#i am currently stressed and seeing this is magical

[blueberryjamsart]

Older pic of Walnut

How lovely! He eepy!!

[foulfeast]

Ohhhh i now remember why i got shy about talking abt ocs

24/7 fear that someone will tell me my ideas are cliche/stupid/bad in some other and it will hurt more bc these are my own creations and not just fun and play

[salemlunaa]

✎ STOP CALLING IT YOUR DREAM REALITY

why is it desired when it has already happened?

You need to realise that you are already in the reality you have chosen, you are in the reality that is desired. Stop viewing your new life as far-fetched and magical. Some of you think that with the crazy things in your script, it makes it harder to shift, than it would be to manifest something “small”. But let me tell you, you’re already there.

stop envying that girl’s body, you already have it, if not better

stop envying all the rich people’s vacations and hauls you see on socials, you live that life

stop envying the person with the pretty face, you have one too

stop getting jealous of a certain pop group, tv show cast or celebrity for getting to do the things that you want to do, you ARE doing all that you have ever wanted

stop envying the person your s/o has dating rumours with, they’re yours and always have been

because you’re a god.

stop getting jealous of the person with the perfect parents and rich family, your family was real the second you scripted them, you see them every day, no big deal

don’t you get it? the 3d isn’t real, what you’re seeing isn’t real if you don’t want it to be.

it’s not your dream reality, it’s your current reality, get comfortable and casual about it, it’s your everyday life, nothing special to you. stop scrambling for methods as if you aren’t in your reality already. stop treating your new life as a prize, it’s nothing special because you had it the second you thought about it. stop viewing your new life as some accomplishment to strive for, it’s your everyday experience, again nothing special.

as a god, every reality is your creation, why are you looking at your creations as the prize when the prize is you? why are you looking at your new life as something to work hard for, something to put effort in to have? why, why, why when it’s already yours?

you cant leave if you don’t acknowledge that this new life is already yours. You’ll always be in the state of desiring and never in the state of having if you don’t fix this mindset. It also puts more pressure on you when attempting to induce pure consciousness, you think everything is riding on inducing pure consciousness, you think your dream wont happen if you don’t do it. why do you think the weight of your new life relies on whether you’re able to induce pure conscious or whether you’re able to shift, when it’s already yours and you already live that life?

i’ll tell you why you think this way: it’s because you don’t see it as yours yet, you think it will only become yours when you have done all these things.

what you see: script + void/“I AM” state ➯ my dream life is finally mine

you see it as a process when it isn’t one, there is no process

what actually happens: i’ve created my dream life in my head ➯ i have it now, it’s not a dream anymore

it’s an immediate chain of events, not a process. so stop with the jealousy, being miserable and asking the same questions, it’s BEEN yours

as soon as you take that pressure away from the act of shifting, because you KNOW your new life belongs to you no matter what, it puts less stress on you, making inducing pure consciousness easier

that’s it that’s all, ITS ALREADY YOURS DONT SEE IT AS A PROCESS 🌌💋

[lurochar]

Bad Habit

So I recently read somewhere that Alastor pulls out his hair as a stress reliever? Not sure if it's actually canon, but I thought it was interesting, so here we are!

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

You feel bad, guilty.

Horrible even.

It is why you are currently sitting on Alastor’s bed, waiting for him to come back from wherever he had disappeared into the shadows.

It was okay, Alastor had given you permission to come into his room and the magic that served as his room's lock allowed your presence inside, despite how uncomfortable you felt being in the room regardless.

It hadn't been the first time you had turned down his offers of protection, companionship, and whatever else you desired. If you wanted, he would grant it to you.

Was that worth your soul?

You were scared, terrified even though Alastor assured you again, again, and again that he would never abuse your soul and it would be his greatest treasure. Hell, he had even written a contract of rules on himself pertaining what he could and couldn't do to your soul.

And tired of being frightened by this overwhelming strange one-sided courtship, you fled.

You weren't sure why Alastor allowed you to flee to begin with, perhaps he was giving you space to sort out your thoughts, but you had unconsciously glanced back towards him when you did run.

You had never seen such an expression like that on Alastor’s face before.

You couldn’t get that expression out of your mind and so, only a few hours later, you found yourself in the last place you wanted to be: Alastor’s bedroom.

Still, you couldn't describe that expression.

Irritation, anger, vexedness, longing, agitation, hunger, stress?

It floored you that Alastor could even feel so many of those emotions considering you knew his background. It stunned you even further he felt them for you since you believed he was interested in you because you were the only female deer demon – the only doe – in his territory.

Was Alastor interested in you beyond your demonic characteristics?

You jump when the shadows in the room flicker around and Alastor materializes, clearly taken back by your presence as he takes a step backwards when his red eyes land on you.

You stand from the bed, ready to apologize. “Alastor, I'm sorry about tod–” You pause, eyes widening when you notice something. “Y-your hair…!”

A large chunk of his hair is missing. It looks as though it's been torn out.

“Did you get into a fight?!” You quickly move towards him to get a better look, vaguely noting Alastor’s smile is tight and he almost resembles a trapped animal with his tense posture. “Are you hurt anywhere else, Alastor?”

Alastor stares down at your sweet concerned face and almost lets a sigh escape him. “I am fine, my dear Doe.” He resists the urge to bristle defensively when you try to get closer to where his hair is torn. “I did not go on a rampage today.”

You blink. “If… if you didn't fight anyone, what happened?” You looked back to his hair and winced. It looked painful.

Alastor’s smile widens to grotesque proportions. “I did this to myself.” His eyes watched you heatedly as you stumbled back in shock at his confession. “It's a bit of a habit, you see. I tend to rip out my hair when I'm feeling stressed to the point that even slaughter will not relieve it.”

Your ears drop.

“I never thought you would run from me, dearest. Now tell me,” Alastor’s hands are creeping up towards his head as his eyes cloud with fervour, “why are you so afraid of me?”

“Alastor!” You rush forward, clumsily pressing yourself against him and grabbing his hands with yours before he can tug at his hair again. You lace your fingers with his longer ones, feeling your face burn hotly as your body shook nervously. “W-why do you need my soul? Can't we do it all without me giving you my soul?”

Alastor tightens his fingers around yours. “I admit I am a complete novice in the area of… romance,  but is it not a romantic gesture? I would give you my soul if I were able.”

You couldn’t help but to laugh and Alastor raises a brow. “If that's what you think, then you have thousands of spouses already, including Husk.” You snicker again when Alastor’s eye twitches. 

“Husker.” Alastor utters in disbelief. “My spouse?” He looks as though he just swallowed rotten meat.

“Romance can be almost anything if the partner appreciates it.” You smile. “A flower. A walk together. Dinner with each other. Stargazing. Anything really as long as you enjoy their company.”

Alastor raises your hand slowly towards his lips and you shiver (and not from fear) as he places a gentle kiss on the back of your hand. “My lovely Doe, would you care to accompany me on a walk in my bayou?”

Your face softens as your eyes move towards Alastor’s missing chunk of hair. “As long as you come talk to me when you get to that point again. I don't want you hurting yourself, especially over me.”

“It's not a big deal, Darling. My hair will be grown back by tomorrow morning.” Alastor lets out a hum at your glare. “But I suppose I can if you wish.”

As long as he got his sweet Doe in the end.

[dilly-dahlying]

I think… I’d really like to not to force the magic school idea. I want to take my time with the early stages and make sure I’m writing it when I’m ready and not rush into it. I feel like with a lot of my past projects, the quicker I try to force the story to work the less happy I am with it and I enjoy the process less (cough podcast cough). I think the reason why I’m loving mourning dove’s roost so much is bc I waited a bit to really understand what I wanted to accomplish with the story. So! tree school idea is on the back burner for now. I’m allowing it to occupy space and brainstorm in the background but I’m not going to stress over it rn

so i had a project slated for November (Topaz the Human Girl— a human girl haunts the paranormal world) but lately another project has been tormenting me (magic university set in a Giant Tree) and I don’t know which one to focus on ToT

[cheshirebitch]

ℕ𝕠𝕥 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕪 𝕆𝕡𝕡𝕠𝕤𝕚𝕥𝕖𝕤

(Alastor x Angel Dust’s Sister! Reader) pt. 1

It really has been a long time, huh?

( next )

“Listen guys, I got my dad involved and that helped a lot but…” Charlie rubbed the back of her neck while rolling her head to look at Vaggie, silently asking for help.

“What Charlie is trying to say is that if you guys have other strings you can pull, now is the time to pull them.” Vaggie wrapped her arm behind Charlie to show some support. It was desperately needed after Charlie still hasn’t completely recovered from Vaggie’s angel secret. Angel Dust crossed his arms, practically wrapping himself in them like a protective blanket. Husk took note and so did Alastor, both watching with two different reactions but the same understanding. Angel Dust had a string he didn’t want to pull. Alastor eyed him carefully, already knowing a few things that Angel Dust was trying to keep hidden. Husk watched confused and worried on what could have the normally loud and confident spider to do a complete 180.

“I’m sorry guys, but I don’t have anything.” Cherri shrugged, still not quite over the death of someone she genuinely started to have feelings for. Angel Dust squeezed her into a side hug.

“I, too, have pretty much pulled every string I could so far my dear.” Alastor slyly spoke, eyeing Angel Dust. He was begging Angel Dust to just call that one person. Any excuse to just see her, let alone work with her.

“I am the string that was pulled, I ain’t got nothing else.” Husk muttered, sending a sideway glare at Alastor. It only made him smile further with amusement. Charlie started to look stressed with each negative response. Lucifer was already in another room trying to see what he could do and Vaggie only had Charlie over these years. Everyone turned to Angel Dust again, all having the understanding he was the last one that could maybe have a secret weapon to help them prepare for the black lash of Adam’s murder.

“I might have something, but only if we really don’t have anything else.” He was practically begging for this to only be used if there really was nothing else left. Lucifer came out with bad news written on his face. Alastor smiled with pure excitement.

“I’m sorry Charlie, there’s only so much I can do to keep us clean after killing Adam. We are going to need someone else really powerful on this. I don’t think the heavens are going to go easy on us.” He stood on the other side of Charlie, rubbing her back. Charlie looked back at Angel Dust with pleading eyes.

“Oh fuck, fine. Okay. Just-“ He sighed, rubbing his one set of hands on his face as the other set started pulling out his phone.

“I’ll be right back.” Cherri looked worried as Angel Dust left the room, not wanting anyone to overhear the conversation at all. Alastor watched with light dancing in his eyes. He can finally work his magic with another powerful demon. Maybe he could even trap her under a contract? It would take a game of mind chess to try and corner someone like her though, but he doesn’t mind entertainment like that.

“He’s got something and he doesn’t?” Lucifer whispered, not so well, to Charlie about Alastor. Alastor snarled, choosing not to respond. Only because he was trying to overhear whatever Angel Dust was saying in the other room.

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“Hey, listen. I wouldn’t be calling you if I didn’t have any other option.” Angel Dust whispered into the phone. I looked down at it, on speakerphone since I was currently looking over papers in my office.

“Hey, Anthony. What’s going on? You can always call me first. Family first with me, okay? I’m not like mom or dad.” Even though I did take over Dad’s spot as the leader of his mob gang in my life and death. I flipped my papers over and shoved them into the file, quietly filing them away.

“I know, I just-“ he took a deep breath before continuing, breaking my heart. Ever since I took over, all my little brother could see me as, was just a mini dad. The one who pretty much abused us, molded us to be monsters. Anthony had a hard time with it, resulting in a bad path and death. Molly was caught in the crossfire which led to my depression and ruthless behavior, pushing me to be in dad’s spot after he died. I still haven’t found him or mom down here, same with Molly but she had to be in Heaven. I refused any other answer. I also refuse to let Anthony slip through my fingers again.

“It’s okay. You still staying at that hotel? I’ll be there in fifteen.” I hung up the phone, slamming everything into the filing cabinet. I kicked my door open, crashing close after I moved through it.

“Alright, Anthony needs our help, let’s go!” I pulled my sunglasses on and grabbed my baseball bat off my personal guard. All the mob gang started to shuffle around, getting ready to move out.

We all resided in a massive warehouse not too far from the hotel. I made sure I was stationed in whatever warehouse was closest to Anthony, never keeping more than a fifteen minute distance between us. I will never risk being that close to saving him again. I even started talking to the Radio Demon at overlord meetings to make sure Anthony was okay. Alastor never seemed to mind, maybe he even enjoyed our conversations which was uncharacteristically of him.

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“Hey, I just wanted to say thank you for doing whatever you did. I greatly appreciate it along with everyone else.” Charlie held his shoulder, Angel Dust looking like he was a nervous wreck. He hasn’t talked to his sister more than he had to. She doesn’t even know about the horrible treatment Valentino puts him through. Guilt gnawed at him for having Cherri and Charlie see more about his life than his own sister. The sister who always took the blame and the worst beatings for him, the same sister who had a huge meltdown that broke her after he died and Molly. He knew she was different since then but he could only still see his dad or his mom when he saw her. Besides, he didn’t want her wrapped up in the same mess he is in with Valentino. There was nothing she could do.

“Yeah, just please don’t freak out when you realize who I called.” Angel Dust walked back with Charlie, nervously fidgeting with his hands. Cherri knew who he called the second he came back.

“You called her? Holy shit!” Cherri was shocked beyond belief as she rushed Angel Dust.

“Called who?” Vaggie questioned, leaning towards Charlie with panicked eyes. Alastor was watching silently with piqued interest for the reactions his hotel coworkers would have. Lucifer looked confused between Cherri and Angel Dust.

“Was it someone we should be worried about?” Lucifer asked cautiously, sharing a look with Vaggie. That’s when it hit Lucifer in the face. The only overlord they haven’t tried to contact for help was,

“La Morte.” Cherri finished, unsure if Angel Dust really wanted to share the connection part.

“How do you know her?” Vaggie snapped at him. Which irritated Angel Dust completely, losing every defensive thought he was having.

“She’s my sister.” He snarled back. That’s when the door echoed a loud knock. Husk snapped up and watched the door carefully. He remembers her during her first couple decades down here. She mercilessly killed thousands, wild and insane. Sometimes it seemed like there was a pattern and others it seemed like she just lost her sanity and killed anything near her. That was till she found her mob members from her days alive, recruited them all again, and quickly became an overlord. She was a brand new overlord when he lost his status. So, he never really met her but he knew she was a force to recon with. High tension was in the air as Alastor excitedly opened the door.

“Hello dear! Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel! My name's Alastor, pleasure to meet you sweetheart, quite a pleasure!” Angel watched carefully at how Alastor kissed the top of her hand. She watched him with something dangerous behind her eyes, she watched him like dad watched his members.

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I watched as Alastor did his usual greeting towards me. Odd he was acting like we have never met before though. Just as I looked up from Alastor, I scanned the room for my brother while responding to his greeting.

”Alastor, we both have met before but it's always great to see you. Please refer to me here as (Y/n).” My eyes spot Anthony after taking in his friends I have seen or met before.

Husk was an overlord right before I practically slid into his seat. He lost his power to Alastor all those years ago. He used to be an arrogant asshole but it seems he was humbled greatly after all that.

Lucifer Morningstar, the king of hell himself was here. He was standing next to his daughter Charlie with a sly smile on his face. I never quite understood why a man like him was down here considering he was always so much nicer than any other demon I have met down here. It was also quite a shame Charlie was grounded down here when she was basically an angel herself. Both of them were extremely kind and sweet. I couldn’t help but smile softly at them both.

There was an ex angel next to Charlie. She spared one of my older members who only really went to hell for never saying anything when I mercilessly killed my brother’s drug dealer. I nodded my head at her.

Cherri and Anthony were standing next to one of Alastor’s souls, Niffty. Cherri would call me off of Anthony’s phone when he was going through it really bad. I always appreciated her filling me in whenever something was going on in my brother’s life. I owe her a lot. Anthony looked nervous to see me though, avoiding eye contact with me at first.

”Anthony-“ I started as Alastor gently released his hold on my hand. Anthony held up a hand, trying to stop me from talking any further.

”It’s Angel Dust here.” I stopped with a furrow in my brows. Why would he correct me like that? Why would he want to go by a drug name, let alone the one that ended up killing him? Was he embarrassed by me?

“What?” Maybe I just heard him wrong, right?

”Sis, it's Angel Dust here. Anthony is dead.” Everyone was watching this argument unfold carefully. I dropped my hands that were reaching out for a hug from him. It broke my heart to hear him mention his death. I don’t even know if he knows how I held his body till his heart completely stopped. It was only for a couple seconds, but it was the most heartbreaking years of my life after he died. My eyes looked at the floor as I chewed on my lip, blinking away the tears that threatened to show. Nodding my head, I sniffed once. All emotions wiped off my face, replaced with the business face our dad taught me. I locked eyes with him.

”Angel Dust,” it rolled off my tongue like the poison it was, “what did you need help with?”

*

*

*

(As always, the characters belong to their owner and the story belongs to me. If you have any requests or ideas, send them over! I will gladly try to write things for my supporters! It really has been a little while since I wrote something lol. I promise I have been working on pieces here and there of everything. I have just been going through a lot of personal things and life changing choices :)! But let me know how you like this. This is the version of my recent series idea but more aimed towards the aspect of whatever you guys have in mind while the other version I have is more detailed on how the reader is. Anyway! Thank you for the love and have a great day <3 :)!)

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

title: call it the magic of christmas

pairing: jameson hawthorne x avery grambs

synopsis: avery has to finish her work before her deadline (christmas day) but she’s not exactly being kind to herself about it… luckily she happens to have a hawthorne of a boyfriend who knows what to do

warnings:

a/n: dedicated to @wish-i-were-heather, merry christmas ❤️🤍💚🎄

taglist: @lovethornes @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @fleuriosa @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77 @maybxlle @sheisntyou @anintellectualintellectual @aleatorio1234 @adalia-jaycee @off-to-the-r4ces @lyra-kane @reminiscentreader @lyrakanefanatic @imaseabear @elizaa31 @loveinalocket @lanterns-and-daydreams @hermesenthusiast @eternal--dream @shattered-glass-roses

Avery was on the brink tearing her hair out over this set of paperwork, the deadline was midnight and it was currently an hour until the clock struck that deadly hour. She thought she’d managed her time well, she’d thought she’d been prepared but everything had to come crashing down on Christmas Eve, of course.

“Heiress?” Jameson called, walking into the room. His eyebrows pinched in concern upon seeing Avery still at her desk, frantically signing and scribbling on pieces of paper, her impossible to do list not even half done.

“Give me half an hour,” she responded, knowing what he’s say before even said it. She didn’t even take her eyes off of the paper, “tops.”

“It’s Christmas, Ave,” he said gently, the green of his eyes whirring into a sea of worry.

“I have a paper to finish,” she shook her head sharply, her laser focus almost admirable, “and it’s not Christmas yet.”

“Put it down, heiress,” Jameson told her, leaning on her desk.

Avery still hadn’t looked up and continued to fill in one of the many blank boxes still left on the page, “it needs to be in by tomorrow,” she explained, a panic he wasn’t too used to hearing creeping up in the back of her throat.

“Put it down,” he repeated immediately.

This wasn’t Avery. Whatever this was, it was making her stressed and frustrated and anxious and Jameson couldn’t bear it. How dare anything make her feel that way.

“No,” she replied bluntly, before cursing her pen for running out.

“Are you even going to look at me or am I going to have to take my shirt off?” Jameson deadpanned, staring at her intently to see if she would even minority react to anything he was trying.

“I’m concentrating Jameson,” she snapped, ignoring the last comment as tempting as the offer was.

“Fine,” he sighed, “but you asked for this.”

Smoothly Jameson shed his shirt, tossing it behind him, exposing his toned upper body and scarred chest. He stood there, a Hawthorne smirk plastered on his lips. He played a betting game in his head: how long would Avery be able resist his little charade for?

“I’m not looking,” she sang, as if reading his mind.

His grin only widened, “but you want to.”

“Nope,” she said, over enunciating the ‘p’ so it popped as her eyes moved from left to right at lightning speed to skim the text in front of her.

“I can see you trying to sneak a glance,” Jameson smiled, observing her eyes lingering a little longer on the left side where he stood, each time she read.

“I’m trying to finish my work,” Avery scoffed, pushing a loose stand of her hair out of her face.

“Which you don’t need to be doing,” he said.

“Yes I do,” she replied, an uneven bitterness in her tone, “some of us have a sense of responsibility.”

As soon as the words left her lips she regretted them. She looked up to meet him eyes, guilt rippling across her features.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean that,” she rushed, pausing what she was doing.

“You’re stressed Avery,” Jameson told her softly, taking her face into the warm palms of his hands, “take a break.”

She shook her head and turned away, “I don’t need a break.”

“Are you really going to make me sing Hamilton shirtless now,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair and down the back of his neck, “because if that will get you away I will.”

“I’m sure you could get Xander to duet with you,” she shrugged lightly.

He scrunched up his face, “he always steals the good bits.”

“Look,” Avery exhaled, “as much as I’d love to leave all of this, I can’t afford to, the deadline is tonight. Like tonight, tonight.”

“I get that,” he nodded gently, “really, believe me, I do, but this isn’t good for you.”

“I told you,” she said, “thirty more minutes, tops.”

“Who were you trying to convince there, you or me,” he asked with a witty smile.

“Shut up, you,” Avery grinned with a dopey love struck look in her eyes, “thirty minutes and I’m all yours.”

Jameson wiggled his eyebrows, “I like the sound of that.”

“You’re shameless,” she shook her head, laughing slightly.

“What can I say,” he shrugged, “I’m a Hawthorne.”

“That you are,” she murmured with a small smile, gazing up at him, “you’re distracting me now! You sly little-“

“Sorry, I’m going I’m going,” he said quickly, raising his hands above his head. Jameson began to walk out of the room when suddenly he spun on his heel and walked back, “but one thing before I leave…”

She hummed a response, too consumed back in her work to look back up again.

“Goodbye kiss?”

Avery sighed, putting her pen down, “I’m going to see you in thirty minutes.”

“Thirty whole minutes!” Jameson groaned, “you might as well just sacrifice me to the devil and let me boil in hell.”

“Well isn’t that tempting,” she said, standing up slowly and taking a few steps towards him, until her arms were around his neck and their faces were almost touching, “but I sort of want my Christmas present tomorrow so I guess I’ll keep you around.”

“Glad to know you’re still deeply in love with me, heiress,” Jameson smiled softly, all doe-eyed, with a sweet sarcasm.

“Who says I ever was,” Avery teased him, her fingertip drawing a spiral on the back of his neck, sending a shiver down his back.

He forged a wince at her comment, “you wound me.”

“Shame,” she whispered, slowly pressing her lips onto his.

Jameson melted into her, trailing his hands up her body and deep into her hair. He began to kiss her deeper, more hungrily and she almost immediately mirrored him. The taste, the feeling, the adrenaline. It was perfect, it was all perfect. They fell into a rhythm as they often did of kissing and breathing, lost in the taste of each other, their own overwhelming love and the scared moment.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, finishing it off, before swiftly knocking her off of her feet and throwing her over his shoulder. Before she even had time to process it Avery was already there.

She yelped, flailing around a little, “what are you doing?”

“Nothing much,” he shrugged, beginning to make his way towards the exit.

“Jameson,” she growled, “put me down.”

“Too late for that heiress,” he sighed, “you fell for my trap.”

“Trap?”

“Well with my naturally seductive qualities, great body and irresistible lips I managed to lure you right where I wanted you to throw you over my shoulder to remove you from this,” he explained as if it were some intricately designed plot that mad been created by a mastermind.

“So you manipulated me to stop me from working,” Avery deadpanned, feeling the blood rushing to her head and she hung limp upside down.

“You say manipulated, I say kindly wooed away from mentally damaging activities,” he replied, leaving the room completely.

“Mentally damaging?” she scoffed, “look Jamie, I love you but this isn’t funny, I’ve got serious work I need to do, it’s important.”

“Not as important as you,” he said softly.

“I appreciate your concern but I’m fine,” she replied, a little more firmness to her tone.

“You’ve been at the desk for eight hours,” he exclaimed “even Grayson wouldn’t be sane after that.”

Avery groaned, beginning to kick her legs in attempts to free herself, “Jameson I swear to you-“

“Come on heiress,” Jameson only laughed, “where’s your Christmas spirit?”

“Up my WOAH-“

Before she could finish her sentence Jameson had began to take off down the corridor, running. Avery squealed at the sudden change in pace, being shaken and upside down. Her head began to pound as she continued to try and free herself from his grasp.

“Put me down!”

“No can do!”

No matter how hard she tried, his hands were too firmly held onto her waist for her to even remotely wriggle her way out of them, much to her frustration.

“When I get down I am going to shave your head,” she yelled, “in your sleep!”

Jameson came to an abrupt halt, turning a little white.

“You wouldn’t,” he asked, in barely a whisper.

“I’ve already got the razor picked out,” Avery smirked as Xander walked around the corner.

He paused slowly taking in the scene, furrowed brows and inquisitive eyes.

“Shirtless brother,” he pointed to Jameson, “annoyed girlfriend over his shoulder. Nope, not gonna ask.”

“Xander! Wait!” she shouted after him.

He turned and came back.

“I need your help,” she said, gesturing to her situation.

“I think you’re in safe hands,” Xander replied, jerking his head towards Jameson’s arms wrapped around her leg, holding her into place.

“No, not safe hands,” she disagreed, “I want to get down but Jameson’s stubborn as it gets and he’s not letting me.”

“You’re up there for a good reason,” Jameson called.

“Shhhh you are not part of this conversation,” she replied smacking his back, “please help me Xand, I’ll do anything.”

Xander looked intrigued, his eyes sparkled at the word ‘anything’. Still he pondered the sentence for a long while before answering.

“You know, maybe Jameson is right,” he said slowly.

“Not you too!” she groaned letting her head fall limp, almost doll life.

“Don’t ask any of them for help,” Jameson smiled, “I’ve got them all onside.”

Xander looked at her apologetically, “we conducted mission: get-Avery-out-of-the-office as a team and we’re not going back on it now, sorry.”

“Xander, please,” she begged, “you gotta help me out here.”

He sighed, looking at her and from his expression she knew she was practically done for unless…

“You owe me still,” Avery said, she didn’t like holding things over people, especially not people that she loved but she really needed to finish her work.

Xander eyes widen, adding the the hold of guilt that was being drilled in Avery’s chest, “you said you wouldn’t bring that up!”

“Desperate times calls for desperate measures,” she winced, “sorry Xand.”

“If I do help and get you down…” he said slowly, “…will you stop working.”

“Yes,” she responded almost instantly, the lie rolling off of her tongue simply.

“Pinky swear,” Xander replied, extending his pinky finger towards the upside down Avery.

She sighed, giving him an apologetic look. She couldn’t break a pinky promise, so she wouldn’t make one she couldn’t keep.

“You just lied blatantly to my face,” Xander said dryly.

“Look I’m sorry Xand,” she rushed, “but this thing here is being impossible, it’s one page I have to finish and then I’m done.”

He shook his head, clutching his chest where his heart was, “take her away Jamie.”

“Xand no!” she yelled, kicking her legs.

“I can’t even look at you right now,” he said, shaking his head slowly, walking im the opposite direction from Jameson. Her one hope of escape. Gone.

Jameson laughed and carried on walking.

“This is not funny Jameson,” she groaned, burying her face into his back.

“I’m quite amused,” he replied.

“Well I’m glad one of us is having a good time,” she snapped, the sharpness in her voice foreign to him.

Slowly and carefully, he set her down on the floor, making sure to keep her arms to support her incase she got dizzy from being upside down for so long.

“I’m really stressed about this,” she told him, unwanted tears pricking in the corner of her eyes, “and it’s like you don’t get it, I don’t think you understand how I feel right now I’m so overwhelmed and-“

“It’s done,” Jameson interrupted her.

“What?”

“Alisa finalised everything exactly as you wanted it,” he explained cooly.

Her eyebrows pinched together as she titled her head to the side, “I don’t understand.”

“You needed to take a break,” he shrugged, “I got it sorted.”

“You’re joking,” she laughed, “right?”

“Call it the magic of Christmas,” he winked, brushing a chunk of hair away from her face to tuck in behind her ear.

“You are a meddler,” she said, trying to suppress her grin and failing.

He could only beam back, “you chose to date me.”

She smiled, staring at him for a moment. What did she do to get so lucky? To be able to look into those eyes every day, taste those lips, know every inch of that body. She did choose him, she knew as much, but she bloody knew why.

Still, Avery folded her arms over her chest and scrunched her nose up, “I’m still mad at you by the way.”

“Mad enough at me to have a heated make out session?” Jameson asked, with a suggestive glance towards the shut bedroom door.

“That’s a stretch,” Avery replied.

“Okay,” he shrugged, masking his disappointment, “what about a kiss then?”

“Hmmm,” she hummed, the sound a buzz in the back of her throat, “let me think.”

“I promise not to throw you over my shoulder,” he winked, making her laugh.

Slowly she took his face in her hands and kissed his nose first, making him chuckle. Then she closed her eyes and savoured his lips. So delicate, so natural, so surreal. The clock struck twelve, the chimes boomed across the house.

“Merry Christmas, Heiress,” he whispered against her lips.

“Merry Christmas Jameson.”

[nininikki]

delicates — s. gojo

content warnings: perv!gojo, fwb!gojo, panty-stealing, panty-sniffing, jerking off with said panties, increasingly mild jealousy, male masturbation

author’s note: some horny desperate gojo to perk those holiday spirits. love y’all 💋🫶🏽🤍

“satoru, have you seen my pink panties?”

he had barely gotten the phone up to his ear before nearly exclaiming, “your what?” through the dwindling cell phone static, gojo could hear the frantic zipping and unzipping of suitcases, opening and closing of drawers, and the stress in not only your breathing, but your question: have you seen my pink panties?

at the words, “pink panties”, bells begin to sound in satoru’s head. they’re tiny, lacy, and cotton candy pink almost all around, apart from the hem, which is decorated with a little white bow. the first time you’d worn them, they’d proved to be an issue for satoru’s restraint. much too pretty to ruin by tearing off your legs, but still a hindrance to him in the animal-like mood he was in. he could recall you gasping as he moved the thin material to the side so he could curl the tip of his tongue up against your clit for the first time of many that night.

“oh, nothing. forget i asked.” it was more than obvious you were stressing yourself to hell and back over the imminent (and very mandatory) conference trip to new orleans. it’s evident now, and it was more than evident about a week ago when you invited satoru over to your place with the intention of letting him ease the worry away. and he did, one salacious orgasm at a time.

crackly phone static sobers gojo instantly, and he’s back with you—present day you—and your current dilemma. “but, still,” he hears you defeatedly slump into the cushiony spring of your mattress. “where’d they go so fast?”

your new question makes him sit up in his bed. “well, uh,” gojo hardly stuttered, but you managed to catch him at an impossibly bad time. “when’d you see ‘em last?”

“they were in a stack of laundry on my dresser, i swear.” like magic, satoru’s mind conjures an image of what you might look like on the other end of the phone. lying across your bed, perhaps twirling a lock of hair up and down your finger or fidgeting with the golden initial necklace that always hung so delicately around your throat. he imagines a cartoonishly big question mark floating above your head as you work the plushness of your bottom lip between your teeth. the mental sight was a pretty one, albeit rather funny.

you resume your recant with, “then, just like that, poof! gone.” a sigh passed between your lips. “i mean, what am i gonna do now? i wanted to bring those with me.”

“those?” satoru hesitantly flicks his bedside lamp on now, hoping seeing will help him understand. “on a work trip?”

you sighed again, this time exasperated. “oh, please. it’s new orleans. did you think i was a nun or something?”

“whatever,” with a blink of his eyes, he tried to brush away the nagging, envious feeling that tugged at his navel and nearly led him to nausea, but it wasn’t at all that simple. “why’d you call me, anyway?” were you calling all your recent lovers and alerting them to be on the lookout for a pair of frilly pink underwear? the thought of it was funny only before satoru fully registered the idea of you having any other lover that was not him.

“well, i just thought that maybe…” your words trailed off in a way that indicated you’d lost them on purpose. your acrylics could be heard nervously clicking together on the other end.

gojo scoffs with the incredulity of a completely innocent man. “what, you think i’m the panty thief?” at the sound of air sucking between your teeth, and otherwise dreadful silence, he wants to roll his eyes. “i can’t believe you. you ever stop to think it was your freaky ass housekeeper?”

a sharp gasp crackles through the receiver. “rosmerta would never!”

“yeah, yeah. just call me when you think better of me.”

“then i guess i won’t be calling for a very long time.” you say, and a stiff dial tone fills gojo’s ears.

his conversation with you should’ve sobered him up completely. he should’ve been shamed into flicking his lamp off and falling asleep (even though he couldn’t if he wanted to). but hearing your voice only fueled his fire further. all day, your panties had burned a titillating hole in the top drawer of his dresser, and he’d had more than enough of denying himself.

when the sun sank beneath the clouds and it was finally dark enough to abate any oncoming feelings of guilt—although, there was a shamefully small amount of it—satoru had your pretty pink underwear splayed out over his lap, teasing it over the growing bulge in his pants.

he had felt like such a perv when he plucked them off your dresser’s tower of laundry and stashed them within his pocket. and he’d felt like even more of a perv when he kissed you out of your early morning slumber to tell you he was on the way out. “gotta go, baby. early shift today.” satoru whispered into your soft skin.

immediately, you’d attempted to rise from the comfort of your bed. “i’ll walk you out,” you yawned.

smoothing a hand over your cheek, satoru’s eyes softened at the sleepy tenderness in yours, and he’d wanted to collapse back into the mattress without a second thought. “no, you stay here and rest, alright.” but he simply could not bring himself to rest alongside you with such a dirty secret in his pocket.

and so now here he was, touching himself through his underwear like a virgin schoolboy as he brushed the fabric over his nose. the wholly clean scent of them couldn’t have stopped him from envisioning all the times you may have gotten them a mess with the slickness of your arousal.

you were wearing a dress that first time satoru had fucked you in these. and you weren’t shy at all about letting him bend you over the edge of your bed and push the skirt up over your hips. he was practically salivating at the sight: the thick globes of your ass on perfect display for his starving hands, and the damp plumpness of your cunt on perfect display for his starving mouth. thin ribbons of arousal had dripped their way down your labia and come to a head at the bulbous tip of your clit, while of course staining the almost transparent material in its wake.

the memory makes gojo abandon all efforts of teasing, and he’s letting his cock spring free from his underwear. he lets the angry mushroom tip graze against the crotch area of the thong, precisely where your slit would be. if he closed his eyes for long enough, he could imagine he was doing just that—rubbing himself up against your leaking slit until you were weak with pleas.

when his eyes flutter open the tiniest bit, he could see a fresh bead of precum dotting the material. “so good,” he murmured as he remembered how easily your chubby cunt swallowed up the fabric. your eyes, lidded and framed by fluffy lashes, sat teary and reddened in your head.

satoru had grown fond of how worked up you tended to get when teased. your manicured hands had cupped over the round peaks of your ass, spreading yourself apart with the hope of being filled. “please,” you had whimpered, and he couldn’t help himself at sight of your slick soaked lips virtually calling out to him. relief filled your eyes as he pushed the dainty cloth to the side, and then ran an impatient finger tantalizingly down your slit.

fresh saliva filled the underside of his mouth almost immediately, haunted by the memory of your slick bursting over his tongue in all the best and worst ways. there was no way gojo would be able to stomach the idea of another man peeling these off your skin just as he had that night. could he get you as loud for him as you were for satoru? could he tease the head of his cock over your hungry entrance until you were practically dying for it? could he spring your pretty eyes with tears after every thrust? gojo didn’t think so.

dampening the palm of his hand with a pearl of spit, gojo began sliding it up and down his length, murmuring small curses to himself as the picture of you bled through his mind. “so fuckin’ nasty.” he grunted when he remembered how you’d always time the movements of your hips perfectly to match his thrusts and fuck him back. “am i doin’ a good job, daddy?” you would look back at him and ask, smearing your juices over his pelvis with the increasingly weakening pushes of your hips.

“makin’ daddy so proud.” satoru hummed to himself, tightening his grip just over the head of his dick and imagining the very same hold your pussy seemed to have on him.

“i’m gonna cum,” you would tearfully whisper, just a split second before your body collapsed under the weight of the pleasure your lover was inflicting on you. usually immediately after, gojo’s release would follow upon him seeing the fervent manner in which your pussy spasmed around his cock as it drooled out thick rivulets of milky finish.

satoru felt himself twitch, inching closer and closer toward his own release as he teased the flimsy garment to and fro over his cock. but it just wasn’t enough.

in an act of utter desperation, or perhaps madness, he brought your panties up to his face and allowed his nose to brush up against the crotch. he was almost ashamed of the shiver that coursed down his spine. although the smell was relatively harmless, the mere idea of suffocating in you worked his nerves without relent.

“please,” gojo begged no one in particular. if he could, he would hold you against his face forever, smothering himself in the warmth of your skin until he was one with you. if he could, he would be en route to your apartment this instant to tell you the truth. “i love you.”

with a choked whimper that followed his untimely confession, satoru slipped over edge and into the blissful abyss of orgasm. the tugs on his cock became haphazard and sloppy with the gradual spurts of cum oozing from the head of his dick. it wasn’t until he opened his eyes and removed the rose colored panties from his face did he realize the gravity of what he had admitted. he loved you.

[yourlildolliewriter]

buzzing bees:

7:30 am. That's when you needed to be at work. It was currently 6:40 am, you simply basked in the sun's rising glow. The same rising glow that you were met with every day. (E/c) eyes met the sun's rosy pink settle. After a while you left your kitchen and walked out to your car. You then sighed, started the car and began driving to work. Work was especially hard especially since you'd have to see Zeno. Not that it was hard for you to physically go to work but fucking hell your boss literally looked like some sort of magically handsome bodyguard from those sickening, but sweet romance novels you read. With a sigh you parked. Walking inside, waving and greeting your coworkers like usual before arriving to your desk, you placed your stuff down and began working. Working like you've probably won't do again, you sat there for a good while before eventually zeno walked in. Being flooded with meetings he was physically and botheringly stressed. That you could tell. Especially since you two were together since your 8th month at the office.

It was now noon when he called you into his office. "(M/n);" zeno murmured, voice full of need and lust. "How can such a beautiful thing like you work here... An office filled of sluggers and dirt... And don't you dare say because of me." you gasped while zeno chuckled, he loved teasing you with his words before you two made out. He then sighed and with a boring old groan pulled you on his lap when you were close enough to him. Rolling his cloth, hardened manhood against your soft mounds of flesh. You simply whimpered as he did that. "gonna make you moan my name so loudly that we'll get caught... You like that huh? Getting caught fucking your boss?" zeno whispered against your skin, his hands playfully teasing you under your shirt. God he's never been so turned on before. You on the other hand simply let out tiny whimpers, moans and even gasps, trying not to alert your colleagues over. He hated sharing you with others with a burning passion. You were his and his alone. He's fucked you dumb on his office chair and send you off. But today, today was different... He'd make out with you before placing you on the desk. Working his way with your shirt's buttons. As soon as he got your buttons off he held you up and removed your shirt, sucking and kissing your chest while you writhed under him. His hands slid up from your thigh and to your nipples. Squeezing the bud gently between his fingers. He then wasted no time dragging his hands down to your pants. Feverishly taking it off. "Look at you... All pretty on display for me... All for me baby huh..." zeno whispered against you. Tugging down on the hem of your boxers, pulling it down after a few short ones. "Zeno not here! Someone could enter and see us!" you gasped. Desperately not trying to get caught with your boss. Zeno didn't care. He sighed, reached over to his desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of lube and got to work on your hole.

You didn't know how long it had been, round after round, orgasm after orgasm, zeno didn't release once. Like... At all! Not fair! His green colored eyes met your (e/c) his cock kissing your prostate with each heavy thrust he brought to you. Your (s/c) hands mingled in his black hair. You didn't even see the clock. 2:30. His next meeting which he was required to bring one person from his office to it with him. He was bringing you. You were about to moan when his phone rang. His hand shooting up to your mouth.

"Hello?" zeno simply said into the phone. "Ah, sorry. (M/n) and I can't make it." zeno chuckled softly "no no no everything's fine, it just (m/n) is sick and he asked me to watch him" zeno once again chuckled,his dick slamming into your prostate over and over again. You had to bite back at least another set of moans, All that were building up. "Yes yes I'll let you know when hes better. We'll reschedule to the 20th of October. Goodbye now." and with that, zeno hung up, looking down at your (e/c) eyes and your (s/c) skin marked up by him. Zeno, your boss... Your boyfriend. He eventually came after a while. Your last and final orgasm, for now, chased after his.

After he cleaned you off zeno gave you after care, letting you stay in his office until you were all better to work, and after work he'd take you home and pound you senseless all over again! This time letting you moan his name, trace his tattoos, run your hands through his hair and pulling him into a sloppy make out. All for you! He even let you have the week off for your Wobbleness. He didn't want to show you to your coworkers like that. Not at all. He hated the idea of them seeing what's his. Of them seeing you.

[achillesuwu]

Au where merthur have soulmate identifying mark but merlin is the only one who know they are because if Arthur knew he would find out about his magic 👀 (arthur's mark being a beautiful dragon mainly on on his back but its tall is draped on his torso, a wing stretch on his right shoulder, another end on his hip and its head rest upon his stomach. As if it were jealousy protecting him. its scale are of a blue so dark it nearly look black. It has golden eye and tread of gold on is horn, gold shimmer on its body highlighting its scale at some place.

It screams powerful sorcerer.)

And thus it doesn't change anything from the show. Merlin doesn't tell him not even at the very end (Merlin's mark is a smaller red dragon with its head on his shoulder and who is is holding itself on his shoulder)

It would be very angsty but also SO FUNNY if in a post return futur where arthur (Gwen, the knights) are very confuse and lost but luckily for them there exist multiple center for "People who got Teleported at the wrong place/Bought back from the dead? We are here to help!/ your five yo drank a weird potion? No problem! Etc" basically Magic help center.

Just imagine basic social worker sorcerers who tries to do their job at 3 am and see THE Emrys mark ™ on a random dude and they are like *gasp*.

Them : what the fuck

Arthur :???

Them :WHAT THE FUCK

the others :????

Them : we are calling your soulmate RIGHT NOW. WHAT THE FUCK should I call the government too???? I'M NOT PAY ENOUGH FOR THIS.

Arthur : my???

Them : YOU. DO NOT MOVE IF I LOSE YOU I'M DEAD. DEAD.

You can imagine arthur pendragon pacing like a 13 years old stressed before an oral presentation because even if he was afraid then thought he globally didn't really care about his soulmate. He realised that it wasn't so much that he didn't care but he thought it would simply never be so he just... Kinda forgot about it. Now he just can not put it away because is soulmate IS coming and WHERE IS MERLIN WHEN HE NEEDS HIM (he is blocking any thoughts about Merlin potential dead thank you very much)

(Gwen is currently finding the situation extremely funny because she figured out in 5x13 and she is 80 yo (in a younger body but still) . And she is waaaayyyyyy to old to see her former husband stay in his denial.

Leon is 78 years old and he is slowly recognising the dragon in question that look very much like Merlin's family crest. He is looking at his wife in a very conspiracy way.

Gwaine is currently not really giving a damn about the whole soulmate thing. What do you MEAN you can send messages to people in less that a second?!?!?

Elyan would usually not give a damn but he is very much not happy ™ to find out that his sister (first) husband had a soulmate mark who isn't dead and he is glaring at Arthur but he is also getting a hug from gwen so it doesn't look menacing at all.

Perceval (57) is right behind Gwaine but he is currently watching himself in the mirror because seeing his younger self again is weird asf

Meanwhile Lancelot is talking with the assistant (on the verge of a break down because they are going to see the GOD OF MAGIC OH MY GOD) about magical history

[windvexer]

hey, I’ve heard you mention that you’ve also had problems like fatigue, headaches, etc, after spellwork and a lot of rituals. Have you found any ways to prepare for big rituals that minimizes this, by chance?

If not, no biggie. I’m going to make sure I’m hydrated and have a full belly, but I’ve never done a casting as big as the one I’m currently planning, and even though I’m drawing on sources of energy other than myself, that hasn’t always quelled stuff like headaches/jitters in the past.

Any advice?

(- this is the main account of musings-on-wisteria)

Hello! I recognize you from my notes, I hadn't realized you and Wisteria are one and the same :)

My short answer is, yes, but it's tedious and not very easy to employ. Hard enough to employ, in fact, that I often do not. Here is the long answer:

STOP GIVING 110%. Treat magic like it's your job; only do what's required and don't go above and beyond. Which sounds counter-intuitive I suppose, but if the goal is specifically not causing myself pain during casting then the solution is almost the exact same as not causing myself undo workplace stress.

Do less; simplify; identify the strands of power on which you pull and intentionally limit yourself to pulling only what you think is necessary.

DO MAGIC OFTEN TO BUILD UP THE MUSCLE. I believe that having energy to lift a heavy weight is not the same thing as having strong muscles. Doing a single spell that exhausts you, without regular warm-ups or exercise, is like going on a long run without building up to it.

Although I am not broadly in favor of daily energy work regimens, they can be useful in the specific sense that doing ten squats a day is going to make your life easier if you some day need to help your friend move into their second-story apartment.

IDENTIFY AREAS OF UNNECESSARY PSYCHIC EXPENDITURE AND CUT THEM. I mean this more in the sense of you over-connecting and becoming overwhelmed. Do you practice magic in such a way that you stop to ensure a minimum level of sensory/psychic input?

So for example let's say you cast a circle and call the quarters; do you stop at each quarter and make sure you can feel/See/connect to that quarter?

If so, consider that each time you intentionally seek sensory/psychic perception in your magic, you are both A) forcing your energy down one of your channels to briefly open a floodgate, and that B) your channel is becoming worn out each time you use it to seriously "plug in" to a spell (just like a muscle that is continuously picking up a weight). I mean this all metaphorically; my point is that continuously seeking psychic/sensory input during magic has the potential to be exhausting.

DO EVERYTHING YOU CAN AHEAD OF TIME, AND DO IT AS MANY TIMES AS YOU LIKE. If a part of your spell includes blessing an incense and then lighting it to invite spirits, bless the incense ahead of time.

In fact, if you like, bless it multiple times ahead of time, as often as you want, until you're satisfied with it.

Suppose a part of your spell includes using a lot of a certain type of energy. Instead of channeling it all in the moment, go and find it ahead of time. Place it in a "battery" (quartz crystal is commonly used), and collect as much of it as you want. You can make collecting and storing power for use in specific spells a part of regular energy work exercises, if you're into that sort of thing.

If you're using a spell vessel, you can create it and feed it energy far ahead of spellwork, etc.

SEE IF THERE'S A BETTER WAY. If you want to use a type of energy in a spell, maybe you can just sit and focus and find that energy and then gather it up and use it - maybe you'd have to do this even if it's stored in a stone on your altar.

But is that the best use of your energy?

Is it possible that you could call the same energy by doing something a lot less intensive, like reading a prayer or charm that links up to the energy and draws it to you?

If you call on spirits, could you prepare charms, sigils, or special gateways to help them visit you more easily, so you don't have to "tunnel" to them each time?

Whatever you intend to do to the energy, is there a tool that could help you? Sure you can tear energy by hand, but maybe an enchanted knife or scissors would help. And you can bind things together, but a magical needle and thread does tend to make the operation more simple.

FEAST AT THE FULL MOON. Go outside your body and eat the forbidden fruit, etc. Consuming astral food, especially at those strange wild parties which run eternal but only have doorways that pop up every once and a while, is helpful.

[kaermorhenatnight]

Light in the shadows

Rolan smut, NSFW, minors don't interact, please 

Huge thanks to @commander-krios for proofreading and for all of the comments, suggestions and corrections! You’re amazing!

Rolan x fem!reader smut, Reader is one of the tiefling refugees from Elturel, afab, she/her. No y/n used. She's been friends with our favorite tiefling bachelor and decides to make her move during the tiefling party that they should have after act II. Tav appears and is gn (they/them)

CW | spoilers for acts I and II with mentions of violence, cursing, p in v, oral (m and f receiving), fingering, spells used for sex (including detect thoughts – consensually), Rolan's POV for a moment, biting and hickeys, tail play, Rolan is insecure about his body at first, dom Rolan, dirty talk, edging, Karlach x Shadowheart makes an appearance because I love them

Word count | 5,5k

Note: I tried to keep the spells as correct as possible (including components, duration and spell slots) because I am fun like that. If I messed something up about that please let me know! English is my second language so any tips and corrections about my writing are more than welcome! 

Read on Ao3 here

Enjoy!

It was a nightmare. All of it. If not for blood pouring down your temple, sharp pain in your side and pounding in your head, you could pretend it was all a bad dream, that you would soon wake up from. Saying the shadow-cursed land was unwelcoming would be an understatement, but the attack... The screams. Zevlor, the calm, brave, strong Zevlor, just froze. Cal, Lia, and many others were dragged away. Others were bleeding out in the dirt. Some of you tried to fight, Rolan yelled to fall back, protecting the kids with everything he had. If not for his well-aimed spells, and the fight Cal and Lia put up keeping the cultists busy, none of you would have made it to the unexpected sanctuary of Last Light Inn. 

Rolan took care of your wounds as best as he could. Despite your protests, he convinced the lovely cleric, Isobel, the woman responsible for the safety of the Inn, to come downstairs and lend some of her magic to help with your head injury. 

Even though he went to great lengths to ensure your comfort, you could see all of his thoughts were preoccupied with his siblings' kidnapping and his perceived guilt in their capture. He was drinking himself numb, screaming at the kids who were just trying their best to show gratitude for all he'd done. He even lashed out at Tav when they offered help. Luckily for all of you, Tav not only brought Cal and Lia back safe and sound, but they also found, saved, and sent back to the Inn a slightly tipsy Rolan, who had disappeared to rescue his family on his own without accepting any help.

He did apologize to Tav afterward and thanked them for saving his ass, but gods, you and his family had to force it out of him with threats of violence.

You weren't that close before. You were good friends with Lia back in Elturel. It’s how you met him the first time. You liked him. He was fun to be around, although you would never feed his ego by telling him that, or risk being mercilessly made fun of by Lia, by sharing it with her. He was smart and funny, even if a little snarky and grumpy. You thought it was only natural that the difficulty and stress of your current situation brought you closer together. It didn't mean anything. Although you couldn’t help noticing him not being that attentive towards anyone else after all of you got to safety and could tend to your wounds. But you didn't want to give yourself hope. You couldn't. Life was difficult enough without getting your heart broken if you let yourself believe he might feel about you how you feel about him.

Right?

After what you heard was a terrifying and exhausting battle, the curse devouring this land was finally lifted. The sky started clearing up. A small party sounded like a pleasant idea, not unlike the gathering you held at Tav's camp after they helped you back at the grove.

And now you sit here, wine bottle in hand, watching with glee as everyone laughs and dances, celebrating the victory and honoring the fallen. Tav told you the truth about Zevlor. You can't find it in you to be angry at him. Honestly, you are just happy he survived and escaped. 

Cal and Lia are on the other side of the room laughing, bothering Rolan about something. He lets out a frustrated groan, but the music of Alfira’s lute and the noise of conversation around them drown out what they are saying. You just look at them, smiling, happy to see them safe, happy to see Rolan relaxing in his own way, with his family by his side.

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

“Come on, she's been pining for you for so long. And she's not subtle about it either. How can you not see it?” Lia is a little too loud for Rolan's comfort but everyone around them doesn't seem to notice anyway, in the haze of celebration. “I mean, I know I'm pretty great, but she wasn't coming to visit so often just to see me.”

“That’s a lovely tale, but I would appreciate it if you stopped spinning it. You are seeing things that are not there.” 

“Gods, you are the dumbest smart person I know.” 

“Are you also gonna pretend,” Cal chimes in, “your tail doesn't sweep the floor like you're a godsdamned kitten when she's talking to you?”

Rolan groans, hiding his face in his hands, trying to feign annoyance, while his cheeks and ears burn.

The truth is he couldn't believe you'd ever even look at him. In his eyes, you were a strong warrior, someone who he had once seen kill two people with one swing of a sword. Powerful, strong, courageous. And he's just a scrawny wizard who keeps getting his ass kicked. While he appreciates his siblings' attempts to support him, the amount of faith they are putting in his chances is ridiculously unrealistic. 

He's going to try, one day, when he might have a chance. But he's not going to delude himself that he has it now.

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

“Unless you are casting a sending spell, I don't think he's gonna be able to read your mind.” Tav sits next to you and nudges your shoulder, pointing at Rolan with a quick nod. “I’m sure Cal and Lia, as happy as they are to be reunited with him, won't mind if you steal your boyfriend for an hour or two for some… relaxation… upstairs.”

What?

“What?”

“Hey, I know there's not much privacy on the road and this might be your last night under a solid roof for some time. I imagine it must be hard for couples to spend quality time together in such circumstances.” They don't sound like they're teasing. In fact, Tav sounds painfully sincere and supportive.

‘Couples’. 

‘Boyfriend’?

“I— I'm not… I mean… We…” You trip over your own words, not sure what to say. “We are not a couple.”

“Oh.” The surprise on their face is confusing you. Why would they think you are a couple? Were you that obvious with your crush that they just assumed this level of openly shown adoration must mean an established relationship? That would mean Rolan must see it too. What if he starts pushing you away, displeased with your feelings for him? “Well, apologies for assuming.” They rub the back of their neck, clearly embarrassed. “I just saw how attentive he was… and the way Cal and Lia were talking about you… Sorry, didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“It's alright, no apology needed.”

You sit in silence for a moment but it keeps bugging you.

“What did Cal and Lia say?”

“Well, how happy they are that Rolan and you ‘found each other’ and how ‘less unbearable’ he is when you're around… Like I said, I didn't know they meant friendship and it was rude of me to assume.”

Oh. 

“I see,” you say and turn to look around the room. No matter how hard you try you can't not think about it. You would think the two of you were a couple if you heard them speak like that. It spreads warmth in your chest knowing Rolan's siblings see your influence on him that way. Your thoughts might be too obvious in your expression because Tav nudges you again.

“You wouldn't mind that though, huh?”

Your skin is naturally red. Usually, it’s hard to see blush on your face, but now you are convinced a blind person would notice.

“Don't be embarrassed. There’s enough darkness in the world to be negative about, some love here and there is what truly makes everything worth it.” They smile at you with encouragement. “And… he has been staring at you throughout our entire conversation.”

You look up and the moment Rolan's eyes meet yours he looks away, his face slightly darker.

“I know it's not my business and far be it from me to mingle in your love life… but it's rare to have a moment of peace like this. Go talk to him, enjoy the celebrations.” They get up and wander off to talk to other people. After all, they're the hero of the hour everyone wants a piece of. Again.

And…they're right. You probably won't try to make a move, but you can't let your confused heart stop you from spending time with your friends. Especially after all you've been through. As soon as you walk up, Lia puts her arm around you and hugs you.

“I thought you were gonna sulk there alone forever! Is your head acting up again?” she points at the almost-healed wound on your temple. 

“Oh no, I can barely feel it.” 

You smile. It's nice. Cal is leaning against the wall, wine bottle in hand. Lia is holding you with her arm around your shoulders. 

You start with small talk, but in your current situation, weather and gossip don't really hold up. But as soon as Lia mentions the upcoming threat of the Absolute army, Cal steps in.

“We can discuss it tomorrow. And the day after that. Today, let's talk about nice things. Like Rolan finally getting that big boy job in Baldur's Gate.”

Up until now, you tried not to pay too much attention to Rolan, being very self-aware of your gestures, but now you can do it unsuspiciously. There is something in the way he is leaning against the table, in his relaxed posture, in the lazy smile, that is making you melt a little.  

“Oh yes, it almost makes me want to treat you with more respect,” Lia laughs, poking Rolan in the ribs with her finger. “The Great Wizard Rolan of Elturel!”

“Ha… ha… love the respect.” Rolan rolls his eyes and straightens his robe where she wrinkled it slightly. You can't help but follow his hands’ movement with your eyes, wishing to feel them on your skin. 

What is wrong with you? You are trying to have a conversation and your mind just wanders off into territories you would prefer not to explore in a room full of people.

“I did say ‘almost’.”

Your eyes meet Rolan's again. He smiles, almost shyly, and his cheeks darken. You fight the urge to look away. Maybe thanks to Tav's encouragement, maybe because of the wine, you hold his gaze and return the smile. 

“Well, look at that,” Cal says loudly and hurriedly finishes the wine in his bottle. It takes him a few chugs, too many to be fully comfortable. “My wine is finished. Lia, wanna go get some more?” He gives his sister a look that you cannot fully decipher before they both walk away, leaving you and Rolan alone. You move to stand next to him, taking Cal’s place by the wall.

“It's good to see you feeling better,” he says, shifting ever so slightly like he's trying to stand closer to you. 

“I could say the same thing about you.” You catch yourself moving closer. “You were a wreck without these two.” 

“They're… they're family.” He looks down, his fingers clench on the edge of the table, and his brow furrows. Even after everything, he still blames himself.

“I know.” You give his hand a sympathetic squeeze and his entire body tenses. Oh shit. Did you overstep a boundary? “Sorry,” you mumble, panic taking over your body as you move your hand away, trying to take a step back, but Rolan reaches out to you quickly and takes your hand in his. 

“No! No, it's… thank you.”

He doesn't let go. You are only holding hands but it feels more intimate than anything you've ever done with anyone. Gods, you want him. You want to be close, to hug him, kiss him. You want to let him know how much you care, how dear he is to you. And if not now, then when? If he doesn't reciprocate, so be it. You are adults. Your friendship can survive a moment of embarrassment.

You take a step towards him, put your free hand on his chest, and press a kiss against his lips. You brace yourself for rejection as you start to pull away, but he doesn't let you. He puts his hand on your cheek and pulls you back in. 

Kissing him feels right. Like his lips were made to be on yours. Like his hands belonged on the curves of your waist.

You are careful at first. Just relishing in the softness of the gesture. But when he parts his lips and you feel the warm flash of his tongue on your bottom lip, you are gone. Your hands find the front of his robes to pull him even closer. For a moment, you forget where you are but a heavy arm falling on your shoulder painfully reminds you.

“You two should get a room.”

You turn, letting go of Rolan in panic, but when you see the smiling, heavily intoxicated face of Karlach, you relax. “Get it? Cause we're in an Inn!” She laughs joyfully, swaying on her feet, and then wanders off, not even trying to walk in a straight line. 

“Ugh, they are going to be so obnoxious about being right.” Rolan rubs the bridge of his nose.

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, Cal and Lia were trying to convince me… uh— that you…” he pauses and all of his confidence leaves him. But you are starting to understand and it makes your hearts flutter.

“I like you, if that's what you're getting at.” You spare him the embarrassment. “I really like you, Rolan.”

“Well, I gathered that.” He smirks and touches his mouth. “Do you… want to go upstairs?” He glances at Karlach who is now wrapping her arms around Shadowheart. “To ‘get a room’?”

You laugh and grab his hand. 

“Sure, I'd love to.”

He pulls you behind him towards the stairs. “Have fun!” Lia says to you as you pass her by, and Rolan cringes, avoiding her gaze. 

As soon as you leave everyone's line of sight, Rolan turns and takes your face in his hands.

“If I had known…” He is so gentle, fingers barely grazing your skin. His eyes wander around your face, drinking you in. “I wanted to wait until we got to Baldur's Gate and I became a wizard's apprentice and… when I'd finally be somebody… I would ask if you'd allow me to court you.” 

“Rolan, what are you talking about?” You place your hands on his. “You don't need validation from some stuck-up jerk in his stupid tower to be somebody.”

“Actually, the Ramazith Tower is quite impress—”

“I adore you,” you interrupt. “You. Not what you can do or what you can become.” 

You feel dizzy. He's so close. 

He kisses you again. Slowly. Purposefully. His tail wraps around your leg and pulls you even closer. You whimper as the tip, you're not sure if it's accidental or not, strokes the inside of your thigh. Rolan pauses for a split second before repeating the motion, this time definitely on purpose.

“Fuck— Rolan… I'm sure there's an empty room here somewhere,” you whisper, leaning your forehead against his shoulder. “I— Someone will hear us.”

“Well, if you can't stay quiet…” You can almost hear his smug smile before you feel his tail loosening its grip, getting more freedom of movement to climb up your leg and grind against your cunt.

You press your face into his chest in a desperate attempt to muffle a moan that is forced from your throat. He steadies you with a firm grip on your waist but doesn't stop.

You can't talk, you can't think, you can barely breathe. He has you wrapped around his finger and he hasn't even taken your clothes off yet. Every stroke brings you closer to release and makes it harder not to cry out in pleasure. You muster all of your self-control to grab his tail and move it away from you. 

“Let’s find a room,” you say, voice hoarse. “So I can get you out of these robes and make you see stars.”

He swallows hard and tugs on your arm to lead you to a door in the corner. The door seems stuck at first, but one strong push gets it open. The room is not in the best state, most of the furniture is broken and scattered across the floor. The bed, except for dust and a few broken pieces of wood on top, is holding together pretty well though. A quick spell and a flick of his wrist from Rolan cleans the sheets enough for them to be almost presentable and even smell like lavender and vanilla. Flames appear on the candles that are still left on the walls.

“There are some advantages to bedding a wizard,” he says with a confident smile. 

“I can't wait to learn what the others are.” 

He places one hand on your cheek, pulling you into another kiss, and the other hand travels down until it stops between your legs. Him palming you through your leggings is enough to make you whimper. When he starts moving, his fingers circling your clit, your knees buckle underneath you and if Rolan didn't catch you, wrapping his arm around your waist and anchoring you against his chest, you might have fallen.

Even through the fabric, with movement restricted by both of your bodies pressing against each other, he brings you achingly close to release.

“Rolan… I— Gods…” Your breath is reduced to huffs and whimpers. He eagerly muffles them with a kiss so hungry and sloppy, it's all tongue and teeth clashing. 

“Let go,” he whispers, breaking the kiss and letting you come up for air. “I've waited so long to see you come undone in my arms.”

 As aroused as you are, the dry friction of the fabric becomes a little uncomfortable. You can't think of anything other than how much you want to get rid of all the clothing that separates you from Rolan right now.

“Take off your clothes then,” you say, shifting a little to move away from his touch. “And fuck me into tomorrow.”

You think you see his jaw tense up a little, but can't be certain in the dim light. 

He leads you towards the bed and sits next to you, helping you get rid of your clothes, but when you gently tug on the hem of his robe he nudges your hand away.

“What's wrong?” This time you are sure something is bothering him.

“It's nothing,” he assures you, but his posture and tone of voice betray him.

“If you don't want to do this, you don't have to… I mean, obviously, you don't have to, but… I mean— I don't want you to feel pressured.” 

“It's not that. I… really want this with you. I promise I will make you feel good.” He looks down and whispers to himself. “I just don't want you to see me.”

You know there's a lot of insecurities under Rolan's confident facade. He acts arrogant to hide how unsure of his abilities he is. He worries that Cal and Lia not being his blood means they don't see him as real family. He doesn't believe he is worth something in your eyes, or anyone else’s, until he proves himself in the city. 

Despite all of that, you would never assume he felt insecure about his body. You always thought he would consider any focus on the physical appearance beneath him.

“Rolan... why?”

“I'm not exactly the… physical-prowess type. I'm afraid you're going to be disappointed with what you see.”

“I could never be disappointed with you. With anything about you.” You tangle your fingers with his and place a kiss on the back of his hand. “You can read me.”

“What?”

“Detect my thoughts. At any point, you can look into my mind. No need to warn me or even ask. Just look.”

You are scared. Scared that your feelings are going to overwhelm him, that they would be more than he is in for. But he needs to see for himself the way you feel about him.

“Are you serious?”

“Deadly.”

Rolan stares at you for a moment, wrestling with his thoughts, before leading your hand toward the clasp at the front of his robe. 

With shaking fingers, you help him out of his robes and then the shirt underneath. You want to memorize every inch of his skin you uncover. You want to kiss every part of him. Feel every part of him. You slide off the bed and settle between his legs. He watches you wide-eyed as you unbutton his pants and pull his cock out. 

You start slowly, licking the tip  before moving up and down the shaft. Rolan lets out a ragged breath, clutching at the sheets. When you suck the tip into your mouth, he whimpers softly. But it's not enough. For you anyway. You want to feel him hit the back of your throat. Choke on him until tears stream down your cheeks. You want him to completely ruin you. 

Your hands wander, stroking his thighs and then his stomach. Tracing the infernal ridges, you relish in the softness of his flesh as you dip your head down until your nose brushes his navel. Your throat contracts around his cock and gods, you love the sounds that he makes. 

When you pull away briefly, only to dive right back onto his cock, Rolan shifts slightly and you hear shuffling of fabric where his discarded robe lies next to him, as he pulls a piece of copper from a pocket. Then he whispers words of a spell and you feel tingling in your head. You look up. Rolan's eyes are set on yours. 

You allow him in your mind. Let him see everything. All the lust and yearning. How you try so hard to burn the view in front of you into your memory forever. The view of his chest raising with heavy breaths as you continue to suck his cock; Muscles in his forearms flexing under prominent veins; His soft stomach you want to lick and kiss and leave bite marks on. He was scared of undressing because his body is not built like a brick house but gods, and now also Rolan, know it's not what you want, not what you need. Every single part of his body sends shivers of lust through you. You want him, need him, in every way possible.

You drag your tongue against the side of his cock. You can feel his presence in your head fading as his focus falters and then completely disappears when you suck in your cheeks and take his whole length again. Tears form in the corners of your eyes in reaction to the gag.

Rolan caresses your cheek, pulling you away and wiping your tears with his thumb. 

“I— Wow.” He helps you up and pulls onto his lap. He's holding you close, one hand gently scratching your back and the other gripping your thigh, his face awestruck as he stares into your eyes.

You hoped hearing your thoughts would put Rolan's mind at ease, but it did so much more than that. You can see a sudden surge of confidence that you didn't expect, even in him. He roughly grabs you and pushes you down on the bed, caging you with his arms. 

“I am going to make you beg for me.” His voice is almost a growl in his throat. He lowers himself and without any further hesitation, dives down your body, his tongue pressing flat against your clit.

It's so much better than anything you imagined, and you imagined a lot. Every lick, every flick of his tongue sends a burning hot jolt of pleasure from your cunt through your entire body to the tips of your fingers and toes. You dig your nails into the sheets, trying to ground yourself. You buck your hips, begging for more friction, more pleasure, more.

You feel the tingling in your mind again and let him in immediately. 

The coil in your stomach is getting tighter and tighter and you can feel that if he keeps going like that it will soon snap. That's when he stops. Raises his head and looks at you, smug and a little mischievous. He knows what he did. 

“Rolan, what the fuck?”

“You need to be patient. I will take care of you, I promise. But I want to take my time.” Before you respond, his head is back between your legs. The spell connecting you fades, but he doesn't need it anymore to know when you are close. He listened to the change in the pitch of your moans. The slight difference in the way your body tenses. And he's always been a quick learner. 

The buildup is even faster this time, and again, he brings you painfully close to release before stopping. 

“You're mean,” you whimper, tears now streaming down your face.

“A little.” He chuckles but goes back to work immediately after he sees your muscles relax a bit. His grip on your thighs is unyielding, holding you in place so he can devour you. 

You can feel your orgasm approaching again and you don't think you can take the teasing anymore. You reach down and grab Rolan's horn, holding to it like a lifeline. “Rolan, please… I can't— Let me finish… Please…” Your legs are shaking, your body burns. You feel like you're going to die if he pulls away now.

He doesn't. When he can see how close you are, this time he just looks up to watch as you cum on his tongue, keeping the pressure and tempo going as you ride out your orgasm. He only stops when you push him away, high in the afterglow. 

“Hells, Rolan…”

“Told you I was gonna make you beg.”

“You fucking asshole,” you laugh, grabbing his hand and urging him to lie next to you. He complies, clumsily kicking his shoes and trousers off, cleaning his face that's still dripping with your slick with a quick spell. His cock is now digging into your thigh and he's littering your neck and shoulders with kisses. Gentle at first, then harder, with more teeth, leaving marks. You expected this possessiveness from him yet it still surprises you a little. He pulls your leg to rest around his hip. His tongue is soothing the bites and bruises he has left on your skin.

“Do you want to continue?” He raises his head and bucks his hips involuntarily, grinding against you.

“Fuck yes.” 

You turn to him fully, wrapping your arm around him and pulling him closer. His lips, kiss bruised, are back on yours. You flip him on his back, straddling him, his cock between your folds, the tip hitting your clit as you start rocking your hips.

His grip on your thighs is strong, desperate. He guides your movement, pressing his head back into the pillow. 

“Ride me,” he pleads, his nails digging deeper into the flesh of your legs. And how can you refuse, when he's asking so nicely?

You shift to press the tip of his cock against your entrance and then sit down taking him in one swift motion. He thoroughly prepared you with his mouth but the stretch still steals the breath from your lungs. 

“Hells,” you sigh, stilling for a moment to adjust to him. 

He whispers your name with a reverence usually reserved only for the gods. Then he whispers something else. A spell. And you feel a gentle pressure of the mage hand at your clit. You start rocking your hips and his cock starts pressing deliciously against all the right spots inside of you. He has to recast the mage hand every other minute but he does it without any delay, the moment it would disappear, it appears again, as if he's counting the seconds to make sure your pleasure never falters.

“Rolan, you fill me so well.” You don't even think about it, the words just spill from your mouth. But they don't go unnoticed. You can see Rolan's eyes darken as something changes in him. He grabs you roughly again and rolls over to be on top of you. The slow rolling of your hips is replaced by his thrusts. The first two are restrained, but then he picks up the pace. He steadies himself on his elbows, chest pressed against yours, breathing heavily in the crook of your neck.

“Say it again,” he groans into your ear. His voice is low, lustful. A demanding hunger, that mirrors your own.

“You make me feel so good— Gods…” Your sentence is cut short by a moan Rolan pulls from you, his mage hand steadily circling your clit. “I never want to stop doing this. You fuck me so well, Rolan.”

The sounds he is making are animalistic. His movement becomes erratic and soon you can feel him twitching, spilling into you. The warmth of his seed fills you and the sweet honey of his incomprehensible praises tickles your neck. The mage hand seems to flicker for a moment as Rolan's climax overwhelms him, but he quickly gets his bearings and the steady pressure on your clit is back. His cock is slowly softening as he pulls out, shifting to kneel between your thighs. You can feel his seed spilling out of you as your muscles contract and relax, grieving the loss of his cock. Rolan looks between your legs like he's hypnotized for a moment. Droplets of sweat are glistening on his chest, his hair is in disarray. He is so fucking handsome.

When you feel Rolan's fingers circle your entrance and then, carefully minding his claws, sink into you, the tension inside comes close to snapping again. Your back arches as you're inching closer and closer to release and then when it overflows you, your vision blurs, your whole body tenses and soon you are gently pushing Rolan's hand away, overstimulated.

As he pulls his fingers out, he casts a spell and you feel his seed disappear and your thighs and his fingers are clean and dry again. It puts your mind at ease, not having to worry about any surprises in a few months.

“I don't think I could ever get tired of that view.” Rolan cocks his head slightly, his gaze caressing your body. His tail wraps around your calf.

“Well, I could never get tired of presenting it to you.” You let out a breathless laugh, collecting yourself. You sit up and place a quick kiss on his lips. It feels almost out of place, the gentleness of it, after what you just did. Slowly both of you start putting your clothes on between the kisses and you want to ask if he would like to stay here or go back downstairs, but you don't get that chance.

The door opens with a thump as it hits the wall and two people stumble inside not even noticing you at first, their limbs tangled, their lips joined. You wouldn't even recognize them if not for blue flames engulfing the tall figure of Karlach accompanied by Shadowheart. Good for her. You see a flash when Dancing Lights is cast. 

“Oh shit, sorry.” Karlach laughs, when she finally notices you, one arm around Shadowheart, the other rubbing the back of her neck. You can hear Rolan behind you struggling to put his robe over his shirt and trousers faster. 

“Don't worry, we were just checking out.” You can't help but laugh. Normally the situation would be mortifyingly embarrassing but right now your heart feels so light you can't find it in yourself to be anything other than joyful. You grab Rolan's hand as he finishes tightening the last clasp on his robe, and pull him towards the door, grabbing your jacket from the floor on your way out. “Have fun!” You manage to say before the door shuts behind you. The muffled noises you hear from inside the room tell you they definitely were planning on having fun even without your encouragement.

“Well,” Rolan clears his throat, trying to regain the scraps of his dignity. “That's a less-than-ideal ending to our evening. But I'm sure there are many more evenings to come.” It's not a statement, not really. It's a question. And even though he's smiling, you can see a hint of panic and insecurity in his eyes. You grab his hand. It feels so nice to be able to do that.

“Of course. You are not getting rid of me that easily.” 

His smile of relief could melt even the coldest heart of stone.

[cripplecharacters]

Hi, 

So, I have written expression disorder and dysgraphia, which means this might be a bit rambly or unclear but I’ll try my best to stay on as clear and as brief as I can. 

I’m currently writing a fanfiction for Wynonna Earp as a way to improve my writing skills without needing to stress about it. Background on the show: It’s a supernatural show based around a descendant of Wyatt Earp who was a legal officer in the wild west and got involved in a massive feud. It also has his friend Doc Holliday becoming immortal and being a love interest for the main character. The primary reason I’m doing this is because I dislike how they portrayed Doc Holliday in the series (often outright the opposite of the reality) and also because they just left out the fact he was disabled completely. Due to a gunshot wound when he was fairly young, probably along with weakness due to having tuberculosis for most of his adult life, which did eventually kill him, he used a cane part time. He also had a cleft lip and palate that was surgically corrected and he got surgery for it as an infant and had speech therapy, which doesn’t really seem to have impacted his adult life much in what I’m writing.

 I do have chronic pain due to an injury which was pretty bad when I was younger, so having a character who’s portrayed as dealing with that and continuing to be brave and selfless would have meant the whole world to me at that point in my life and still will. But as I was doing research I ran into a few things I knew very little about. 

My own disabilities are invisible, which means that I don’t have much experience with how people respond to seeing mobility aids. It would be interesting to show people’s responses, especially since he pretty famously took offense easily and didn’t leave things alone. There’s a fun scene there but I’m not sure what a common response to set it off would be. The biggest problem I have, that I haven’t been able to find a lot about: according to a medical article I read even when it’s cured people who had tuberculosis typically have some lung damage. I haven’t been able to find a lot on how that would impact someone day to day. He was cured of it magically but the idea of there still being damage makes sense based on the in universe rules and also someone being magically cured is generally considered not good. So how would it impact someone on a daily basis?

There’s some things in the research I did that make me think he was autistic (namely literal thinking to the point where he almost killed someone due to not understanding that a duel was meant to be a joke as a teen). Or maybe I’m just projecting because I am. Any ideas for how somebody who grew up in a time where nuerodivergence just wasn’t known would accommodate himself and be helped by friends? How would they understand it at that time?

How in general do friends respond to disabilities and try to help now?

There’s a few other things but they’re mainly just me being a beginner writer who doesn’t honestly. Thank you so much for reading through this even if you don’t end up responding!

[part 2] clarification: I meant the cleft palate wouldn't come up in what I'm writing because he's an adult and it didn't seem to have huge bearing on his adult life. I'm so sorry I left out part of that sentence in my ask bc I have a learning disability! didn't mean to! I'm so sorry and thank you again!

Hello!

People respond in many ways. In the modern west a lot of it involves random strangers being intrusive as shit ("what happened to you??") but in historical times I think it would be more of avoidance, especially if he has visible symptoms of tuberculosis. People still think that "visibly disabled person coughing = plague". If you're going for historical accuracy, it wouldn't really surprise me if strangers didn't want to sit next to him.

Long tuberculosis (affecting 25% of those who had TB) seems to be very similar to COPD, so the main day-to-day effect would probably be fatigue, being out of breath after physical exertion, etc. COPD is an incredibly common disability so you should be able to find a lot of info about it and how it can be managed.

Friends will also respond in many ways, and it also depends a lot on the disabled person. This guy sounds like the "hyper-independent physically disabled man" type and in my experience most of them don't talk about their needs much, especially not with the boys. In this case the accommodation is often just silently agreed on after spending some time together (e.g., after a few times going out they can see how annoyed he gets when they suddenly change plans so they learn to tell him as soon as they know, if he drops something they pick it up for him without saying anything since they know it's tiring for him to get up, etc.). If they know him well enough to know he takes offense easily they probably wouldn't bring up his inability to do something to not upset him and try to work around it instead.

I don't have enough historical knowledge to answer the second question, so I'll leave it to other mods. But I think it'd make sense if they just thought he was eccentric or weird rather than having a medical condition.

Hope this helps,

mod Sasza

Hello, thank you for your ask! In regards to the second question, it would depend on his symptoms, how well/if he could mask, and how other people view(ed) him.

I'm assuming he's level 1 / low support needs, as you don't mention him having a caretaker or difficulty doing tasks. Some of the examples include specific autistic traits that he may or may not have/used to have, they're mostly there to be examples. These are also assuming you're writing him as an adult only, if you want some info on how it would be like growing up during this time let us know!

Without good knowledge of autism, most people would think he's very strange if he cannot [fully] mask. Flat affect, lack of social understanding and other symptoms would make most allistic people uncomfortable, with responses ranging from thinking he's just weird [and would want to avoid him] to believing he's angry at them specifically [and would either want to avoid him or get aggressive themselves]. Most people will probably just see it as character quirks rather than symptoms of anything, or even think he's choosing to act the way he does. His friends would most likely be other neurodivergent people who either experience the same symptoms or don't have enough of a social understanding to realize he's not acting 'correctly' if he doesn't mask.

Unless his friends/family experience similar symptoms to him, they probably wouldn't understand why he does/reacts the way he does. This isn't to say they wouldn't try to accommodate him still, that moreso depends on the individual, but those who don't understand might try to push him to 'get over it' more than someone who gets it. Like Sasza said, over time his friends would be able to accommodate him by noticing what makes him upset/happy and how to help. 'Doc likes to keep his hands busy so I gave him my butterfly knife to spin' or ' the yelling in the hall was bothering him so I asked if he wanted to go to outside with me' could be ways of accommodating him without realizing, basically seeing his symptoms and trying to find an easy solution to help, wether or not they understand them. They could also give him unhelpful solutions while trying to accommodate, which would probably just further stress Doc if given in a stressful situation. Essentially unless he knows what helps and tells them it would be a guessing game for them [if he does that or his friend[s] respect it depends on them]. Try to think of his symptoms and what might be available at the time to help [like stim toys didn't exist back then but butterfly knives did, and ear defenders weren't a thing but he could walk away if needed].

As to how he'd accommodate himself, he wouldn't know words like 'stim' or 'overstimulated,' but if he doesn't care about/understand social norms he would be more likley to 'move in odd ways' or exit an upsetting area. A more socially conscious person might try to hide it, like using small tactile stims [i.e. rubbing a cloth or tapping his foot] or making excuses to leave an upsetting area. He might also be able to mask and try to just bear it, only unmasking around friends or in private.

Also the wiki said he was born in 1851 but died in 2020, and although autism would be named during his lifetime I'm not sure he would identify with it. The first medical documentation of autism was in 1877, and at the time it was called developmental [r-slur]. I doubt he'd want to identify with that, and even later on autism was only ever studied in children, and of course was not thought of well. It was thought to be caused by cold parenting or a form of psychosis/schizophrenia exclusive to children in the early to mid 1900's. For many, many years the only idea of autism he'd have would essentially be that. Because most studies at the time thought autism could be 'grown out of' [with exception to higher support needs people] he'd have lived most of his life at that point believing it was a child only disease. Even if he hadn't heard about autism until the late 1900's-early 2000's, it was still thought of as a stigmatized childhood disease by the public until recently [even by people today, hence the blog's existence]. If he's the type of character to be less set in his opinions at an old age then maybe later he could read on modern autism and identify with it, but I find older people tend to prefer dismissing disability for the sake of avoiding any change.

I hope this was at all helpful!

Mod Rot

[siconetribal]

Beyond the Bookshelves (4)

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: When you want to read but the universe won't allow it, Loki is deep in the delulu and that's ok, Thor's golden retriever energy to Loki's prickly cat vibes, work stress, how to meet with royalty, tiny midgardian vs giant asgardians,

Summary: You’re a Resource Management Specialist at S.H.I.E.L.D. normally referred to as “The Librarian”. You’ve been assigned the nightmarish task of digitizing all the physical resources currently owned by the agency, with a few new computers and one extra helper.

A/N: The power of acetaminophen, water, proper food, and actual oxygen to my brain is what made this chapter possible! Thank you for patiently waiting, I hope you enjoy it!

Please comment/like/reblog. If you’d like to be tagged moving forward, please let me know! (If I missed ant tags, please let me know, I'll add you right away!)

The lovely banners used in this fic are from @cafekitsune.

If you’re new to the story, please check out the master post for the rest of the chapters.

Agent Pruyn is not so fond of me, much like many of the others. The bird and spider were quick to support my plan, though. I was not expecting help from anyone, but I suppose they’re wise enough to see that I know my strengths and have proven myself to be an asset in more ways than one. Loki walked into the library as per usual, ready to welcome the silent comfort it would bring. Sadly, that silence was not to be had with the sound of not one, but two voices. It’s that blasted chatty Captain Star. He is bound to try to strike up conversation again and ask unnecessary questions pertaining to how I feel and how I am adjusting. Loki quickly looked around for a potential escape route that would avoid meeting him and get him quickly to his usual corner. He knew he could easily teleport himself from one spot to the next. However, he already had been given an earful by said star-spangled leader about how it was ‘rude to vanish in the middle of a conversation’ and how ‘he should minimize his magic use to me more approachable’. To avoid a repeat of that, Loki simply avoided using it whenever Captain Lectures was not around.

It was the second voice that surprised him. A familiar voice that reminded him of a subtle force and scattered papers. The very same voice that said the owner thought he was a mute for never speaking to her. Which is utterly preposterous. I have spoken plenty of times between invading the Earth, addressing the public, and working with S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers. It’s not as if she’s gone out of her way to greet me either, where would she even begin to conceive such a notion on her own? He frowned, trying to recall all the times he had been to the library. She only ever interacted with him in a professional capacity. Watching the two walk in the opposite direction of his intended destination, he breathed a small sigh of relief and quickly made his way to the table that always had a book waiting for him to read. The Metal-Man’s technology is quite fascinating. He marveled at the new book that awaited his arrival. Picking it up, he sat back into the plush seating and began to read.

At least, he tried to read. The loud voices of the other two kept interrupting, and he was unable to properly get into the mindset of losing himself in the text. Each time he thought they were done, it seemed to start back up, which irked him. The first two times were mere chance, but for it to happen repeatedly had to be intentional. The only problem was proof. They could not see him, nor could he see them. 

You are overthinking, Loki. It’s because of that petty agent that you’re now thinking everyone is out to trouble you. You’ve never had trouble in the library before, why would it start now? If anything, that woman’s chatter is keeping Commander Shield busy and away from you. It’s a blessing in disguise. He reminded himself. He listened to the two prattle on for a little longer, not really paying the content any mind; he simply was waiting for the conversation to end so he could peacefully begin to read. And just it did, he wiggled back into his seat and opened the book once more. He snapped it shut and sat up in his seat. She is the librarian?! “That woman is the one Agent Hill was referring? Why would they assume I’m acquainted with someone like her? We’ve hardly ever spoken to one another, but clearly that is not my fault. She’s perfectly chatty with Officer Gabby over there.” He muttered to himself. There was a slight sting in his chest at this fact. Even in his sanctuary, he was facing prejudice. Why should her lack of conversing with me matter otherwise? Thor has the ability of AllSpeak, he can assist her. I have my mission to attend to, tomo-, he frowned. His mission was postponed while Thor was still set to go. That meant that he was the only available translator. “No matter, she is to approach us first, as per Agent Hill. Why should I go out my way for her when she has done little for me?” He continued to grumble to himself, propping an elbow on one of the arms of the chair and resting his cheek into the hand as he resumed the book once more.

The chime of his phone was the one to shatter the moment this time around. He closed the book once more and returned to the table. Taking a few deep breaths, he pulled the horrid device from his pocket and glared at it.

How anyone finds having such a thing with you at all times as practical or essential is beyond me. It’s a metal leash where anyone and everyone can disturb you at their whim without a care of whether you are available to be bothered. Though he found the various things it could do fascinating, in the end it was still a means to dealing with people around the clock, and he disliked the idea greatly. The device lit up and chimed again, as if it knew he was looking at it. Frustrated, he tapped the screen awake and used his fingerprint to unlock it. Now where are these notifications, again, ah, yes, up here! He carefully navigated his way towards an email thread which looked to be between himself, Thor, Agent Hill, and Director Fury in reference to the translation project. “So she isn’t as scatterbrained as she seemed. She looked into our schedules to make sure we had time to meet and made it a time both could be present instead of having multiple meetings.” He mumbled. He scrolled lower to see Thor’s reply, agreeing to the time. Loki quickly responded as well, agreeing as well, but also requesting where she intended for them to meet. Satisfied, he tossed the phone lightly onto the table and picked up the book once more. Now everything was set and he could finally read in peace.

Y/N was surprised to see a response from either of the princes so soon, but was all the more grateful for it since their meeting was last minute. Leaning back in her computer chair, it tilted back silently, as she swiveled side-to-side The location to meet had to be easier for them to reach and still make it to their next appointments.

The cafeteria will be pretty busy around then and to head up to their lounge area is a bit much. Plus, the Avengers might be there, and I don’t want to impede on their downtime by talking about work things. They might have too many questions or the topic might get lost through distraction. I can’t really leave the library for too long, either. The daily meetings are one thing, but trying to get to some place and back would be a waste of time. I suppose the only proper place would be here at the library. I can close it for about thirty or so minutes for my lunch. She hummed to herself, trying to see if this was a beneficial spot for everyone. “Loki already comes here, so I doubt he’ll be against it. Thor has been here from time to time as well, so he’s not completely unaware of this location. The training hall is not too far from here either, so neither of them will be late for that. Alright, sounds good!” She sat up in her seat, the chair springing up and rolling forward into her desk. She quickly sent out the reply of time and location, with a small sign-off stating that she looked forward to speaking with them. Now that that’s done, one teensy weensy problem, how do I talk to alien princes?! Royal etiquette training was not including in my onboarding training! “And one of them hates me, so the brother is obviously going to hate me by defaults, right? Sibling solidarity and all that good stuff?” She lightly slammed her head on to her desk. “I didn’t expect ‘hated by alien princes’ on this year’s bingo card, let alone checking it off!” She let out a heavy sigh of defeat. “It won’t be that bad, right?”

It was that bad. It was straight up awkward from the moment the two of them walked into the library, together. Both were tall, handsome, and very intimidating in their own ways. She knew all this, and yet seeing them together made her feel like a Lilliputian in front of not one, but two, Gullivers!

“Thank you for coming on such short notice, please, let’s take a seat over here.” She pointed towards some tables to her right and led them over. She motioned for them to take their seats and waited for them to sit before taking her own seat. Those of higher status are usually seated first, I’m sure this will help ease the tension, right? “Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Y/N Y/LN. I am the director of the Resource Management department of S.H.I.E.L.D. As per my email, I’ve asked for your time to discuss how to best work together on the task of translation.” See, you got this! Play it cool, like any other board of directors meeting!

“Yes, Agent Hill spoke with us about this matter. We would love to be of assistance to you in any way we can.” Thor smiled, the brightness comforting Y/N to feel less tense. He certainly had the charisma to be a well liked leader, if his smile was enough to ease up the tension. “But as you’re aware, we are Avengers and are sent off on missions globally for many days at a time.”

“Yes, I am aware, and I can’t thank you enough for allotting some of your free time to assist me in this matter. The archives are one of the greatest things we have. There are texts here from all around the universe that are still unknown to many of our agents. The goal is to have all of them scanned into digital copies and have translated copies as well to allow easier access between all of our locations and even allow access to the Avengers while on their missions. It’s a very difficult task that requires many people, but S.H.I.E.L.D. does not have the means to hire so many for such a task and risk someone leaking the information, nor can it sacrifice the agents on staff who are needed for the missions and risk the safety of the people because they pulled people. I, and my department, along with your help, will be working on this task.”

“We are both due to depart by week’s end, but once we return, we will gladly assist you, right  brother?” Thor turned to Loki, who had been silent throughout this entire time.

I’m guessing Mr. Thor doesn’t hate me? But Mr. Loki clearly does? What did I do to be hated by him?! Did I step on his foot one time, or maybe I whacked him with a book unknowingly? I would’ve definitely noticed if I hit someone like that, right?! She racked her brain for any inkling of a clue as to why she was disliked so much by the younger prince. Is it because I called him mister? Is that not okay? I mean, I don’t see anyone else calling him ‘His Highness’ or ‘His Grace’ or ‘Lord’. Oh no, did I call him that one time and did he think I was mocking him?!

 His blue eyes were trained on the Librarian the entire time. She was poised and cordial, nothing like the rushing mess he encountered days ago. She was articulate, but she was nervous. Though her face gave away nothing, her fingers were interlaced tightly with one another. There was a slight tremble in them. Thor was happily giving away his blessings and promises, while Loki was not sure, not yet. Though, the promise of secret text was rather enticing. He wondered if they had anything from the other realms.

“I am no longer due to depart, my mission has been temporarily suspended.” The words came out before the younger prince realized. Why was he given such unnecessary information? He had no intention of being roped into this useless charity work. His eyes narrowed at the genuine surprise on the Librarian, who looked hopeful, too hopeful.

“That is rare, were there complications?” Thor frowned.

“It’s not something to discuss in present company.” Loki cut the conversation short, seeing her flinch at the sharp words.

“You’re right, it’s not wise to speak so freely about such information with unauthorized people.” She readily agreed. “But if you’re no longer due to leave, would you be willing to work with me on setting up a plan on how to best work with your ability?”

“Very well,” he sighed. “We can coordinate a time for here. Perhaps later today after my training.”

“Excellent,” Thor grinned and roughly smacked Loki on the back, earning a scowl from his younger brother. “You may not know this, but my brother is one of the greatest strategists in the nine realms! He is well-educated and far more scholarly than myself. He is the best person to work with on creating a plan, and I will follow along with what you’ve decided. I will do my best to keep up with him and not drag you down.”

“You will be just as helpful, Mr. Thor. You are able to translate like he is, which is exactly what we need.” Y/N was quick to assure his easily excitable brother, earning an eye roll from the raven haired younger prince.

“Please, Director Y/LN, call us by our names. We are the ones who will be under your care throughout this undertaking. There is no need for such formalities between us.” Loki stared at his brother as he completely lost his mind.

How are we under her care if she needs us? She should be respectful of us taking the time to assist her in something the organization as a whole deems to be of the least importance! 

“You don’t need to call me by title when it’s just us. Y/N or Y/LN is fine. Some just call me ‘Librarian’ as well. In official meetings with other directors you’ll need to abide by rules, but between us, I’m not all that strict with it. I mean, you’re the ones doing the dangerous work. I think that alone deserves respect.” Her words stunned Loki.

“Even me?” The words slipped from his lips in a low whisper. She turned to face him with a questioning look, but he made no attempt to repeat or clarify himself. “Very well, Librarian. I will return some time after my training session. We can discuss more than.” Loki stood from his seat and quickly left the room. It was getting too chummy, and he was not comfortable with it.

"My apologies, Y/LN. He’s not the most easy to get along with at first, but he really is one of the best.” Thor slowly stood from his seat, while Y/N watched Loki disappear behind the door. She quickly tore her gaze away and looked up at Thor.

“Why are you apologizing? He didn’t do anything wrong. I was going to end the meeting anyway, since it’s about time you both left for your training sessions.” She raised an eyebrow at how quick Thor was to apologize and try to assuage her. He’s trying to help Loki fit in, but if he’s always apologizing, that’s not helpful. But then again, I’ve never really interacted with either of them. I’ll wait before I say anything. This could be a one time thing. She stood from her chair and extended a hand to the stunned God of Thunder. “I look forward to working with both of you.” She smiled and he happily to her hand in his, kissing the back of it.

“We are in your care.” He smiled and left a surprised and slightly flushed Y/N.

Tags: @vbecker10 @huntress-artemiss @softestqueeen @thegodofnotknowing @princess-ofthe-pages @firedrakegirl @rcailleachcola @cabingrlandrandomcrap @lotrefcp @lwtannie @jainaeatsstars @msdjsg7 @tom-hlover @kneelingformyloki @gruftiela @gigglingtiggerv2 @kats72 @mischief2sarawr

[nonbinarypirat]

Ok, so I have few ideas about Kalego's evil cycle based on the knowledge we have about his mana dogs. It's clear his evil cycle is very violent. While I am sure that it was worse than normal due to a multitude of stressers that exemplified the problem, his whole house was fucked up. His curtains, his bed, his floor, couches. My man is going to need either a repaining spell or just replace everything. So yeah, its clear its exteremly bad

Since you loose control of yourself during it, I imagine it gets harder to control Cerberus thus letting them roam freely. But, espeically in this instance, they feel caged. They are trapped in a fairly small space with no place to roam and full of their master's rage with no outlet. We already know that without strong control and careful handling, the dogs will turn at the slightest provocation. Even at Kalego himself when they were first bonded to him. They bit and clawed at him mercilessly

So, it's possible that because his willpower is low during evil cylce plus having no target to take their fustrations out on, they try to take it out on Kalego. I'm sure Kalego could still fight without his mana dogs, but we have seen its his primary weapon. So it would be a fight for dominance, not mentioning that Kalego would be full of rage and frustration as well. It would be a back and forth anger fest but nothing really being fixed, unless the actual fighting becomes a sort of catharsis activity? but I think it would just anger him more because on top of the stress that led him to having an evil cycle in the first place, now Cerberus is acting up and he has to deal with that. Thus why it becomes SO destructive.

It could also be that the dogs become extra protective of their master causing it to bark and attack at anything percieved as a threat. An evil cycle, while the demon is at its strongest, is also when they are at their most vulnerable. Think about it, sure you can use strong attacks and even have new abilities (ie, Sabro's weapon ability) but it takes a lot out of them, phsyically, magically, and mentally. Your powers skyrocket but your control decreases by a fairly large margin (Azz almost attacking the Dorodoro brothers). The dogs could see it as their mission to protect Kalego at all costs.

They have beem bonded together for so long that maybe they won't turn on him specifically but anything around them. Going down this thought, maybe it's less of a protective thing and moreso that they have too much pent up energy and decide to trash the place. I mean, as someone who currently has a puppy in the house and a grown dog, trust me they will mess with shit just out of pure frustration. (Though my grown up doggie only does it sometines, he's well trained, my lovely boy.) Back on track, maybe it's as simple as they are out, have nothing to do, and just chew everything up. But since this is Iruma-kun, i don't know if that'll be the case. I want it to be "oh, silly puppies" but i think there's a strong possibility of it being the "we are going to fuck you up now master" route. But them fighting Kalego does make for a fun if messed up story lore.

Hopefully we will get insight into it later in the series and also witness it!

[causenessus]

human things in my life recently . . . ✦ . ⁺

(this is going to be a long list! i'll probably keep thinking of things as I write others down. and that's probably because that's the human experience :) )

i was talking to my director about wishing other kids could see him how I did, as a person, not just some silly guy who will let them slack off or do whatever they ask him to and I said "sometimes I wish I could project my brain onto others" and he laughed and said, "isn't that what it means to be human? wanting to share your thoughts with others, make them feel what you feel and think?"

i later told him i wanted to be there for our upcoming play which is stressing us both out and I told him, "I just feel like I see you. as a human. not as just a teacher, or some adult, or a figure. but a human." and he said, "thank you, I needed to hear that."

i wrote a christmas card to my manager and thanked her for treating me like a human and she said that my card was the best gift she received that year

we are all humans. why is it such a heartfelt compliment to tell someone you see them as such?

last december, sitting on the stage of my theatre on the last day before break with my tech director talking about growing up. what I will always remember from that day is watching the kid who will be taking over a lot of my responsibilities next year skipping down the stairs as he and I talked. i told him, "there have been so many deaths this year, and that scares me. i didn't think i'd start experiencing so much of this at 18, I thought it would be something in my late 20s. is this what growing up is?" and he said, "yes, but it's also about life. it's about watching new lives be created just as much as it is about seeing people off for the last time." and while currently, I think there's even more to growing up than just these two things, it was a nice reminder. growing up also means more life.

a post i saw online, about how depressing this Christmas felt, and someone's realization that it's because Christmas is a holiday your parents work hard to make feel magical. as you grow older, then it's up to you to make it magical for others, and that's how the magic of Christmas is kept

an except from my sociology final exam research paper on the fear of growing up from December: "While the definition of what it means to be an adult may vary between people, many at least hold within them an optimism that they will reach the place of adulthood at some point. Being an adult means to many being independent and responsible, which some acknowledge to be a heavy burden, but one that they are happy to carry...I am left with one closing thought: perhaps everyone is more prepared for the future than they thought."

telling my father on his birthday that he's the strongest person I know, not just physically, but mentally. even if we disagree on a lot of things and don't always get along, i can take one look around my room and house and realize how much he's done for me despite all of our arguments and how much he hurts everyday

something my therapist said that i'd come to the conclusion to while trying to decide if I should drop a class that was giving me a lot of anxiety or not, "do it. there's a stigma in society nowadays to just 'suck it up' whenever your facing something hard, but if you have the ability to change your surroundings when you're uncomfortable, why wouldn't you?"

my friend a few years younger than me that will text me and ask if she can be with me for lunch because she wants to be around someone she feels comfortable with

this same friend asking me for help on an assignment to find ten things that inspired her, and I told her "why don't you think about the future? somewhere you want to travel? your dream home, when you finally get to move out? what keeps you motivated?"

the fact that scientists don't yet understand the human brain. the fact that every single person on this earth is unique in how they form perceptions, what they experience who they meet, who they decide to love, what they believe in, what foods they like, how different the chemistry inside each of them is. how flawed we all are. everything that makes us human. and there's beauty in those imperfections, not things to be hidden.