#but i do personally employ it occasionally

[syndrossi]

Would it be possible to get a POV from Rolen, Daemons’s servant. He’s privy to a lot of things and I wonder what he thinks of Daemon as a father. Has Rolen been around the Redkeep a long time? Does he remember Daemon/Vis as children? What does he think of all the nightmares/screaming/singing that comes out of Daemon’s chambers at night? Is he a spy for Otto? (Please, NO)

Rolen is a robust man in his fifties, and served as one of Baelon's servants, so he did indeed know Daemon and Viserys when they were children! I imagine he joined Baelon's service when he was 20ish, likely around the time Daemon was born.

He is typically part of Viserys's larger staff of servants when Daemon isn't around, but when Daemon is, Viserys transfers him over to Daemon's service, since he prefers people who he knows (and can trust not to be in Otto's employ).

Rolen's very familiar with Daemon's preferences, and finds him fairly easy to care for. He knows the frequency and time of day at which he prefers his baths (and Daemon loves baths, taking them pretty much daily), can do Daemon's braids if needed, knows his preferred foods, sleeping habits, etc.

The twins (and hatchlings) have been quite the adjustment, and he's still learning what Daemon expects with them. He's taken a hands-off approach, similar to how Baelon expected with his sons, but I could see Daemon taking him aside after ch33 and telling him that he would like to be sent for if anyone visits the boys or if either comes home early and are alone.

Rolen has no wife or children of his own, but he does have nieces, nephews, and grand-nieces and nephews, so the twins are certainly eyebrow-raising for him. Children who willingly study and talk quietly and rarely play, and who seek to take care of Daemon themselves are...unusual.

He's been kept in the dark about the sorcery business, though he's been told that there are threats to the boys and that only family are permitted to visit without Daemon present. Daemon routinely waking up screaming these days he might have attributed at first to the war, but the boys have their clear traumas as well, so he's not entirely sure what's the matter. It's not something he's really had to deal with before, so I think he's a bit relieved that the family seems to have a system. Otherwise, he probably would try to figure out the best approach to take.

Viserys asks him occasionally how Daemon is faring, but doesn't demand details or anything. It's usually a vibe check. Ditto with the twins, now that they're here. Viserys doesn't try to be underhanded about it (aka he doesn't tell Rolen that he can't speak about their discussions), so he tells Daemon when Viserys has asked after him.

He's become quite fond of the twins in their short time at the holdfast. Rhaegar's voice is the loveliest he's heard, and Jon's morning person vibes + caretaking is endearing. He's trying his best to learn their preferences as well, so he can help with the sorrowful spells that seem to afflict the poor children.

(He is FREQUENTLY pressed for gossip about the twins and Daemon, since they're a hot topic in King's Landing, but Rolen takes their privacy very seriously, and you don't get to be a servant for the crown prince aka Baelon if you lack discretion.)

[garagepaperback]

innocuous

It’s not entirely different from learning a new language.

Or, maybe it’s closer to decoding a series of complicated runes. More like disarming a trap, blindfolded with three fingers on your wand hand tied tightly together with string. Draco ties the bow very neatly, at least. Painfully neat with two perfectly even loops. A gift-wrapped impairment, intentional, well-dressed. Failure served on a polished silver platter.

“Just tell me,” Harry argues the first time after an entire Saturday is lost to the glacier of passive-aggression. And, the second time. The sixth time. “Use your words.”

“Disgusting, childish, slovenly,” Draco says, face stone-carved, smooth. 

“I mean how you feel.” Harry bites out, “I can't automatically know what you're feeling-” The callus of his tone is peeled back, raw pink skin revealed underneath. “I statements. Like the therapist said.”

“I feel you’re disgusting.” Draco says, so slowly Harry has plenty of room to sink, second by second, into a vivid vision of strangling him. “I feel you’re childish. I feel you’re slovenly.”

“You’re so fucking dramatic. They’re socks.” Harry rolls his eyes, times one through six, and leaves.

The argument runs on a loop. Harry’s done and then Draco seals up the doors of himself, bolt sliding into strike, ears red. He retreats fully, up early and coming back to bed late. 

Standing in front of two black, balled-up socks, one on the floor, its partner jammed into the couch cushion, the seventh time, Draco’s hand goes up, sweeping in a wide gesture - Look, disgusting, childish - and then before he can actually put the words to breath, Harry grabs his hand, “I’m sorry, you’re right.”

Suspicious and un-won-over, Draco’s spine remains strictly structured and Harry goes on, anyway, turning Draco around, stretching up on his toes a bit to tip their foreheads together. “I know- you grew up in that huge, spotless mansion- it's gotta be physically painful, devastating probably, to endure something as awful as used socks on furniture. Maybe the worst thing that ever happened to you.” He’s getting there. Draco breathes a strangled laugh, only half-annoyed. Harry kisses him, threads one hand into his hair, and then pulls back, big grin in the small space between them. He does a terrible impression of Draco’s accent, “You poor, posh thing.”

That’s it - Draco laughs fully, leans in and kisses him, too.

It’s not a solution. It’s an ongoing endeavor, and so stupid - all those wasted hours of cold shoulders and vitriol-laced good morning’s - over fucking socks of all things. But that’s home, Harry supposes. That's doing this, for real. Lingering laundry and not a solution, always, but a way to move around it, to stay near and close and together, to keep from splintering apart with blame and whatever else.

The thought is thrilling and sudden: this could very well take the rest of his life, figuring this out, navigating the river with its rapids, curves, sudden shallows. What a dumb, lovely thing.

for day 7 of @microficmay

[benadril]

History teacher I love most

[rederiswrites]

Certainly there were times, and maybe there still are places, where simple neglect will allow a disrupted landscape to return to anything resembling a natural state. But here? On the east coast of the US, where we've been destroying habitat and employing high-control, extractive land management, and expanding urban and suburban areas, for four hundred years now, there is very little left of what was.

The chestnuts are gone. The canebrakes are gone. The wetlands remain only where they were least profitable to remove. The elm suffers, the grasslands are obliterated, the old growth is all logged long since.

I've got front row seats for some of what happens if you leave this land alone. The woods are choked by invasive multiflora rose and Japanese honeysuckle. I don't think I've ever seen a native honeysuckle in person. The fields, left to grow, grow nothing but non-native grasses, poison ivy that sets no berries and feeds no birds, invasive Tree of Heaven saplings that poison the soil with their root exudate, and the occasional hardy locust sapling. There are no flowers there, save a few ironweed and asters late in the year.

If I just leave it alone, those things will keep going, native plants long gone from this place will only appear by some miracle, and this landscape will continue to not support many of the plants, animals, and insects once native to this place. It needs my help. (It needs a lot more than just my help, but we'll see). I can't "return it to its natural state", because ecosystems do not have enduring natural states. But I can see that this land supports a far greater density and variety of native species, and I will do that.

[bvidzsoo]

Grease and Oil

⨳Mechanic!Mingi⨳

TW: cursing, smut wrap it before you tap it

Word count: 5,6k

A/N: I don't think I'll ever let go of bleached spikey haired Mingi. It changed something in me, I'll never be the same. I have nothing to say except...why did I even write this? Song Mingi stop haunting me, thank you. It's not the best, but the best I can write lol. Feedback is very much appreciated!

            The smell of grease, oil, and gasoline weren’t something unfamiliar to me, nor were they nauseating. It was something I was used to. These were familiar scents; scents which I have started associating with home. Cars, too, were something I associated with a feeling of familiarity, of something dear to me. Walking inside my father’s car service was like a second home, a place I knew like the back of my hand. I wasn’t huge on fixing cars, but I knew a few things here and there. Despite my father’s attempts at making me a great mechanic one day, I struggled to understand the in-depth parts and mechanism of a car, therefore I settled on appreciating their beauty. Can’t say my father was too happy about it, but his concerns faded away when I found a path for myself. I applied to a college, choosing to study literature as I struggled finding anything else I liked. Perhaps creative writing was a subjected I happened to enjoy too, but I had no idea where my degree would take me one day. I had no intentions of teaching English literature, the children these days were awful and very disrespectful. My short temper would’ve surely gotten the worst of me if placed in a situation where I had to deal with rude kids. And so, I settled on reading my books and pouring my feelings out into short poems when I wasn’t at college. Or by wasting my time away at my father’s car service. It’s not like I had anything better to do—I actually did, but procrastination is my best friend. Besides, most of his employees are above the age of thirty-five, and two of them I have known since I was a little girl, they could be really fun to hang around…and it’s not like I would often stop by because my father has an employee who is barely a few years older than myself. And it’s definitely not because he is the hottest man alive I have ever seen. He’s a tall and lean guy, his posture immaculate with his shoulders always pulled back, his long legs worth envying and shoulders so broad you could hide behind them and nobody would see you. In the summer, he usually wears tight tank tops, showing off his humble muscles, biceps finer than most guy’s of his age. And his pants, which are fireproof, cling onto his body, showing off his narrow waist. This guy was a sight for sore eyes and I couldn’t blame the few ladies who would occasionally stop by, completely taken aback by this guy’s visuals. It wasn’t fair that he had a perfect body, especially when his face was good-looking too. God sometimes had favorites and Song Mingi definitely was one of them with his long nose, sharp eyes and cherry red lips, a singular mole underneath his left eye decorating his flawless skin. His personality also made him desirable and that just made him a dangerously charming and handsome human being. Perhaps my frequent visits to the service during the summer were sort of his merit too, not just the want to spend some quality time with my father as he spent little time at home. I knew he was busy; I couldn’t blame him. His service was one of the best in our little town and money didn’t just magically appear, you had to work hard for it and that’s what he did, he worked his ass off all the time. The fact that he has employed Song Mingi was just the cherry on top, the little motivation I needed to perhaps learn more about cars.

I was settled on top of my father’s working desk, tools pushed to the side, feet dangling as I watched him work on a car’s engine, getting more and more furious by the second as he couldn’t find one missing screw. I watched quietly as his phone rang again, making him sigh loudly before he straightened himself up and took the call, eyebrows furrowed. It was a hot summer day, the AC did little to nothing inside the hot service, and the use of different electrical tools only created more heat inside the spacious room. I had started fanning myself, overhearing my father make an appointment as an obnoxiously loud engine whirled past the entrance to the service, making my heart skip an excited beat. It was lunch break, and Mingi had just returned from eating his meal. He was gone by the time I had arrived; I was rather lazy this morning and thus didn’t bother getting out of bed before 12 pm. My father turned towards me as he finished his call, looking rather irritated. It wasn’t directed at me; however, I still knew a lecturing would follow because I sat on his tool desk…again.

“Get off, Y/N, I asked you so many times not to sit there,” He sighed tiredly as he headed for the exit, “I have to examine a car, are you coming to the front?”

Certainly not before I have seen Mingi, “I’ll wash my hands first, they feel slimy, meet you at the reception, dad.”

He nodded once and hurried outside, phone already ringing once again. Summer seasons were always busy, work pilling up quickly. I started fanning myself with my hands as another heatwave hit me, making me sigh. Not even a tank top and shorts were enough to stop me from sweating buckets. I pushed my hair behind my shoulders and gripped the table, about to jump off it, when the man I stayed behind for finally showed up. He walked through the open garage door, having to duck as it wasn’t raised enough for his towering height. He had his back to me as he walked inside, carrying two boxes, muscles of his arms bulging as a few guys greeted him, instructing him where to place the boxes. However, nothing could’ve prepared me for the wave of shook which rooted me to my spot. My mouth hung open as my eyes remained trained on Mingi, and I could only hope nobody noticed my shameless gaping. Three days ago, when I have stopped by last, the man’s hair reached his shoulders almost and was a faded light brown. Now, his hair was completely bleached blonde and stood up in all places, spikey. A hairstyle definitely shouldn’t have made my tummy do flips, yet I had nothing to swallow as I watched Mingi laugh with a fellow mechanic, explaining something to him animatedly. His black tank top was tucked inside his beige pants, a black belt holding it against his hips securely. A black bandana was tied to his left bicep and I licked my lips as my eyes ran over his frame, stopping for a second too long on his ass. Perhaps crawling onto the wall sounded like the most normal thing to do right now. Just as I was about to look away, the man he was talking to briefly glanced at me and Mingi suddenly turned his head, eyes falling on me. Looking away right now would mean admitting that I had been staring at him, so I forced myself to smile nonchalantly at him and blame the flush on my cheeks on the extremely hot weather—which combined with Mingi’s presence only made my body heat up even more. I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but I’d do anything to get railed by Mingi while he wore his working clothes with grease smeared on his cheek. My heart skipped a beat as a lazy smirk appeared on his lips as he took off towards me, making me gulp in panic as I straightened my posture.

“Hello, princess.” He called once he was close enough and I rolled my eyes at the nickname, acting as if I totally hated it. It did bother me at the beginning when he started calling me that, but I didn’t mind anymore. And it certainly shouldn’t have made me blush.

“Hi, Mingi.” I greeted him back, smiling as I crossed my legs and leaned forward, holding myself up by my hands. My knuckles hurt from the grip I had on the table, but I ignored that.

“What brings you here today?” He asked nonchalantly, crossing his arms in front of his chest. I didn’t want to look, but his biceps were bulging and I’m just a simple woman, “Thought you washed your car when you stopped by last time.”

Ah, yes, the good old excuse of washing my car when it didn’t need washing yet. To be fair, I had a cleaning problem so that was the main reason why I washed my car so often, Mingi being here was just another thing to motivate me to stop by more frequently.

“I did, I’m not here for that.” I admitted, clearing my throat as Mingi’s sharp eyes narrowed slightly, mischievous glint appearing in his eyes. He hummed shortly, the sound deep in his throat, reminding me how hot I found his raspy and deep voice. He had once whispered in my ear as he snuck up on me, wanting to scare me, and I swear to God, I almost reached Heaven that day.

“Are you here for me then?” The cute pout of his lips and the finger he pushed against his cheek definitely didn’t match the sultriness of his words and the look in his eyes. It made me take a deep breath as I forced myself to roll my eyes, embarrassed that he had a feeling I was only here to see him. I mean…I did wear my favorite off-shoulder top just because I knew we would see each other.

“Why the sudden change of hairstyle?” I decided to change the subject, but it only made Mingi smirk as he looked at me almost victorious, almost as if he knew I didn’t answer him because he was right. Mingi ruffled his already spikey hair with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Just wanted something new,” He answered, “besides, it’s so hot these days, my long locks only made me sweat more. I feel like a new man right now. What do you think, do I look nice?”

Nice was little said, I would’ve described him more like: hot, sexy, attractive, gorgeous, mouth-watering, “Yeah, you look nice. It suits you.”

Mingi smiled happily and bowed lightly before his phone beeped. I didn’t understand how a man like him could be so cute while looking like a Greek God. My eyebrows slightly furrowed as I watched Mingi chuckle and smile down at his phone, quickly typing something on it. Perhaps he was seeing someone? Of course, why would a man like him be single? It shouldn’t come as a surprise; I should have thought about that sooner. But then again, he never mentioned a significant other. With a sigh, I jumped off the table and dusted off my shorts, running my hands through my hair. Mingi paused, looking up at me through his long lashes. I forced a smile on my face, suddenly discouraged by my own thoughts, as I grabbed my phone off the table.

“Got to go, dad’s waiting for me.” I mumbled as Mingi’s eyes slightly narrowed, eyes swiftly running over my body. He nodded wordlessly and I turned around, taking off towards the exit.

“That top looks really nice on you.” My steps halted for a second as I looked back at him and chuckled before exiting the garage, walking towards the reception, ignoring the butterflies in my stomach at the simple compliment. I should probably download a dating app and find someone available to obsess over.

            The blaring music and blinding disco lights in the living room were becoming too much as my tipsy head swirled around like a disco ball, throat parched up and dry from the lack of water. Certainly the amount of alcohol I have had was enough for the night as I pushed people out of my way, slightly wobbling as I headed for the kitchen, desperately needing water. A super rich guy from college threw a huge ass party and invited some guys over from our college, one of them being one of my close friends. I wasn’t one to turn down a good party, and when the alcohol was free, I would certainly attend it. Seonghwa and I had teamed up and played beer-pong together, kicking Wooyoung and San’s asses, but losing to Hongjoong and Yunho. We should have known better not to challenge those two competitive monsters. All in all, the night was fun and after having lost Sooyoung to some hot guy, I hit the dancefloor with Wooyoung and San, the three of us dancing our hearts out to every song. After a while, I grew concerned and started calling Sooyoung, making my two dancing companions almost take my phone away after six missed calls. But it didn’t take long for Sooyoung to finally text me, telling me she was upstairs with a Yeosang named guy smoking some weed, and that she’d be down in no time. I rolled my eyes at the text, huffing as I handed Wooyoung my phone to take care of. My skirt had no pockets and I forgot to bring a fanny-pack, I have grown tired of holding my phone, Wooyoung’s back pocket would do the trick until Sooyoung returned and I could give my phone for her to put in her little purse. The music wasn’t as loud in the kitchen as it was in the living room and it was also less packed, which made me grateful as I walked over to the window and pushed it open, smiling contently at the cool air which hit my face. I certainly needed to cool down. I grabbed a red cup which looked relatively unused and filled it with tap water, downing it in mere seconds only to fill it up again and again until I felt satiated. I threw the cup away and leaned against the counter, holding my thumping head in my hands as I closed my eyes for a second, thinking it would help. But it only made me more nauseous and I quickly opened my eyes as I massaged my forehead, still leaning slightly over. Somebody next to me asked if I was okay and I quickly nodded, telling them that I just needed a moment to regain composure again, and I’ll be off dancing once again. However, a weirdly familiar deep voice suddenly filled the kitchen, some high-pitched giggle following straight after the ridiculous joke the guy told. My nose scrunched up at the very cheesy pickup line which followed and I snorted, unintentionally catching their attention as they didn’t stand too far away.

“Y/N?” The deep voice asked surprised and my eyebrows furrowed as I finally raised my head, smoothing down my hair as it fell in my face.

“Oh, Mingi.” I muttered just a little surprised by his presence here. I wondered how he knew about the party, however, the black-haired girl by his side was a tell-tale. She was a student at my college and she was pretty as fuck. I sighed, and unintentionally glared at her, unimpressed by her presence next to Mingi. It’s not like I knew her well to form an opinion about her, but personally, I didn’t like her that much. Especially since Mingi seemed to be here with her. My eyes fall back onto him and my brain blanched for a second, never having seen him outside of the car service up until now. Him not wearing his tight-fitting clothes was something new and I couldn’t help but let my eyes run all over his body, taking in the sight in front of me. He wore a loose-fitting white t-shirt, the front slightly tucked inside his grey ripped jeans which were baggy. He wore a black pair of convers, and a black fanny-pack was pushed around to his backside to not bother him. However, what made me take a second to process what I was seeing were his accessories. His necklaces were layered as he wore a red braided like material which sat snugly against the base of his neck, then a silver chain followed, and a silver cross which reached just bellow his collarbones. His wrists were decorated with silver chain bracelets, matching the chain around his neck and he wore various rings, some bigger than the other, his right-hand sporting four meanwhile his left three. If all of that combined with his hair wasn’t enough, his fingernails were also painted black, albeit already coming off in some spots, but still painted black. He was a sight for sore eyes and it took everything in me to not grip his arm and walk us upstairs, completely disregarding the girl he was here with.

And she just had to speak up, “Oh, you two know each other?”

“Yeah, her dad’s my boss.” Mingi answered before I could and I raised an eyebrow as the girl took me in, unexpectedly smiling at me as she placed an arm around Mingi’s shoulders. My jaw tensed subconsciously and I licked my lips as I leaned back against the counter, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

“We go to the same college,” She told Mingi, offering her hand to me, “I don’t think we’ve ever really introduced each other, though. My name is Jennie, I’m Mingi’s cousin.”

“Cousin?” My eyebrows raised as I shook Jennie’s hand, “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Unfortunately, yes.” Mingi playfully pushed Jennie off himself as he answered my question and Jennie just rolled her eyes.

“Whatever, giant, if I leave you alone with Y/N, will you behave?” She raised her eyebrows threateningly at Mingi and he just chuckled, raising his hands in surrender.

“I always behave.” He defended himself quickly, but sounded like he didn’t mean it at all.

“No, you don’t.” Jennie rolled her eyes then looked back at me, “I have to find my boyfriend, he’s somewhere here around, probably drunk off his ass. If Mingi bothers you, just knee him in the stomach really hard and come and find me, I’ll kick his ass for you—”

“I’m right here, you know.” Mingi rolled his eyes and ruffled Jennie’s hair, “Get lost before I chase you away.”

Jennie scoffed but walked away after she waved at me, leaving me alone with Mingi. My hostile behavior slightly dropped, but I couldn’t help look at Mingi with narrowed eyes. I knew what I heard while I was fighting the urge of throwing up. Why would anyone flirt with their cousin? That was disgusting.

“If Jennie is your cousin…why would you say a pickup line to her?” I couldn’t help but ask him accusingly. It made Mingi laugh as he stepped closer, smiling cheekily.

“Eavesdropping, weren’t you?” I opened my mouth to deny his claim, but Mingi didn’t let me, “First of, ew, that’s literally my cousin do I look like I fuck with family? And second, that pickup line was actually sent by someone whom I have been talking to, and I was just reading it to Jennie.”

“How many girls are you talking to currently?” The question tumbled past my lips before I could even think about it. I only could blame the alcohol for making me so straightforward and embarrassing.

“Wouldn’t you like to know…” Mingi chuckled and stepped closer, invading my personal space. I gulped and pressed myself harder into the counter, hands coming to grip the edge of it. A smirk appeared on Mingi’s lips as he leaned down to be eye level with me, eyes searching my face before they settled on my lips briefly. My head was spinning and perhaps I was seeing things, but his tongue poked out for a second, “You look really hot.”

I gulped and let out a quiet breath, looking down at myself. The leather skirt clung onto me like a second skin and the flower decorated corset did little to nothing to cover what I would usually hide. It was Sooyoung’s idea to dress up like this, she wore a matching set except her corset was green meanwhile mine pink.

“Uh, thanks.” I whispered and didn’t dare move as Mingi lowered his head even more, looking through his lashes as he looked me in the eyes. He’s never stood this close to me before; it only now made me realize the height difference between us. And I couldn’t help but faintly smell gasoline despite his strong cologne.

“Dressed up for someone?” He muttered and I felt a warm finger lightly trace the skin of my right arm. I gulped nervously and ignored the goosebumps on my skin.

“I didn’t know you’d be here—” I tried changing the subject, it seemed to be a habit of mine lately.

“But if you did know, would you have dressed up for me?” Mingi’s raspy voice whispered in my ear as he leaned closer, my mouth opening without a sound coming out. My tipsy brain didn’t exactly know how to function in that moment and that meant I had nothing to say. But as he pulled back, we made eye contact, and his intimidating gaze pulled an answer out of me instantly.

“Yes.” I would totally hate myself in the morning for admitting that, but I couldn’t help myself. Not when he was standing so close and saying things like that. A smirk pulled onto Mingi’s lips and suddenly his hand raised as he gripped a strand of my hair lightly and twirled it around, brushing it behind my ear. I watched him mesmerized, body slightly trembling because of different things. The opened window brought in the chill breeze and we stood close to the it; Mingi’s closeness and touch made me want to crash my lips against his, and I was fighting every fiber in my body to stop myself from doing that, thankfully not tipsy enough to lose all rationality.

“I think I know about your little secret, princess.” Mingi’s tone was playful as he suddenly cupped my cheek and tilted my head back, hovering his face over mine, eyes tracing my features slowly. I hoped my red lipstick wasn’t smudged and that it would be smudged in no time.

“What secret?” I asked confused, biting my lower lip as Mingi’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed, his fingers slipping towards my nape as his thumb pushed against my cheek.

“About your little crush—” He barely whispered, eyes on my lips as my mouth parted, heart beating like crazy, “on me.”

Before I could answer him, his teeth caught my lower lip between his and he sucked on the flesh, making my face flush as I mewled, hand holding onto his waist for more stability as the counter wasn’t enough anymore. He held eye contact as he released my lip and I felt like crumbling onto my knees and giving him anything he wanted as my grip tightened on him, head pulled closer to his by the grip he had on my nape. Mingi’s lips barely brushed against mine and I tried to close the impossibly little distance between us, but he just tsked and smirked.

“Good girls eventually get what they want, princess, be a bit more patient.” I couldn’t help but groan in frustration as Mingi released me and took a step back, smirking as he swiped his thumb over my lower lip, smudging my lipstick. I threw him a glare, but he just laughed and then turned around and walked off with a cup he grabbed off from the counter. I couldn’t help but lick my lower lip, pressing a palm against my racing heart as I tapped the sweat off my forehead, needing another cup of water to cool off.

            And I didn’t even have to wait for too long. Four days after the party, my father asked me to stop by the car service because he couldn’t decide what color to choose for the tuning he was doing for one of his friend’s car. I couldn’t have been happier to stop by as I made it my personal mission to stay away from that place for as long as possible, embarrassed by what happened between Mingi and I at the party, but also because I wanted to torture him a bit too. I could only hope he yearned to see me as much as I yearned for him. My father was out, having to pick up some pieces in the nearest city, which was half an hour away, so that meant he’d be gone for approximately an hour and a half. Everyone was gone by now from the car service as working hours were over, everyone except Mingi, of course. He had to catch up on his work as he had to skip a day for some undisclosed business. And yes, Mingi should’ve been working right now on that old car nobody actually wanted to fix, but here he was, balls deep in my pussy, thrusting into me like his life depended on it. I guess he was just a simple man too, and he fell exactly into my trap as I walked through the garage door wearing my little sundress, high heels elongating my legs. It didn’t take long for Mingi to stop whatever he was doing as he dragged me to the backroom, where there were no cameras, and pushed up on the table, wasting no time in undressing himself and working up the both of us. My head was thrown back from the constant pleasure his movements brought, his length reaching places no one else has before, my right hand gripping his bare waist as I rolled my hips to meet his thrusts. Mingi was biting his lips hard, holding onto my hips as I had to hold myself up with one arm, muscle straining with each strong thrust. Perhaps I should have expected him to be vocal, but the whines he would let out every now and then only turned me on even more, dragging my own moans out of me. Grease stuck to his left cheek, just underneath his mole and his already sweaty body from working was glistening once again, smelling strongly of the substance he has been working with to clean rims of the old car.

“I bet you’ve been fantasizing about me fucking you covered in grease and all sweaty from the long day I’ve had.” My only answer was a loud moan as he hit the sweet spot which made me see stars, and for a second, all I could hear were his own pants and the table squeaking louder and louder with each thrust.

“You have no idea—” I moaned as I clenched around Mingi, mind blanching for a second as he hit that spot again, “How fucking hot you look—like this.”

My fingertips dug into his hips and Mingi suddenly leaned down, pressing my back flat against the wooden table, rotating his hips as he suddenly slowed down. My mouth opened in a gasp and my legs went around his hips, one hand tangling in his blonde spikey hair as the other went around his shoulders to anchor myself. Mingi groaned in my ear as I clenched around his length again, his thrusts painfully slow on purpose, making me try to move my hips, but he had me pinned down by his heavier body.

“Fuck, please—” My whine was muffled by his lips as he pressed them against mine, pushing his tongue past my lips as I kissed him hungrily, wanting to feel more and more of him. Our lips moved messily against each other as Mingi slightly quickened his pace, but it still wasn’t enough. My eyebrows were furrowed as it started becoming unbearable and I whined, pulling my head away and choking on my words for a second, “I’m going to fucking die if you don’t go faster.”

I couldn’t believe Mingi had the audacity to smirk as he bit my lower lip harshly, making me push his head away as he chuckled amused, fake pouting at me.

“Thought I said good girls get what they want—” He completely stilled, bringing tears into my eyes out of frustration as I gripped his nape, trying to move against him to no avail, “And you’re being rather impatient right now.”

But before I could say anything, the slightly stood up and pulled almost fully out before slamming in again, his pace relentless and thrusts sharp as he threw his head back, moaning, making me grip onto his lower arm as he hit my g-spot over and over again, making my back arch as broken moans left my lips, nails digging into his skin. I was going fucking insane as his thumb found my clit and he started rubbing circles on it, making me cry out as I felt my orgasm building up, ready to snap any second as Mingi’s moans got higher and higher, my walls clenching tightly around him, bringing him closer to the edge as well.

“Fuck.” He hissed at a particular sharp thrust, his hips almost stuttering but I managed to meet his movements, desperate for my own release as I clawed at the wooden table, back arching as the pleasure became unbearable and the knot in my stomach snapped, making me let out a high-pitched moan, only for Mingi’s lips to muffle it as his hips stuttered, his own release following mine, filling me up. My body trembled and my lungs heaved for air as I came down from the high, our lips touching with Mingi as we both panted into each other’s mouths. His scent was intoxicating and I couldn’t help but burry my head into his neck and lightly bite down on his perfect skin, making him shudder. He didn’t pull out yet and I felt him twitch slightly, making me chuckle.

“So, I’m hot when I’m all sweaty and covered in grease?” He spoke up, voice raspy, and his words made me laugh as I allowed my head to rest against the wooden table, throwing an arm over my eyes. I could feel Mingi’s smile as he pressed a kiss against the corner of my mouth, swiftly pulling out.

“I said it once, I won’t say it again.” I peeked at him as he quickly pulled up his boxers and tight pants, adjusting his tank top.

“If I knew all I had to do was change my hairstyle for you to finally let me fuck you—” Mingi shook his head as he helped me off the table, smirking when I had to lean against it for support, my legs having gone numb, “I would’ve done it a lot earlier.”

“Perhaps if you weren’t so oblivious,” I threw him a glare and pulled up my panties, adjusting my dress, “You would’ve noticed how badly I wanted you since the first time I laid eyes on you, idiot.”

Mingi laughed and threw an arm around my shoulders as he pulled me into himself, “Now that that’s out of the way…do you want to date or do you want us to just fuck?”

His question made me pause as I looked up in his eyes, biting my lower lip in thought, “You want to go out with me?”

“I sure do.” Mingi said it like it was the most obvious thing, then he jutted his chin towards mine, “What about you?”

“What do you think?” I asked with a chuckle.

“That we should go for a second round—”

“Mingi!” I pressed my palm over his mouth and threw him a little glare, “My father could be back anytime, you know. And yes, I do want to date you. Unless you’re always this annoying.”

Mingi fake laughed as he pushed my hand off his mouth, “Aren’t you just so funny?”

I stuck my tongue out at him and he tried kissing it, making me yelp and push him away, which made Mingi giggle as he placed his hands in his pockets, “So, tomorrow at six?”

“But you better shower before you come pick me up.” I pointed a finger at him as we went to leave the room.

“I thought I smelled hot—”

“You can’t smell hot, so just—” I sighed and looked at him, “Just—dress up. You—I mean, you know, you looked really good at the party. I haven’t seen you out of your work clothes before.”

“Aw, aren’t you so shy right now and stuttering all of a sudden?” He cooed and poked my cheek, “As if I wasn’t inside you—”

“Y/N, you still here?!” I heard my father’s voice shout from afar and I threw Mingi a warning look as I pushed him away. He walked towards the car he had to fix defeated, throwing me those sad puppy eyes and a pout as my father walked inside the garage.

“Hi.” I waved at him and he smiled, glancing at Mingi.

“You can fix it tomorrow too, you know?” My father said as he went to put his own utensils away. Mingi hummed but said he didn’t have much until he was done, liar. My father glanced at me and I looked away from Mingi, smiling at my father innocently. He just shook his head and threw his keys at me, making me clumsily catch them.

“Go pick up your mother, I’ll stay behind and help Mingi fix the car.” He muttered tiredly as he walked up to my soon-to-be-boyfriend, oblivious to what Mingi would soon become to him as well. Not just an employee, but perhaps a part of our family too. I jokingly saluted my father as I stopped in the doorway, turning to look at Mingi, who was already watching me.

“Goodbye, Mingi.”

“Bye, Y/N.” Mingi tried to fight the smile off his lips as I turned around and ran off with a giggle, cheeks burning suddenly with embarrassment.

Good girls eventually get what they want, don’t they?

Masterlist

[ohnoitstbskyen]

PINNED POST, FAQ, INFORMATION

Hi, I'm TBSkyen. I make videos on YouTube sometimes. This is my main tumblr blog, the "brand" blog as it were, where I maintain my Social Media Presence™ on this site.

I use the ironic ™ to signal my personal discomfort with the work of being a minor media personality even while I still do that work and make a living off it.

I have a sideblog called @tbposting, mostly for shitposts and reblogs, and in my opinion I have pretty darn good taste in reblogs, so you can follow that if you want. It's also where I'll do random personal posting, microblogging, etc.

This main blog is primarily for 1) answering asks, and 2) posting my Original Content™, usually my main channel videos, as well as the occasional longer essay or critique. Sometimes I'll reblog an interesting or useful thing, or boost a friend's work, but I try to keep the spam to a minimum.

---

About Me

I am a thirtysomething content creator whose primary expertise is character design.

I have a bachelor's degree in English, never finished my master's, did most of a bachelor's degree in history, and that's it. These are my academic qualifications, no more and no less.

My professional experience is primarily being a freelancer and self-employed creator. I spent the better part of a decade working as a commission artist, running webcomics, drawing fanart, and the occasional animation work and not safe for work commissions, and I have at this point a decade of experience and self-study in the subjects I cover. I have also done online community management for, god help me, almost twenty years, so that's a part of my skillset I'll never escape.

I do not have any particular professional creative industry experience, although given what I hear from my professional friends, sometimes that seems like a blessing.

Please maintain a critical distance when engaging with my work. I am a critic. My work is very rarely meant to be taken as authoritative or didactic, and when it is, I will make it clear in my writing. Just because I speak with confidence doesn't mean I am trying to assert objective truth.

---

TAGS (to follow, or filter)

#tbanswers is the tag for every single ask I answer on this blog

#tb reblog is the tag for reblogs

#tb essay is for the occasional longer essay or critical writing

#tbvideos is for my videos and Content™

#tb recommends is for the occasional recommendation of a video essay or other creator

Yes, I know the spaces are inconsistent. It's not on purpose, I just typed them in haphazardly when I started using them and it's stuck.

---

FAQ (before you ask)

Q: Will you ever do a video about ____ ? A: The answer to this question is almost universally "maybe someday, if I have time, and if I feel I have anything worthwhile to say." And the more realistic answer is "no, because I already have far too much on my plate and I have burned myself out too many times." In general, please don't ask me this question, I will most likely not answer it because I have given the same answer a thousand times, but I still feel guilty about not answering them.

Q: Will you continue your series of videos about ____ ? A: Yes! I will continue the let's plays I started, I will finish the Boss Designs series, I will do another What's the Deal With, I will do more shorts about the subjects I've got going on. The main obstacle is, again, my tendency to overload myself.

Q: Do you have a PO box? Can I send you something? A: Not yet, but I'm looking into it. It may be a while before I get it set up.

Q: Do you have merchandise? A: A little bit, yes, at tbskyen.redbubble.com.

Q: What's your opinion on [game/movie/comic/book/etc]? A: I struggle to answer very open, broad questions like this. Most things I have opinions about, I have multiple opinions, and different ones depending on the perspective and specific element in question. I'm much more likely to answer specific, bounded questions.

Q: Can I send you fanart? A: PLEASE. Askbox, tag me on bluesky, send it to my email! I love seeing every piece of it!

Q: Why do you never appear on camera? A: A forest witch cursed me to look not quite but ALMOST like Paul Giamatti in all photos and videos ever taken of me, and his laywers sent me a cease-and-desist.

Q: Are you gay/straight/bi/other? A: The decision I've made for myself, at least for this period of my life, is that privacy is precious, and once given up can never be reclaimed on the internet. I am open about being aromantic (not asexual), because it's a sometimes invisible and underdiscussed identity, and I know it would have helped me a lot to see someone speak about it when I was younger.

The rest of it is for me to know, and for you to speculate about, although preferably somewhere I can't see it. I accept that this is a part of being a Personality, but it still feels weird, y'know?

Q: Is it weird if I find your voice kinda hot? A: I've put a lot of work into developing this voice and making it nice to listen to, so that's not weird at all and I find it quite complimentary, thank you.

I generally don't mind people doing flirty/thirsty posting about or at me, just so long as we all understand that 1) you should never give a stranger like me information which could be used to harm you. Nicer-seeming YouTubers than me have turned out to be monsters.

And 2) it will never go beyond playful online flirtiness. I like to fluster my live chat, I'll flirt back in an ask or a post maybe, but I am not flirting with you, or inviting any kind of closer intimacy with you, the person I responded to.

Think of me like a comedian doing crowd-work at a show - you can chat to me in the bar after the show, but when I asked you what you do for work I wasn't looking for a personal connection, I was doing my work as an entertainer. Please no sending me nudes, or propositions, or confession letters in my email inbox. We are strangers, and I am always performing a persona in public.

[junovae]

giving blowjobs to the tf141 men under a desk at their workplaces - headcanons

simon "ghost" riley | streamer/gamer

you and simon had gotten into an argument earlier

so of course you slip under his desk while he livestreams to get your revenge

he instantly knows what you are doing as soon as he feels a hand tugging down at his sweatpants

doesn't even try to push you away

instead, a provoking and smug smile forms on his face as he bites his cheeks

mutes his mic as soon as your soft lips engulf the tip of his cock

immediately thrusts his dick into your warm mouth, causing you to choke

grabs your hair with one hand and guides you up and down, coating your saliva all over him in euphonies of slurps and gags

you didn’t like fighting and secretly missed the way he filled your mouth to the brim with his length

the chat explodes with messages informing him that his mic stopped working or that he was muted

the sound of you choking on his fat cock is music to his ears

"you think you can beat me at this game? how 'bout we play another one. try not to make a sound when i unmute, hm? if you win, i'll fuck you real nasty later."

john price | ceo

john price is the big-name ceo of the corporation you're employed at, working under him as his personal secretary

before a business meeting, he has you on his knees for him as he slathers his cock all over the tongue that you are sticking out for him

to help the two of you de-stress before the meeting, he says

once the shareholders start entering the room, he moves you under the big desk

the meeting goes along as planned without any hiccups as you silently adore his throbbing cock with your mouth

he contains his composure, continuing to write notes on his paper

being the tactical leader he is, he sees this as another challenge

occasionally, he lets out a sigh through his nostrils when he feels his tip hit the back of your throat

nearing the end of the meeting and reaching his climax, he looks down to see a mouthful of his girth stuffing your face

the tears in your eyes is what gets him. he knows it took a lot for you to stay quiet

he plans to praise you later for it

as the meeting ends, he releases his cum into your mouth, prompting you to swallow all of it

"come to my office later, angel. i need you to help me manage my schedule."

the rest of his daily agenda consisted of cancelled meetings and a full 24 hours of fucking you all over his office - against the bookshelf, bent over his desk, and with plenty new positions you never imagined were possible

kyle "gaz" garrick | librarian

it's finals season and the library had become your second home

thankfully, it was a bit more bearable as you had someone you knew to bother when taking your study breaks

needing a hiatus from your session, you decide to go bother kyle

making sure no one was looking, you slide under the front-desk of where he was sitting and pull out his dick

he looks at you wide-eyed and asks what you are doing

you ignore him, careful to make eye contact while playfully sucking on his balls

he covers his mouth in embarrassment

asks if you can do this another time, preferably when he wasn't working

but as soon as you let go of his cock, he swiftly scoots closer and holds your head to push your mouth back on him, causing you to let out a soft gag

he lets you take the lead with your mouth, appreciating the visual of your bobbing head going down on him

you make him feel so good that he ends up whining softly with each bounce

the two of you try your best not to let out any sound, weary of the silent atmosphere

you guys are in a library, for fuck's sake

this causes him to grip onto the table and bite his lips in hopes of preventing himself from making any more noise as he cums all over your face

his cock twitches as he slathers the evidence of his climax all over your face

"fuck. i wish i could let them hear how well you were sucking me. you’d probably like that, huh?"

john "soap" mactavish | personal trainer

john accidentally double-scheduled a training session with you and another person that day

luckily, you had come in early to his gym office, surrounded two-way with glass wall partitions

with time to spare, he gladly shows you some new stretching exercises he wanted to incorporate into his lessons

you tell him that you want to test your flexibility

he's not sure what you mean but once you pull him over to his desk and unzip his pants to reveal his already rock-hard cock, he smirks

something about seeing you in your workout attire

you bend over into a bridge pose as he fucks your mouth

he hisses at the sight of your bent-over-backwards body sucking on him. fuck, this is so hot, he thinks

the way his ball sacks were slapping against your face made him feel dizzy

he instructs you to switch to the next position, the upward-facing dog

soap was losing all his inhibition, groaning loudly with each suck

every time he told you to switch to a new orientation, you showed him without fail, your skills

it was the bow pose that had made him release in your mouth, seeing how your hands were bound behind you pushed him far off the edge

"i'm cancelling the session with the other person. by the time i'm done, i want you fully naked and ready for me to fuck the shit out of you."

[anim-ttrpgs]

Reading the book, and I'm already loving it. I agree with a lot of the things y'all say in it (players control the characters, not the narrator, etc.), but I was surprised at the strong insistence on 3rd person play.

Personally I like 1st person play because it helps me with immersion. If I play in 3rd person then my mental camera goes 3rd person, which feels more like playing a video game and removes that thrill of embodying someone else and living in a new world.

Usually I see people either take a strong pro 1st person stance, or a noncommittal stance, but this is the first time I've come across a game that insists on the 3rd person. I'm curious about the reasoning behind it. Was it just a philosophical decision, or did it bear out in playtesting that 3rd person was the better method? In the book y'all acknowledge that 3rd person play doesn't eliminate the threat of griefing from bad faith players.

Y'all clearly put a lot of thought into the game, so that really interested me. Could be a good learning opportunity!

I passed this on to one of our team and this is what she had to say:

In addition to our own home table just preferring to play in 3rd person, we believe that perspective is an important element of TTRPGs that doesn't get explored very often in the modern landscape. The games we play are composed of language - not just the words on the page, but the words we say at the table. Changing the verbiage will create a different emotional space, and a different experience. That zoomed out mental camera you describe is part of the point! In any TTRPG, players are always two things: participant, and audience. The narration we employ at the table affects the game world, yes, but we are also the only people there to see it play out. Eureka strongly emphasizes the "audience" side of that equation, and wants to frame the "participant" side as an act of authorship and discovery rather than one of inhabiting the world.

Just on a fundamental level, perspective is a defining part of any media - the camera angle in a movie or video game, the person of a book's prose, who tells the story, and who they tell it for. The way we frame a story changes the response it evokes. As you say, you've seen either strong pro-1st-person stances or neutral ones, but not a strong pro-3rd-person stance. I don't think that's because 1st person is inherently better for this sort of game, I think its because there is a tendency in the hobby right now - for a variety of reasons - to treat TTRPGs like a form of improv theater. That's not a problem in isolation per se, but I think it's one that limits what the medium can be or do. TTRPGs can be improv theater, but is that all they can be?

On a final note, we have also seen the insistence on 1st-person play and the approach of "embodying" a character occasionally cause real harm when the people involved have trouble separating player and character. That's also part of the reason we're so insistent about these being two separate people, because investigators tend to do some pretty messed up things (this being a horror focused game, after all), and we don't want people equivocating their friends with the characters they play when that level of emotional intensity is involved. Many people who play in 1st person are able to engage with that in a healthy way and understand the difference, of course, but I think it's hard to deny that the language makes that equivocation easier.

- @ashweather (person from out team who doesn't normally run this blog)

Adding on myself, another thing that I always like to bring up in this discussion is that first-person verbiage did not used to be so universal! Playing in the hobby even 4 or 5 years ago, you'd see (or at least I would see) a mix of third and first person verbiage at tables, and even people who used both interchangably. It's only in the past few years that third-person verbiage for TTRPGs has gone practically extinct, and i think most of the blame lies at the feet of big-budget "actual play" shows like Critical Role being many people's only reference for how a TTRPG can be played. Critical Role uses first-person, so therefor that's how TTRPGs are played.

I've even had people tell me on multiple separate occassions "that's wrong" when I'm trying to use third-person verbiage for TTRPGs, when playing with rulebooks which explicitly say in their text early on "you can use 1st or 3rd person to describe your character's actions"! (most, if not all, D&D edition rulebooks say this!)

In closing, yeah, if Eureka were a video game, it would be in third-person. Eureka doesn't want you in its world, it wants a character.

[running-with-kn1ves]

Hii ! I wanted to ask if you could do more yandere gangster.

A/N: here's a ramble that is similar to so many other fics/imagines but its ALL I CAN THINK OF RN...

CW: kidnapping, yandere themes, murder, illicit substances mentioned, weaponry, some suggestive thots, general dark content shtuff.

Gangster! Yan who’s the right hand man to one of your city’s oldest gangs, the bosses family operating it since the prohibition era. Their main source of income back then was smuggling alcohol to different speakeasies and clubs, now mostly dabbling in the occasional shipment of opioids or small arms that they can get their hands on. Your gangster! Yan doesn’t handle that side of business, though. He’s been tasked to oversee deals, and the protection of the boss and whatever sweet treat he has on his arm for the evening.

When a ‘project’ goes haywire, he’s there to settle things. When someone needs to be taken care of, he oversees it while his boys do what they need to. And when there’s a witness to a particularly unsavory part of business, he personally sees to shutting them up. 

That’s why he didn’t have a choice but to watch you, to learn your morning routine and stare intensely when you perused the grocery isles indecisively. The boss put him up to it, to dispose of every flaw in their seamless operations; countless times he entered your backdoor, breaking the lock you had just replaced due to his previous endeavor, watching you curl up in warm white sheets and smush your face against your pillow. Standing outside wasn’t an option anymore, his shadow from the window disturbed you, and it blocked the trickle of moonlight on your dewey skin. 

Even with the small pistol in his hidden coat pocket, the crowbar he ued to pry the door open, the compulsion to rid you of what you had seen to appease his leader could not overtake the complete desire to rub his face into your chest, to have your thighs wrapped around his head like a sea of warmth, needing that earthy scent of your skin that somehow calmed his screaming heart to completely surround him. 

What drew him to you was how alone you had been-- at home, at the scene of the crime, when you were out and about. Who would miss you? Who was there to take care of you? What would be the purpose to killing you? You hadn’t even gone to the police yet, despite the millions of questionable asks you submitted to reddit and looked up online for what to do after seeing a man’s murder. 

The roughly edged gangster found it endearingly cute, so foreign to the life he had led. You had no way of stopping him if he completed what he was supposed to, no one to turn to if you suddenly found yourselves at the hands of a shady group of men who used you as a drug mule. 

Gangster! Yan knew the kind of underlings his boss employed, easy men on probation or past druggies who wouldn’t think for a minute to stop from gobbling you up on the side of the street if you just so happened to walk down the wrong alley. Seeing as you had stupidly yet to make a distinct change your route after witnessing his gangs work, it could happen any day now. 

He couldn’t let you fall prey to the men he didn’t have a leash on, nor let you continue to live in such suffocating solitude with that neutral look on your face forever. Even if it was only filled with fear from now on, from him-- he’d give you a better life than what you lived.

It was too easy to take you, too easy to drag you to his car, too easy to put you in the decent condo he had been paying for the past decade and barely came home to. Now, he had just realized, he’d have a real reason to come back home. He couldn’t just sleep the night away in shitty bars just to wake up to the next day of work. He had to take care of you, feed you, make sure you bathed. 

Gangster! Yan was almost as surprised when he gave you the cold shoulder, heartlessly teasing you for your stupidity in walking down a known drug-trade neighborhood, for not having realized that he had stalked  you every. single. Day. as you were blind to his heavy, broad shadow of scars and grimaces.

You were so quietly willing to appease him, to scoot to his lap when he demanded it with a threatening hand over his pocket, pretending as if the empty space was a weapon. “Please don’t kill me” you asked neverendingly, every meek breath expecting a slap or a shove off. But the criminal held onto you tighter, hating the reminder that you weren’t a willing pet. 

Even when your eyes faded back with ecstasy, your arms thrown around his shoulders with a grip that only a lover could offer, he saw the flinch you gave when he bent down to kiss you. 

Even with his harsh spats that he throws at you for your mistakes, his belittlement, you are his comfort doll when he’s deal with hardships for the day. When the horrible things he’s done starts to get to him and the alcohol doesn’t drown it out,  or when one of his drop-offs go to shit, you’re the one he bee-lines for for to rant to, to make you stroke him and nod at how hard he’s worked. But his possessiveness is soul-crushing. His grip is painful when he holds you at night, his kisses rough against your mouth with his chain-smoker breath and chapped lips that haven’t been touched in ages.

But with you, he’s learned to take better care of himself. He already has you, wants you in every way, but he needs you to want him, to need him. So, coming home to shower, geling his hair back like he did as a young rookie, shaving his 5 o’clock shadow, he’s made himself into the perfect, respectable man-- or wannabe bad boy. But no amount of grooming could change your perception of the blood stained gangster that kept you in a cage before you were trustworthy enough to be chained to the bed. 

“I’ve killed for you, who else could say that?” 

“Been thinkin’ bout you all day, waiting here for me. Came home as fast as I could so you wouldn’t be lonely. A nobody like you can’t be left to your own devices for too long.”

“Won’t let no other fucker get a hold of you, you’re mine-- through and through. I’ll kill us both before something seperates us.

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: What must be done

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps) (meeting screens fizzle on one by one)

High Commander: Thank you all for attending this alliance conference.

High Commander: I know many of you are scattered across the quadrant, so this conference will have to do for now.

Volgond: Is it not unwise to meet over a transmitted conference?

Vologond: Our enemies could hack into the signal and gain a tactical advantage from our discussions.

Primary C: (In robotic voice) This outcome is unlikely.

Primary C: My people are encrypting the signal with an ever morphing signal frequency that not even our enemies most advanced machines could detect.

Primary C: Only a Cythogen can detect and translate the signal for it to be understandable.

High Commander: To which we are grateful you have contributed your people’s talents to the war effort.

Vologond: (Grumbles) I would still insist our next meeting be in person.

High Commander: Noted.

High Commander: We shall begin with updates along the northern front with Sun Bearer Arthrix.

Sun Bearer Arthrix: We’ve made great strides in recent months in the Hepestus cluster. Three systems have fallen to our forces there but our supply lines now are dangerously spread thin. Our enemies have taken note of this and begun raiding our supply convoys with ever increasing ferocity stalling our campaign.

High Commander: I will dispatch the 4th and 5th reserve fleets to begin escort duties which should alleviate the pressure. In the meantime consolidate the new territories you have captured until you are ready for continued operations.

Sun Bearer Arthrix: It will be done.

High Commander:  Now (flips through some pages) for the ongoing battle for Merina, have you made any progress General Anthony?

General Anthony: The world now rests entirely within alliance hands.

(Several gasps and looks of surprise among the gathered alien commanders)

High Commander: You can confirm this?

General Anthony: Aside from the occasional squad or two of enemy forces that escaped the final battle all major installations and population centers are under terrain control. The previously mentioned scattered survivors are being hunted down now.

Taskmaster Folgar: I find this unbelievable.

General Anthony: Careful now, I may take that as an insult.

Taskmaster Folgar: It took me over a year to establish a beachhead on that planet and my forces were nearly wiped out by the automated defense systems employed. Yet you come along and relieve me of my command and suddenly the planet falls within a month?

(murmurs of commanders heard over the background)

High Commander: While it begrudges me to ask this, can you present proof of the conquest?

General Anthony: (says nothing as screen changes to live feed from Merina)

(The feed shows Terran soldiers patrolling through the shattered remnants of once proud cities that had been protected by advanced sky energy domes that blocked orbital fire and walls lined with powerful automated plasma cannons that annihilated enemies from several miles away

Walls of the fortress cities were cracked wide open and shattered in many places. Many of the fierce automated guns now lay broken and battered on the ground and the ones that still were atop the battlements were being dismantled by terrain engineers to send back to their R&D departments)

General Anthony: Our enemies became complacent while they hid behind their walls; so assured of their durability that once they were breached they lacked the ability to mount a suitable defense.

Primary C: How did you breach the walls?

Taskmaster Folgar: I wish to know this as well.

General Anthony: It was rather simple really.

General Anthony: While observing the enemy we noticed that the automated guns would not fire on an area if they detected one of their own within to projected blast radius.

Primary C: No doubt a safety feature built into the weapons targeting parameters to prevent friendly fire incidents.

General Anthony: (Nods) That is what we figured as well.

General Anthony: So over the course of a month we captured as many enemy soldiers as we could-

Taskmaster Folgar: (Scoffs) We tried interrogating them before and they gave up no useful information.

General Anthony: (Glares at the taskmaster before continuing)- and loaded them on to trucks packed with explosives.

High Commander: You did what?

General Anthony: We then remotely controlled those same trucks to drive directly into the base of the wall segments our engineers determined that if damaged would trigger a structural collapse of the entire-

High Commander: YOU DID WHAT?!

General Anthony: These interruptions are quite tiresome now.

Taskmaster Folgar: Do you have any idea the violations of war you have committed?

High Commander: You will be stripped of your rank for such actions!

General Anthony: And what of you then, High Commander?

High Commander: Me?

General Anthony: When you gave me the order to relieve the Taskmaster you told me that you wanted Merina captured by any means necessary.

General Anthony: (Emphasizing) “By any means necessary”.

General Anthony: I followed your orders to the letter and captured the world; so it is you yourself that has ordered any such violations.

High Commander: Do not think you can twist my words to get yourself out of-

General Anthony: (cuts in) Primary C, would you not state that my actions were the most efficient method to bring about the end of a costly conflict?

Primary C: (Silent as it calculates) 

Primary C: While removing the organic factor of “honor” and “morality”, I compute that your actions did resolve the matter of Merina without further losses to manpower and resources.

General Anthony: And taskmaster, dear taskmaster; when you spent over a year attempting to crack the planets defenses how many of your men did you lose?

Taskmaster Folgar: That is not the-

General Anthony: How. Many?

Taskmaster Folgar: (Remains silent)

General Anthony: That is what I thought.

General Anthony: (Turns to address High Commander) You cannot give me an order and ask it be completed by any means necessary and not expect me to follow your instructions to the letter.

High Commander: Do you not have a soul?

High Commander: Do you feel nothing for those you sent to their deaths?

General Anthony: Such is the nature of all those who hold positions of power.

General Anthony: But if you must know I was the one who escorted the prisoners to the trucks myself, and they were quite enthusiastic about it.

High Commander: What?

General Anthony: Yes. I told them that they were going home and they hopped right in.

[lichenes]

Nasty Dog

This one is for @kennedyabraxas123 :D They requested: "idk if u did this maybe like a cute little human doing cute things w a big scary monster and they know that they could kill tjem super easily but they still love them and everything despite the strength/size difference" and ofc I couldn't refuse<3 Nothing like good ol' size difference istg. The monster of choice is a werewolf. If we're going classic, we're going classic. I love running errands with people so I decided this would be a great prompt lol?? IDK I can re-write this if you want kennedy cuz this ain't my best work :3! HOPEFULLY there aren't that many incosistencies dude cuz-

CW: SIZE DIFFERENCE!!!, established relationship, vulnerabilty???, (petnames: little one, lovely), brief mentions of werewolf sex, other than that SFW

wc: 763

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Walking hand in hand with him you couldn’t stop thinking about how lucky you were. Your eyes drifted to him as he scratched his chin. The beautiful fur he was sporting was radiating a pleasant, warm smell and the sun was hitting his form just right to make you fall in love all over again. For a moment you forgot where you were going.

The shop was a short distance away from your house and given the nice weather you decided to take the walk. The streets were bustling with people despite the sun almost setting. The produce you had to buy were too heavy for you to carry all by yourself so you decided to employ your boyfriend, who in addition to being freakishly strong also valued quality time spent together. 

He was usually a quiet person, never showing any strong emotions aside from occasional anger when something wasn’t going his way. Today wasn’t any different. His stoic face had his usual expression on, impassive and even, uninterested. You were talking to him as he nodded along humming occasionally to show his engagement. 

Despite his demeanour, he was enjoying his time with you. You were picking through the apples you planned to take home with you, looking for the perfect ones. You didn’t realise how menacing he looked, looming over your much shorter form. You, of course, understood people being scared of your boyfriend. He was almost 8’2” which made anyone pocket-sized to him. 

You walked along the dairy aisle while he was pushing the shopping cart along. “We should get the regular milk this time.” You said putting the carton into the cart. “You always drink oat though?” He spoke up, questioning you. “You need your protein to maintain your muscles, you know.” He nodded, a small chuckle escaping his lips. “I’m not losing them any time soon, little one.” You walked to the next aisle. He continued. “After all, who will help you with your groceries if I become thin and frail?” He put his hand on the small of his back and leaned forward to simulate the hypothetical situation. You rolled your eyes playfully. Something ignited within you. A joke? From him? That was… unusual

You continued your shopping trip with a sweet treat for both of you that he paid for in the end. For a beast that had to chain himself up during the full moon he was a gentleman. 

Once during a full moon he broke out of the chains and scared the ever-loving shit out of you when he burst into your shared bedroom in his fully transformed form with a foaming snout and eyes so predatory you felt like a bunny being chased through the woods, only at his mercy. He didn’t have bloodlust on his mind this time though and after a moment of standing in the threshold he lunged towards you and ravaged you that night like a man starved. 

The next day he, of course, apologised for his behaviour and massaged all the areas that were sore. You mentioned once or twice that you’d love for him to break the chain once more but he categorically denied you access to him when the full moon was in the sky. He was so, so scared of breaking you because he knew how delicate human bodies were, not used to knots and all the other parts of being with a werewolf. 

Your mind came back from reminiscing and focused on the type of flour you had to purchase for your baking endeavours. “Why are you so distracted lovely?” He lowered his face to your ear as he didn’t want anyone to hear you. He knew exactly what had you so preoccupied. Your face got hotter for a moment but you regained your composure. “Cookies are best made with coarse-grained flour right?” You smiled innocently. 

The cashier looked horrified with the amount of items on the conveyor belt. You send them an apologetic look and began bagging your items. Just before you finished your boyfriend pulled out his card and pressed it onto the reader. You insisted on paying him back for at least half of your shared groceries but he refused to listen to you.

“Not only are you stubborn but also extremely helpful.” You said with faux exasperation as he took all of the bags into his hands. “Oh no! Whatever will I do now that you’ve upset me so badly?” You beamed. He warmed up to you enough to make jokes, a rarity for him.

“I might have a few ideas…”

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masterlist

[crsssie]

and on and on, yeah we got the time

Word count: 1.2k || pt2 of on and on, || art creds: 30backyard (lofter)

summary: dorming is hell, so your boyfriend fixes that obv

"You know, Jay." You raise a brow as he does all of the heavy lifting, sliding your mattress on the ground into your shared bedroom in the new apartment. 

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Oh, god. Did you learn that while reading on ao3 again? Jesus." You grumble. "What I was going to say, though, was that you really... you probably could have called a moving company."

"Listen, lovely." He points. "You have me."

"Yeah, yeah." You sigh. "I love you too, Jay."

"Good, cuz I've seen how many weird fratboys make eyes at you on the daily, and I honestly think some of them need to get beat."

"Not like you couldn't beat them." You pat his shoulder. "Is that it?"

"Should be." He hums. "How do you like our place?"

"Can't wait to have all of my annoying ass textbooks slotted in the bookshelves that you decided were necessary while telling Bruce to remodel."

"Can't wait to have your dissertation plastered on the walls."

"Oh..." You mumble. "Our degrees... You plan on living here forever?"

"Just a little, maybe."

"Could we just throw the mattress off the balcony next time?"

"I mean, I'm not saying no..."

You find that Jason's still the biggest book nerd in college. His 4.0 is daunting compared to yours despite being in the same school as you, and it's just a little... terrifying. At the very least, all of his professors adore him. You find that it's at the very least — helpful. It's great that Jason's adored by your shared professors because when Jason accidentally lets slip that you're his girlfriend, it gives you a boost. You don't know how, but you end up relaying messages to Jason through your professors occasionally. You wonder just what kind of tactics Jason's employing to get on their good side an ungodly amount, but it's not your problem. Jason has the face card and the personality for it.

At the very least, when it comes to you, he does.

"Prof wants to see you at office hours." He hums. "English 102."

"Jesus, what did I do now?" You grimace.

"Probably that shitty essay you bullshitted."

"God." You mumble. "I truly need to get on your level."

"Thank you, sweetheart." He hums. "The art of knowing does not come easy."

"Yeah, yeah." You grumble. "We should get back to a book a week. Sorry, I mean I should get back to a book a week."

"You can start by catching up with me."

"M..." You pause. "How about... no."

"Well, your choice." Jason hums. "We're mid semester—"

"WHICH IS ANOTHER THING. WHY DID WE MOVE MID-SEMESTER??" You snap your head to look at him, annoyed. "Jay, baby."

"I know." He pouts. "But you hated that dorm too."

"Yeah, but now I have to change all of my mailing addresses. Again." You mumble. "I hate doing that. I don't know how many accounts I even have."

"At least you got all of your packages."

"I guess..." You sigh. "Well, at the very least... we own this place."

"We own the building."

"WHAT." 

"Correction. B bought the building and transferred ownership to me. I own the building."

"Oh my god." You mumble. "You truly are learning from the worst..."

"Worst being you?"

"Yes. Duh. How many times have I called B for a hundred dollars because I couldn't afford matcha?"

Jason holds back a laugh, closing his eyes as his brows furrow. "Matcha does not—"

"No, but B can spare it." You hum. "Don't worry. I pay him back with the abundance of gifts I bring with each travel."

"Which is on B's account." Jason pauses. "You know what? Yeah. Whatever. Eat the rich. I didn't steal his tires and strike gold for me to be telling you to go easy on his bank account."

You give him a thumbs up. "Well, I make my own as well. It's nice to not need to worry about tuition... but it's also a pain in the ass to not be able to make money here."

"At least you have a legal ssn and everything."

"Not."

"Not ssn. Sorry." He snorts. "Well, better than the goons in Gotham, I'm sure."

"Definitely." You hum.

Jason tunes out your rambling as he glances around the room. The couch would arrive soon, and the rest of the furniture (including the 4K HD TV that you deemed necessary in order to, and he quotes, "see men in 4k" on) would arrive soon. He wonders just what he would be doing had he not met you. 

Would his life have ended when he nearly lost his life? Would he have gone to find his mother had you not clung onto him and threatened suicide? Even then, you were insane. He glances back at you as you tilt your head at him, expecting an answer.

"Sorry, babe. Spaced out."

"I was asking if you wanted takeout for dinner."

"Maybe?" Jason pauses. "Sure. You wanna order?"

"There's a place downstairs that I wanted to go to." You hum. "Right out there."

"Hope that pizza is just as good as the one that Dick won't shut up about." Jason mumbles.

"You recon I could ask them if they take school dining dollars?"

"They don't."

"Wouldn't hurt to ask." You grin. 

"I'm not asking for you." He deadpans. "I'll search it on reddit for you, though."

"Mm... that works." You hum. "So... wanna tell me what was on that exam you took?"

"No."

"No?? Not even a clue??" You gasp, pretending to be hurt.

"You'll be fine."

"That 88 I got on my first exam begs to differ."

"You're my smart girl." He hums.

You grimace at him.

"Alright, alright. But you're paying for dinner."

"Bruce is, but yeah." You click on your phone, handing him the menu as you get cozy on the couch. 

Jason settles into a day to day with you, fingers interlaced with yours, placing grapes in your mouth as you rest, sigh breaking through your chest as you rest the book over your eyes.

"Tired?"

"Very." You hum. "How was your final?"

"I finished." He pulls another grape, pressing it to your lips as you part them to eat. "You're getting real lazy, sweetheart, you know that?"

"Yeah." You hum. "But you love me."

Jason pretends to think about it, tapping his chin as he puts the bowl down. "I don't know..."

"You're hand feeding me grapes and you're telling me you don't know if you love me?" You move the book from your eyes, raising a brow at him as you shuffle and lean on your elbows.. "Jason, beloved. If you tell me you don't know one more time I'm sending you straight to hell."

"By killing me?"

"Jay, baby?"

"Yes?"

"No." 

He reaches for the bowl again, breaking another grape off to give you.

"But you love me."

"Yeah, yeah." You sigh, taking the grape as Jason presses his lips to yours, giving you a quick kiss. You make a noise in protest.

"I love you more than words could express, sweetheart." He takes the last grape, slipping it past his own lips as you throw your head into the arm of the couch and groan.

"You cheeseball."

"Says the one who asked me out."

"I didn't even ask you out all that cheesily." 

"Yeah, but you asked me out."

"And you accepted it." You point. "Loser."

"Yeah, your loser."

"My loser." You sigh. 

[redflagshipwriter]

Young Lovers shot by Cupid ch 3

(Damian/Danny dpxdc fic, Damian and Stephanie buddy cop fic)

Masterpost

Brown was a somewhat agreeable partner to travel with when she was not aiming to irritate him. She made no side trips, unexpected stops, and she certainly did not feel the need to show off world-class acrobatics when they were aiming for speed.

Begrudgingly, Damian admitted to himself that she was not entirely terrible. The revelation that she felt some competitive spirit in regards to Drake was good information. That could improve their working relationship considerably. Perhaps he would allow her more grace.

They arrived at the mall in short order.

They looked up the blueprint from outside and quietly conferred on a plan. The large building was closed, dark, and quiet. There was a single security office, and it seemed that the mall did not employ anyone overnight. Damian pried open a vent on the roof and slipped inside silently. Brown was at his heels a moment later. She hit the ground with a soft tap of her boots.

Imperfect, but excusable, Damian generously allowed.

The office itself was a damp little nest of filing cabinets with a lingering and unpleasant aroma of popcorn butter and coffee. Damian wrinkled his nose through the task of sorting their security tapes.

The food court tapes from yesterday had already been removed, labeled, and put away.

Unfortunately, they were literal tapes. Damian huffed in disbelief at the bulky VHS units.

“Holy moly,” Brown muttered. “I thought the old man was the only person who still used these.”

Indeed.

Damian suppressed a sigh. “I think it unwise to linger here and watch all the footage,” he said, but he hesitated to take them. It would have been much better if they could simply make a copy. But these? Impossible. Wasn’t it?

…Batman would know. Damian crossed his arms unhappily. The oldest members of the family would hold this knowledge. “You are too young to know these devices?” he confirmed.

Brown huffed a little laugh. “Yeah, but how hard can it be?” She tapped at the likeliest tape with a gloved finger. “There has to be a way to make copies. We can look it up. But we could just watch here. You know what time the incident was, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Damian admitted begrudgingly. “But it would be optimal to watch the entire day’s footage to ensure that nothing else happened.”

Brown blew out air between her lips. “Alrighty then.” She dug out her nightphone and apparently started searching for tutorials.

Between the two of them, they managed it. They slipped away with two recorded tapes. They made a detour to deposit them in Spoiler’s bike storage before returning to their patrol. In between normal activities, they quietly debate their next challenge: watching the tapes. Obviously, Batman was the only person in the world paranoid enough to retain such ancient technology. They needed to use his equipment. But how to do it without being seen? It was kept in the entertainment room closest to Father’s bedroom, so that he could watch his childhood favorites if the nostalgic urge struck. He occasionally did so as background noise for filling out paperwork.

“The easiest time would be when he’s at work,” Brown recapped thoughtfully. “But there isn’t much of a window between when we get free from school and when he could come home from work. It would take weeks to watch it all that way even once, and by then Valentine’s Day would have passed.”

Damian made a tsk of disgust. It was true. Unfortunately, the fastest way to draw attention to their operation would be to forgo school. That would invite scrutiny from Pennyworth.

“Oh look, a carjacking.” Brown threw herself off the building and screeched like a bat as she fell. The sound rang out and echoed across the cold, dark streets.

It was a bloodcurdling sound. The guilty man looked up with amusingly wide eyes and a pale face. Damian suppressed an amused snort and came down in silence at a different angle.

After they had apprehended the fool and left him with a stern warning to follow the law or else face the pain of losing a hand, the two returned to the skies.

“That was pretty metal,” Brown said, in a tone of ardent admiration.

Damian cast a look back at the building they had been passing. He hadn't noticed anything in particular. To what was she referring? The window grates? Something inside the windows? He chose not to respond other than with a grunt.

Brown laughed again.

He ignored her harder and channeled his tenseness into an unnecessary flip before landing. He stood and put his hands on his hips as he surveyed the city. “Your Mother is frequently at work while you are imprisoned in school.”

“...Yes.” Brown cocked her head to the side.

He nodded briskly. “You will give me a disease,” Damian instructed. “Of course you may not malaise without supervision. You must come to the manor.”

“Oh, fake a sick day or two,” Brown breathed. She clasped her hands together. “You're becoming such a real boy, d’you know that?”

“Tt.” Damian turned away with disgust so that he did not have to see Spoiler bouncing on her heels.

“Alright, symptoms. Can't argue with diarrhea!”

He cringed hard.

“There's a good reason for no one else to see it,” Spoiler justified. “We can't fake a fever. We could maybe manage clamminess, red eyes, etc.” She paused. “But honestly, the two of us being sick at the same time would go a long way to convince, since we have a history of antagonism.” He could see her make a face under her mask. “Tonight could work against us for that.”

Damian nodded. “We will have to invent a conflict,” he said. He immediately started picking through their patrol for a premise.

She blew a raspberry. “Nah, adding details gives them something to unpick,” she said.

He was struck by the unwelcome realization that she was not wholly unintelligent. His mouth felt glued shut.

“I'll just go back in a bad mood, make a couple faces and sigh loudly once,” Spoiler said airily. “You put on your little thundercloud face and storm away, give crisp answers to anyone who asks if there's something wrong.”

“...And in the morning, I will sleep in,” Damian said. “Past my alarm. Pennyworth will note it as a matter of concern. I will get ready for school.”

“I'll call and ask if I can malaise at the Manor, since my mom is at work and she's worried,” Brown continued easily. “Alfred will put two and two together and tell you to stay home.”

Damian hesitated. “I think that if you had given me some low-class disease,” he started.

She cut him off with a lifted hand. “You get that illness isn't a class related thing, right?” She huffed. “Maybe you got me sick with your elementary school germs. Little kids are disgusting.”

…His peers were upsettingly unhygienic. He gritted his jaw.

Still, he had his self respect to maintain.

“I would never pass a contagious disease,” Damian vowed. He had too much self discipline for that. “The origin must be you.”

She hummed.

“Robin and Spoiler, you two are closest to Red Hood. Care to lend a hand?”

The two straightened into professional posture that Damian didn't remember leaving. “What's the situation?” Brown asked.

“He shook a bush and a lot of creepy crawlies flew out,” Oracle drawled. “Danger is minimal, but containment is impossible with one. Dropping coordinates.”

The next hour was spent dragging dregs of a gang from Bloodhaven out of dumpsters and other such crannies in order to escort them to city limits. They were aurally assaulted by Todd’s idea of a motivational speech and his puerile territorialism. “Stay out or I'll cut your hands off and sew them onto your ankles, blah blah.”

Damian tuned it out. Mother had truly wasted her time on him. He was so dramatic.

The rest of the night went as planned. He and Brown returned to the cave in a pointed silence, wrote professional reports, and stalked to their respective showers without exchanging a word.

He went to his room and picked up his alarm clock. Perhaps he ought to adjust the time?

‘No. If Pennyworth is passing and does not hear it at the usual time, he will note the irregularity.’

Damian willed himself to sleep. When the alarm did go off, it took his finely honed discipline to turn the machine off and then lie back down in bed. It was… uncomfortable. he laid there stiffly, looking at the ceiling.

He forced his eyes to shut. He matched his breathing to a pattern for sleep. And he waited to see how long it would take for someone to notice that he had slept in.

His punishment for childhood began at 8 am and released the prisoners at 3 pm. Therefore, he habitually awoke at 6:30 am. After an agonizing wait Damian peeled open an eye to see that the time was 7:12.

…It was past the time that he would normally have arrived at the breakfast table. He weighed if he wished to hurry downstairs or let Pennyworth come to check on him.

Something felt like a rock in his stomach. Damian sat up and put a hand to it, frowning at the sensation. What was this? When he had thought about his actions causing Pennyworth to abandon his post and trek up a flight of stairs the odd feeling had emerged.

There was a knock on his door. Damian's head shot up as it opened. Pennyworth peered in and his eyebrows went up slightly at the sight of Damian still abed. “Good morning, Master Damian,” he greeted.

“I apologize.” Damian took the hand off of his stomach and all but leapt to his feet. “I have- overslept. I will be but a moment.” He paused, genuinely flustered. “Good morning, Pennyworth.”

“Your breakfast is ready,” Pennyworth said mildly. “Excuse me.” He closed the door.

Damian raced through the bare minimum of his routine and pulled on a school uniform. He made it to the kitchen at 7:20. He faintly heard a phone ring in the other room. His heart gave just one undisciplined leap. Was it Brown, telling their story?

Drake was slouched halfway over the table, cradling a hard-boiled egg in his hands. An otherwise empty plate had been pushed into the center of the table. He had kicked his chair out quite far and was leaning directly forward, his entire upper body on the wood. He contemplated the depths of the egg with a wrinkled brow and eyes halfway hidden under bangs.

Damian edged around Drake to his seat, careful to avoid physical contact.

“You're late,” Drake said to the egg.

Perhaps it was his egg, Damian thought snidely. He was an oversized duck, was he not? Perhaps he had laid that egg and that was why it was so fascinating to him.

“Oy,” Drake drawled. He sniffled as he turned to look at Damian. “What's wrong with you? Forget a project?”

“Do not be foolish,” Damian forbade. He picked up his silverware and set it on his breakfast.

Drake regarded him for a long time. “Are you sick?”

…Why did he think so?

“No, I am not,” Damian snapped back, before he could think better of it. Perhaps he ought to have let Drake establish his alibi.

“I don't know, you look kinda off,” Drake said. He let the hand cradling his egg hit the table and he squinted.

“Master Timothy,” Pennyworth said.

Damian did not jump.

“Ms. Brown has just called to say that she's quite under the weather. I will be retrieving her shortly. How is your condition?”

Drake sat up. “I'm fine, Alfred,” he said formally. Then he blinked. “I think Damian is sick.”

He bristled. “You will bite your tongue,” Damian snapped back. “I am- I am no such thing.”

He could see the moment they both decided that he was, in fact, too ill for school. That was the goal: but he could not accept it calmly. They would assume he was on death’s welcome mat. Therefore he hissed and protested and derided Brown’s name with only a distant smidgeon of guilt.

But eventually, Damian was ushered to a quiet and dark room to wait while Pennyworth informed the day prison that Damian would be absent from Geology, Geometry, and all manner of vile variations on how one might ensure misery for a lone intellectual in a flood of brainless oafs.

Success.

Brown was delivered and managed to appear in the same room that Damian had been consigned to. She had managed to contrive an unusually poor condition of her normally lustrous hair. That, combined with shapeless clothes and smudged eye makeup, served to make her appear quite terrible indeed.

“You look terrible,” Damian told her, because she had done a good job.

A muscle twitched visibly under her eye.

“Is Bruce gone yet?” She asked.

Damian shook his head. “He will leave at 9:30.”

Brown sucked on her lower lip for a moment and wiggled into the crack of the sofa cushions. “I think we should go to his VHS room before he leaves, so when he notices someone was in there he doesn't see a reason to investigate.”

Damian shook his head minutely. “No. He will take the opportunity to spend the day with his ailing children and watch his favorite childhood show. We will have no opportunity to watch the security footage.”

“Not his kid,” Brown muttered. “But you're right. The chance is too high.” She let her head hit the back of the sofa. “That would be a good way to spend a real sick day, I think.”

Was she wistful?

Damian eyed her in bewilderment. Was she aching for bonding time with Father?

“I shall inform him that you want to watch his detective show at a later date,” he decided generously.

[persuasivetfs]

Our Lady of Blessed Contentment Part 3

There were many things in Amir Khan’s life that he was not pleased with. His shoestring apartment, his perpetually aching knees, his deep sense of loneliness.

Unmarried, elderly, and as one of the few Muslim residents in town Amir had to make do with what he did have. He had his job as an accountant, his books, his routines and his close personal relationship with God and maybe that was enough.

So it was with sudden disturbance that the elderly Mr. Huang, Amir’s boss at their accounting firm, made a very sudden and public conversion to Christianity. Now this by itself wouldn't have been cause for alarm.

Mr. Huang had been a Buddhist in all the time that Amir had known him, and beyond the statue of Guan Yin he kept on his desk and the occasional day off on Buddhist holidays, Amir hardly would have noticed. He had hoped that little would change, with Mr. Huang’s conversion beyond maybe what days he would have off next.

With this new religion however, came a zealousness that Amir neither expected or wished for. In truth, it scared him. The man had taken to peppering every inch of wall with Bible passages, crucifixes, and artistic scenes from the New Testament.

It made Amir feel as if he’d been kidnapped in the once familiar office, forced to work in the house of a Christian extremist rather than a secular accounting firm. It made him so uncomfortable that Amir was even hesitant to pray as he usually did, fearful that Mr. Huang or somebody else would force him to stop.

And he wasn’t alone in his discomfort either. Several other co-workers, two Buddhists and an atheist, felt similarly about the crowding of Christian imagery in their workspace and met privately to discuss their options.

In time it was decided, that Amir as the most seasoned and loyal employee would meet with Mr. Huang over their concerns. He didn’t like it, but he was willing to do whatever it took to make things bearable at work again.

So it was with quiet trepidation and trembling heart that Amir knocked on Mr. Huang’s door.

“Come in,” Mr. Huang greeted, his voice muffled but much louder than he expected. Amir entered.

Mr. Huang sat calmly at his desk, filling out information on his computer. He looked vastly different than before his conversion.

For one Mr. Huang looked decades younger, his face nearly free of wrinkles, while his bald spot had been covered by a thick crown of wavy brown hair. He smiled.

“What can I do for you Mr. Khan? I hear you have a list of concerns from you and a few of your other co-workers,” he greeted, pausing from his computer with his hands folded on his desk.

“Well, myself and others have grown concerned over the overwhelming nature of Christian imagery in the office. We feel that as a secular accounting office that both employs and receives clients of many faiths that while some displays of your personal faith are acceptable, that what we have now is too much.

”We just ask that some of the Christian imagery is toned down, while asking that you promise to maintain a sense of religious tolerance among staff. I have a list of signatures agreeing to such proposals right here,” Amir explained, revealing a list of 4 signatures including his own.

“May I have a look at that, please?” Mr. Huang asked and Amir obliged, handing it to him. He nodded after examining it.

“Then, I will see to it that everyone on this list feels perfectly comfortable and tolerated working here. We’ll be a solid unit,” Mr. Huang said, getting up from his chair.

It was then that Amir noticed that Mr. Huang not only looked younger than but was slightly taller and far more muscular as well. When he gripped his hand, Amir’s own hand felt small and delicate, as his boss’s which had once mirrored his own in age had gained a flourish of youth and strength.

In the next few days, it was announced that a team building exercise would take place at the local Summer camp on Saturday.

It would consist of Mr. Huang, Amir Khan, Kelly Zhao, Tyre Blake, and David Cheng. It didn’t take long for everyone to deduce that the only people going besides their boss were those who had signed their names on the complaint letter. Amir considered lying about being sick to avoid it, but he felt it’d be wrong if he left his co-workers out to dry while he hid at home so he opted to go.

When the day came and they all drove to the campgrounds, they were all greeted by Lawrence Daniels, a stoic and smooth-talking young man who introduced himself as a kind of guidance counselor.

Also attending to everyone’s surprise was Mr. Huang’s adult son, Eric. The last any of them had seen of Eric he was arguing with his father in the parking lot of their office. Eric had been dressed in a revealing nylon crop top and pair of skinny jeans while covered entirely in body paint. From what Amir could gather, Mr. Huang had bailed Eric out of jail after being caught trespassing with an illegal homosexual night club. Apparently the hope had been that Eric would abandon such foolishness and go back to school so he could work at his father’s company but that very quickly fell through. At least that’s what Amir had thought.

Yet this Eric dressed in a white button down shirt, khaki pants, and upright posture seemed entirely different from the man Amir had known of. This Eric looked like a younger splitting image of his father, similar in rigidity and strength.

Amir followed the pair inside. It was a dining hall with connected lunch tables crowding from one side of the room to the next. As people took their seats at one of the tables, Amir struggled to move his legs, the pain in his old knees was too much.

“Try sitting on the edge next to me, Mr. Khan,” Eric’s charming voice offered. Amir, surprised, did as Eric suggested, sliding in next to him on the corner after Eric comfortably sat down.

“Hello there, welcome everyone. My name is Lawrence Daniels and I’m a pastor at Our Lady of Sacred Contentment Church,” all of them but the priest, Mr. Huang and Eric Huang looked to each other to confirm what had just been said.

Not only had Mr. Huang converted to this priest’s church, but he was most likely just trying to convert them all as well. This possibility drew collective annoyed glares and heavy sighs from the non-Christian participants.

“Alright calm down everybody, I’m only here as a secular facilitator of today’s team-building function, nothing more. Just thought I’d be honest about where most of my work experience as public facilitator has been,” Pastor Daniels admitted, not expecting such resentment.

“It’s quite alright, Pastor. Please continue on,” Mr. Huang said in an authoritative voice.

“I hope I can leave early. My knees are particularly bad today,” Amir whispered to himself. Eric nodded.

“This won’t take long, we’ll be out of here soon,” Eric said with a wink in his direction.

“Now I’ve heard that we’ve had some trouble with disunity around the office. So together we’re going to work through some exercises to improve company cohesion. Now before we start I’d like you all to fill out these brief questionnaire sheets,” Pastor Daniels explained, handing out sheets and pencils to the table.

Amir stared down his questionnaire. It asked him basic questions about his age, his marriage status, his skills, his interests, his faith, his education. His whole life on a single sheet of paper. It didn’t take long for him to finish.

When all the papers were collected, Pastor Daniels skimmed each one before coming to a stop.

“Amir Khan?” Pastor Daniels asked, scanning the room. Amir’s stomach lurched like he had been called on in class.

“Yes, Mr. Daniels?” Amir refused to call him his pastor.

“I’ve noticed a few strange discrepancies on your form. Are you being completely honest with me?” Pastor Daniels asked, pointing at the papers. Amir looked around flabbergasted.

“I have nothing to lie about,” Amir answered with a shrug.

“It says here you’re 67, but that can’t be true. You look about 30,” Pastor Daniels said with the voice of a school teacher impatient with childish pranks.

Amir wanted to counter him but suddenly found that he couldn’t. Years were peeling off his face as the seconds clicked by. His wrinkles were receding, his hair was growing and his body was regaining a sense of vitality he hadn’t felt in ages. Across his face, his wispy gray mustache and well-kept beard had faded and become replaced with a dark and luxurious mustache that Amir felt the sweet urge to twirl between his fingers.

“And here, you say that you are unmarried yet you have a gold wedding ring across your finger. Or is that mere jewelry, Mr. Khan?”

A solid gold ring materialized on Amir’s finger and with it a name, Jasleen. Amir had thought they had lost touch after he emigrated to the United States and yet he remembered that they had married, that she had come with him, and that she was young as he was. In fact, they already had a son and there was another child on the way.

“Nope, proudly married. I wrote that as a joke,” Amir said, half-confused as he tried to save face. Everyone gave him looks that varied between pity and annoyance.

“Maybe try to keep such jokes between friends, right, man?” Eric whispered with pleading eyes.

“Yeah, sorry,” Amir said, awkward and dazed. He vaguely remembered Eric Huang as his boss’s unemployable gay adult son but that was impossible. Eric worked as a major consultant for his father’s accounting firm with the hope to inherit it after Mr. Huang’s retirement and he was engaged to a woman. Eric was one of Amir’s closest friends and yet he couldn’t remember the two working together. Did this mean that Amir never worked there?

“Now for what you wrote for interests, you put math puzzles and reading but that doesn’t sound like you at all. Of all I’ve heard from Eric, you only love football, nutrition, and exercise.”

Amir groaned as his whole body ballooned underneath him. His neck widened, his chest expanded, his arms and legs and torso packed on muscle. While never the most unathletic man in the world, Amir had played tennis in college, he felt larger and more powerful than he had ever felt. Memories of tennis soon gave way into football, and Amir suddenly gained a deep and reverent joy in the sport that had never died with age.

Suddenly his small tweed sweater and corduroy pants felt too small for him, too old for a muscular young man such as himself. Before he could focus too hard on his outfit, he found himself in a snug gray crop top, a pair of nylon shorts and sneakers, as if he was in the middle of a run.

“And with faith, you wrote Islam but as a non-pastor you have one of the strongest and loudest senses of devotion to our church. You’re obviously a deeply pious Christian man,” Pastor Daniels pointed out.

For much of his life Amir’s faith had always been a private matter. A relationship that was intimate and quiet, achieved through reflection and reverence. Made all the more quiet, in such a county where his religion was often regarded as a threat.

Yet in that priest’s voice, Amir felt a sense of electrifying zealotry that he never had before. A devotion that could not be contained in quiet contemplation but had to be shared with all the people of the world.

His new faith too, had come with a sense of community Amir had long craved. Every week, if not more, he could go to church and pray among the throngs of the faithful. No longer isolated, Amir could be as open about his faith as he wished and would often find others in town who shared his views.

“I’m a Christian first before anything else, Pastor. I would never write any other faith as being more important than the one we share,” Amir said, raising his eyes to heaven with the passion of a Sunday preacher.

“Right of course, my apologies. You did write ‘Christian’ here. Never should have thought differently, though there is one other complication, Brother Khan,” Pastor Daniels said, pausing for dramatic effect before he went on. The dining hall was silent. A bug buzzed by the window. Kelly Zhao yawned.

“Why did you fill out this sheet at all? You work as a gym teacher and football coach at the local high school. I still don’t know why you even came in here.” Memories writing and rewriting themselves to fit the current situation blurred into Amir’s mind.

“I was carpooling with Eric to the school gym when he got a text to come here to act as co-facilitator from Mr. Huang. So not wanting to be bored in the car, I tagged along and wrote down some information on one of your forms. Wanted to see how far I'd get before you noticed,” Amir said with an impish grin.

“Why were you heading to the school gym?” Mr. Huang sternly asked Eric who shuffled nervously in his seat.

“It's Saturday at midday, I have the keys, and the basketball team doesn’t practice till 6. Figured we’d have the whole place to ourselves,” Amir admitted, idly twirling his mustache.

“Well Eric, while I still need you here, it should be no harm to take a few minutes to drop Mr. Khan off at the school. Please do so before we have another distraction,” Mr. Huang said, hand waving the pair away.

Both of them grunted as they slid up from their seats, their muscular legs were too large to be able to stand up and out of them.

Amir, for all his new personal history that had just become cemented in his head in the last half hour, still marveled at the fact that his knees, still the weakest part of his body, were strong enough to successfully hold up his massive new weight.

Eric let out a sigh of relief as the pair left the dining hall behind.

“Thanks for trying to make my Dad’s team building exercise interesting, Amir. Though probably not the best to make jokes when my Dad’s trying to bring people into the fold,” Eric said politely as Amir swaggered out in his muscular new form.

“You’re welcome, bro. I find that adding humor in discussions of faith, improves everybody’s mood and can help make people more amenable to the word of God,” Amir said, confidently.

“You also work with teenage boys everyday. So what works with them might not work with my co-workers, or my father,” Eric said, dreading the future argument they would have. Eric unlocked the car from a distance.

”You think Pastor Daniels is really going to successfully convert the Sinners back there?” Amir asked, twirling his mustache with deep satisfaction.

In the walk to Eric’s car, Amir noticed an old gray Saturn that felt uncannily familiar. It was a small, old car, seperate from the others, probably abandoned. Amir quickened his pace, unnerved, only satisfied until they reached Eric’s own Jeep.

“He hasn’t failed yet,” Eric answered, getting into the driver’s seat. “Honestly, I have no idea how those pastors at our church do it. It worked on my father and our family, and you know how obstinate he is.”

“They’re really building a new world. God’s heavenly kingdom on Earth and we all get to be a part of it,” Amir said with a grin and a mighty flex of his muscular arm before he got inside the passenger's seat. Eric started the car.

“We’ll have to see about that,” Eric answered quickly, so quickly he hoped Amir didn’t hear. The man didn’t seem to notice, smiling with unaware bliss as he twirled his mustache.

In the coming days and weeks, Amir quickly solidified himself as both a major aid and hindrance of Wentworth Falls Public High School. On one hand, the man was an excellent football coach, encouraging his players to victory in a way they haven’t seen all season. However, Amir was also proving to be a major source of controversy. While once afraid to do so much as pray in public as a Muslim, as a Christian in the United States, Amir was emboldened to invoke Jesus and the Church, even to the point of working to convert some of his students.

While this new Amir had come to lack the eloquence of people like Pastor Daniels or the quiet subtlety of Pastor Agosti, he was able to utilize his position to convert young wayward souls to the Church as Pastor Carter would do once the Church basketball team was set up.

Many in the school’s admin were opposed to such open proselytizing in a public school, and tried to use threats of suspension to force Amir to stop, but certain conservative religious and private interests blocked any real chance of that happening. The influence of Our Lady of Sacred Contentment was growing. It was only just the beginning.

[joyaphoria]

HQ BOYS: MEETING A PRETTY FAN

☆ includes: hinata & sakusa (cus im lazy)

☆ a/n: jeez i haven’t written one of these in a while ... anyways, i'm kinda dumb i realized sakusa's isn't technically a fan and neither is hinatas lol

☆ HINATA like most, spent a lot of time training in the gym, spending a majority of his free time there. regardless of whatever time he decided it was time to go, there would still be a group of devoted fans waiting outside, desperate for a signature or even anything as simple as an acknowledgement. there were a lot more fans waiting outside that day, and he was immediately overcome by cheering and shoving the moment he stepped outside. as usual, he laughed and abided by the shouts, taking notebooks and papers and arms(?) to sign, pencils and markers alike shoved in his face, all of it apart of his routine. it isn’t until he finishes signing one paper and looks up per usual, does he take a second and pause. “could you write something encouraging, it’s for my little brother,” you explain as loudly as you can, as short and sweet as you can, what with the hungry fans bodying you so that they could have their turn next. hinata blinks quickly, yanking the paper back before you could get trampled, and scribbling his phone number right underneath his signature. “tell your little brother id love to give him that encouragement in person, in return for a date with his older sister.”

☆ SAKUSA only gets his coffee at one cafe, and its the small family owned one near his condo. not only is it thoroughly cleaned and maintained, but it’s mostly empty in the morning, allowing him to tune it down on the disguises for once. fans are never usually a problem around here, except for the ocasional every now and then. it’s why when sakusa notices someone walk up to his little table while he scrolls through his phone, that he puts his hand out and doesnt even bother looking up. once he hears a snicker he turns his head upwards sharply, making eye contact with whoever dared to not only interupt his time of peace, but to mock him afterwards. he doesn’t say anything though, not when his eyes catch yours and he forgets what he was going to say. “hate to wound your precious little ego, but i don’t want your autograph. our machine broke so you’re not getting your coffee.” you huff. sakusa stares intently, cocking his head to the side. this cafe was owned and run by family only, and he’s never seen you in all the months he’s been buying his coffee here. he does somewhat remember the lady telling him though, that she had two sons and a daughter, the sons employed here while the daughter had her own job and came occasionally to help. she made a teasing joke of setting them up, mentioning how beautiful her daughter was, and though she might’ve been right about that one, she never mentioned that the woman in question was such a bi- “staring at me is not going to fix the coffee machine. unless you’re going to fix it, leave.” sakusa scoffs and stands up. motioning to leave, he pauses and turning back. he knows how to do a lot more than it looks.

[aesethewitch]

Divination Troubleshooting

One of the more difficult aspects of divination, I think, is working out what to do when things don’t work the way they’re supposed to. When you’ve done everything technically right, there’s a chance you still won’t get answers that you can interpret, that make sense, or that are correct. If you have an occasional problem with divination, that’s totally normal — nothing will work 100% of the time. But when it happens consistently, it might be time to do a little troubleshooting.

This post is far from a complete list of possible problems. I’ve spent many years trying (and failing at) different forms of divination, so these are things I’ve personally run into and the things I consider when troubleshooting.

The basic format of this post is the form of problem, a short description of what the problem looks like, possible causes for the problem, and multiple suggested solutions for each cause. These recommendations are fairly general and non-exhaustive. You may find that you need to employ multiple solutions before the problem resolves, and you may find that none of these proposed solutions solve the issue you’re having. Some listed problems are specific to a particular tool, but most are applicable to more than one type.

Sometimes, determining the cause of your issue can be difficult. It can take a good amount of discernment to figure out, so don’t feel discouraged if you can’t fix the problem on the first try!

Unclear Answers

You’ve drawn your cards, cast your charms, selected your runes, and… it makes no sense, or maybe the answers you receive are too vague to be useful.

Cause: Lack of practice or familiarity with the tool Solutions:

Perform practice readings with the tool

Study the guidebook, if you have one, to determine whether there are additional meanings to glean

Look up potential alternate meanings to the individual cards/runes, or consider another perspective (Three of Swords not always meaning heartbreak, for example)

Ask for a second opinion by taking a picture of the reading and sending it to like-minded practitioners who would be willing to help you interpret

Request a reading from a more seasoned diviner to confirm the information you’re able to glean from your own reading (if you do this, I would suggest letting them know that you’re seeking clarity from a divination you did for yourself)

Cause: No thoughts, head empty (brain fog, sudden blanking, fatigue, etc.) Solutions:

Set it aside and come back to it later with fresh eyes

Do grounding or energizing exercises before redoing the divination

Take care of your mundane needs (drink water, eat something, sleep, take medicines, go outside/get fresh air, etc.) and then return to it

Ask for a second opinion

Write down what you can understand and return to it later to check your interpretation and/or reinterpret it

Cause: The question was poorly worded, or you’re asking the wrong question Solutions:

Reword the question

Ask a different question related to the situation

Consider whether the answer given is to another question or another facet of the situation

Ask the tool, spirits, deities, etc. what you should be focusing on, if not the question you’re asking

Ask follow-up questions to clarify specifics

Cause: The tool isn’t suited to the question you’re asking Solutions:

Try a different tool

Reword the question to suit the tool better

Request a reading from someone else (if you only use one type of tool)

Cause: Stagnant energy is lingering on or around the tool Solutions:

Cleanse the tool and any containers you keep the tool in

Reshuffle, shake, etc. thoroughly before attempting to divine again

Allow the tool to “rest” so it can “cool off” and lose some of the stuck-on energy

Cause: Missing context or information Solutions:

Write down what you can understand for now and come back in a few days/weeks to see if it makes more sense

Walk away and come back to it in an hour to see if new details come to mind

Work on phrasing your questions to account for information you don’t actively know

Cause: One single card is standing out, not meshing with the rest of the reading Solutions:

Let the querent know it’s a confusing card, explain what it typically means, and allow them to offer clarification or possible meanings to it

Decide ahead of time what you will do with cards like this and what they could possibly mean, so that when they come up, you can seamlessly deal with them

Disregard the rogue card entirely

Allow the card to stand on its own, almost like a separate reading within the existing reading; redraw for the position if doing a spread

Consider alternative or unorthodox meanings to the card, especially if it’s in an odd position in a spread:

The card may be referring to another question or situation; if so, set it aside and consider doing a separate divination with that card as a focus

The card may indicate a particular person; determine who it may be and what their impact is on the overall situation

The card may be a message from a spirit, related or unrelated to the situation; set it aside and consider doing a separate divination to see the full message

The card may indicate an unexpected element, upheaval, discomfort, or mismatched priorities; the interpretation largely depends on the card and position

Wrong Answers

You thought you had it, but the divination ended up being completely wrong. One time is normal, but consistently very wrong divinations are less so.

Cause: Lack of practice or familiarity with the tool Solutions:

Perform practice readings, either with actual questions, hypothetical scenarios, or no prompt at all to work on weaving meanings together and identifying messages/symbolism

Ask others if you can practice your divination with them to get more practical experience

Study the guidebook (if there is one) or other guides and articles on the tool to determine whether you missed a meaning, theme, or detail that would have made the reading more accurate

Study how you asked the question, performed the divination, and interpreted the output to see what may have gone wrong, if anything

Cause: The tool you’re using isn’t suited to you Solutions:

Try a different type of tool

If using tarot or oracle cards, try a deck with different imagery

If using tarot, try a deck based on a different system (Thoth vs. Rider-Waite-Smith, for example)

Cause: You’ve asked the same question too many times in a short period, and now the readings are so muddied nothing is accurate Solutions:

Take a break from divining on the question or topic

Consider the answers you’ve already gotten and determine which is the likeliest to be true (or untrue)

Ask a different question

Cause: Misleading or incorrect phrasing and information from the querent Solutions:

Clarify the situation with the querent

Before beginning the divination, let the querent know that they need to be honest with you or results may not be correct

Rephrase the question or prompt to be more honest about the situation

Cause: Blockages or disruption between you and the divination target Solutions:

Ask the querent to temporarily allow you through their protections

Cast a spell to break through the barrier/blockage before trying the divination again (note that if the barrier is a purposeful protection against prying eyes, there may be consequences to busting through)

Request spirit assistance with breaking through the blockage

Ground yourself and clear away any blockages or reluctance within yourself to see and understand the truth

Accept that the target person doesn’t want you divining about them

Cause: The question was poorly worded for the tool you’re using Solutions:

Try a different tool better suited to the type of question you’re asking (pendulums for yes/no, magpie oracle for general life readings, tarot for advice, etc.)

Reword the question to suit the tool

Practice asking better divination questions overall (proper wording, understanding the tool’s capabilities, etc.)

Conflicting Answers

When you do separate readings on the same topic and get different answers, it can be confusing! Which one do you believe? Which will actually come true?

Cause: You’ve asked the same question too many times Solutions:

 Take a break from divining on the topic or question

Consider the answers you’ve already gotten and determine which is the likeliest to be true (or untrue)

Ask something else, either relating to the situation or not

Cause: Circumstances have changed radically since you last divined on the situation Solutions:

Divine on what’s changed and how it’s caused the shift

If the change is undesirable, ask how you can get back on track to the future you want

Compare the readings to see if you can determine the links between them

Cause: The future is mutable, and there are separate, very different possibilities branching out around the situation Solutions:

Divine about the causes of each outcome already gathered to see what’s causing the vast difference in readings

If there are many people involved, do smaller, more specific divinations to determine their impact on the future

Accept that you may not get to know the future perfectly

Ask instead how you can attain the future you actually want, rather than what may happen

Always Exhausted Afterwards

After doing divination, you feel absolutely drained of energy. Whether that’s physical, emotional, or spiritual energy, when it happens often, it can be discouraging and make you want to never do divination again!

Cause: Your energy is depleting naturally Solutions:

Do smaller divinations

Only perform one divination in a single sitting, rather than attempting several back to back

Request assistance from spirits to boost your own energy or borrow theirs for the reading

Eat a nourishing meal beforehand and have a snack afterwards

Cause: The querent, tool, spirits, etc., involved are draining your energy Solutions:

Bolster your area’s protections with a focus on keeping your energy to yourself

Wear something like a veil or other protective clothing, jewelry, or accessories during the divination to prevent the drain

Do a grounding exercise beforehand to center your focus and keep your energy to yourself

Pause the divination if you start feeling yourself draining to refresh and protect your energy

If working with spirits which are draining you as part of a deal (whether spoken or unspoken), make a physical offering instead of an energetic one

Practice energy work to learn how to better contain your energy so that it isn’t as free for the taking

Cause: You didn’t have the energy to begin with, but divined anyways Solutions:

Request a reading from a trusted source

Seek ways to boost your energy before beginning

Take care of your mundane needs before performing divination (eat something, drink water, take a nap, get some fresh air)

Spirits Aren’t Coming Through or Assisting

You’ve invited spirits to the table, but it doesn’t seem like they’ve got a hand in the divination results you’re getting.

Cause: You haven’t made an offering equivalent in value to what you’re asking for Solutions:

Set out an offering before starting if you haven’t already

Determine what the spirits might want other that what you’ve already offered

Offer something more personalized to the particular spirit

Make a sacrifice, rather than a simple offering (give up the last cookie, lay a piece of meaningful jewelry on their altar, etc.)

Cause: The spirits think you aren’t ready to know the answers you’re looking for Solutions:

Seek answers from another source

Wait a while and try again later

Ask a different question

Cause: The spirits you’re trying to contact aren’t immediately available/answering Solutions:

Call on the spirits before you start divining and let them know what you’re doing and why

Perform the divination at their sacred space, if possible

If working in an animist sense, “wake up” or “activate” your deck’s spirit in some way before beginning (knocking, speaking to it, etc.)

Cause: Another spirit is interrupting Solutions:

Ask the intruding spirit to back off (for now or forever, that’s up to you)

Perform a banishing if the spirit is unwelcome and will not leave when asked

Find out what the interrupting spirit wants and either decline or fulfill their request

End the divination and come back to it later on

Pendulum Won’t Swing Consistently

The pendulum swings willy-nilly with little to no rhyme or reason, providing no clear answers.

Cause: The cord, chain, string, or other material isn’t long enough Solutions:

Replace it with a longer cord, chain, string, etc.

Use a different pendulum

Create your own pendulum using a length of string (or twine, etc.) and a crystal, stone, pendant, coin, or other relatively heavy item

Cause: The pendulum itself isn’t heavy enough, or it’s an uneven shape Solutions:

Replace the pendulum with a pointed stone, crystal, or piece of glass Thread other, heavier beads, charms, crystals, stones, etc., onto the pendulum’s cord/chain

Cause: Your source for answers isn’t working with you Solutions:

If working based on your own intuition, do a grounding exercise and try again

If working with spirits, make an offering or see whether the spirits are present before trying again

Cause: There’s a breeze making it swing Solutions:

Wait until the wind dies down

Move indoors to try again

Close windows, turn off fans, and turn off air conditioners in the immediate area

Cause: The energy in your area is causing interference Solutions:

Perform a cleansing of the area to clear out excess energy

Banish any rogue spirits hanging around who are messing with the pendulum on purpose

Perform a ritual to calm the energy around you, like soothing a storm or lulling the wind to sleep for the duration of your divination

Keep Dropping Cards

Dropping your whole deck of cards may be an issue with grip strength, clumsiness, or joint bendiness… or, it may be a sign of an underlying issue or message.

Cause: The deck is too large or cumbersome to hold and shuffle easily Solutions:

Try another, smaller deck of tarot cards

Try a deck with standard card shapes (round or very large cards are personally super hard to shuffle neatly)

Ignore jumping or dropped cards, and only take cards you consciously draw

Cause: The shuffle itself is difficult Solutions:

Try another method of shuffling

Practice shuffling with regular playing cards, then with the deck you want to be using (this makes a fun fidget while watching shows)

If all shuffling is difficult, spread out the cards on a flat surface and mix them together before putting them back into a pile and drawing accordingly

Cause: The spirit(s) you’re communicating with don’t want to provide answers right now Solutions:

Provide an offering or payment for services rendered (especially if you haven’t in a while)

Take a break and try again later

Investigate the root cause of their reluctance and plan accordingly

Never Feels “Right” to Stop Shuffling or to Pull a Card

You’re shuffling. And shuffling. And… shuffling. You’re waiting for a sign to stop and pull cards, and it just never comes.

Cause: Your brain and/or intuitive thinking is exhausted Solutions:

Take a break from divination and other magical practices

Do a grounding exercise to reconnect with your intuitive thoughts and try again

Replenish your energy by eating something, drinking water, having a nap, and otherwise taking care of your mundane needs before trying again

Cause: You aren’t meant to know the answer to the question you’ve asked Solutions:

Ask a different, related question to see if you can get answers

Try again in a few days

Try a different divination tool (different tools can provide different answers with varying levels of detail)

Failing troubleshooting, accept that you can’t know everything that’s ahead and simply plan accordingly (magically and mundanely)

Cause: Blockage between you and the target of the question Solutions:

Cast a spell to break through the barrier/blockage before trying the divination again (note that if the barrier is a purposeful protection against prying eyes, there may be consequences to busting through)

Determine whether there are missing details about the situation that may help break through

Request spirit intervention to get around the blockage

Ground yourself and clear away any blockages or reluctance within yourself to see and understand the truth

Accept that the target person doesn’t want you to divine about them

If the reading is about a situation, a spell of “true seeing” or clarity may help

Cause: The querent isn’t being fully honest about their question (misleading phrasing, leaving out information that would impact the reading) Solutions:

Clarify the situation with the querent

If divining for yourself, consider all facets of the situation and question before rewording it more clearly and honestly

Talk or journal about the situation before beginning to get as much information as possible

Cause: The spirits you rely on for divination have declined to provide answers Solutions:

Ask why they aren’t answering

Try again later

Try another divination tool

Use another source for answers, such as the universe on the whole or your own deeper intuitive self

Reword the question to be more specific or general, depending

Cause: Something about the cards or shuffle themselves isn’t right Solutions:

Try another shuffle/pull method (spread out cards and pull at random, create piles and take the top of each, etc.)

Try a different deck of cards

Try another type of divination tool

Give the deck a cleanse

Look for a way to “wake up” or “activate” the cards

Too Many Jumpers

Even if you read tarot like I do with all jumpers, having a ton of cards leap out at once can be daunting — and even annoying, if it keeps happening consistently.

Cause: Your deck is too large for your hands, or it’s an odd shape (circular, non-standard number of cards, above-average card size, thick card stock) Solutions:

Try a deck with fewer cards or a more standard shape and paper weight

Create your own deck of cards that fits more securely in your hands

Try a digital deck of cards

Disregard jumping cards completely and only accept cards you’re pulling on purpose

Cause: More possibilities or details about the situation need to be brought to light than expected Solutions:

Try another spread to accommodate the jumpers

Ditch the spread altogether and read the cards as they fall instead

Treat the jumping cards as amendments or extra information about the card whose position you’re drawing for (for example, if drawing for a “Self” position and you get two jumpers before pulling your card in your usual fashion, the two jumpers modify the Official Card)

Cause: Spirits are interfering with the reading Solutions:

Cleanse the area or banish the offending spirits if they’re not ones you’ve welcomed into the space

Request that they chill the heck out and not throw any (or as many) jumping cards

Make an offering to quell their mischief

Pay attention to why they’re acting this way; if you’re not sure, ask for their reasons

Applicable to Now, Not Later

Your reading describes your situation as it is right now with perfect clarity, but it doesn’t reveal anything new or give insights into the future.

Cause: Your current talent lies in revealing the present Solutions:

Practice with readings explicitly about the immediate future

Practice targeting a specific moment in the future, such as a particular future month’s events

Fine-tune your questions to specifically request information you don’t know

Employ spirits or deities to expand your abilities to encompass the future

Try another tool or supplement your reading with another tool

Cause: The question or prompt is too open or general Solutions:

Ask a more specific, carefully worded question

Ask what you mean, rather than a general question around the situation (“What do I need to know about my relationship with X?” vs. “What do I need to know about my love life?”)

Cause: There will be little to no change in the timeframe you’re asking about Solutions:

Expand the range of time you’re asking about

Choose a time further in the future (next year instead of next month, for example)

Make an active choice to change the future if you’re dissatisfied with things as they appear to be now

Can’t Get into the “Right Headspace” for Divination

You’ve sat down and have your tools ready, but you just can’t get into the zone.

Cause: Your environment is distracting Solutions:

Move to a quieter location where you can focus more

Perform a grounding exercise to shut out distractions and focus on your divination

Wear headphones and play music that will help you focus (I suggest unobtrusive music without lyrics, so that it doesn’t impact your interpretations; personally, I use crackly fireside sounds over lo-fi beats)

Cause: Your environment isn’t inspiring you to get into the right headspace Solutions:

Create a space specifically for performing divination, whether permanent or temporary

Curate an aesthetic for your divination space with candles, crystals, plants, divination cloths, and other things that are meaningful to you

Go for a walk in a place that does inspire you and perform a divination there, if possible (cemeteries, parks, museums, rivers, etc.); if not possible to do divination there, absorb as much of the inspiring energy as you can and carry it back to your divination location

Cause: You don’t have the energy for it right now Solutions:

Focus on replenishing your energy with food, water, sleep, and other self-care tasks before divining

Request assistance from spirits to boost or borrow energy

Request a divination from someone else

Cause: You just aren’t in the mood for it Solutions:

Create a ritual that will help you get into your desired headspace for divination (putting on specific accessories, preparing your space, calling on spirits, etc.)

Request a divination from someone else

Walk away and come back to it when you feel more motivated

Scroll through others’ divination posts, watch a video, or listen to a podcast to get inspired to do your own divination

Conclusion

Again, there are countless possible issues and even further countless possible solutions to those issues. In general, walking away for a while, having a rest, practicing asking questions, and becoming more familiar with your tool over time will be the best tools in your belt. And if you can’t find a solution on your own, there’s no shame in crowdsourcing ideas for fixes! Ask your friends, your favorite witchy blogger, your Discord servermates, make a public post for others to comment on, or otherwise reach out. The best ideas often come from conversation.

Feel free to drop questions in the reblogs, replies, or my ask box if you’d like to ask me in particular about your divination troubles! I’m always happy to help out where I can. And if I’ve got no clue, one of my followers or mutuals might have a thought to share!

If you enjoyed this post or my other work, consider tossing a couple dollars in my tip jar! (And check out my commissions for custom spellwork and tarot readings!) Everything goes toward keeping me and my partner afloat on our bills, so it’s very much appreciated!