealous of Gale's magical education, but that might be a headcanon list for another time!

Some Reasons Why Rolan is Jealous of Gale and How He Acts:

Rolan knows that you and Gale are close—the two of you traveled together for months after all. You have pulled each other from the jaws of death on countless occasions. You convinced him not to detonate the orb that once sat in his chest.

Gale has a deeper understanding of what you went through at that time than Rolan thinks he ever will. After all, Rolan never had a tadpole lodged in his skull, nor has he ever shared a mental link with you. And while his path to Baldur’s Gate took him one way, your path took you the other—even with the points in which both routes merged.

And the bastard is just charming. He makes it look so easy to be that damn charming.

And when Rolan feels at ease, he is charming. But he feels like he has to put on a performance. He has to be this brilliant wizard at all times.

Rolan may feel like he knows you well—you and him are in an established relationship. The two of you have professed your love for each other. You sleep in the same bed, you have shared goals for the future, and he could see himself spending the rest of his life with you.

But does he know you as well as Gale does?

That eats at him.

And he does feel like he is at a disadvantage when Gale comes to visit, and the two of you reminisce about something that Rolan wasn’t present for. 

He watches how you light up and laugh, and he wonders if you ever light up like that around him. He tells himself that it might be different, that he might not notice those little details, because he sees you every single day.

You and Gale may discuss a book that Rolan has never read, or you might ramble on about your research and ask for the other’s opinion.

After traveling together and patching each other’s wounds, you and Gale might casually touch (arm squeezes or hugs, for example) with ease. And it might make Rolan uneasy.

Rolan’s response to the situation will vary.

If he feels left out, he might excuse himself and make himself scarce. You can tell something is wrong based on how his tail is snapping back and forth. He is seething and trying to hide it.

He is also being awfully short with you. He might make a few passive aggressive (or as passive aggressive as he can manage) comments.

“Don’t mind me. I wouldn’t want to take you away from such engaging company.” He says this with a distinct bite, of course.

If he isn't too deep into his jealousy, he will definitely take comfort in the two of you having sex. You make him feel loved and valued, and you take the time to remind him of that.

And while he is feeling this way, slow and tender sex is the way to go. The sex where it feels like the two of you have nothing but time and you plan on using all of that time with him is soothing.

If he has gotten to the point where he is being short and standoffish, however, sex isn't happening. He is closing himself off from everyone in nearly every conceivable way.

If Gale tries to talk to him, Rolan is cordial but chilly. 

He won’t outright ask for Gale to leave, but he doesn’t go out of his way to make him feel welcome either.

He is, after all, trying to appear every inch the archwizard who could rival Gale. And in several ways, he already is. He just doesn’t see it.

While Rolan doesn’t necessarily try to one-up Gale, he will have those small, ugly moments of feeling rather pleased with himself when he is more knowledgeable about something than Gale might be.

Rolan might make small jabs at Gale about knowing something that he perceives as easy but which Gale mentions having difficulty with (it just feels satisfying to know he can do something better than Gale).

When Gale is about, Rolan might make a conscious point to curl his tail around your ankle or to lay a hand on the small of your back—physical contact that he might not normally indulge in when company is around.

I don’t see him making a point of kissing you in front of Gale or doing something like pulling you onto his lap—the small moments of contact, though Gale might not be picking up on it, speak volumes already.

Should Rolan not be forthcoming with Gale about how he feels, Gale will likely say something to you along the lines of, “Have I done something to upset Rolan?”

Naturally, you don’t want to see your beloved and one of your dear friends at odds.

So, privately, you ask Rolan what the matter is.

This is another situation where he might claim nothing at all is wrong, or he might make a snide remark about Gale. He might loop you into that comment.

“I wouldn’t want to interrupt the two of you. You were getting rather chummy after all.”

The direction this discussion goes will largely depend on how insecure Rolan feels and how defensive he gets. 

It might be as easy as reminding him that you chose him. You have built a life with him. And you wouldn’t change what you have for anything.

If Rolan is too defensive to be receptive, he might put some space between you and him so that he can feel what he needs to feel and then gather his thoughts. He likely won’t be graceful about it (he will probably lock himself up in his office and stew for a bit).

However, when he does have the time to really consider everything, he does see that he has been unfair and downright unkind.

And while he doesn’t enjoy the idea of the conversation to come, he does want to make amends with you. And he wants to explain himself.

This isn’t to say that he won’t get defensive during this discussion either, but with his newfound clarity, he is going to try his damnedest to hear what you have to say and recognize how his actions have made you feel.

Gale and you are just friends. Even if the two of you were romantic in the past, things ended amicably, and neither of you have any interest in picking up where things left off.

Besides, you might ask Rolan, have you ever done anything to make him think that your affections were wandering?

Rolan will assure you that you haven’t. And then it may come out that he is jealous of the closeness that you and Gale have, and sometimes it does sting to know that he hasn’t shared in those adventures.

So you offer to tell him everything that he wants to know. What is he curious about? 

Does he want to know where you all traveled? Does he want to know about the moments where all of you laughed yourselves dizzy around the fire? About the disagreements that you had but then talked out and patched up? How about the most horrific meals you had to scrounge together? 

And this helps him a bit. He might not get to have those experiences with you, but it means the world to him that you are happy to share those times with him—that you feel comfortable enough to do so. 

Even if you don’t want to share everything—if a companion died on the road, if something went horribly wrong—even offering to tell him about some of your adventures means a great deal to him.

Rolan apologizes to you and promises to make amends with Gale.

And when you, him, and Gale are visiting once again, you encourage Rolan to ask questions—Gale is always more than happy to regale anyone with stories of your adventures, after all. 

And, though he does have to swallow his pride a little, Rolan does apologize to Gale.

He asks Gale to visit again—and Gale accepts (Waterdeep is lovely, but Baldur’s Gate is still the third best city on the Sword Coast, after all).

And later, you remind Rolan just how much he means to you, and how incredible you think he is.

I’m saying you body worship and overstim him, and then you hold him while he falls asleep in your arms, feeling loved and cherished and secure.

A week later, when you and Rolan are spending a lazy morning in bed together, you laugh at something he says. And he realizes that, around him, when you light up, you are practically incandescent

And he holds you close.

#rolan #rolan bg3 #headcanons #headcanon list #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 rolan #baldurs gate 3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #rolan x tav #holy rolan empire #bg3 headcanons #baldur's gate 3 headcanons #darcy replies #darcy's headcanons

[aesethewitch]

Ghosts 101

Spirit work has always been the ultimate base of my spiritual and magical practices. Some of my earliest clear memories are of encounters with spirits, and I’ve always had a talent for sensing them. In a horror movie setting, I’d be that person who gets the weird feeling in the hallway right before all the doors slam shut at once, feeling the shift in the air before whatever ghoul’s around makes its mischief.

I mention this right out of the gate so that you, the reader, know that most of what I know about ghosts (and spirits in general) comes from personal experience. Not books, not videos, not other people’s work. There’s a lot of UPG in this little essay. Just keep that in mind as you read.

If there’s something you disagree with or have different experiences with, I’m not surprised! Everything in the realm of spirits, including ghosts, can really only be theorized about. Disagreeing opinions, experiences, and theories are very, very welcome. Drop ‘em in the replies, reblogs, or my inbox. Or, if you want, make a post of your own and tag me in it. I want to see them!

Anyways, with that lengthy UPG disclaimer out of the way, let’s get to the good stuff.

What is a Ghost?

I think it’s important to note, though kind of obvious, that ghosts are a sub-category of spirit. All ghosts are spirits, but not all spirits are ghosts. But what is a ghost, exactly?

As with most things, theories differ. In general, ghosts are thought to be… well, dead people. Some folks think that ghosts are the soul, essence, or spirit of a person who has died. Others believe that ghosts are just a fragment of a person’s spirit. But I’ve also seen theories stating that ghosts aren’t really ghosts, they’re echoes or imprints of human energy that once existed in a place.

Then, there are folks who think ghosts don’t exist at all. I can’t really blame them; empirical, repeatable proof of ghosts is tough to get in order to be satisfying in a scientific way. The only reason I personally believe in ghosts is because I’ve had several encounters that can’t otherwise be explained. Plus, for me, it goes hand-in-hand with other types of spirit work. Ghosts being real just makes sense with the framework I use to engage with the world.

So, obviously, there isn’t one single, concrete answer as to what a ghost is. We can only theorize.

My Theories

My personal theory aligns more or less with one of the more common theories. I think that ghosts are the lingering spirits of living beings who have died. Note I say living beings — some people think that only humans can become ghosts, but I think that any living thing can become one. In the case of plants and trees, ghosts behave somewhat differently than animals; but that’s a whole other conversation to be had. For the sake of this post, I plan on focusing mainly on human ghosts.

The way I understand it, ghosts are the whole, complete essence of a person that lingers in the physical realm for a time after their physical body no longer functions. I believe there are also energetic imprints — energy left over from the living, often (but not always) caused and fueled by strong emotions and lingering ties of memory in a place. These imprints can seem like a haunting, but the key difference is that they aren’t sentient. They may echo when you call, but they won’t give answers that are intelligent or timely according to questions asked or stimulus provided by the living. Sort of like recording a ringing bell; playing the bell’s chime back doesn’t ring the bell again. It just plays the sound it knows.

Now, death does funny things to the mind. Depending on the circumstances of the death, a ghost might have full awareness that they were alive, have died, and are now a ghost. I find this is most common for people who died of old age and long-term diseases: people who knew they were nearing the end, for one reason or another.

Ghosts formed from more sudden deaths, on the other hand, are likelier to not know what happened. They may figure it out given time, or they may never learn the truth. As with most other things dealing with individuals, the exact circumstances vary. No two ghosts are exactly the same. Some people don’t become ghosts at all, I’ve found! They simply move on.

Another important aspect of my theories on ghosts is that I think they fade. Unless they’re continually tied to a space, fed a steady supply of energy, and purposely kept in the physical realm, I believe that they can’t sustain a form here. Without a physical body to keep the spirit, soul, consciousness, or whatever we are, a ghost is gradually pulled into the more ethereal side of things. The astral plane, the other side, the afterlife, et cetera; I’m not sure, personally, where they end up. Maybe it depends on what they were attached to in life, maybe it doesn’t. Who knows!

I think this is where I draw the distinction between ghosts and ancestor spirits. “Ancestor spirits,” in my practice, aren’t individual people from my past. Rather, they’re a sort of collective consciousness made up of all the people who came before me who are connected to me through familial, cultural, and blood ties. I like to believe that ghosts become part of that collective when they fade out of the physical world. All this is to say, ghosts are just people who are dead. They won’t be around forever unless they’re bound and kept “fed.”

On Hauntings

The first half of the things everyone wants to know is: How do we know when a ghost is actually present? It’s a good question, one that’s hotly debated in ghost hunting circles. For the sake of argument, I think we need to define the word haunting first.

To be clear, a haunting isn’t just when a ghost is present. A ghost just passing through or lingering for a little while doesn’t necessarily make a haunting. That would be better described as a presence. A haunting, in my opinion, is a long-term, sustained presence of a ghost or imprint.

And the first step to dealing with a haunting is to determine whether the place you’re in is actually haunted. You don’t have to have super sensitive psychic powers to detect the presence of ghosts. Some folks might have an easier time of it than others, but anyone can learn how to discern when a ghost is hanging around.

It’s important to note that commonly-reported signs of ghost presences and hauntings are also symptoms of other issues like mold, electrical issues, pressure changes, carbon monoxide, stress and anxiety, noisy neighbors, animals outside or in the walls (including bugs), sleep apnea or insomnia, and more. It’s important to consider mundane reasons before leaping to magical, spiritual, or ghostly ones.

With that in mind, let’s say that you’ve ruled out all the mundane possibilities, and you’re still left wondering whether that place is capital-H Haunted. How can you tell?

In my experience, there are a few signs that will stick out:

Disembodied sounds, such as voices, knocking, and walking

A pervasive chill or prickling feeling, particularly on parts of the body that are covered

A feeling of being touched, poked, or prodded

Visual disturbances like mist or shadows

Sudden smells that can’t be explained, such as perfume, tobacco, or food

Batteries in things like phones and cameras draining very quickly

Now, note that even with these signs, a lot of these things can happen with spirits that aren’t ghosts. The only way to know for absolutely sure that you’re dealing with a ghost and not a mischievous, physical-realm-poking non-human spirit is to make contact and ask.

My fellow sensitive individuals may experience other signs during a haunting. Depending on where your abilities lie, you might experience stronger sensations or detect signs of a haunting earlier than others who haven’t trained these senses.

What Causes a Haunting?

It’s hard to say. Some people (particularly ghost hunters with big TV shows who need to make those viewer numbers go up) say that ghosts stick around because they’re pissed off or had some tragedy befall them in life. Trauma ties them to their surroundings, trapping them between life and death as a specter, or something like that.

Honestly, all that tells me is that these guys are trying to sell you something (their show). I’ve met maybe two ghosts that were like that, and they had extremely good reasons for it. That’s not to say there aren’t traumatized ghosts out there; just that they aren’t nearly as common or the only explanation for a haunting.

I’m personally not sure what causes some ghosts to linger over others. I think it does partly have to do with emotion, but it may also have to do with the amount of energy the person had left when they died. For example, the ghost of my great-aunt faded within a couple weeks after she died, because she was old, tired, and ready. On the other hand, the ghost of a guy I went to school with who died in an accident a few years ago is still lingering on the train tracks where it happened. It’s an extremely individual thing.

Another part of lingering ghosts and hauntings, I think, is interaction with the living. Without a physical body, the ghost has no native source of energy. Part of working with ghosts, for me, has been learning how to share energy (mine or from other sources) with ghosts to help them communicate, interact, and continue existing. When the energy runs out, they fade. With a steady supply of energy sources, a ghost could theoretically haunt a place indefinitely.

So, what causes a haunting? I don’t really know for sure! What causes a haunting to linger? A steady source of energy, I think.

Making Contact

So, you want to talk to a ghost. Cool! You’ve got a ton of options at your disposal.

There are the witch-typical methods of spirit communication, most of which would work fairly well for talking to ghosts. I’ve talked a little bit about spirit communication methods before in a more general sense, but I find that ghosts don’t always respond well to divination.

In my experience, simpler tools are better. Unless I knew for a fact that a person understood tarot in life, I would be unlikely to use it to talk to their ghost. Tools you can easily explain that provide clear answers would likely serve you best for most ghosts. My biggest suggestions are pendulums, which are easy for ghosts to understand and manipulate, and ouija boards. Yes, yes, I can hear the gasping and booing already.

Listen. Ouija boards are not evil. Ouija is a game. But talking boards really are good tools for talking to ghosts. Again, they’re easy to understand and manipulate. Plus, you can get really clear answers from a talking board if your ghost is chatty.

There are other tools that have been popularized by ghost hunters that may come in handy, too. Personally, I’ve had success with voice recorders catching EVP (electronic voice phenomena) and, on one notable occasion, a ghost box.

Honestly, I’ve had little use for tools like these outside of ghost hunting scenarios where we’re trying to prove ghosts’ existence in a scientific sense. Voice recorders catching wisps of voice in the background are super cool, and I definitely would suggest having one on hand when doing a ghost adventure. But they’re not great for in the moment communication, since you have to stop a recording to listen back to it and then react who knows how long later.

Where ghost boxes are concerned, I’ve only had the one opportunity to try it out. We were in a location I knew to be haunted thanks to previous visits, and it did seem to work okay. I’d like to try it again sometime to see if it was just a fluke or if it’s an actual, viable thing to use. With any tool commonly used in ghost hunting TV shows (or that’s otherwise Popular By Spectacle), I always approach with serious skepticism. Those shows are all about creating a reaction that can be captured; and when they don’t receive a response, they’re liable to make shit up for the cameras. It’s annoying, especially when a tool might really be useful but it’s shrouded in the very necessary skepticism around these shows.

Now, my personal go-to method to connect to ghosts is to just… talk to them. I don’t usually need to use any tools for it. But I’ve spent many, many, many years honing the skills needed to do this. It’s worth learning how to do if you plan on working with spirits, but it does take effort to get good at, even if you have an innate talent for it. If you can, take some time to develop a sense for spirits. Learn what spiritual presences feel like for you. You may not get immediate results at first, but the skill of sensing energy can apply across the board. And even if you get no “real” response, you can still talk to the ghosts.

When you go to communicate with a ghost, just remember that they’re still a person. They’re not a spectacle, though they are fascinating. Not all ghosts are going to want to talk to you. Not all ghosts are going to like you. Be respectful. Treat that ghost like you’d treat any stranger out in the wild. Don’t be an asshole.

On Mediumship

This is mostly just a brief note, since it’s an adjacent topic that I’ve gotten questions about before.

Not everyone who talks to or works with ghosts is a medium. A medium is a particular career or path that describes someone who acts as a connector between the living and the dead. I tend to think of mediums as the telephone in a conversation — relaying messages back and forth. I used to do medium work all the time. It’s an exhausting path that requires a lot of self-discipline and solid boundaries dealing with both the living and the dead. I don’t do it anymore, though I do still communicate and work with ghosts regularly.

Just keep in mind that you don’t have to take on the title or mantle of “medium” in order to talk to, work with, or research ghosts.

Ghostly Q&A

I received a handful of questions about ghosts in the run up to posting this; thank you everyone who sent in a question! If you’ve got a question and want my perspective on it, feel free to drop it in my inbox or in the replies/reblogs of this post.

From @moonmargaritas: “How do you tell the difference between nervousness at discerning the presence of a ghost (new practitioner who still gets jitters 🤙) and sensing actual hostile intent?”

This is a really great question! This is something I had to work through myself when I got started. And honestly, I still get jitters sometimes many years later! It can be scary, even when you’re used to it.

The biggest piece of advice I have is to learn how your body experiences nervousness or anxiety. Where does that sit in your body? What kind of feelings to you experience?

For me, nervousness is a sort of itchy tingling around my shoulders and tightness around my ribs. It also manifests as the feeling of being watched or observed too closely. It’s easy to misattribute those feelings to a ghost’s presence — tingling and feeling like something’s watching? Those are classic ghost interactions! But I know that’s what anxiety feels like. That’s how I feel when the lights go out too fast or I hear a branch snap in the distance.

Once you know, you can work past those feelings and focus on what’s actually happening with the ghost (or spirit). I think of it like knowing when someone’s mad at me. Are they mad, or am I just anxious? It’s the same idea.

And, as a note, ghosts with hostile intent are few and far between. I personally don’t think that most ghosts, even the nastiest ghosts, can actually hurt you; they don’t have the energy resources for it. The ones that do are obvious, and you won't really have to question their intentions. However, you can always work with the communication methods mentioned above to determine the ghost’s feelings and intents. If you’re worried about negative interactions, a bit of salt and rosemary in a little pouch placed in your pocket goes a long way for protection.

From anonymous: “What’s an unusual way people could use to communicate with spirits? Like an expected divination tool or something we should pay more attention to.”

Hmmmm! Honestly, I think that classic, actual call and response is underrated specifically when it comes to ghosts. Yeah, we’ve all seen the Ghost TV Guys call out for a knock or a word or whatever, but when they get a response, they wig out and don’t do anything with it. It’s annoying!! Because genuinely, saying “tap once for yes, twice for no” and asking questions is a really, really solid way to communicate with a ghost when you have no other tools that will work on hand. I’ve had ghosts lead me to important places and objects within houses doing this. I think more people should give it a try without falling prey to the over-the-top reaction of “DID YOU HEAR THAT?!”

From anonymous: What advice would you give someone dealing with a haunting?

For a run-of-the-mill, regular old haunting? Let it run its course. Most hauntings, when left alone, will fade. However, if you’re inclined to talk to the ghost(s), get them to leave quicker, or get them to be less intrusive in your life, there are a few things you could do.

To talk to them, choose a method of communication and try to reach out like I described above. Get to know them if you can, and set some ground rules. If they won’t (or can’t) communicate with you, and you really want them gone, I would probably recommend a gentle banishing ritual. Something that doesn’t scream “get out” so much as kindly say, “It’s time to move on.”

Or, if you don’t want the ghost gone, just a little quieter at night or out of your bedroom, you could set up wards or activity-dampeners around specific spaces. Choose ingredients and spells that protect against unwanted spirits or just unwanted activity. Keep it activated all day long or just at night while you’re trying to sleep.

Thanks for Reading!

Posts like this are usually put on my Ko-Fi as exclusives first, but since the questions in this one came from Tumblr, I decided to post it in both places at once! (:

With that said, if you did enjoy this post, consider throwing a couple dollars at my tip jar. Tips, commissions, and shop purchases get you 30 days of access to my entire backlog of exclusive posts and upcoming ones. Monthly members get continuous access plus extra benefits! All support helps me keep the lights on, so it's very much appreciated.

If you've got Ghost Questions, shoot 'em my way! My inbox is open.

#aese speaks #spirit work #ghosts #talking to ghosts #hauntings #paranormal #witchcraft #witchblr #witch community #this post is Super Basic #it was going to have More Details but like. it was getting TOO long yknow #so. this is uhhhh part one #ghost post series

[tsukimara]

𝙷𝚎𝚛 𝙵𝚊𝚞𝚕𝚝 .ᐟ

➸ "Forever together" Masterlist (Important)

➸ A silent voice / Koe no katachi AU

➸ « Text » = Writing !

➸ Warning: Bullying, violence (?), ooc Scaramouche (?)

➸ Art: Cu09291 (On Twitter)

➸ 𐙚PREVIOUS ||𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒|| NEXT 𖹭

➸ Chapter 2

You could feel someone's stare on your back but you decided to ignore it because after all, you were new so you knew that a lot of people would be staring at you.

Scaramouche had his chin resting on his hand, looking at your back. So you can't hear huh? Whatever, he didn't care anyway. He took his book and rolled it into a tube, moved a little closer to you and shouted into the tube.

"Wah!"

Everyone turned their eyes towards you, Scaramouche of course pretending like it wasn't him. You sat there frozen, you didn't expect this, so you turned towards him. Mr. Ragnvindr looked up from the book he was holding and frowned.

"What do you think you're doing Mr. Raiden? We are in the middle of class." — Scaramouche just looked away, crossing his arms. You were still looking at him, but you noticed that the rest of the students were focusing on the lesson again, so you did the same.

"Miss [ Last Name ], do you know the answer?" — You noticed that the girl in front of you with glasses turned towards you and showed you the question Mr. Ragnvindr asked you. You smiled at her as a thanks and started writing your answer in your notebook to show the teacher.

« Dugout shelters »

"That's correct answer. Let's give her a hand."

After class they had PE, Scaramouche was holding the ball waiting for Kazuha to put on his shoes when suddenly out of the corner of his eye he saw someone's ball flying towards him so he quickly caught it with his other hand so it wouldn't hit him. He smirked when he saw that the person who threw it at him was Heizou, who was probably complaining that he didn't hit him.

"Are you stupid?" — Heizou asked him, talking about the situation earlier in class — "I just wanted to see how bad her hearing is."

"I don't think it's nice." — Kazuha stated calmly as he finished putting on his shoes and joined them — "I think I can figure it out... You know?"

"How?" — Kazuha glanced at him with curiosity, but he also knew Scara and knew what he was like, so it started to worry him. He hoped he didn't come up with something he would regret.

And so for several days, Scaramouche checked how loud you could hear something. First he started by whispering and when he saw that you didn't react, he checked off level 1. Level 2 and 3 were already louder but you didn't react either, Mona just stared blankly at him as he made his stupid list.

"What are you looking at? Since you're already here, you can try it too." — Scaramouche said to Mona who thought for a moment but finally tried it.

"Wah!" — She shouted but not loud enough for you to hear, at this moment you were enjoying reading your favorite book not knowing what was happening behind your back. Kazuha noticed what was happening and he and Heizou approached the two.

Noticing them, he approached them and pushed Heizou slightly forward — "Do it too!" — Heizou looked at you uncertainly and shook his head causing Scaramouche to call him a chicken. He stepped a little closer to you and screamed loudly, you gripped the book tightly in your hands.

"Mr. Raiden!!"

Mr. Ragnvindr took Scaramouche to the staff room to talk to him — "I realize you've never met a person who is deaf, but you can't make fun of [ Last Name ]'s because of her disability. You hear me?" — Scaramouche just stared at the floor with a grimace.

"I just wanted to know if she really couldn't hear." — Scara explained, trying to somehow alleviate his situation — "Then go about it differently. Ask [ Last Name ] directly."

Directly? Scaramouche didn't like this idea, he didn't like talking to people he didn't know, so how was he supposed to ask you about it directly?

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"Mona."

Mona stopped talking to Sucrose when she heard Scara calling her name. She frowned and looked at him, not knowing what this idiot wanted from her.

"Go talk to her." — Scaramouche pointed at you, sitting in your seat in the classroom, continuing to read your book, wanting to finish it.

"Hey, do you speak Japanese, [ Name ]?" — Mona asked as she leaned her hands on her desk. Sucrose just smiled slightly awkwardly — "Haha... That's not a nice way to put it."

You didn't know what the girls were talking about but you knew it was directed at you so with a small smile you walked up to them with your notebook.

« Could you please repeat that? »

You noticed Mona making a sour face and Sucrose holding her hands, looking elsewhere. You didn't know why they made such faces, so you wanted to write, asking if something happened, but before you did, Mona took your notebook, writing.

« Do you have nickname? » — A nickname? You suspected that wasn't what the girls were talking about, but you shrugged and wrote your nickname.

" [ Nickname ]? Sounds great!"

"Woah!"

"This nickname really suits her!"

Scaramouche just watched the conversation, still not knowing how to talk to you. Should he just talk to you? So what's next? Ask you if you really can't hear? Sounds stupid.

Scaramouche decided to do it when he had a chance to be alone with you, and it happened while he was going to get water because they were having PE now. He noticed you were still putting your shoes on, so he adjusted his hat and stepped a little closer to you, but not too close.

"Hey, uh... Why'd you come to this school anyway?" — You didn't answer anything, but after a while you turned your attention to him, exchanging glances with each other. He noticed you picking up your notebook from the ground.

« Did you say something? »

At this point, Scaramouche panicked a little and walked away from you as quickly as possible, not wanting to talk to you anymore. He started thinking about what an idiot he was for asking you about it. Never mind, it wasn't like he really cared, he didn't want to deal with some weirdo who couldn't hear anyway.

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"Louder, Megistus! How do you expect to get the feelings across like that?" — Mr. Ragnvindr corrected her when she pouted and sat down in her chair, offended.

"Next line: student number fifteen."

Sucrose tapped on your desk so you realized it was your turn, you grabbed your book and stood up to start reading —"Anh doh I gan't waid... noo see gramba again." — While reading, you noticed that a few people started looking at you strangely, so you stopped reading and sat back down.

"Good next. That's you Mr. Raiden."

Mona clenched her hands tightly when she heard this, why did you get praise and she didn't? She whispered a little "Are you serious?"

"Uwah, uwoh. Argle bargle." — Scaramouche mocked you by repeating your speaking style, which made Mona laugh a little but quickly hid it with her hand so as not to draw attention to herself. Some people in the class also started laughing, to which Diluc sighed and decided to take Scaramouche for another conversation in the staff room.

"I know the way [ Last Name ] speaks is unusual but that's no reason to mock her. You hear me?"

"I don't think it's unusual, She's just speaking her mother tongue-" — "Shut up and listen to what I tell you. We're having conversation about morality." — "I don't want-" — "What kind of parent raises an idiot like you?" — "Well-" — "Anyway... There are some things in this world that you just have to deal with."

Scaramouche had already given up on saying anything as he was constantly being interrupted, so he sighed heavily, showing that he didn't like it. Things you have to deal with? Funny.

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« Do you understand what Sensei just said? It would be a big help if you could tell me » — Mona read this as you handed her the notebook, she nodded and started writing down what Mr. Ragnvindr said.

Things you just have to deal with, huh?

"Write down what I'm about to say, kids. Pages 20 to 25. Page 32, chapter 2 practice section and..." — You started looking around, seeing everyone writing except you, you couldn't hear what the teacher was saying, so you looked at your notebook worriedly.

« What is everyone writing down now? »

"What? Again?" — Mona asked, already a little irritated, but eventually she took the notebook from you again and started writing.

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"...So this time I didn't hear what he said." — Mona complained as she walked with Sucrose — "I'll copy it for you later."

Things you have to deal with.

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"Then... [ Last Name]" — Diluc noticed you raised your hand to respond, so he chose you.

"He called on you." — Even though you didn't know what Sucrose said, you guessed that you had been chosen so you started writing quickly so as not to take up much of the others' time, but it didn't help much — "... Sorry, Miss Megistus. Can you tell Miss [ Last Name ] not to raise her hand until after she's written her answer?"

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

"I don't see why she has to raise her hand anyway. Doesn't she know how much time she's wasting?"

"I wish she'd get a clue."

"I know what you mean."

Things you have to deal with...

"You know..." — Scaramouche started when he noticed you changing your shoes as he was about to leave. — "At this rate, everyone's gonna get fed up with you." — But when you turned around and handed him the notebook to write down what he said, he panicked a little again — "Wh-what a pain in the butt!"

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

"Now, let's all do our best to prepare for the choir competition!" — Said the music teacher as the lesson started. Everyone lined up to get ready, Kazuha sat down in front of the piano and started playing but he suddenly stopped when he heard that you were the only one who started singing too fast. Mona covered her ears because she was standing behind you and the others looked at you strangely so you stopped. A teacher who was familiar to you but not to the rest suddenly came inside. She took you to the middle of the room and started talking to explain something.

"Hi, I'm Naganohara Yoimiya from the hearing classroom! [ Name ] is a little tone deaf because of her disability."

Mona rested her face against her hand when she heard this — "What're we gonna do about the choir competition?" — Mona mumbled — "Lose?"

"She'll do her best, just like everyone else, so won't you please let her participate in the choir with you?" — Ms. Naganohara continued — "Everyone who thinks that's a good idea, clap your hands!!" — Some people started clapping and some didn't, Mona wanted to win the choir competition so she just crossed her arms looking away when a few hairs fell on her face.

Scaramouche met you again at the exit as you were changing your shoes and when you looked at each other again, he finally managed to gather the strength and snatched the notebook from you when you wanted to give it to him calmly — "Gimme that!" — You waited patiently until he finally stopped writing.

« You're tone deaf, so just pretend like you're singing! »

As you were about to look at him, you noticed he started to walk away, so you just watched him go.

"Choir friggin' stupid anyway!" — He added but then he remembered that you couldn't hear so he started walking faster. You felt someone put their hands on your shoulders, it was Ms. Naganohara.

"Oh, don't pay any attention to him."

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"Where's [ Last Name ]? She was in your group. Why didn't you tell her, Megistus?" — Mona stood up to explain herself — "I didn't notice..." — "No excuses! Listen, you're all at fault here." — Scaramouche just listened to what was happening and he was confused. Were these just another "Just have to deal with" things? Scaramouche looked at the ceiling to think about it a little deeper. But should we?

The time it takes to tell her things.

The delays in class.

Putting up with your bad singing.

"Let's use the three-minute afternoon homeroom period to help [ Name ] and... Learn sign language!" — Ms. Naganohara exclaimed happily, standing in front of the class with you. An hour ago, Yoimiya explained to you what she wanted to do, so you agreed, but when you noticed the faces of your classmates, you started to regret it. Some people didn't know what sign language was so Yoimiya took some chalk and wrote 'sign language'.

"As the name suggests, it is a way to communicate using 'signs,' which are made with the hands. You could say it's a way to talk with your hands!" — Scaramouche knew what sign language is but had never learned it, he was slightly curious about how to communicate with hands but decided not to volunteer.

"Then why don't we start today? [ Name ] will be our teacher for these lessons!" — Suddenly she was interrupted by Mona raising her hand.

"Ms. Naganohara! How will us learning sign language... Help [ Name ]?" — Yoimiya looked at her slightly confused but smiled and started to explain — "Huh? Just like it helps an English person if you speak English, it helps people who cannot hear if you use sign language. That's obvious, right?"

"Can't we just write in her notebook?"

"Well, did you know... It's easier for [ Name ] to communicate through sign language, and she can get her feelings across much better that way as well?"

"Well it's easier for me to communicate through writing."

"Um... Right now, we're talking about how we can all help [ Name ]... Isn't it just that you think learning sign language will be a bother, Mona? It seems to me you're finding a reason to be unhappy..." — Mona frowned, not wanting to argue with teacher anymore, so she sat back down, glaring at Ms. Naganohara.

"Mr. Ragnvindr and I will even learn with you!" — Diluc looked at her confused when he heard this — "Just a moment Ms. Naganohara. You don't know sign language?" — There was a small silence in the classroom and Yoimiya turned her attention to Diluc —"... No I don't... Which is why I thought I would start learning today..." — She said slightly awkwardly as she started scratching the back of her neck.

"You're not embarrassed making the students learn something you don't know yourself?"

There was another silence, Yoimiya was still smiling with her eyes closed but you could see the sweat dripping down her face. Some students even started laughing quietly to themselves.

"Is that... A problem?"

"I can see why Megistus is complaining. No one will go along with this. Why don't we try this again some other time, Ms. Naganohara?" — Yoimiya began to look around frantically to see if anyone would come forward, but all she saw was that the students were whispering to each other until someone finally spoke up.

"I'll learn sign language." — Said a girl with long pale salmon pink hair in a ponytail and also had beautiful light indigo eyes. Suddenly the entire class was quiet, no one was laughing and everyone was paying attention to the girl.

"I'm sorry, what's your name...?" — Yoimiya felt relieved when this girl came forward, she would be grateful to her for the rest of her life — "I'm Sangonomiya Kokomi. Instead of three minutes a day, I'll study an hour and a half a day so no one else has to." — Scaramouche almost choked on the water he drank. What's wrong with this girl?

"And I'll stay with [ Name ] all day long... During classes and between them... If helping [ Name ] is the goal then I think one person will be plenty..." — Yoimiya felt tears of emotion, she felt as if she had just met an angel.

"Mr. Ragnvindr... Isn't class 6-2 wonderful?" — Diluc was about to deny it when suddenly Yoimiya exclaimed happily and threw her hands up.

"Everyone! How about a round of applause for our brave Kokomi?!" — The entire class started clapping for Kokomi who bowed with a smile, thanking everyone. Mona grimaced, but she already had a little plan prepared.

Kokomi started learning sign language with you. She sat down with you and you started helping her study. Kokomi was the sweetest and you liked her the most out of everyone. Not only did she learn sign language with you, but you also wrote about things friends talk about. She wasn't yet perfect in sign language to be able to use it freely, but it wasn't bad either. You were finally happy that you had made such friends with someone.

"Nice job scoring those brownie points, you little suck-up." — Kokomi heard this behind her back. She tried to ignore it but it was hard when the girls, especially Mona, talked about her behind her back.

"What's she trying to show off for? Everyone knows she's stupid."

"And aren't her clothes ugly?"

"Yeah, totally!"

« What's wrong? » — Kokomi looked at your notebook. You saw that something was wrong, she was shaking slightly and her eyes were glassy as if she was about to start crying. You were about to put your hand on her shoulder when she suddenly stood up and started talking something.

"Oh! I'm sorry. I, um... I'm sorry." — Kokomi quickly left the classroom before you could do anything so you looked at your desk worriedly, worried about her. Scaramouche saw Kokomi walking nervously to the bathroom, her hands clutched at her chest.

Guess he figured out... [ Last Name ] [ Name ]'s true identity...

She isn't just an alien raised in a different culture.

She is an intruder sent to bring harm to their class.

Because of her, the choir competition was a total bust...

... Our normal routine was destroyed...

... And Kokomi stopped coming to school.

Scaramouche looked at the chalk in his hand and then at the board.

But is [ Name ] aware of this fact? ... No matter what the method... He must inform her of the truth. And from that day on, Scaramouche decided that he would bully [ Name ] for everything she caused in the classroom, for all the chaos.

"Man, this is really stupid, Scara." — Heizou stated, watching Scara write offensive things on the board with chalk.

"Looks like fun!"

"When you get in trouble, I had nothing to do with this!" — Sucrose said not wanting to get involved and Mona just rolled her eyes — "Let me help!"

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When you entered the empty classroom to put the flowers on the windowsill, you noticed what was written on the board.

𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜

˗ˏˋ [ 𝙽𝚊𝚖𝚎 ] ˎˊ˗

𝙱𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞♡︎

𝚆𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚒𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚜𝚝 .ᐟ ּ ֶָ֢.

𝙱𝚠𝚊𝚊 𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚑

𝚆𝚑𝚢'𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞

𝙱𝙰𝚁𝙵𝙸𝙽𝙶 ??

𝙳𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 ♪

𝙻𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚃𝚘𝚗𝚎-𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚏 .ᐟ

𝙰𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚣𝚎

𝚝𝚘 𝚞𝚜 .ᐟ.ᐟ

You stood frozen as you read this. You didn't want your class to suffer because of you. Suddenly, Sucrose entered and stood next to you, saying something — "It's awful, isn't it? I mean really..."

"Whoa! What happened to the blackboard?" — Scaramouche entered the classroom along with Kazuha, Heizou and Mona. Scara pretended like he hadn't done it.

"Boy, that is mean. Right Kazu?" — Kazuha felt a little bad doing this, but he sighed and handed Scaramouche the eraser — "Let's erase it for her." — Scaramouche wiped the board with a sponge and tossed it aside — "There. All gone."

Then everyone noticed that you started writing in your notebook and then showed it to them, smiling.

« Thank you, everyone. »

They looked at you surprised when you thanked them. Kazuha was the first to leave the classroom because he felt bad doing it and then the rest followed him, leaving you alone in the classroom.

What was wrong with you? Is that all you got? He thought you would flip out like that! Or cry... Or get pissed off...

Well now, you got his attention! He wanted to know...What will happen to you if he keeps this up.

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You felt something fall on you, out of nowhere you were covered in dust and more. You looked up and saw Scaramouche with a dustpan — "Whoa! Sorry [ Name ]! I didn't know you were standing there!"

Mr. Ragnvindr came in and asked Sucrose what happened and she told him everything, so he grabbed Scaramouche by the back of his clothes, pulled him up and led him out of the classroom.

"Say you're sorry."

"I already did! Didn't I [ Name ]?!" — Diluc watched as you cleaned up downstairs, not knowing what was happening above — "Apologize to her later."

"It's such a pain, huh?" — Mona complained as always — "Mr. Ragnvindr! Why can't [ Name ] hear, anyway?" — Sucrose asked curiously and Diluc realized that he had never asked your mother about this or you — "I'll ask her when I get a chance."

"They for sure forgot to paint the sutras on her ears." — Scaramouche mumbled but his friends heard it and started laughing. Then he smirked.

This is it.

When he see a slug, he pour salt on it. When he see a pigeon, he chase it. He throw off ant trails. And doodle on cats.

So he'll pour water on you. Chase you. Throw you off track. And doodle on your stuff.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

You were sitting in your chair as usual when suddenly you felt someone take out your hearing aid — "Hey, lemme see this for a minute."

Hearing aids were expensive and you didn't want anything to happen to them, so you quickly looked at what Mona was doing with them — "This is it, right?"

"That's a hearing aid?"

"Then she can hear after all!"

"I know, right?"

"So she doesn't need a special treatment!"

You tried to take your hearing aid back but Mona handed it to Scaramouche who told her to give it to him — "Ew! There's something on it! Sick!" — You just saw Scaramouche throw your hearing aid out the window so you quickly ran to the window trying to find it. But you couldn't. And even if you found it, it would probably be destroyed by the height from which it fell.

A few days later you had your hearing aids back on and Scaramouche noticed this so he forcibly took them out — "Oh hey, she's got another one!" — You felt a lot of pain in your ears as Scaramouche pulled them out. He pulled away from you when he heard you squeal in pain, he didn't want to go that far.

"Whoa!"

"You're gonna get in trouble."

"S-see? I told you to stop it...!"

"Uh-Oh! You went to far, Scara!" — Kazuha said as he tried to help you with the girls — "Let's go to the nurse's office." — Kazu, along with Mona and Sucrose, took you out of the classroom to go to the nurse.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

"I'm telling you! I didn't do it on purpose! I just wanted to see what she had in her ear!" — Scaramouche shouted in anger, he felt his hands squeeze, causing his fingertips to turn white. It wasn't his fault! He just wanted to see.

"I don't care why you did it. Whatever happened, it was your responsibility. All I'm saying is, don't embarrass me." — Diluc stated as he filled out some paperwork and Scaramouche stood behind him with his arms crossed — "Though well... I understand how you feel."

Scaramouche frowned at this but said nothing and then left the staff room, not wanting to listen to his teacher's remarks any longer.

"I don't have to apologize!" — Scaramouche put his hands in his pockets as he walked with Kazuha and Heizou.

"Aww. I wanted to see you say sorry." — Kazuha teased him — "Never."

When they were about to leave, they suddenly saw you approaching them with your notebook in your hands. What were you doing here? Weren't you mad at him or something?

"What do you want?" — Scaramouche said coldly, he didn't want to talk to you, especially what happened earlier. Were you waiting for him? What are you even writing?

« I'm sorry. »

Scaramouche looked at the words in surprise. You apologized? Again? Scaramouche roughly took your notebook from you, which scared you a little. For a moment you just looked at each other.

"Doesn't this piss you off?! C'mon say something!" — He shouted at you, he was fed up with you constantly apologizing and thanking. He wanted you to finally do something! You looked down, not knowing what to do next, and Scaramouche threw the notebook at your face, causing the notebook to fall to the ground.

"I don't think she gets it, Scara." — Kazuha said when you didn't say anything but suddenly you grabbed Scaramouche's hand and he looked first shocked and then disgusted. He didn't like anyone touching him, especially someone he didn't like. He saw how determined your were.

"Wha?!"

➸ 𐙚PREVIOUS ||𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒|| NEXT 𖹭

➸ I'm sorry that you guys waited so long, but I'm sick so I don't even know if I wrote it correctly

➸ I'm wondering whether to write shorter chapters, but then the number of chapters will be more.

➸ My phone froze when I pasted the text 😭

➸ Anyways, have a nice day/night! (⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

(⁠つ⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)⁠つ TAGLIST — @leafyaa , @luvkvni , @sayakaskokofish , @sketcheeee , @featuredtofu , @fallenisded , @skyvella , @mimiemie

Red = I can't tag you

#⁀➴Tsukimara #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #x reader #scaramouche x you #wanderer x you #genshin impact x you #scaramouche x deaf!reader #wanderer x deaf!reader #scaramouche #wanderer #genshin Impact #genshin #⁀➴A silent voice #⁀➴Genshin Impact

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

The Beast Wants to Tempt the Little Rabbit (Epilogue)

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies. Not proofread.

Matias: "Don't move, or else I won't be able to get it off."

(Get off what?)

His fingers tickled my cheek for a moment before moving away.

Matias: "I finally got it."

Emma: "Was there something on me?"

Matias: "Just a hair."

Emma: "I didn't notice, thank you."

(Maybe it was his way of not interfering with my mysterious rule, just because I mentioned I have to space out once a day.)

(I really think he's a kind person. He even politely goes along with my lies.)

------------Flashback-----------

Matias: "A crime is a crime. Your excuses hold no meaning."

Matias: "If you still wish to make excuses, do so in court."

Matias: "Whatever the reason, the law is something that must never be broken."

Matias: "Criminals have no right to beg for mercy."

---------Flashback Ends--------

I became a little curious.

Emma: "Could you teach me about the law now?"

I placed my hand on the law book, and he nodded.

Matias: "Sure. As a token of my gratitude to you."

Emma: "Then, may I ask one thing?"

Emma: "Is there no leniency in Acroite's laws?"

(This has been bothering me for a while now.)

In Rhodolite, judgments often consider the circumstances of the offender.

(But judging from his attitude earlier, it seems like Acroite...)

Matias: "I can't say there's none at all."

Matias: "There used to be, but now, as a matter of principle, there isn't. Regardless of the circumstances, we uphold equality under the law."

(Just as I thought.)

Matias: "Strict laws have contributed to making Acroite the safest country on the continent."

Matias: "For example, crimes like fraud rarely occur because everyone in the country knows that the law is strict."

Emma: "Are the punishments severe as well?"

Matias: "Compared to your country, yes, they are. There's no need to show mercy to criminals."

Matias: "Everything is the fault of the guilty. This is the unshakeable foundation of justice."

(His country seems quite cold.)

While I believe that humans are creatures prone to making mistakes, his attitude suggests he doesn't even forgive those mistakes.

(Is this justice for the sake of equality?)

(My emotions might influence me, but I guess that's one way to look at it.)

I accepted his views without affirming or denying them.

Matias: "By the way, is there a specific number of minutes for your rule of spacing out?"

Emma: "It's over now! Sorry for the trouble!"

Emma: "I'll focus on your lecture from now on. Thank you in advance!"

Matias: "Leave it to me. I'll cram the law basics into you in a few hours."

By the time we left the shop, the sky had already turned red.

(I might have underestimated the lecture.)

The lecture in which he began using the book turned out to be more comprehensive than I thought.

I was able to understand everything thanks to his easy-to-understand explanations, but perhaps due to the dense content, I still felt a little dizzy.

Matias: "Sorry. I got a bit carried away."

Emma: "Please don't apologize! It was very informative."

Matias: "Well, if you say so, but I may have overdone it since you were listening so attentively."

Matias: "I often get told off by my juniors for this, but finding the right balance is tricky."

Matias: "Especially with women. Honestly, this is my first time giving a lecture to a woman."

Matias: "I'll have to imagine and practice every possible scenario when I go home."

(This is his first time giving a lecture to a woman.)

I was surprised because most of the women we passed by would look at him when he was just walking around like this.

Jin and Nokto often attract female attention, but in his case, I feel a compelling "force" akin to butterflies drawn to honey.

Emma: "Are there no women around you?"

Matias: "There are plenty. But they're all unique."

Matias: "Whether they are as pretty as butterflies or as lovely as bunnies, they all change their attitude when I approach them."

(Ah.)

Matias: "But you, on the other hand..."

Suddenly, Matias stopped in his tracks.

Matias: "Miss Emma, are you sure there's nothing wrong with you when you're with me?"

Emma: "Hmm, I don't think so."

The moment I replied, it was as if a dam had burst, and his charm overflowed, leaving me breathless with its intensity.

(He might be like this, but his presence feels like it's breaking some law.)

The overflowing charm of the most law-abiding prince, who seems to have gone to destroy order himself, is a guilty verdict in every sense.

(But he doesn't seem to be aware of it.)

Matias: "You're my only hope."

Emma: "Huh?"

He smiled warmly and clasped both of my hands.

Matias: "I thought I would never meet my ideal queen because women's attitudes often change, but..."

Matias: "If there's a woman as level-headed as you, there's still a chance."

Matias: "And someday, we'll greet the morning together, wrapped in a blanket, watching the early snow."

Emma: "Prince Matias?"

Matias: "Ahem. Anyway, you're my hope."

Matias: "I now have another reason to thank you."

(I may not fully understand everything he's dealing with, but he seems to have his own struggles.)

Emma: "I've received more than enough thanks today. I hope you find your wonderful queen."

Matias: "Yeah."

Emma: "And, Prince Matias, my house is just around the corner."

Matias: "I see. That was quicker than I thought. I guess this is it then."

Emma: "Yes. Your lecture was fun and informative. I feel like I've become a bit smarter! Thank you for today."

Matias: "That's what makes you such a lovely woman."

(That charm again.)

Dizziness washed over me as he smiled charmingly. I tried to let go of his hand, but he held on tightly, stopping me.

Matias: "Would it bother you if I said I find it hard to leave?"

Emma: "Did you say something?"

Matias: "No, it must be your imagination."

(----?)

Matias: "If there's another chance, I'll teach you anything you want to know."

Emma: "In that case, I'd like to hear about your student days next."

(I'm really curious about their student life.)

Matias: "Sure. There's no shortage of stories from our school days."

With a sudden change of demeanor, he lifted my hand and kissed the tips of my fingers.

Matias: "Until we meet again."

Matias: "Emma, I sincerely appreciate it."

Emma: "Likewise."

He reluctantly released my hand and walked away.

His beautiful figure gradually grew distant, and the gaze of the women also shifted away. 

(Matias is a kind and good person, but I wouldn't want to meet him in a courtroom.)

Part 1 ╎ Part 2 ╎ Matias End ╎ Epilogue

#ikemen prince #ikepri matias #ikepri #ikepri jp #matias asbrink #ikepri translations

[madnessandentropy]

Other people have pointed out how childish Viv and the other writers' ideas of what "mature adult content" is. Drugs, alcohol, sex, and murder. And yes, it is childish. But even their depiction of this content feels childish, like it was written by a twelve year old who doesn't actually understand the effects of these "cool badass adult things" but knows it's a bad thing.

I'm not going to focus on sex or murder here, just drugs and alcohol. Most HH or HB characters are often found chugging drinks like crazy or say they've taken drugs. If they're drunk, they'll have slurred speech and stumble around maybe act a lil crazy. If they're high... maybe the act a bit crazy?

It's, again, a child's idea of the effects of drugs and alcohol. Of course there's slurred speech and that, those are symptoms of being drunk, but it's stuff you see on TV when a character gets drunk. Drugs? Either the characters act normally or just "crazy" because that's what drugs do, right?

However if you actually research the long and short term effects of alcohol and drug use (of course different drugs have different affects) the characters are lacking in these traits.

The short-term effects of alcohol are:

•Initially causes a feeling of happiness, then leads to:

•Blurred vision

•Problems with coordination and balance

•Loss of inhibitions

•Nausuea

•Memory loss

•Slurred speech

•Alchohol poisoning or even death can occur after excessive consumption in one sitting

Okay, that's 4 or 5 out of 7 boxes ticked for the show. That's pretty good. But it would be nice to see some of the other effects.

As for the long-term effects, however:

•Damage to central and peripheral nervous systems

•Increased risk if multiple medical problems such as: cirrhosis of liver, sleep disturbance, infections, memory loss, anxiety and depression

•Increased aggression

•Coma and death

•Foetal Alcohol Syndrome if the consumer is pregnant

Many characters of both shows drink frequently or are confirmed alcoholics and we don't really see these effects. We just see the effects that are mostly shown on TV when a character gets drunk for laughs or whatnont. If there incidents of depression and anxiety, aggression, etc it's caused by something else in the shows.

Effects of drugs (non-specific for now):

•Bloodshot eyes

•Dilated pupils

•Change in appetite

•Sudden weight loss

•Change in sleep pattern

•Tremors, slurred speech

•Loss of coordination

•Mood swings

•Anxiety and paranoia

•Personality change

Effects of PCP (Angel Dust):

•Numbness of the extremities, slurred speech, and loss of coordination may be accompanied by a sense of strength and invulnerability.

•A blank stare, rapid and involuntary eye movements, and an exaggerated gait are among the more observable effects.

•Auditory hallucinations, image distortion, severe mood disorders, and amnesia may also occur.

•Acute anxiety and a feeling of impending doom, paranoia, violent hostility, a psychoses indistinguishable from schizophrenia.

Angel Dust is a character who is a drug addict, and even takes Angel Dust if I remember correctly. He displays none of these symptoms. He's just his regular horny, sassy, asshole self.

Hazbin Hotel is meant to redeem sinners and help them get better, and yet something as damaging as drug abuse is treated more as a quirky character habit and not an addiction that destroys your health and your life.

Drugs don't just make you "crazy" or "hyper energetic". Like I said, different substances have different effects, but none of that is acknowledged or delved into. It's simply a child's idea of drugs with little to no effort or research put into it.

I would also like to say, it was a lost opportunity to not only delve into the causes and effects of drug and alcohol use, but also how it effects those around you. Having a family member, for example, who is a drug addiction or alcoholic is an extremely traumatising experience. This is shown well in Transcendent Kingdom by Yaa Gyasi. It's an excellent book and I recommend you guys give it a read.

#thoughts #vivziepop critical #helluva boss critical #hazbin hotel critical

[grave-z-boy]

Nanami Kento x Male!reader

Paring: Nanami Kento x male!husband!reader

Summary: reader and Namami come home after over a year in a hospital.

Warning: relatively anti-climactic, everybody lives/nobody dies Au, post-shibuya incident, mentions of gojo and the first years, mentions of extended hospital stays, injury (to children and adults), and medically induced coma, short fic.

Word count: 1069

A/n: was I asked to write this? No, do I have 30+ request in my inbox, yes. Do I even write for jkk on a regular basis? No. And yet here we are.

The car ride home was deafeningly quiet. 15 months away from it made it feel…distant. You still went there, every other day or so, but you were never inside for more than ten minutes, you didn't eat or sleep there. Your books were untouched, your refrigerator was emptied months ago when you realized all the food had gone bad, your bed was still perfectly made, as he had made it that morning all those months ago.

You breathed in as you reached a familiar stop light. Tapping your finger against the steering wheel as you held it.

“Are you nervous?” was the first thing Nanami said since you left the hospital.

“A little.” you breathed out, “I wish I took better care of it- I know you loved it, now it's dusty and…sad.”

He let out a small laugh- the road was clear so you took a moment to glance at him, that beautiful smile, in spite of everything. You found yourself smiling too.

“It wasn't the house that I loved.”

His hand rested on top of yours on the middle console, his thumb running along the side of your hand for a moment before turning it over and locking your fingers together.

“Stop that..” you muttered, because that's what you were used to, affection and intimacy are hard in such a clinical setting. Especially in a hospital full of people with…traditional values.

He didn't stop, not letting go until you pulled into the driveway of your shared home, only to reach for you again when you got out of the car.

He's nervous, he's been nervous a lot in these 15 months, you couldn't blame him. Shibuya was…a lot. It's still completely blocked off, you are surprised the whole station hasn't been torn down due to the damage.

You knew it weighed heavily on his mind, not just about himself, but the first year- Gojo- everyone who got hurt that night. The hospital limited the amount of people who could visit him after having a room full of other patients crowd into his room- god, did he even know that happened? He was put in a medically induced coma on his first day there. People say that you can still be aware, but does he know just how much love was poured into his room that day? You remember Nobara’s face, covered in tears, trying her best to make the best out of a bad situation, she talked to him about matching eye patches of all things- she threw a fit when they made her leave.

Yuji only needed a few stitches, that didn't stop him from being there every day for nearly three months before he had to go back to school. He treated the room like his own personal space, a jacket thrown over the chair, homework scattered across the little portable table, food and drinks littering the place- it got so bad a nurse had to threaten him with a permanent ban. He kept the spotless.

Megumi didn't visit much, and when he did, it was with Gojo. The two of them were practically attached at the hip after Megumi’s stay at the hospital. A concussion- on top of several broken ribs and a pierced lung. He’s back at school now too, and Gojo is back to teaching.

Your hand shook slightly as you unlocked the door- you're nervous too, you were just here a couple of days ago, you shouldn't be this nervous, this was your house, everything was fine.

Opening the door to be met with nice, cold air- you blinked. Your air conditioner broke almost a year ago- after you left it running for almost a month with no break or no end in sight it crapped out on you, and now it was magically alive again.

You stepped into the house with caution. The air was clear, not even close to the dusty mess you'd left it. Any of the visible partials in the air were gone. The curtains were drawn and the sun shined in through every window. You walked further in. Passed the pristine living room and into the kitchen, where what could only be described as a mountain of gifts sitting on the counter.

“Ken, who was in our house?” you asked, stepping back.

“I asked Gojo to clean up before we left the hospital-” you groaned “-I didn't realize he would be so…gracious.”

You picked up a small pink gift bag from the bottom of the pile. The tag had Nobara’s name written on it, it wasn't her usual nice, practiced handwriting, it was off center a bit, and drooped down at the edge, but it was still distinctly her writing.

Reaching in, then pulling out a small cluster of black fabric. You unraveled it, revealing a black eye patch, with a dark red rose pattern on it.

“This is yours, from Nobara.”

He blinked before taking it. The one he wore now was stark white, given to him by the hospital. He slipped it off without a word- you never realized how quickly you’d grown used to his scars- once they finally healed that is. It was just…normal for you know.

He put the new eye patch on, and it honestly looked a million times better than the old one.

With a smile, you stepped towards him, taking his face in your hand and pulling him towards you. You kissed his cheek, then his lips-only briefly- before saying, “It looks good.”

That made him smile, even if it was small.

You both decided that the gifts could wait until later. Heading upstairs for a well deserved nap.

Gojo actually sucked at making beds, but you could tell he tried his best- or he made his students do it, one or the other. It didn't matter either way, the comforter was untucked and you crawled into bed with your husband for the first time in over a year.

Your cheek pressed against his chest, you realized he was still wearing his jacket- and so were you. You let out a small huff of laughter but made you move to ask him to take it off or take off your own. You watched as his blinking slowed, then stopped completely, his arms wrapped loosely around you, as yours were around him. His deep breathing and the near rhythmic rise and fall of his chest lulled you to sleep.

#male reader #male!reader #x male reader #male y/n #nanami kento x male reader #nanami kento x reader #jjk nanami #nanami kento #jjk x male reader #jjk x reader #✮ — z boy

[writingwithfolklore]

Sequels and Series

              On one hand, a sequel can be easy because you already did the worldbuilding, character creation, etc. in the first book.

              On the other hand, expectations are high—both that the sequel be as good and consistent as the first book, while offering something new. There’s generally two kinds of sequels, ones that continue the world and characters but within a new journey (think Frozen 2 or the Percy Jackson books), and ones that continue the same journey set up in the first book (Hunger Games, or Divergent). Either way, your sequel is about your MC’s arc, so let’s get into it:

1. Leave room for greater change in the first book

              The first thing to consider when writing a sequel comes in writing the first book—obviously the world should leave room for more story in either style of sequel, but so should your character arcs. The first book needs to follow an arc that’s satisfying and fulfilled by the end, but still has room to grow and change in subsequent books.

              It’s important not to go backwards in the sequel and make your character forget what they learned just to learn it again.

              So, if in the first book your MC learns to be confident in themselves and trust their instincts, maybe in the sequel they are too overconfident, and need to learn to trust others’ ideas and suggestions. Or maybe a new situation means adjusting their old instincts that no longer apply. They shouldn’t start as unconfident again and have to relearn their lesson—they’re a changed, grown person continuing to change and grow.

              Otherwise, they may not fully complete their arc in the first book if you’re continuing the same journey in the second—this means you’ll have to plan out a lengthy and difficult arc that has the ability to hold up across several books.

2. But they’re still the same character

The arcs between books should be somewhat related—it would be odd if in the first book a character gets confident, and in the second, they learn something completely new and unrelated to their backstory or personality. If you feel like you’re creating a new character when working on the sequel, you’re probably adding too much.

This goes the same for continuing the same journey. Characters need to be relatively consistent across books, and their gradual change throughout the series should feel consistent, with none of the development happening off page.

3. Sequels/Series are harder to get published (as a first time author)

If you’re looking to get traditionally published for the first time, unfortunately your novel likely won’t/can’t be part of a series or made to have a sequel. It makes sense that an editor is putting a lot of trust and hope into your story to get it published—they aren’t going to sign on to a longer series (or even duology) that they don’t know will be successful. This means that you’re probably unable to do the second type of sequel (by ending on a major cliffhanger).

What you can do is have an ending that wraps up the story satisfyingly, but leaves a little bit of room to continue onto a sequel. If the first book is successful and your editor wants to sign you on for a sequel, you have room to write it. Or, in a lot of cases, you have to publish a few standalones before you build the reputation and trust to write your sequel.

Anything else I missed?

#writing #creative writing #writers #writing community #screenwriting #writing inspiration #books #filmmaking #film #writing advice #sequels and series #writing a sequel #writing series #sequel #series

[cripplecharacters]

In general, how would you approach writing nonhuman/feral characters with disabilities? How would you balance the symptoms animals usually show vs human symptoms, experiences and available accomodations?

I'm considering giving my Warrior Cats character with TBI-induced blindness (yes, I know, these books are awful about disability rep and yet I can't help but get attached) a guide animal of some sort, but... in real life blind cats can get by just fine using their whiskers, and though realism isn't a concern here, I'm worried that'll come across as nonsensical. However, I'm personally uncomfortable with writing yet another blind character that doesn't need mobility aids despite not being able to distinguish objects from one another "properly". He may not be totally blind, but I feel like I'd be contributing to the misconceptions surrounding my own condition that way. Thoughts?

Thank you for your ask! In real life animals, including cats, have been known to assign themselves as a guide for a blind packmate, usually walking on the side with less vision to help with navigation. Sometimes an animal of another species will act as a guide, but only if they’re bonded. This also occurs more often in domesticated animals, so if you don’t want the guide to be another cat you could do something like a dog, chicken or rat (though I’d imagine the last two would be hard to keep in a cat pack!).

You could also have your character able to move around unassisted in familiar areas that he is often in, but need assistance in unfamiliar areas.

As for writing your character, I’d say research how his injury affects his other senses. Touch, smell, hearing and limb movement can be affected by a traumatic brain injury, and it would definitely affect your character's ability to get around.

As of now, this blog unfortunately doesn’t have any blind mods (applications are still open as of posting this). However, you can check out other blogs for more information on blindness, such as BlindBeta, AskABlindPerson, and Mimzy-Writing-Online.

Have a lovely day!

Mod Rot

Hi!

When talking about TBI induced blindness, you have to keep in mind that it's different from ocular blindness. The brain-based type of blindness is called CVI, or Cortical Visual Impairment, and it's very common!

(Note: I have done a lot of research on CVI, but I don't have it myself. I heavily encourage you to check the blogs that Rot mentioned!)

A CVI will often have different symptoms than ocular blindness. For example, the character's field of view could be severely limited - the left (or right, or top, or bottom...) half of their vision could be non-existent, and the other half could be what is sometimes described as "incomprehensible". It could also present in infinitely different ways from that, as it can be very diverse!

CVI is often fluid and the person (or cat) can function very differently depending on the circumstances like fatigue or stress or even the weather. If he's having a horrible day he will be able to understand the visual input less than when he's doing fantastic.

With CVI, it's important to remember that visual acuity generally won't be the main problem, but the brain's comprehension of the image is. This is where cat-available accommodations can hopefully come in.

Showing him experiencing visual fatigue and how he deals with it could be one of them! During his kitty activities he could prefer to have them spaced out so that he only sees one at a time and makes it easier for his brain to comprehend without tiring him out. A cluttered environment would probably only make it worse, so you can have him make sure that everything is nice and in its place. He could also take longer to recognize new objects or cats.

If he has, for example, very limited field of vision, then he could have his kitty house (I don't know how warrior cats work I'm trying my best here) arranged so that it would work for him; i.e. everything being on a specific height.

I also very much agree with Rot that he should have more symptoms than just blindness! One example of a brain-based cat disability could be cerebellar hypoplasia; it can't be caused by a TBI, but it causes ataxia which can be a result of a TBI (mildly complicated, sorry). Either way you can use it as a reference to visualize how your character could move!

I hope this helps! I really appreciate the effort of trying to include disability accommodations in a character who's a forest cat.

mod Sasza

#mod Rot #mod sasza #blindness #brain damage representation #fantasy species #<- i know cats are real but IDK i think it fits there. four legged fantasy species and all

[preeningpisces]

Report - Kenjaku x F!Reader

Kenjaku shows up unannounced, and makes himself all too comfortable in your apartment. Pwp, 4k, Crossposted on AO3

A/N: At first I referred to him as Geto in this, as I found it unlikely YN would know his real name, but then figured this has no plot and there isn't many Kenjaku x reader fics without Geto & swapped it to Kenjaku ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Shoutout to this lovely anon for giving me a reason/the drive to write something for my favorite hoe 💚

Content: p-in-v, m!oral, sex toys, size kink, unprepped sex, edging, choking, biting, spit/cum stuff, degradation--personally I think this is more tame than it sounds

18+ content below, mdni, implied chubby!reader, enjoooy!

The figure seated at your dinner table makes your soul leap from your body.

Tonight you planned a date with a hot shower, your favorite snacks, and three seasons’ worth of TV to binge. You’d only completed step one, so recently that your skin hasn’t finished absorbing the lotion, leaving your calves and thighs tacky.

His back is to you, but you know he’s aware of your presence. For once, he isn’t wearing his signature robes, and instead sports simple black clothing. Seeing him dressed down is comforting, makes him seem less untouchable, and more like a regular person.

You lament the change in your evening plans, knowing your guest will occupy a decent portion of your time. 

“You take awfully long showers,” he says without turning. “I’ve been here for over an hour.” 

Springing up at random isn’t out of the ordinary for Kenjaku, though it’s more common for him to send messages from unknown numbers or ‘coincidentally’ run into you. He’s never showed up at your apartment before, let alone at such an odd hour of the night. Briefly you wonder how he knows where you live, but then dismiss this as a foolish thought—of course he knows.

“I’m just thorough,” you say as you round the table and sit across from him where he reads one of your books. A silly romance that was popular online; hardly revolutionary or life-altering, but it was a sweet, endearing story and you enjoyed it quite a bit. With how far he’s in, you wonder if he picked a random spot or simply reads that quickly.

“That you are.” He glances up, and a shift in his eye tells you he wasn’t expecting the cotton bathrobe with matching shorts. It’s a favorite that you got off a discount rack, lying somewhere between the lines of sensual and comfortable. Flattering, but hardly scandalous; you don’t feel indecent in his presence. 

“I’m surprised you enjoy this drivel,” he says, judgment evident. “You seemed more intelligent than that.” 

“They’re just for fun. Sometimes it’s nice to read something simple,” you reach for the book, beginning to feel defensive. 

He leans back, now flipping through its contents. It reminds you of a schoolyard bully holding your belongings above you and taunting you for being too short. 

“Are you here to antagonize me, or are you here for something actually important?” As soon as you say this, you know you made a mistake: the ire in your voice will only encourage his pestering.

“I came for your report, but now I’m more interested in your terrible taste.” He gestures to your bookshelf—small, and housing a modest collection of varying genres with the occasional knick knack. “I’ve gone through several already, but saved what I suspect to be the worst for last.”

“Then you can follow me on Goodreads, if you’re so curious. Now give that back,” you hold out your hand, growing agitated. The light catches the ridge of his scar, and taunts you to tug on one of those stitches, which look much less secure than they should. 

“Embarrassed?” He smiles, and makes no move to relinquish the book. 

“If I say yes, will you give it back?” 

A snide puff.

“No.” 

Knowing how fickle he is, you relent; he’ll grow bored with the book soon enough and move on. But minutes of his skimming pass, wholly ignoring your crossed arms and impatient tapping.

“Ah, I see. Is this why you’re so fond of these?” He turns the book for you to read: it’s one of the few sex scenes, and his finger points to a questionable line of dialogue. 

You can’t resist the bait, and indignation rises in your chest. You spring forward in your seat, aiming for the book. Unfazed by your aggression, he avoids you with ease and an infuriating smirk. It only provokes you further, now motivating you to one-up him.

There is a sudden pause in his movements that allows you to snatch the book. As you look at him triumphantly, you notice his eyes aren’t directed at your face; instead, they’re fixed on your chest. Following his gaze, your heart sinks when you discover your robe hanging open, revealing your right breast. 

When you look at him again, his eyes are on yours. Heavy and lidded, they freeze you in place with their weight. The playful energy from before halts, as if the room itself is holding its breath. Without breaking eye contact, he slides his hand in the opening, and cups your breast.

Shocked, you drop the book with a muted thud, more from his boldness than the sensation. A gasp escapes you when he pinches your nipple, rolling it slowly, and your hands fly to his shoulders, not wanting to topple over from the awkward position.

His other hand joins and teases your unexposed breast through the cloth; you fall against him, and a soft noise warms his ear before tracing the stretched lobe with your lower lip. Whether it’s ticklish or it’s your interest in his ear that entertains him, his shoulders thrum with amusement. The plastic clacks between your teeth as you toy with the plug, seeing how far you can rotate it before he becomes irritated.

It doesn’t take long, because a hand winds itself in your hair and pulls you forward, but the table creaks in protest under your weight. 

“Not here,” you say, husk already tinting your voice. “It’s a shitty table.” 

He releases you and follows you down the hallway to your bedroom. You don’t even have time to flick on the light before he pulls you backward, connecting your ass to his groin with his large hands fondling your breasts.

The eager touch surprises you—he hadn’t seemed at all bothered when you stopped him before. You can’t help but shiver when he sucks on your neck, fixing it with hickeys and bites. A renewed focus on your nipples makes you whimper and squeeze at his forearms. 

“Sensitive here, or are you just desperate?” He punctuates with a pull of your left nipple. 

“A bit of both,” you say, and press your ass against him. It’s been some time since you’ve felt this kind of touch, let alone by someone as attractive as him. 

“Cute,” he hums, and grinds his forming erection against you. 

Cool palms slide beneath the robe again, making your nipples so peaked they sting. Deft fingers are quick to melt the cold with slow rolls that morph into pinching and dragging from areola to tip. The attention makes you squirm in his hold and rest your head against his shoulder, weaving your fingers through his glorious hair—which is every bit as silky as it appears. Needing an outlet for your rising desire, you detach him from your neck and angle his head so you can force your lips together. 

The kiss is more passionate than you expected, and it only makes you melt further in his hands. You scratch his scalp and earn a surprised moan. His right hand trails upward, wrapping around a considerable portion of your neck. Air isn’t cut or restricted, but he squeezes enough for your pulse to quicken and make your head fuzzy.

A twist of your nipple makes you arch your back, and he sucks your lower lip until it bruises. Teeth scrape it briefly, before he pushes his tongue into your open mouth and greets yours unabashedly. 

Kenjaku has an air of grace to him, of superiority; you’d think him above such things as these. But he doesn’t flinch or show any disgust when drool pools from the messy kiss—he even licks the bit that trickles down your chin. He breaks the kiss, parting slowly to appreciate the strand that connects your mouths. 

A tug of the simple knot at your waist peels your robe open, and you help him by shrugging your shoulders free. The hold on your neck tightens, and he feels down your stomach, dipping below the waistband of your shorts. Your skin prickles with embarrassment when he squeezes the full softness above your pussy. A pleased noise comes from the back of his throat when he realizes you have no underwear and finds slippery arousal. 

“Look at me.”

You feel how heavy your eyes are, how blatant lust must be on your face. His middle finger finds your clit and traces a single rough, short line, making you flinch. Almost imperceptible circles soothe the rough sensation, leading you to loosen your grip on his hair and hold his wrist. The featherlike strokes feel like static, and every tingle of your flesh touching makes you wetter. 

When your eyes shut, he squeezes your neck again, demanding you keep your focus on him. Even in moments like this, his eyes are full of condescension and superiority; the lowliness you feel in his presence only stirs your need. 

Awkwardly, you feel around behind you for his cock and rub your palm over it as best you can. Despite the clumsy touch, his breath hitches, and his clever fingers pause. Thrill dances in your chest and you stroke him more firmly.

His hand flexes around your neck, and you can’t tell if it’s a warning or a green light. Whichever he intends doesn’t matter to you, because you squeeze his bulge. The firm tap of his finger on your clit reads as chastisement, but you ignore it, already deciding your next move. 

“I want to suck your dick,” you say. You aren’t too prideful to kowtow to his desire for control. “Can I?” 

Dark eyes shelter his thoughts as he considers your offer, and for a moment you think he’s going to turn you down, but he dips his finger in your hole and briefly skims the edge before swiping back up to your clit. A small noise comes out, and your face must be comical because he looks more amused than before. 

“How polite.” The lack of heat and touch as he steps away are disappointing, but the sounds of his belt and zipper more than make up for their loss. “I suppose I’ll let you.”

“Let me,” you snort as you watch him undress. “As if you didn’t start this.”

A broad hand presses down on your shoulder, urging you to kneel—which you do eagerly, not minding the cheap carpet scratching your knees.

“I did, and now you’re exactly where I want you,” he removes his sweater, baring the impressive muscles of his abdomen. You wonder if this was his true intention coming here tonight and that he played you like a fiddle.

These thoughts disappear when he pulls his trousers and underwear down; you can’t help when your face twists in shock: his cock is huge.

“No wonder you’re so full of yourself.” 

He smirks, and you dread what this affair will do to his already inflated ego.

You scoot forward, assessing the beast, and idly rotate your jaw to prepare for the task at hand. Despite most of his head being exposed and dripping with pre-cum, you push back the remaining foreskin to fully reveal the dark head. You lean forward for a kiss, but land it on his groin instead. 

The click of his tongue and the twitch beneath you is reward enough for the entire night; you’re confident he would never beg for anything from you, but this disappointment feels close enough to claim the satisfaction all the same. 

Still positioned at his tip, your thumbs softly stroke the sides, more soothing than pleasurable as you continue to mouth everywhere but his cock. Fed up, he grips your hair and pulls you back. You get the message, and eagerly suck his head in your mouth, where you set your lips and tongue to work; it’s difficult with his girth, but you manage. He grunts and loosens his hold, allowing you to do as you please. 

To show your gratitude, you plunge him deeper, tongue now rubbing along the seam of his cock as you flex and contract your lips. The muscles in his thighs jolt, and you feel energy rolling off him—the urge to do something, to react.

Steeling your resolve, you slide him further in and pull back, never stopping the pulse of your lips or tongue. It’s then that you suck around him, creating the wet sounds of suction that fill your small bedroom.

The light from the hallway glows behind him, making him radiant; like he’s a god, and this is your offering.

You cup his balls gently and rub a thumb over them to test the waters. Your curiosity is rewarded when the single hand in your hair becomes two, and he moves your head for you.

They cover your ears, cutting out all sound. Whether this is intentional, you can’t say. All you can hear is the wet sounds of your mouth molding around his cock. It’s as if this is your entire world, that this is the only thing you’re good for, and the thought makes you drip. 

Lewdly, you hum and moan your prayer around him. Noises of his own join yours, but you are not worthy of hearing them. Overeager, he pulls you down further on his cock, poking dangerously close to your gag reflex. Your second unoccupied hand wraps around the portion not in your mouth preemptively, and stroke him in time with your mouth. Seeing right through your attempt, he holds your head still and begins fucking your mouth.

It takes only a few thrusts for him to push deeper than before, making you gag softly, which causes him to throw his head back and continue the deep thrusts. It’s uncomfortable, but not so much that you feel the need to stop him. Watching him loosen up is so hypnotic you don’t register how worryingly deep he is in your throat. Until he surges himself all the way forward, forcing your nose to meet his groin. 

When you choke, he groans deeply, and rolls against your face as your throat convulses around him sporadically. You’re about to beat at his thigh, but he pulls you off his cock entirely.

Quickly, you recover and recapture him despite the pull on your hair, doubling down with a soft mouth, tonguing all the sensitive spots you found. And to your surprise, hot cum spurts down your throat with a low groan. You drink it all until he pulls your head back and strokes his cock, shooting the remaining spurts on your face.

You didn’t think he’d be so quick to cum, and it seems, neither did he.

A painful yank of your hair forces you to stand before you can comment, and full of surprises, he licks a line of cum from your chin and smears it over your tongue with his own. The dirtiness of it makes a raw noise come from your abused throat.

Not breaking the kiss, he walks you to your bed and pushes you back; you scoot yourself to the headboard and barely shimmy your shorts off before he crawls atop you, flaccid cock in hand. With a surge of reversed cursed energy, he urges it to re-harden. 

“Is this the difference between special grades and the rest of us?” 

He doesn’t acknowledge your taunt, and after two pumps, positions his cock at your hole. Unprepped, his tip presses against the ring of muscle for several moments, unable to breech despite ample lubrication.

“The Viagra tech-”

Your pussy finally yields, and his cock spears itself to the hilt.

“Fuck!” 

Mercifully, he doesn’t rail you, and instead rolls his hips, stroking your most receptive spots. It aches, his cock stretching you to what feels like your capacity, but it’s the sort of ache that makes you crave more. You meet his hips with your own, desperately chasing more of the electric feeling. He grabs the underside of your knees and leans forward, putting his weight on them. The position angles his cock upward and fucks you with more fervor. 

“Jesus, it’s so big,” you say, legs trembling in his hold. 

Needing a distraction, you cup the back of his head and pull him as close as your breasts and stomach allow. You kiss at whatever flesh you can reach, starting at his damp hairline, and following up immediately with the seam on his forehead. The simple kiss earns you a sharp cant of his hips and a hiss, tempting you to fixate on the scar.

Your tongue traces the divot faintly, careful not to press too hard and minding the sutures. The effect is immediate, as he ruts into you, slow, deep, and hard, surprisingly loud moans spilling from his pretty lips. Even his moans are rough, as if they scrape his throat on their way out. Like his vocal chords haven’t made such sounds in some time. 

“Sensitive?” You murmur your tease against the raised flesh. 

“Wounds tend to be, yes.” He kisses you tenderly, and when you sigh, bites your lower lip with a crunch. Teeth pierce, and copper flavors the kiss. You part with a hiss, and his thumb swipes at the puncture. “See? Or do you need further demonstration.”

“You’re such a dick,” you mutter, batting his hand away from your sore lip.

His attention falters, and you follow his eyes to your nightstand. You live alone and have no need for secrecy, so your vibrator charges in plain sight. Owning sex toys is something you’ve never thought twice about, let alone felt any shame towards, but you become flustered when Kenjaku leans over and unplugs it.

Excitement overpowers your embarrassment when he turns it on. To your surprise, he doesn’t place it on your clit, and instead keeps it in a low setting and traces it along your labia. His hips slow, but they maintain a steady pace. Your body tenses with anticipation anytime it nears your clit, but it still doesn’t touch you. The stretch of his cock feels amazing, but your clit practically burns with need, swollen and begging to be touched.

“Now, what do you have for me this week?” he asks, full of mischief.

“What?”

He pushes your chubby mound upward and finally places the toy on your clit—you gasp. 

“Your report. It’s what I came here for, after all.” 

He circles the vibrator around your clit in time with his hips, looking all too amused when you struggle to respond. You ignore his question, and instead squeeze your eyes shut as your orgasm approaches at an alarming rate. You’ve waited so long, you’ve been so pent up, you just need—

“Ah, ah, you’ve got a job to do. Stay focused,” he tuts, and lifts the vibrator. You swear loudly, and your hips chase the toy, but he pins you with a hand on your hip. 

“T-the first year,” you begin, legs trembling with pent up anticipation, “students–” you whimper when the vibrator returns. 

“Go on,” he coos. 

“They-they…” you trail off when a slow and delicious drag of his cock steals your mind. The vibrator moves, and you throw your head back. “Theywentto–fuck!” 

“Speak clearly; this is vital information.” He presses it on fully, directly, gleefully watching you struggle. 

“They wen-went to Ro-oooh,” with a click, he turns it up a notch. “Fuck, you’re–” he nestles it between your lips and rotates it teasingly. Only a few hums more and he removes it again. 

“Please, please don’t stop.” Your voice warbles pathetically, “please let me cum. I need it–”

“And I need your report,” he smiles, as if he isn’t torturing you. 

The hopeless look you give him must spur him on, because he fucks you with the most vigor he’s showed thus far. Ripples roll across your soft stomach and thighs, and your breasts bounce wildly, but you’re too far gone to pay them any mind. 

“They went to R-roppongi!” You manage, and before he can torment you, add, “it was just—third-grade curses.” 

Even now, as he fucks you hard and fast, he doesn’t pull out much, and instead focuses on stroking your all of your sensitive areas relentlessly. It’s so different from what you’re used to, and so, so much better. You don’t know if you’ll be satisfied getting fucked any other way now. 

“And what of Satoru Gojo?” he grunts when you squeeze him particularly hard.

“A meeting–he had a meeting,” you breathe heavily, trying to catch your breath. The pause must displease Kenjaku, because he slaps your wet clit with the buzzing toy, making you jerk beneath him. 

“Wednesday!” you yell. “The Higher uh-” you’re cut off with a kiss that’s more teeth and tongue, agitating your bloody lip. 

“No need to shout, I’m right here,” he says cheekily, and grips your jaw, demanding your attention. “I’m sure you’re eager for your reward.” You nod the best you can.

A large palm spans your lower belly, pressing the plump flesh down to meet his upward thrusts. It feels like you’re even fuller, even more sensitive; your eyes bulge when a deep pressure builds. 

“Can you feel it?” His eyes look wild, more unhinged than before, and it makes you squeeze him in apprehension. “How large this cock is—incredible, isn’t it?” 

If you weren’t on the verge of exploding, the way he marvels at his own dick would make you roll your eyes. 

“Hmm?” He pulls all the way out for the first time, and sharply thrusts back in, meanly stabbing your deepest, most tender area.

“Yes, yes—I feel it!” He repeats the motion, aiming higher. “It feels so fucking good!”

He chuckles and ups the vibrator’s setting, rocking into you faster. All you can do is hold on to him, your mind too scattered and pliant for anything more. With each powerful thrust, he hits the spot near your cervix, causing your pussy to clench around him and draw melodic sounds. You force your eyes to stay open, fully aware that this is a sight you’ll never forget. His disheveled hair clung to his sweaty skin, with most of the strands of his top knot undone. Pink tinges his cheeks, and his brows crease ever so slightly. The sight causes a sudden leap of pleasure, and you feel yourself dancing at the edge.

“Are you ready to come?” He asks against your ear, as if sensing the sudden development.

“Oh, god yes!”

A smile is the only warning you're given before he withdraws the vibrator again. The cruelty almost makes you cry. Before you can plead, he pushes the hood of your clit back and the vibrator returns.

“Then come.”

Everything you held onto breaks as you come, abdomen convulsing deeply, and mouth wide open. You soar so high you forget he’s with you for a moment. Your pussy gushes, and clenches him so hard it feels like it’s trying to push his cock out along with your release. The euphoric sensations quickly become a sting as the vibrator doesn’t falter, and you claw at his back with a wail.

With a click, he turns off the toy as he tosses it aside, and traps you in his arms with his head nestled in the junction of your neck and shoulder. Teeth sink into the flesh hard enough to draw blood and a shout. Only four pumps more and he fills you as deep as he can reach, as if his cum seeps directly into your womb.

He lies on you for several moments, his cock softening and twitching occasionally. It’s pleasant, and oddly domestic, feeling skin against your own and listening to the sounds of each other’s breathing. Eventually, he slides free, and you’re reminded that he came inside you when it trickles down your ass. 

“I’m not on birth control, you know.” You eye him as he flops next to you, making himself comfortable, as if this is his bed and you’re the guest. “Unless you want some kid of yours running around, you owe me a Plan B.”

He shrugs.

“Makes no difference to me. It wouldn’t be my first child or my last.” 

“Ha, right,” you stretch your legs, sore from being bent for so long. After a pause, you turn to him again. “Wait, really?”

A small, indecipherable smile is his only reply.

#rct can get it back up #idc idc idc its canon #someone teach me how to end things bc its such a struggle #dreams of kenjaku ☁︎ #dreams ☽ #wet dreams ☽ #kenjaku x reader #kenjaku smut #kenjaku x chubby reader #chubby reader #chubby!reader #jjk smut #jjk reader insert

[lokisprettygirl]

Rain to his Fire (Modern! Daemon Targaryen x Female Reader) (Non Canon 80s Au) (18+)

Read chapter 3 here // Series Masterlist

Chapter 4

Summary: Things heat up between you and Daemon.

Warning: 18+, smutty scenarios, crude language, discussion of mental health (it's a fic based in a mental health facility), mention of physical assault, the fic would contain several mentions of several disorders like mpd, did etc, if something triggers you don't read, smoking.

“American avocet…nope” you mumbled under your breath as you flipped through the pages of the book All birds in the world. You often didn't find yourself in a library so this was new for you as well. You were trying to match the feathers Daemon had given you with an existing bird but so far you had failed to accomplish your goal, and not to forget that you were still hung up on the letter A and it would take weeks to finish researching the book.

At first, the thought of simply asking Daemon what type of bird the feather belonged to had crossed your mind. But then you remembered that he believed himself to be a dragon, and he'd continue to claim that the feathers belonged to him.

You folded the corner of the book to bookmark the page as you didn't want to lose the progress, then you got up and placed the book back on its designated shelf.

As you approached the librarian Corlys he gave you a small smile and you couldn't help but feel sheepish.

“Finished reading?” He asked you so you chuckled, Corlys knew your mother really well, most of the older employees did so he was really always kind and warm to you.

“Ummm can I ask you a question?��� You asked him with a tinge of hesitation so he looked at you curiously, his brows raised in anticipation.

“Of Course..anytime dear”

“Uhhh you have been around here for decades so I was wondering if you knew anything about this area habituating exotic birds around here because I found this feather on my window and it made me curious” you gave him the black streaked feather Daemon had offered to you as an apology, of course you didn't tell Corlys the truth. For some reason you didn't want to show him the pure silver one he had placed in your palm last night, it just seemed too precious.

“Let me see” he mumbled under his breath as he pulled up his glasses to inspect the feather and you could tell he was confused,

“I would have said that it resembles a pelican but you won't find them here, besides it's too large to be a pelican's. Are you positive that it's a genuine feather and not a decorative item?”

He asked you and you didn't really have an answer for that because honest to god you didn't even know where the feather had come from or if it was genuine or not.

“You can buy these in shops?” you asked him with a puzzled look on your face so he smiled.

“You can buy anything these days” you nodded as he said that before you mumbled a good day to him and stepped out of the Library.

As you entered your room, the first thing you did was open your drawer to look at the silver feather again. It was soft to the touch and didn't feel fake at all. You couldn't stop thinking about Daemon and his mysterious ways. You felt like he was messing with you and must have bought these feathers to add to his mysterious image. Why didn't you think of this in the first place? Perhaps a part of you just wanted to believe that he was something special, something that was too good to be true.

It was your day off so you hadn't really seen him all day, not even a glimpse. After what he had done last night and as much as you had enjoyed him touching you like that, you were afraid he'd make a habit out of it. So when you laid down in bed at night, your ears remained perked for any sign of movement outside your door but fortunately you didn't hear anything.

And unfortunately it did make you feel a bit disappointed.

As you entered Daemon's room the next morning, you noticed that he was still sleeping. Wanting to turn on a lamp, you reached around the bed and felt something under your feet. Looking down, you saw a pile of hair matching Daemon's hair color. At first, you thought he had cut his own hair, but then you realized that his hair was still the same length as it was yesterday. You were confused and couldn't understand where this hair had come from. It was long, at least 12 inches, which could easily be used to make a proper wig.

Every other day this man had something in his store to mess with your head.

You were in the middle of collecting the hair from the floor when you heard him roll around in the bed and turn on his back, as his eyes met with yours, he raised his non-existent eyebrows and gave you a smile.

“What is this?” You asked him as you picked up a lock of the hair so he rubbed his eyes,

“Well good morning to you as well lady” he mumbled in his groggy ‘I just woke up’ voice so you sighed and got back to cleaning.

“Don't get up if you're not wearing clothes underneath the sheet” you warned him so he chuckled in response.

“Yes mam, anything else?”

He asked you politely but your mind was still confused about the long silky beautiful hair you had found just now.

“What is it? Daemon? What is this?” You asked him again, agitation visible in your voice so he propped himself on his elbows and stared at you. You could see his abs flexing as he craned himself up but this wasn't the time for you to get distracted, there was no time to get distracted by a patient anyways.

"It's my hair... they grow longer when I am able to fully shift into my natural form which I did somehow last night. I have to cut them off with my own nails afterwards.” he mumbled as if he hadn't said the most unbelievable thing ever so you stared at him for a moment in complete disbelief. What were you expecting anyways?

“Okay ..why can't you just keep the hair, why do you have to cut it?” You asked him a follow up question instead of dismissing him like you had done previously so he smiled.

“It's a bit of a hassle..look at it” he told you nonchalantly.

“You're a weird man Mr. Daemon–” you mumbled in disbelief so he chuckled in response.

“Bonkers..innit?”

As you took the broom to the other side of the room you found a few more feathers and sighed. At this point, you had narrowed down the possibilities to two main scenarios. One theory was that he purchased these items beforehand and he was just playing a cruel prank on you. The other possibility was a lot more outrageous to consider. What if he really was a dragon or humagon or a Draman? That would explain the feathers, the hair, and so many other things that didn't quite add up.

But that was just crazy, right? You sighed and shook your head, trying to dismiss the thought from your mind.

Later on, Daemon was taken to see Doctor Lisa for their session. He couldn't believe that Vis had allowed it, but he had a feeling that the bastard was watching from the other side of the mirror. He was then escorted to the middle of the room and was told to sit. A guard cuffed his hands behind the chair while Doctor Lisa took a seat just a few feet away from him.

“You can leave Jacob” Lisa said to the guard so he nodded before he left the room to just two of them.

“So Daemon, good afternoon, how are you feeling?” She asked him as she gave him a warm smile so he chuckled in response.

“What is this, what's going on?” Daemon questioned her so she gave him a comforting smile again.

“You have been making good progress and I just wanted to speak with you about how you were feeling”

She mumbled politely so he looked at her up and down, his gaze intense, piercing into her soul as if he was trying to read her intentions.

“How am I feeling while I'm cuffed like a criminal? You tell me darling, how am I supposed to feel?” Daemon spoke, with a rough and husky tone, almost challenging her. His sharp eyes peered intensely at her, making her squirm in her seat, for a psychiatrist she sure seemed easy to manipulate.

“What's bothering you the most right now?” His lips puckered as she questioned him,

“Come closer and perhaps I'll humor you” he leaned forward to stare at her and she opened her mouth to say something but she felt at loss of words, there was something about him that made her speechless, the glint in his eyes made her uncomfortable but also drew her in..

“Doctor Vis told me that you have always had trouble with your sense of identity and-” before she could finish her sentence he had cut her off,

“Uhhuh when did he tell you that? While he had you bent over his desk this morning or???” he continued, his eyes flashing with anger. Lisa flinched at his words, taken aback by his sudden outburst.

“Daemon you're being inappropriate” she intervened but he cut her off immediately.

“Mmmm but I'm speaking the truth. Am I not? You're married but here you are fucking another man and at the same time so willing to spread your gorgeous legs for a patient sitting in front of you-”

He was amidst his contempt-filled speech when he was dragged up from his seat and punched right in the face but instead of cowering down he let out the sort of laughter that made Doctor Lisa scared. Quickly, Lisa grabbed onto Vis's arms, trying to calm him down as he stood over Daemon, his fists still clenched in anger.

“Let it be.. he's not well, it's not his fault” she said to him so Vis glared at him as he called in the guard to take him away.

“Everytime I think he's making progress he goes on and does something like this” Vis said as Daemon was taken away from the therapy room but Lisa seemed upset with Viserys instead. How did Daemon know of their affair?

“What? He must have seen the wedding ring and made a baseless assumption, that's what he does, he's very observant..always has been” Vis clarified to her but she was so furious that she walked away from him.

As you stepped out of room 390 after cleaning, you noticed Jacob dragging Daemon to his room. As they came closer you realized that his cheek was bleeding. What had he done now?

As soon as Jacob was gone, you looked around carefully before entering Daemon's room. He was already on the bed with a towel pressed against his bleeding cheek, his eyes closed and his body tensed up, clearly in pain.

“What happened?” You asked him as you approached him so he looked at you sharply. His eyes seemed dark and brooding, moments of such intensity always gave you a weird sensation in the pit of your stomach.

“Why do you care?” He asked you so you shrugged in response.

“Because you're bleeding and I'm concerned about your well being as a patient” you told him so he chuckled in response.

You watched in shock as Daemon got up from his bed, tossing the towel into the corner of the room before approaching you like a predator. Instinctively, you took a step back, your heart racing as you kept moving behind until you had hit the wall.

As Daemon reached closer to you, his fingers wrapped around your waist, and he placed his head between the crook of your neck. You could feel the blood from his cheek smearing against your skin, but that was the least of your concern. The proximity was affecting you in more ways than one, and you weren't sure how to react. You were on duty, after all, and it would have been inappropriate to touch him.

But then he seemed so hurt and distraught, his breathing heavy as he sniffed you constantly, you remembered him telling you that it was calming for him, your scent. What was this man made of? You had never met anyone as animalistic in his approach as Daemon was.

And to prove your point further he let out a purring noise as you curled your fingers around his neck and scratched his scalp. You had never heard a man purr like this, how was he doing it?

“Calm down..” you mumbled softly so he pulled away and glared at you as let out a small growling noise, using the sleeve of your cardigan you wiped the blood off his cheek before you grabbed his forearm.

“How can I be calm when my thoughts are filled with images of you in compromising positions” he smirked as he spoke so you rolled your eyes even though his words made you feel aroused.

“Come with me” You dragged Daemon by the arm as you led him out of his room and down the hallway. As you passed by the other patients and colleagues, you noticed their shocked expressions. You didn't care, though,he was hurt and in need of medical attention, you didn't care about whatever he had done to receive this treatment.

As you reached the clinic on the second floor the nurse took one look at him and made him sit down to patch up his wound.

“Are you hurt as well?” She asked you as she looked at the blood on your neck so you shook your head and asked for a medical wipe to clean the blood and you constantly felt his eyes on you, he kept staring at you and a part of you wanted him to look away, you didn't like it when he was looking at you like that as if he wanted to devour you whole.

Once he was patched up, you asked him to walk with you, it was lunchtime and you had to be in the cafeteria for your duties but on the way you bumped into Dr Vis instead and it instantly raised your blood pressure up, and definitely not in a good way.

“What is going on here if I may ask?” He questioned you, his voice strict and tone authoritative.

“The patient seemed wounded so I took him to the nursery” you answered him so he smiled but his smile never felt genuine, it never really reached his eyes, everytime you looked at him these days you felt a sense of foreboding wash over you.

“Where are you taking him now?” he asked as he crossed his arms behind his back like a school teacher.

“Cafeteria..it's lunch time for patients” he let out a small laughter as you answered him.

"No need for that. His lunch privileges are revoked for the day, and he will spend it gardening instead," Dr Vis declared, his tone firm and unrelenting. You looked at him in disbelief, not understanding why he was being punished so severely. "Once you have completed your duties, I want you to supervise him as he plants hundred hydrangea seeds in the back garden," Dr Vis ordered. "Any less than that and he will not be served dinner tonight," he warned, his eyes still locked on Daemon's as if he was taunting him

“Why me?” You asked him and that made him turn his head towards you

“Pardon me?” He glared at you so intensely that you didn't want to elaborate and question as to why he wanted you to watch him suffer when a guard could have done this job more appropriately.

“Nothing..I'll be free in an hour doctor” you mumbled politely so Doctor vis gave you a smile and watched you walk past him and Daemon..

“You really think I'd make your life easier while you're acting up?” He asked Daemon as he grabbed his arm to lead him to the back garden.

You turned to see Daemon one last time before he was escorted away, his gaze fixed on you with a mixture of confusion and hurt. You took a deep breath and made your way to the cafeteria, feeling a sense of unease settle over you. You couldn't shake the feeling that punishing a man of that size for so many hours without food was cruel and not to mention extremely inhumane..

Once you were free of your duties, you went to the pantry and wrapped up a sandwich carefully before placing it into the pocket of your cardigan.

As you reached the back garden, he was on his knees digging small holes for the seeds and it made you want to hug him and comfort him. You looked around and didn't find anyone else there, not even Dr. Vis.

“Why are you being punished?” You asked as you sat down on the nearest garden chair so he looked your way and took a few sniffs “Asks the one breaking the rules herself”

You looked at him confused as he said that.

“What do you mean?”

“That sandwich in your pocket can land you in big trouble darling” he mumbled as he got back to work so you sighed. How was he able to just guess these things? Perhaps he had some sort of psychic intuition or maybe he was just observant like that.

“What did you do?” You asked him again so he chuckled in response.

“Pissed off someone and got punched”

“Why do you do it Daemon, it's not going to make your life any easier?”

“I can't help it, when I feel something.. I say it.. subtlety isn't in my nature”

As he spoke, a realization dawned on you, he was really honest and straightforward, even if it got him into trouble.

“Don't you miss your family out there?” You asked him a personal question so he shook his head

“Why not?” you questioned again hoping to get more information about his life before he got here.

“Lost mum when I was 4, father was never around, older brother raised me but I'll never satisfy him, I'd never be what he wants me to be” his voice sounded heavy with sadness and perhaps under different circumstances you could have offered him a hug.

“I'm sorry, I know what it's like to lose a parent” you mumbled as you picked on your nails again so he turned his head to look at you.

“Your mother wouldn't want you to fuel that nasty habit”

And you stopped picking immediately

”She worked here, didn't she?” He asked you so you nodded in response, he must have heard about it somewhere.

“How did she die?” He asked you so you sighed, you never liked thinking or talking about it.

“She died here.. heart attack they said”

“And you believe that?” He asked you so you looked at him confused

“What else should I be believing?”

“I don't really know yet”

“You're so strange you know that” you couldn't help but smile.

“Is that a bad thing?

“No ..it's not” he gave you a warm smile as you said that. You watched as he spent the next hour diligently planting 100 hydrangea seeds. After he was finished, you had to report it to Dr. Vis before Daemon was allowed to go back to his room and rest.

“Eat this, there's still time for dinner” you passed him the sandwich so he looked at it with a mixture of gratitude and curiosity before taking a bite and savoring the flavor.

Later that night as you finally got in bed you had even more puzzling questions than you had a day before. The feathers, the hair, how he was so intuitive, how he was burning so hot all the time, nothing made sense to you. There was something wrong with him but you weren't able to figure it out.

You had almost drifted into sleep when you heard a knock on your window and your heart went still. As you sat up you couldn't really believe your eyes, Daemon was on the other side of the window, standing so daringly on that narrow ledge. He was absolutely crazy, you couldn't even deny it anymore.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You asked him as you pulled your window up and pulled him inside carefully so he won't fall down to his death.

“Everything” he mumbled as he cupped your cheeks and you froze in your spot, how did he even get up here? Sure you lived a floor up but one would have to know how to walk on walls to directly reach the window.

“How did you get up here?” You asked him sternly so he placed his forehead on yours to calm down, his jaw clenched in anger in frustration.

“You ask stupid questions darling”

He pulled away from you and walked past you so you glared at him.

“Stupid? Is it stupid for me to want to know how you climbed up a floor and ended up outside of my window in the middle of the night?” You crossed your arms so he tilted his head as if to mock you.

“It's common sense really which you don't seem to have or perhaps denying it all makes you feel normal about yourself”

You glared at him in bewilderment as he said that.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You asked him so he approached you and grabbed your hands on his own before he locked them behind your back, you were starting to get used to how physical he could get with you.

“Denying the truth makes you feel sane, it makes you believe that you're different from these people you tend to all day long. Am I wrong, hmm?” He asked you so you looked up at him

“Are you calling me crazy?” You asked him so he snickered in response.

“No no no no..I'm merely suggesting that perhaps you're gullible, only capable of seeing things from a shallow perspective, despite my numerous attempts to show you the truth”

“And what is the truth? That you're a half fucking dragon?” your voice raised in a mix of anger and confusion.

For a moment, you thought he was going to lash out at you as his grin faded into a scowl. Instead, he answered calmly,

“Perhaps i am”

“Then show me, become one, right here right now” you challenged him and his jaw clenched

"It's not that easy," he snarled, his jaw clenched in anger.

"Why not?" you pressed him, your voice shaking with frustration.

"It's not," Daemon repeated, his tone barely above a whisper, as if he were ashamed of his inability to show you the truth.

"Well, then you need to stop with your bullshit," you snapped, your anger evident in your every word. "And stop coming into my room like this, you'd make me lose my job,”

Your breaths were getting heavier as you spoke angrily, it was part anger and part your close proximity with him.

“Is that what you really want? Want me to leave you alone?” he asked you with irony dripping from his voice.

“Yes” you mumbled sharply so he let go of your arms and instead of using the window he used the door to step out, he didn't give a fuck about being caught honestly.

Next morning you didn't even attempt to clean his room but when he didn't come out for lunch or tea time in the evening you couldn't stop yourself from checking up on him.

So, after taking a shower and changing into a dress, you cautiously made your way to his room and knocked twice on the door before stepping inside.

As you entered the room, you found him sitting upright on the bed in the darkness like a creep, with the only light coming from the bathroom. He had his elbows placed on his thighs, his chin situated on his clasped fingers and he was staring into the bathroom even though he was clearly aware of your presence

“I thought you didn't want to see me anymore” he mumbled as he kept staring into the bathroom so you approached him and stood in front of him, blocking the only source of light, you kind of looked like an angel to him with the glimmering shine of light surrounding you.

“Go downstairs, it's dinner time” you mumbled softly so he looked up at you and smiled.

“I'm sorry I got so ..heated last night” he mumbled softly as his eyes raked over your figure, your shift was over and he noticed the green dress you had worn, he brought his hand forward and ran it over your shin so you stepped back a little as his touch sent a shiver down your spine.

Despite the tension between you two, it felt like there was an unspoken bond that had developed over the past few days.

“Can't stay away from me can you?” he asked, smugness palpable in his voice. You could feel your hands clench into a fist but definitely not from anger.

“I'm just worried about you as a patient” you mumbled softly, almost seductively, he was such a bad influence on you.

“Mmmhmmm” he mumbled as he trailed his fingers up your bare skin but as soon as he had touched your bare thigh under the dress, you slapped his hand away.

“You're being inappropriate” you looked him in the eye as if to warn him but as his hands went under your dress again you involuntarily placed your hands on his shoulder, fingers digging into his flesh, eyes rolling back into your head.

“I have been inappropriate with you since the very first day” you let out a moan as his fingers danced back n forth, caressing your soft flesh near the inside of your thighs, his touch almost made you want to lose it all, every nerve in your body felt altered.

Your opened mouth and the look on your face only turned him on beyond belief,

He placed his other hand on your waist and pulled you closer to his face and then he pressed his nose against your clothed intimate area, your fingers curled around his neck as you let out a deliciously tortured moan that you had been suppressing all your life.

“Ohh you smell good enough to eat darling”

He breathed in deeply and let out a growl as your arousal filled his senses, fingers trailed under your dress again and this time he caressed the back of your thighs, his fingers moving upwards slowly to caress those plump cheeks but he was holding back. It took everything in him to not throw you onto his bed and make you belong to him, he had to control for your own sake.

He wanted to ruin you very slowly, more and more every passing day, make you so desperate that you'd beg for him to touch you.

Suddenly the intimacy of the situation was too much for you, and you felt the tears welling up in your eyes, that's when you backed away from him, pressing yourself against the wall so he got up and approached you. He didn't want you to feel afraid of feeling things, he didn't want you to be so scared of feeling intimacy.

“Calm down sweet girl” he mumbled as he grabbed your chin to make you look him in the eye.

“I can't..I can't breatheee” you mumbled quietly so he kissed the tip of your nose,

“You can..keep looking at me”

“No this is wrong ..it's so Wronggggg..I'm being so bad and so wrong” he could tell that you were feeling overwhelmed so he cupped your cheeks and caressed your cheek with his fingers.

“Shhhhhhh darling shhhhh” he whispered as he wrapped his arms around you and finally pulled you into a hug, a proper hug, his body felt hotter than the sun as you got on your tip toes and placed your head between the crook of his neck, but it did calm you down a little. You had never been embraced this way so you couldn't even decipher what you were feeling in the moment. Once your breathing had calmed enough you pulled away from him to look at him.

“What's bothering you more, the fact that it's forbidden or just the idea of being touched by a man?” He asked you as you pulled away slightly, his thumb ran over your cheek as he wiped your tears, he found you adorable when you acted this way, the urge he had felt to protect you that night only became stronger in that moment.

You couldn't bring yourself to answer immediately, feeling your mouth go dry but then you responded meakly.

“Bothhhhh”

“When was the last time you touched your cunt darling?” You raised your palm up to plant it on his lips as he asked you such a dirty question like that.

“Shut up ..you can't talk to me like that” you had intended for your voice to come out as a warning but then it sounded as if you were teasing him instead.

“What about dirty movies hmm? Ever seen one? Ever watched a man fuck a woman? Or a woman sucking a man's cock?” he mumbled as he grabbed your hand and placed it on his bulge, your heart almost stopped beating at the gesture, he was so..hard and huge, it made your head spin.

“Please Daemon” your voice barely came out in a whisper so he smirked in response.

“Why are you so timid hmm? Did you get caught? Mumma caught you touching yourself as a teen?” You slapped him lightly on the cheek so he snickered.

“Once she did..but that's not the reason” you told him honestly as you didn't want to play games, you didn't know how to do it. Him on the other hand, you couldn't tell if he was really interested in you or just plain bored. His gentle touch felt both soothing and alarming at the same time, like he was trying to lull you into a false sense of security.

“Tell me the reason then” his voice was firm as he questioned you.

“I don't feel it..i have never felt sexual attraction before” he looked at you as if he was not surprised but at the same time he seemed curious.

“To a man?”

“To anyone.. I don't feel attraction, i don't picture myself kissing anyone or doing other things with them..i haven't done it all my life” you had never told anyone about this, and you knew you shouldn't have been revealing such personal things to him, a patient nonetheless, but you couldn't help yourself, you were so painfully aroused right now that it hurt.

“Then what do you think of when you're grinding your pretty cunt against a pillow at night? Hmm?” His breath was hot against your face as he murmured and you were only able to moan in response.

“You haven't thought about anyone in your life..Until I got here, you have been thinking about me since then and I know that” he mumbled confidently so you shook your head even though you looked stupid doing it. You had to control yourself, you knew you had to.

“You're so full of yourself” you mumbled like a bratty child, making him smirk

“Uhhhuh and don't you want the same? Don't you want to be so full of me as well?”

“No.”

“Very convincing..Fucking is in human nature darling, that's how we have evolved, and you want to get fucked i know” he told you as he brushed his thumb over your lips “But that's not enough for you is it? It's not.. you want to be loved, you want to be swept off your feet and serenaded, you need a man to show you what romance feels like” you couldn't help but smile genuinely as he said that.

“Too bad you're a dragon”

As much as he wasn't expecting the quip when he was trying to seduce you he did appreciate the humor.

“Half dragon. Half man. Don't fool yourself sweet thing”

You got on your tip toes and kissed his bruised cheek before you pulled yourself out of his grip to leave his room.

On the way out you noticed that the bars on his windows were pulled apart, making you stop in your tracks and you turned around to face him once more. You knew he was strong, but only someone with a level of superhuman strength could have done that.

“Make me believe that you are what you think you are, if you care about me, make me feel it, if you think my eyes are closed then open them for me, if you want me to be your friend and believe your truth, show me the truth, show yourself to me” you said to him confidently and a smile curved the corner of his mouth.

“Aren't you afraid I'd drive you as insane as I am?” You chuckled as he said that, there was a touch of threat and intimidation in his voice.

“You scare me but I like it Daemon” you gave him a sultry smile before you finished your sentence “That's what I think about when I'm pleasuring myself at night”

😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏

Taglist

@anukulee @ammo23 @littledark11 @stupidthoughtsinwriting

@daenny-t

#daemon targaryen x female reader #daemon targaryen x reader fluff #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader smut #daemon targaryen x reader angst #non canon au #modern day au #modern daemon targaryen

[askthechronoverse]

OK. So I'm going to ask everyone here to help me with something. We obviously aren't going to try to convince a judge that he didn't do it? Because he absolutely did and it was put in history books. Heck, his motives were part of my dissertation for my advanced psychology course when I was working on my law degree.

I think our best strategy might be to prove what he's done with his life in the past 25 years. We have some ideas on what we can present, but if any of you think of anything... let me know, okay?

I'm not going to lie to you: the prosecuting attorney is... he's an absolute shark. Former villain who now uses his desire to cause pain to send people to jail. I feel like Starhawk shows him specifically because the fact he's able to make several of his former enemies absolutely miserable in one move is more than enough motivation to get him to make this trial go in his favor.

As a representative of the Assembly Of Master Builders, I will be more than happy to answer your questions as well about the legal process.

#⌈only things that rise are cream and...⌋ ⋆❈⋆ ⌈the master⌋ #⌈planning a turnabout⌋ ⋆❈⋆ ⌈before rj's trial⌋

[middleearthpixie]

Something in the Night ~ Chapter Twenty-Four

Summary: Following the Battle of the Five Armies, a seriously wounded Thorin Oakenshield returns to Erebor to recuperate and eventually ascend the throne as king. With the deaths of Azog the Defiler and his son, Bolg, Thorin no longer has to worry about the bounty the Defiler placed on his head and can instead concentrate on restoring Erebor to its former glory. 

Nina Carren of Esgaroth has one goal—to make Thorin Oakenshield pay for unleashing Smaug the dragon unto her home—where he destroyed the town and killed her family. The Defiler might be gone, but his bounty remains very much in place, and she fully intends to collect on it. 

Finally, the opportunity shows itself for her to do just that, only to have it go horribly awry. Wounded and now at his mercy, neither Nina nor Thorin stopped to think what might happen, should things not go quite according to plan…

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x ofc Nina Carren

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 3.4k

Tag List: @mrsdurin @i-did-not-mean-to @fizzyxcustard @lathalea @legolasbadass

@xxbyimm @kibleedibleedoo @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @knittastically

@notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78

@ruthoakenshield @frosticenow @quiall321 @dianakc @msjava1972

@glassgulls @evenstaredits @heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms

@sazzlep @night-ace @lyl1pad @mistresskayla-blog1

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here. 

Darkness crept into Dale and Nina tried not to notice the passage of time, even as she lit the lamp on her bedside table. A sense of unease swept through her, especially when she went out into the sitting area, where she found Sigrid at the battered kitchen table, knitting. 

Sigrid said nothing, but merely arched an eyebrow and that somehow made her feel even worse. Had she been a fool? Had Thorin sought to get even with her by using her, making her think he felt something, and…

No. She refused to even consider the very notion.

“It’s almost eight,” Sigrid remarked, lowering her knitting.

“I know.” Nina sank onto the arm of the sofa with a low sigh, a feeling of idiocy swirling through her. “Perhaps my faith was misplaced.”

“I had hoped not.”

“So did—” The sudden rap on the door cut her off and her spirits rose as she did. Nina smiled over her shoulder at Sigrid. “Perhaps it wasn’t after all.”

Sigrid smiled. “Only one way to find out.”

Nina drew a deep breath to quell the thousands of butterflies that had taken up residence in her belly as she reached for the door handle. But when she pulled it open and her gaze alit on Thorin on the far side of the threshold, those butterflies multiplied tenfold.

He offered up a sheepish smile. “I know I’m late, but I do have a good reason.”

“Come in, Thorin. And then you can offer up your reason.”

He bobbed his head. “Fair enough.”

She stepped back to allow him room to enter the flat and as he did, he said, “Miss Sigrid, how do you fare?”

“I’m well, thank you. And yourself?”

“I’m good, thank you.”

Sigrid rose from the table, scooping her knitting into her arms. “I will allow the two of you—”

“No, there’s no need to leave, Miss Sigrid.” 

“That’s fine. I have a book waiting for me and you two don't need an audience.” She smiled. “It was nice seeing you again, Thorin.”

With that, she swept into her room, and Nina turned to Thorin. “I’m listening.”

“Oh, right. I was waylaid in Erebor.” He offered up a sheepish smile. “Balin was working on something for me and he was supposed to have finished it by now, but did not.”

“What was he working on? Something to do with Esgaroth?”

“In a matter of speaking, yes.” He gestured to the door. “Now, I believe I promised you supper, didn't I?”

“You did.” 

“Then come along and we will enjoy a meal not cooked out in the open by Dwalin.”

“We enjoyed several like that in Mirkwood,” she reminded him.

“And not surrounded by elves, either.” 

“Fair enough.”

Once they were outside, he reached for her hand, linking his fingers with hers, and as they touched, Nina felt the snap of electricity between them and wondered if she would always feel it. Thorin looked over at her, his eyes soft, and without a word, lifted her hand to his lips. 

“You felt it, didn't you?”

“Felt what?” He winked and his fingers tightened about hers. “Where should we go?”

“Anywhere but the Black Swan.”

“Agreed.”

They made their way along Stone Street, and out to the main street, which was twice as wide, but far more quieter at night than it would be come morning. Some shops had closed for the night, but plenty more remained open, their brightly colored awnings still unrolled over the doorways and soft warm light within welcoming any and all shoppers. 

“This city has come a long way,” he said, gesturing to the buildings to his right. “Half of these were in ruins a year ago. Now look at them.”

“The first few weeks here were terrible,” she told him as they strolled toward the low wall at the far end of the street, overlooking the plains, and in the distance, Erebor. “Thranduíl had been somewhat generous, bringing much needed food and clothing, but there were still so many people and so few resources. Bard proved his gift for leadership during that time. And it’s amazing what people can accomplish when they work together.”

She looked over to the west, where some buildings had been restored, but others were still in various stages of ruin. “An enormous troll lumbered through here, just swinging this equally enormous club this way and that. I’d never seen anything like it. He was horrifying, and so ugly, you couldn't help but stop and stare at him for a moment.” 

“I did not see the one who tore through here, but I've battled trolls before,” he replied, pausing to sink against the rough stone wall. “Before we reached Rivendell the first time. We’d stopped for the night and mountain trolls made off with several of our ponies. Fíli and Kíli took Bilbo in an attempt to get them back and we all almost ended up on the troll menu.”

“Ew. They are foul creatures.”

“That they are.” 

In the distance, pale gold light spilled through elegant bay windows and she nodded toward it. “The Provincial House. That’s what Sigrid gave up to share a tiny little flat with me.”

“I’ve spent more than my share of time there since Smaug.” His thumb brushed along hers. “The bowman has done well for your people.”

“He has,” she nodded, then gazed up at him. Moonlight danced lightly along his hair, glinted off the ornaments woven into the black strands, and gleamed off the silver streaking it. Without thinking, she reached up to brush her fingers through it. 

She let her fingertips trail along the braid woven at his left temple. At its end, a silver cube had been woven it. It lay heavy in her palm as she said, “What is this?”

“This?” He caught the braid from her, catching the small cube between his thumb and forefinger. “It was a gift, from my father.”

“An odd gift, that.”

“To Men, perhaps.” He smiled, letting the braid go slack. “But to dwarves? It is not odd at all. To dwarves, hair is sacred. That’s why you will not see a clean-shaven dwarf, nor one with what you would call a sensible haircut. We take great pride in our hair, and we protect it as if it were a living being.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “You’ve seen even the women have beards, and most of them are decorated and almost all of the decorations have meaning behind them. No one touches a dwarf’s hair unless he or she has proven themselves utterly trustworthy to the dwarf in question and has been given their permission to touch it.”

“I didn't know that. I just thought you felt it made you look more threatening.”

He grinned then. “Am I so threatening to you?”

“Well, not now. But when you first came through Esgaroth? It was easy to see you making someone uneasy. But at the same time, it was also easy to see why your men followed you all the way from the Shire. I’ve the feeling they would willingly die for you, if necessary.”

A hint of color rose along his cheekbones, only just barely visible in the moonlight. “I owe my life to them, all of them. But especially the hobbit.”

“Bilbo, right?”

He nodded. “Bilbo Baggins of Bag End in the Shire. At first, he had no desire to join us, no desire to leave his home and all of its comforts. And to be honest, I don't know why he changed his mind, other than he was afraid of what would happen if he didn’t.”

“You never asked him?”

That color along his cheekbones deepened. “I—uh—never got the chance. We had a bit of a falling out and it wasn't until I thought I was dying that we—that I apologized for my role.”

A hint of sadness crept into his voice. She moved to ease herself between his thighs and let her hands come to rest upon his powerful shoulders. “If you don’t wish to speak of it, I understand.”

He gazed up at her, his eyes soft and pale. “The memories are unpleasant. I put many lives at risk. I cost so many innocent people so much. You don't need me to tell you this, you know it firsthand.”

“I do, but… just… now you’re atoning for it. Look at this place,” she swept one hand out behind her, at the buildings that had risen from the ash, “and see for yourself. It was a ruin and now, it’s not entirely reborn, but it’s getting there. You’ve kept your word, Thorin.”

He brought his hands up to rest on her hips, his thumbs grazing along them as he murmured, “I love you.”

She smiled, then leaned in and caught his lips in a teasing kiss. His hands tightened on her hips, pulled her snugly into the vee of his spread legs, and when she drew back, she murmured, “I love you, too.”

“We should go find someplace to eat.” He rose without releasing her. “Before the hour grows too late and every place is closed.”

****

After a quiet supper in a cozy little cafe on the eastern side of Dale, they strolled back along the promenade, toward Stone Street. Her fingers laced with Thorin’s, her head resting against his shoulder. Nina was certain she’d never known the happiness, the contentment, like those swirling through her then. Everything was right in her world, more right than she could have ever imagined. 

“What’s on your mind?” Thorin asked, his voice low and gentle.

“Not much, really.” She lifted her head to peer up at him. “I’m happy. I mean, I’m still sore, but I’m happy.”

He released her hand, easing that arm about her shoulders. “Happy, eh?”

“Very happy. Why? Shouldn’t I be?”

“I didn't say that.” He pressed her against his side. “It’s a nice sight to see, you happy.”

“What about you? What’s on your mind?”

Thorin stopped then, stepping before her. “I am also happy.”

“Good. I’ve the feeling it’s been a long time since you were happy, Thorin.” She reached up to curve her hand against his bristled cheek. “And you should be happy.”

He blocked out the moon as he leaned in and their lips met softly. Nina melted against him, easing one arm about his neck and the other about his waist. He bent her back, his lips parting, his tongue meeting hers and her heart sped up at the slow teasing. 

Thorin broke the kiss slowly, pulling away to sweep his lips along her jaw, toward her ear, where he whispered, “I should see you home, mesmel.”

“I hate to see this evening end,” she confessed, tucking her head against his chest.

He wrapped her in his embrace, pressed a kiss into the top of her head, and murmured, “There will be more like this.”

“I certainly hope so.”

“There will. I promise you this.”

With that, she slowly pulled out of his arms, but caught his hand once more and in comfortable silence, they strolled back toward Stone Street. 

At her door, she smiled. “I had a lovely time this evening, Thorin.”

“As did I.” 

“Would you like to come inside?”

His eyes glinted and his grin grew feral to send heat spiking through her, but then he slowly shook his head. “As much as I would love to, I should be going. But, if you are free tomorrow afternoon, there’s something I’d like to show you.”

She nodded. “I’m free. I have to work tomorrow night, though.”

“I will have you back in time. I’ll be by around noon.”

“I’ll see you then.”

He leaned in, brushed her lips with his once more, and then stepped back. She opened the front door and reluctantly stepped inside and as she closed it, she heard a soft, faint whistle as Thorin strolled back down Stone Street. 

“You look happy.”

Nina turned to see Sigrid at the table, this time a book open before her, and she smiled. “That is because I am.”

“Because of your dwarf?”

“Because of my dwarf.”

Sigrid chuckled. “I must admit, you could do far worse than him. Perhaps he is not so terrible after all. Should I give him another chance?”

“I wish you would.” Nina crossed to the table to draw out a chair and sank into it. “You’re my dearest friend, Sigrid. I would like it if you and he could at least be civil to one another.”

A hint of color appeared along Sigrid’s high cheekbones. “Da did say he was keeping his promise, the one he’d made that night he and his company broke into the armory.”

“He is. At least, as far as I know, he is.”

“And we are out from under the Master’s incompetence as well. Did you know his lackey made a pass at me once.”

“What?” Nina couldn’t keep the disgust from her voice. “When?”

“I had gone to speak with the Master about something, something my father asked me to take care of for him whilst he was out on the water. And while I was there, in that gaudy house, Alfrid happened upon me and thought he might take a liberty or two.”

Nina couldn't help the shudder that rippled through her. Alfrid Lickspittle was every bit as sleazy as his name suggested and she did not envy Sigrid’s having to deal with him. “Tell me you punched him straight in the nose. Or somewhere it would hurt even more.”

“I wish. No, actually, I burst out laughing at him, which was terribly rude of me, I suppose, but somehow, I’m not at all sorry for it.”

“He was a horrid little man. If he touched me, I think I’d have to lop that body part clean off.”

Sigrid burst out laughing. “Nina, that’s terrible!”

“So was he.”

“I’ll not argue that with you at all.” Sigrid sat back in her chair. “Why do I think His Majesty does not make you wish to lop off any body parts?”

Nina could hold back her smile, heat spilling through her at the memory of her and Thorin in the infirmary the previous night. “No, he certainly doesn’t. Not one bit.”

“Well, I am happy for you. But know this, if he ever hurts you…”

Nina reached across the table to give Sigrid’s hand a squeeze. “Thank you.” 

The trek back to Erebor was uneventful for a change. Still, Thorin did not leisurely stroll home, despite his good mood. It was a clear, cool night, and the walk was pleasant, but even so, he felt no little relief when he crossed over the obsidian bridge spanning the narrow river before Erebor’s main gate. Perhaps one day he’d once again be able to travel without always looking over his shoulder, without wondering who out there might be taking aim at him, but it would not be today. 

A sigh bubbled to his lips. In so many ways, being just Thorin Oakenshield was far easier than being king. Oakenshield could come and go as he pleased, without worrying about any bounty on his head. 

He frowned. No, that wasn't entirely true, as Azog had put that bounty in place long before Thorin ever crossed Erebor’s threshold. He just hadn’t known about it until his not-so-chance meeting with Gandalf at the Prancing Pony in Bree that led to his decision to retake Erebor. 

So much had happened since that rainy night. So much, indeed.

“Ah, there you are.” Balin strode toward him. 

“You’re waiting up for me?”

Balin chuckled. “Yes, but not for the reason you might think.”

“A relief, that.” Thorin met him about three-quarters of the way across the Great Hall. “For what reason, then?”

“I’ve finished.”

Thorin halted his stride. “Already? You thought it would take several more days.”

“Well, I did at first, but then I figured out what was giving me such trouble and then, I finished it.” Balin offered up a proud grin. “Would you like to see it?”

“I would, yes.”

“Then come along. Your lady will be here come tomorrow, is that right?”

“Yes.”

“Then come with me and I hope you approve.”

Thorin fell into step alongside Balin to trek down to the lower level, where Balin’s workshop was located. “Why do I think that won’t be a problem?”

“Well, it probably won’t be, but still…”

“Balin, you know I trust you.”

“I realize that, but this is an important piece.” Balin glanced over at him as they descended the main staircase. “It is not every day the king is betrothed, you know.”

Thorin couldn't hold back his smile. “I do like how that sounds.”

Balin let out a soft chuckle. “I have to admit, they are not words I thought I’d ever utter, but here we are.”

“Here we are.” As they reached the landing, overlooking the treasure horde, he paused, hands on the marble rail. “Tell me, do you think anyone will have concerns where Miss Carren is concerned?”

“They might,” Balin admitted with a slow bob of his head, “for she is unknown to us. But, your people trust your judgement, so in time, if she’s won your heart, I’ve no doubt she will win the hearts of the others as well.”

Thorin turned back to the treasure, glinting beneath the flickering candles in their sconces high up on the stone walls. “Balin, there is something I think you should know. But,” he looked over at the dwarf who was his conscience personified, “what I am about to tell you must never leave this room and it must remain between you and I.”

“This sounds serious.”

“It is. And that is why you must give me your word.”

“Of course. You needn’t even ask, really. I keep what we discuss between us as a rule, unless you say otherwise. So, what is it?”

“It’s about Nina—er, Miss Carren—and how she and I came to be together.”

“Well, I know that already. Dís told me. She offered herself in service as a bodyguard of sorts.”

“Well, yes, she did,” Thorin hedged, linking his fingers. “But, that’s not quite the whole story.”

“Thorin?”

“You know of the bounty, do you not? The one Azog set upon my head.”

“Yes, of course. The Goblin King was quite sure he was going to collect on it.”

Thorin chuckled, remembering their time in Goblin-town. “Aye, quite sure, indeed. If only Gandalf had been in agreement with him.”

Balin joined him in his laughter for a moment, but then, his expression grew serious. “What about that bounty?”

Thorin hesitated, then drew in a deep breath and went into the story of how Nina came to be in his company outside of Rivendell. He waited for Balin’s shocked expression and was not disappointed as the older dwarf stared up at him in wide-eyed surprise. “Are you so certain marrying her would be wise, Thorin?”

Thorin scowled. “I told you, she has no intention of claiming that bounty any longer and of everyone, I’ve come to know her best. I’ve been alone with her, I’ve slept alongside her, and—”

“Here, you mean. On dwarven territory, within your kingdom.”

“No,” Thorin shook his head, “not only here. The first time we were together, we were in Mirkwood. And I was as vulnerable there as I would be anywhere. And yet, here I am, alive and well and in one piece.”

“Thorin, you cannot let this be known,” Balin told him, his voice low, “for should anyone else learn of this… the consequences could be dire.”

“And that is why this will remain between you and I,” Thorin replied evenly.

“Well, yes, of course, but does anyone else know?”

“Only you and Dwalin know. No one else does, not even Dís. And I fully intend to keep it that way.”

“I should hope so,” Balin told him with a stern look. “It would be disastrous, should this get out.”

“I know. In time, perhaps it won’t be, but for now—”

“It will be kept under wraps.”

“Good. And do not let it color your perceptions of Miss Carren. I assure you, she is not going to slice my head from my body any time soon.”

Balin shot him a long look, then resumed down the second staircase. “I certainly hope not.”

���Trust me.”

“I do. But I know you. I do not know her.”

Thorin rolled his eyes. “Give it time, Balin. It won’t take long for her to win you over as well.”

#Richard Armitage #AU #The Hobbit #Thorin Fic #Thorin Oakenshield #Is it hot in here? #Hobbit Fic #Romance #Hobbit Fanfic #Thorin x OC #Fan fiction #The Hobbit fan fiction

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

ORV is about enduring the horrors in real time.

(for @everyonesfavoritebastard)

#omniscient reader's viewpoint #kim dokja #yoo joonghyuk #I read a few arcs of ORV a few years back so I am at least loosely familiar with the characters and premise. #ORV dares ask the question: “what if you finally met your beloved blorbo who helped you cope through the horrors - and he *hates you*” #The reversal of what most people feel about some of their blorbos (love them but would never want to meet someone like that in person) #I would love to keep reading orv but it is very long and I already promised to finished like...3 other shows and several books. #my gesture of affection is consuming the media my friends care about. Alas I have none who are into orv to motivate me. #Also hey there raffle winner everyonesfavouritebastard - you gave no prompt at all so I took a random swing based on ur pfp and blog #I hope you like kim dokja! I am terribly sorry if you meant to leave a prompt and something glitched #EDIT: Found out raffle winner everyonesfavouritbastard didn't know it was a raffle. Homie...I'm So Sorry. #Now I *really* hope you like Kim Dokja. #You're so valid; I too would be mesmerized by the beauty of stackedbird's lovely little apple art.

[fictionadventurer]

The worst part about reading in a genre where you have low expectations (in this case, Christian historical fiction) is that when a book impresses you, you have no idea if it's actually good or if you're just overly impressed because it was a fraction of a degree better than the usual garbage.

#basically lately anytime i read a christian fiction book that isn't romance-based i find myself surprised by the quality #i do think that some christian publishers are getting better #and trying to tell stories that dig deeper into real faith and messy issues #instead of making only vapid squeaky clean prayer-filled tropefests #but i'm not sure *how much* better #because anything above the low bar feels like great literature #the most recent is 'in a far-off land' by stephanie landsem #and let me tell you setting the prodigal son in 1930s hollywood is a genius concept #i have some issues with the history and the mystery #but the characters! #it has been a long time since i cried this hard over a book #several chapters of solid waterworks #(and i also have the issue of figuring out if it's actually that moving or if i'm just hormonal/sleep-deprived) #i keep thinking about this book but also i worry about recommending because what if it's actually terrible by normal book standards? #(also the author DOES NOT understand the seal of confession and i was SHOCKED to find that she's actually catholic) #but also looking at the reviews makes it clear that if most of christian fiction is vapid garbage it's these reviewers' fault #here you have something that's digging into sin and darkness and justice and mercy and these people are just #'how can it call itself christian fiction if it only mentions god at the end?' #are we reading the same book this WHOLE THING is about god! and humanity and our fallen nature and how this breaks relationships! #your pearl-clutching anytime someone tries to get even a tiny bit realistic is destroying this genre #i'm gonna run out of tags so i'll stop now