#international week of the deaf

[positivelyqueer]

Hello!

18 - 24 September 2023 is National Week of Deaf People in Australia, coincide with International Week of Deaf People (IWDP) and International Day of Sign Languages (IDSL).

Theme this year: A World Where Deaf People Can Sign Anywhere.

From organisation 'Deaf Australia': "[NWDP] opportunity for Deaf people to celebrate their communities, language, culture and history; make the public aware of their local, state and national Deaf communities; and to recognise their achievements."

Good time look local Deaf organisations and communities, see what events happening in state/territory!

Hope Deaf people get to enjoy community and events, and have good week!

[lifeinacartoon]

Sign Language Advice for beginners learning.

One of the best pieces of advice I've ever received about learning Sign Language is that it's a language of its own. It doesn't follow English grammar rules; it has its own structure. Instead of thinking about it word for word, focus on conveying the meaning of the sentence visually.

[anjoscent]

SWEET PRISONER. dark!Caitlyn kiramman x f!reader

tw ; G!PCaitlyn cause girls can have dicks to force deep down your throat. Rape/noncon, you make it clear that you don't want to but she fucks you anyways, reader trapped, kidnapping, manipulation, stockholm syndrome, swallowing cum from caitlyn's mouth/ spit wc; 2.8k

Footsteps echo in the silent prison, the noise of the cell keys banging furiously trying to open the large, tightly locked door does not go unnoticed; being one of the only things you hear in weeks—possibly months.

Caitlyn enters as a confident, menacing presence—it's a sight you've been seeing more often. eyebrows furrowed visibly; eyes hard and sharp. makes you unconsciously jerk; the chains tightly clasped around your wrists jingle, giving you a reminder that you've already used up all the length of them you had to get around.

You don't remember the last time you spoke to someone other than her; she makes sure you don't.

you shiver when your body is brutally forced to stop by the handcuffs , it hurts— it's your fault, really. you don't know why you even thought about the possibility of you being able to escape, maybe you had a chance to escape when she still let you walk around like a normal human. No handcuffs and nothing, when she let you have your opinion on some things. no matter how small they were. they were still something

“You’re awake,” she murmurs under her breath; raspy and husky voice, she moves towards you who is crouched in the corner of the cell. she raises an eyebrow shyly when you don't dare to look at her and that makes you shrink internally, her eyes scan your body, pupillating dilating while she not-so-subtly—not that she ever thought of being, examines you completely.

“I thought I told one of the enforcers to bring you some panties?” She pondered shameless, more of an answer than a question and oh, how funny she is. acting like you could use more than that as if she didn't soak disgustingly every single pair of panties she gave you with her cum.

You control yourself from scoffing when she runs her fingertips along your rib cage with familiarity, rubbing her thumb over the unblemished skin that is now full of bruises adorning your skin

Caitlyn makes a sound of mock-pity in the back of her throat not even making the effort to look at you. not when she has more important things to take care of “is it too much for you?” she scoffs harshly, her hands slipping between your legs, forcing your thighs open for her, fingers digging into the soft skin of your inner thigh when you don't relax and open up automatically, how you hate her. you hate how she just comes and takes what she wants from you without even caring if you want it, like her doll to use.

Her fingers slip painfully slowly to your pussy, fingers scratching the skin of your stomach in the way. digits rubbing your entrance, you tremble and try to close your thighs, only to receive a firm even painful grip “I've had a really shitty day,” she mutters harshly, “do it the fucking easy way today” The words come out naturally, demanding and without a hint of distress; You frown and continue to force your thighs closed, you don't want this— and Caitlyn seems to notice. of course she notices, Her eyes narrow sharply and her free hand tugs at your chained wrist to pull you closer to her.

Tears prick the corners of your eyes as you blink hard to try to avoid her cold, scolding gaze. Like you're a petulant child throwing a tantrum and not a woman who's tied up for god knows how many days in a cell.

“Are you playing deaf?” Her eyes scan your face, fingers reaching up to firmly grip your chin “Don't make me force myself in there” Her threat is practically spat out in disgust. she hold your jaw in a painful grip, forcing your face to look at her. her day was shit one at the council today. stupid people, paperwork to sign, her head starts to throb just thinking about you opening your mouth to do something other than suck or choke on her fingers.

She squeezes your thigh painfully, forcing you to spread your thighs. her face forming into a visible frown when you hesitate, fingers coming up to cup your cheek, fingers clad in shooting glove, the fabric scratches the soft skin of your cheek gently, her eyes scan your face. she clicks her tongue, mocking you.

her hand is formed in a smooth arc and she strikes you hard across your cheek with her hand, the blow ringing in your ear and the taste of blood in your mouth.

she scoffs softly in the back of her throat and grabs your chin again “I don't like doing it you know.” She coos as she feels tears streaming down your cheeks, poor sensitive thing. her lips press against your flushed cheek. voice like honey— falsely sweet. “No need to cry” she muttered softly but you still can feel the condescension in her voice, cause she rarely has any regrets.

Her hand moves away from your cheek, leaving it inconveniently cold, the fingers slide down again moving to the top of your thigh, drumming her fingers on the skin.

your thighs slowly open(begrudgingly) eliciting a positive hum from her throat. she presses herself against you, the front of her pants pressing against your groin, the fabric rubbing against the sensitive skin, burning in the worst possible way.

her hand slips to your pussy now, gaze going down and eyebrow arching curiously when she sees and feels her glove wet, a cruel giggle echoes as if she finds it funny “Why the tears when you're this wet honey?” she forces two fingers into your tight entrance, insistent fingers when she can't fit two fingers in at once.

“Relax for me”

“Fuck you” you babble, tears still streaming, her shallow display of affection did nothing to calm you. She rolls her eyes out of your line of sight and nuzzles into your throat, breath warming on your skin “Stop being so dramatic like a baby. you can handle more than two fingers. Much more.” She whispers, voice muffled.

Her fingers force their way in, fingers abusing your hole, Your eyes squeeze tightly close as more tears that you don't even notice run down your cheeks. When she can't slid her fingers inside, she pulls her wet fingers away and places them on the front of her pants. She smirk against your neck, her mouth sucking a bruise next to an old one that she made a long time ago

Her slim, thin fingers run over her jeans. a soft sigh leaving her lips, fingers fumbling with the buttons “fuck..” her lips purse into a frown, her fingers open the button of her pants, breathing heavily, she opens her pants, the bulge already appearing in her underwear, tense and frustrating desire. she's been having to put up with fucking zaulnites and slum dwellers for so long, she just needs this.

She sighs, hands gripping her cock behind the damp fabric. is practically transparent now, her tip leaking pre-cum, her hand goes through her waistband and pulls her cock out. The cock jumping out of her underwear, The veins throb with pent-up lust, the tip drools, she runs her thumb over her tip, a sigh leaving her lips. your breathing quickens in a moment when you see it, it's disgusting. you hesitate and sneak off, standing against the old wall

She stops for a second when she feel your movements— or the lack of your cooperation. jaw clenching and eyebrow furrowing, she's mad, she definitely is. she slowly raises her head, looking at you, cold eyes and pupils dilating incessantly, she approaches you and rubs the tip against your entrance, pushing deep, she's forcing it in “Oh poor thing,” she begins, voice still incredibly gentle, and you feel the frustration boiling over “You need to relax, what have I told you about that.” she scolds harshly, gloved fingers coming up to rub your sensitive clit, trying to relax your walls.

You squirm, legs twitching furiously as you feel her tearing you in half, she grabs your waist and slid over your body “no, no, no— leave me” you panic only to have a gloved hand grabbing your mouth and muffling your voice, she leans down to tower over you when you squirm trying to get away from her grip, the veins in her neck throb visibly and she grips you painfully “Stop fucking moving, yeah?” she hissed through her teeth, you could visibly hear the bad mood in her voice. She grabs your arm and presses her hips closer to yours, the pain is agonizing, her cock is so thick. she held you down with her bodyweight as you'd wriggle in attempts to get her off— you're so innocent, you don't even know that turns her on even further.

She can't get over it as you keep trying to get away from her whenever she comes here, as if you didn't want to accept that there was no future for you anymore. You are so stubborn that you make her want to break you again and again

“You're lucky you're so wet” she hums when see more tears flowing and your frowning expression, Her length finally sinks into your tight walls, practically doesn't fit, you're still so tight. the expression of discontent in her face soft as she lets out a sigh at the sight of your face and the tears streaming down

Her head rests on your throat and she finally slides her entire length in, breathing hot and panting. the feeling of her filling you up makes you gasp, your walls stretching to receive her like you always do, her hips move with familiarity. her pelvis slamming against yours, your throat burns as you try to fight back just a little— which is all in vain because her grip on you not soft an inch. Your body shudders with each thrust, her nails dig into your hips. “Just like that.” She sighs when your warmth embraces her length “I missed this pussy” She breathed, rubbing her cheek against your shoulder. which is met with you pulling away from her touch "Don't be so rude to me." She scoffs and sinks in again. teeth nibbling on your neck to emphasize her point, You can feel her in your cervix,

Your body shudders when she speeds up her movements, she takes the entire length of her out and leaves only the tip inside, then slams her dick all the way in. to make sure you feel her stretching you so well, her thrusts into you harder, cock sliding in and out of your pussy with a wet, slick sound. You can feel the muscles in her thighs as she moves, the sound of her breath heavy in the room. You can feel her heartbeat pounding in her chest, body warming up yours as over time

her thrusts become more sloppy and in confusing rhythms, she breathes heavily, soft whimpers are heard as she sinks into your wall. hitting that spongy place inside you that makes you gasp—you don't want to admit it feels good because you hate her, you really do. but you can't lie not when she sees how wet you are.

Her hips move for a few more seconds before sinking as deep inside you as possible. She really does look pathetic sometimes. Sweat dripping, Her mouth hanging open and her body wilting on top of yours, As she fills you with her seed. Her fingers loosen their grip and move to the front of your pussy, Fingering your wet pussy, begging for attention. Something she won't do because she only cares about herself.

She pulls her cock out. Her cum almost spurts out before she sticks two fingers inside. The feeling of her gloved hand inside you makes you squirm as her fingers twist to pull the cum out of you.

Her fingers twist and she pulls a finger smeared with her cum out. And before you know it, she's licking her fingers. A smile spreads across her face as if that doesn't disgust you, She sighs and leaves her fingers clean with nothing on them, Then she brings her hand to your mouth and touches your bottom lip, ordering you to open it. You refuse to do so she digs her fingernail into your lip. Forcing you to open your mouth, which you must do. she smiles and spits into your mouth. The sensation burns your throat with the taste of her cum mixed with her saliva. "Swallow,” “You can't waste it" she teases and rubs your lips as you swallow hard.

“Good girl”

[ram-bles]

HELLOOOO

I got a silly little ask, just a drabble from you would be fine 😁

Like- the reader (gender neutral) wasn't very open about their hobbies and such. One of their hobbies was like martial arts or smth (THIS IS VERY CRUCIAL ☝️☝️☝️)

Wellll, one day Jimmy (🤮) decided to try and touch the reader inappropriately and they just throw him over their shoulder saying something along the lines of "Do NOT touch me."

I KNOW IT'S CRINGE BUT PLEASEEEE, IT WOULD BE SO FUNNY 🙏🙏🙏🙏

I saw you're writing for only Curly and Daisuke, but if you wanna you can add other characters into the mix. It's all platonic, just a silly little ask cuz I wanna laugh 😁😁😁

[ Tulpar Crew & Reader ]

Oh I love this one. Also this reminded me to update my list thank u 4 unintentionally reminding me anon.,.,. ALSO DONT WORRY I DONT THINK IT'S CRINGE !

gender neutral reader, it gets silly later on i promise. not proof-read. wrote this really quick.

⚠️ tw: stalking, jimmy being a little too forward and close

The day was pretty much mundane, like always. Everyone was in their designated work stations, including you of course. Though, something felt off. It had been like this for the past week, and you hated it. You even blamed your lack of sleep for it. It seemed like there was something— someone, watching and following you when you were alone.

One time, you'd even woken up to the sound of your quarter's door closing. You stayed up all night, not wanting to inconvenience the other crew members for what you think might just be all in your head. Well, that is until psych evaluation day came and you opened up about this to Anya who so easily believed you, but seemed so uncomfortable with the topic. You decided not to pry out of respect. She offers her company when you need it.

That same night, Daisuke offered to host a game session to which everyone reluctantly agreed to.

Establishing good bonds between workers is key to an efficient working environment!

Anya, Swansea and Daisuke were sitting by the sofa, Curly dragged a chair just beside the game table, whilst you and Jimmy sat beside each other on the floor. The game involved four players and the crew decided that whoever loses first has to swap with whoever hasn't played yet for the next rounds. The game was getting heated, Daisuke and Anya, neck on neck. Unfortunately, not the only thing neck on neck. Everyone else was too focused on the game to even notice what Jimmy was doing. You can feel his breath against your skin. You eyed the others in hopes that they would see. Too busy. Annoyed and grossed out, you elbowed his ribs in warning, glaring at him. "Jimmy, don't touch me." He seems pissed, but that doesn't deter him from getting his entertainment. Jimmy presses on and you swear you felt your eyebrows twitch. The balls of this guy to even do this here.

Daisuke throws the dice, the three leans in in anticipation as they watch it slowly roll to a stop and—

CRASH!

Some game pieces flew in different directions, two table legs snapping from the force and Jimmy's weight. It was radio silent for a moment. The crew having different variations of shocked expressions. You had grabbed his arm and flipped his body onto the furniture.

"Fuckin' pervert. Are you deaf, or what? I said do NOT touch me."

Daisuke threw his hands up in the air and settled it on each side of his head, frustrated. "Oh, come on, man! I was so close to winni—!" His whining ceases when Swansea nudges him, instantly shutting up and processing what had just happened. It took a few blinks for him to register and he eventually bursts out laughing and pointing at Jimmy. It took everything from Swansea not to burst out laughing as well. Instead, he crosses his arms and huffs with a proud smile. 'Atta' kid.'

Anya on the other hand slips out a gasp, covering her mouth. Mostly out of shock, and no sympathy for the man whatsoever. When the other intern started laughing, she had to bite her lip and look away to suppress her own fit.

[ History of glenohumeral joint subluxation.

It happened way too fast for Jimmy to even process what just happened. He spits out something hard, probably a tooth. His shoulder slightly stings as well, probably dislocated. He'll get back at you some other time, he can't get back at you when everyone else is here and that pisses him off even more.

Curly had mixed feelings. But of course, he prioritizes his role and he has to mediate everything first and foremost. Rubbing his face, he sighs and stands up, putting his hands on his hips. He calls your name and you tilted your head to look up at him. "I have to discuss... this with you later on. Please drop by the cockpit, yeah?" You roll your eyes and nod, pouting. "Swansea, could we borrow your intern real quick?"

"Shift's over, go ahead."

He gives the eldest a nod. "Daisuke, please assist Anya. Help her bring Jimmy to medical."

"Youuuuu got it, Big C." He finger guns towards the captain then stands up to hover over the co-pilot. Curly could only give Daisuke an awkward smile at the nickname.

"Never call him that again."

"El Capitano." Daisuke helps Jimmy up, making sure he's pulling them up by the injured arm, making the man grit his teeth and groan in pain. Before the guy could even cuss at the intern, Swansea continued bickering.

"Do your damn job."

"Yessir. Swansir."

Anya and Daisuke finally went off the bring the poor injured co-pilot to treat him. And if you'd like to know, Anya taught Daisuke how to pull Jimmy's shoulder back to place. Yes, everyone heard him when it happened.

You helped Swansea clean up the mess by the lounge and in apology, offered to help repair the table the next day. He agrees and even offers Daisuke to assist you.

Curly had to lightly reprimand you for your actions, but you'd explained to him what happened. The best he could do for you for now is lie on the report.

Sustained through occupational accident.

Employee confirmed inebriated while working.

Property damage docked to Jimmy.]

[blackbat05]

Fateful Encounters

Joaquin Torres x Reader

Plot: After a hard week at the library, you meet an enigmatic stranger with the help of your beloved dog. During TFATWS timeline.

Genre: PG-13

A/N: And I’m going to watch him on big screen today?!!!?Was in a funk so really glad I got this out! This is a complete rewrite to (Mixup) So excited to see him on Big Screen too after writing for him for so long! Enjoy!!! Tag: @the-slumberparty for 2025 challenge!

“Thanks for today!” You call out to Sophie who urges you to get out of the library and enjoy the weekend.

“Hey! Thanks for bringing Bubbles! They really loved her at the session today.” Sophie bends down to give my lovely Goldie, Bubbles a head pat. “You did such a good job!” She addresses the joyful pooch who gives a bark of acknowledgement.

You bid Sophie goodbye and lead Bubbles out into the cold evening of New York for a hearty dinner and another job well done for the week at the library.

“Well done girl! Where shall we go?” You ask Bubbles who gives a tug on her leash, leading you down the familiar path to both your favourite cafe near the library. “Of course, why did I even ask.” You smiled.

The cafe that you frequented when you first arrived in the bustling city was starting to become crowded on a Friday evening. Family and friends gathered to enjoy the start of a weekend. Bubbles obediently waits in line as you ordered a chicken rice bowl for yourself and a specially curated shredded chicken and pepperoni pizza for Bubbles who is almost pulling you the other direction the moment you finished payment.

“Girl! Slow down. There’s still seats.” You were confused at her sudden excitement at something. You follow her line of sight only to see a lone man gazing out of the window, lost in thought. Bubbles continues to drag you towards the said man, much to your horror.

“Bubbles! No! There’s other seats! We’re not disturbing the poor man!” You hissed under your breath. Unfortunately, it falls on deaf ears as Bubbles only becomes stronger. “Bubbles! Oh- hi!”

You quickly revert to what you assume is a calm and composed version of yourself when internally, you’re freaking out. For a very good reason.

The man was gorgeous. As in, breathtakingly gorgeous. Donning a black leather jacket, you were mesmerized by his hazel coloured eyes that just sucked you in with each passing minute. It felt like it was just the two of you in the room, his soft lips catching your attention…

Bubbles nudges you hardly on the shin and you snap out of your lovesick induced haze. It is then that you notice that the man’s right eye is recovering from a bad bruise. You’re left to wonder what was the story behind that but you quickly pull yourself together because this is not the time to be ogling at the man like he’s an animal at the zoo. You certainly didn’t want him to get the wrong impression.

“I’m so sorry, I’m not sure why Bubbles is acting this way.” You apologized. “We’ll just find a seat and be on our way.” You try to tug on Bubble’s leash without much success. Bless the man, he doesn’t seem bothered at all by your sudden appearance. In fact, he offers you the seat across from him. “It’s getting crowded, please.”

You thank him and quickly settle down across him. Bubbles takes no time in trotting over to her new found friend, resting her snout on his lap. “She likes you.” You observed. The man gives Bubbles a rub, much to her delight. “She never warms up to anyone that quickly before.”

“Well then, I must be a very lucky person.” He cracks a small smile before introducing himself. “Where are my manners? My name is Joaquin Torres.” Joaquin offers a handshake.

“Y/N L/N. We just came from the public library down the street.”

For the next few minutes, you fall into easy conversation about your job as a library assistant at the children’s section. You were absolutely out of luck when you were trying to search for a job fresh out of university. Although you could have gone into the corporate world and land a cushy job, you never felt that it was right for you to begin with. Your true passion lied with books and connecting with people about them. So one day, when you were absolutely tired of having to spend the whole day in front of a computer sending out resumes after resumes, you decided to head to the public library for a much needed escape.

“And lucky me, I saw the advert for the job. So here I am.” You beam inwardly at the memory. It was incredible really, how far you’ve come since then. “That’s enough about me, I would like to know more about you.” You say sincerely.

Joaquin fiddles with his teaspoon and you wonder if you’ve crossed the line. You start to open your mouth to apologize but it’s as if he can read your mind. “It’s only fair.” He brushes away your apology reassures that you’re not forcing him.

“I used to be in the military, Air Force.” Joaquin tells you. “It was the best time of my life. But seeing people die, that chipped away at my soul.” A moment of silence passes, perhaps for the lives that were lost.

“This?” He points to his bruise. “I got it while on a mission in Europe. I was there for surveillance, but innocent civilians died on my watch by a group of terrorists claiming that they were making the world better.” Joaquin tells me bitterly. Bubbles gets up and presses her body against Joaquin’s legs, as if she could sense the agitation radiating from him. He looks down and gives her another rub of thanks.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that. No one should ever have to go through something so horrific. Thank you for telling me.”

“It was actually something that I needed to do actually.” Joaquin confesses. “My Captain encouraged me to get therapy but it didn’t sit right with me.” He laughs at the thought. “I should thank you for sharing as well. It mustn’t have been easy, how you got here today.”

You were oddly pleased at Joaquin’s compliment. You knew that already, but having someone like Joaquin to acknowledge your struggles made you feel a connection with him.

As the customers continued to stream in and out of the cafe, you sat across the charming stranger-now-turned friend, sharing experiences living in the bustling Big Apple.

Bubbles whine, signaling that she was started to feel cooped out under the table. “Oh, I think that’s my signal.” You carefully eased the dog under the table. “Thank you for the company and conversation. I really needed that.”

“Same here. Take care.”

You stepped out into the chilly evening, heading back in the direction of your apartment. As you arrived back home, you let out a gasp of realization, causing Bubbles to be alarmed.

“Oh no! I forgot to ask him his number!” You groaned. Joaquin was a genuinely nice guy - a rare one these days. A rare one that you carelessly let out of your grasp like a slippery fish.

Hitting your head on the back of the sofa, you turned to Bubbles. “I guess it wasn’t meant to be huh girl?”

Bubbles let’s out a bark, bringing your backpack that you take to work everyday. Confused, you open up the bag, figuring that Bubbles wants to play with her blue plastic ball. Not that you were in a mood to play anyways. But dogs didn’t know that.

As you were about to throw the ball for Bubbles to fetch, she let’s out another bark. It is then you realized that there’s a white piece of paper sticking out of the ball’s cap. Unscrewing it open, a piece of paper that was ripped out from the order sheet at the cafe falls out. Opening it, you find a signature with a couple of words inside:

“Hey Y/N, I had a really great time talking to you. I know it sounds bonkers but I think I’ve hit it off with you and I don’t want this to be our only time. I don’t want to be a weirdo (or stalker) so this is my number. Call me when you’re ready.”

You hold the piece of paper in your hands, smiling from ear to ear. Perhaps you look a little deranged but the idea of Joaquin feeling the same way that you did was a god send. It really was a no brainer as to what you were going to do next.

Taking a deep breath, you dial his number that was given and hit the camera function while praying for the best.

After three rings, Joaquin picks up, his boyish features lighting up at the sight of you. Needless to say, it made you feel incredible. “I was praying that it wasn’t an unsuspecting old lady.” You crack a joke that earns a hearty laughter from the man.

“I’m glad you called.”

“So did I.”

Joaquin grins at your confession. “So… are you doing anything next weekend? I was thinking I could take you and Bubbles to this famous steak place.” It was adorable to see Joaquin nervous as he waits for your response. Joaquin must have sensed the cogs in your brain turning so he quickly adds, “I swear I’m not weird or anything. It’s just that I really liked talking to you that day and Bubbles! But if you don’t want to, I understand.”

“Joaquin!” You get his attention to stop him from rambling further.

“Yeah?”

“I was going to say yes either way.”

Joaquin blinks, slowly registering your words. “Great! That’s great! Um, bring Bubbles too! I want to see her again.”

You glance down at your beloved pooch who is wagging her tail at Joaquin’s voice.

“Oh she will. She’s definitely excited to see you too.” You laugh and pause for a moment, unsure if it’s too fast to say this. But hey, life is fleeting as it comes. So screw it.

“I’m excited to see you as well.”

[cripplecharacters]

what are the top 5 things you'd like to see a disabled character do in a story?

Hey! This is a very vast question and a lot of it would depend on the character's actual disability - I have completely different wishlists for what I'd like to see intellectually disabled characters do versus what I'd like to see characters with facial differences do. Different stereotypes and tropes affect different groups of disabled people differently - to work with this fact, the below list will try to account for as large amount of disabled character as I can reasonably think of, but it won't have as much detail as you might want. If you have a specific kind of character in mind, feel free to send another ask.

Not in specific order:

Disabled characters being in love. Disabled x disabled, disabled x abled, disabled x very different kind of disabled, all these variants but including more than 2 characters (since I've yet to see a polyamorous disabled character), all of this.

And I mean in actual relationships, not the pitiful and devoid of actual chemistry thing that we usually get (think "really sad disabled man only becomes happy after an abled woman takes pity on him, but they never kiss or god forbid have sex because that's gross and the disableds surely don't do that anyway").

I want to see an interabled couple going through IVF because they want to have kids, a wife with hemiplegia getting to grow old and wrinkly with her autistic husband, a lesbian with Treacher Collins syndrome moving in with her chronically ill girlfriend after a month of knowing each other, DeafBlind men getting hands on each other in the bathroom of a shitty nightclub, a trans woman with autism asking out a trans man with Down syndrome via her AAC tablet, a neurotypical guy with an obvious crush on his classmate with cerebral palsy.

I want to actually see disabled people being shown as desirable partners, good parents and grandparents, potential crushes, going through some new feelings and going on both good and bad dates, from all walks of life, of all sexualities and genders. Just like abled people.

Disabled characters participating in their community. Especially severely and/or visibly disabled characters. This is obviously a concept as vague as it could possibly be, but a big problem with a lot of disabled characters is that they don't... do anything. Not in the sense that they aren't "active enough", but that they aren't really... characters. They're often reduced to a family member who's at home and maybe the abled character takes care of them sometimes, but that's seemingly all that happens; they have no interests, hobbies, agency, preferences, or an internal thought process. All they do is wait for an abled savior to do something to them, not even with them.

I want to see more disabled characters who have jobs (whether it's a "regular" job, a supported employment workplace, a creative job that maybe they can only do a few hours a week, or self-care as a full-time job kind of thing), participating in hobbies that are accessible and/or modified to their ability level, emailing or sending pigeon letters to their friends, trying out new stuff that they're interested in, having actual complex relationships with their caregivers. Anything to actually make them feel like characters that exist in their setting, not just cardboard cutouts that the author had no ideas for.

Disabled characters who are a part of real-world disability (and adjacent) culture. Obviously also a vast topic. Most disabled characters, regardless of setting, are completely separated from concepts that were made by disabled people for disabled people; usually the connection to disability is their actual medical condition and a sterile mobility aid. This is not incorrect or bad to represent since that describes a lot of people, but I'd like to simply see more variety.

I want to see disabled characters who do parasports, who are excited about tactile art, went to blind/Deaf/SPED schools, call themselves #a babe with a mobility aid, decorate their AAC device, learn about disabled history, experience Feelings when hearing that Neanderthals cared about their disabled children, go to disability-centric events or support groups to meet people similar to them.

Do all disabled people do these? Absolutely not, but I'd like for even 1% of fictional characters to represent those who do.

Yeah I just want more disabled characters doing sports. As in real-life sports that real-life disabled people do, apologies to all the fantasy swordfighting that's out there.

There are so many sports out there we can do, some are adapted, some have a sitting or wheelchair version, while others were made specifically for us. Team sports are such a good opportunity to have your character have a community of people like them, have interesting dynamics, yet the only anything I can think of that's about it is REAL by Takehiko Inoue (wheelchair basketball) and the art by @/gayaest / @/sproutwiki (sitting volleyball). Also some Paralympics documentaries that I can count on a single hand - there's like three of them.

I want to see characters who are starting out and really suck at their sport, ones who are decent, ones with ridiculous sports-anime-level over the top abilities. I want to see all kinds of sports done by all kinds of disabled characters; blind kids learning goalball with their blind parents, quadriplegic guys working their ass off to qualify for national murderball championships, folks using sticker-covered bright-pink ramps in their boccia games, people with POTS playing along with their abled partner on their wheelchair rugby league team, standing fencers becoming disabled and adapting to wheelchair fencing that they love just as much. More disabled people having fun, knowing other disabled people, having interests!

Also, parasports are just cool as fuck and interesting to both watch and read about.

Disabled characters getting to make bad decisions. Disability representation is often extremely black-and-white in terms of morality: the character is either an angel who always does the right thing and talks about being grateful a lot, or the character is comically evil, wanting revenge because of their disability, hating their disability, constantly in grief and anger since not a single mildly ok thing happened to them since they became disabled. Neither of these feel like real people.

Disabled characters should be able to say hurtful things, get mad, lie, and whatever else, without being demonized to hell for it the same way abled characters are. They should be allowed to consciously make a decision that they shouldn't take (also known as "dignity of risk" in context of disability). They should get the same consequences for mistakes as everyone else and need to have the opportunities to actually make them.

In a much shorter way: more complex disabled characters.

These are things that I'd enjoy seeing for disabled characters. But the main thing would probably be that I want more of them. The scope of disabled characters in media is so painfully narrow because there's so few of them + they're usually capped at one per series. More writing featuring multiple disabled people please.

Here is a list of wishes from other mods who wanted me to throw them here:

Disabled characters who act like the author did more than a 10 min google search about their disabilities. [So authors doing actual research.]

More disabled characters of color. A lot of time disabled characters are white because it's only acceptable for them to be one kind of marginalized. In real life that's not how it works. People of color are disabled too!

Characters with comorbidities, characters with physical and mental health and developmental symptoms. Disability doesn't just come with one cut and dry disorder all the time - you can even be diagnosed with some things and undiagnosed with others.

[A character can have 5 comorbidities, or 5 completely unrelated disabilities - both happen. Or, most frequently, a bit of both.]

Characters existing in all parts of their diagnostic journey. [So characters who are yet to be diagnosed, currently investigating their symptoms, ones recently diagnosed, and ones who had their diagnosis for their whole lives - and as mentioned previously, you can be on one stage with disability A, and on another with disability B.]

Characters whose whole life isn't just tragedy/struggle! See this a lot when a story with disabled character is just about how life is hard for them as disabled person. Would love disabled characters being leads in other genres and just existing as people. Not to say disability isn't a struggle, but there is more to life and person than disability.

mod Sasza

[ericsprincess]

until you overflow

nc-17, Na Jaemin/Reader, historical au, queen!yn, war prize!jaemin, mildly dubious consent, cunnilingus, penetration, breeding kink

~~~

You need an heir. 

~~~

“I already SAID, I am NOT going to do this now,” you spoke through your gritted teeth, holding yourself back the best way you could to not smash your fist on the table out of anger. The atmosphere in the room was tense, and yet the scene was all too familiar for everyone. 

"B-but you need an heiress! Your highness, the war is over so now we should focus on important internal affairs, one of which is ensuring the succession!" scuttered one of the ministers, a capable, but also an extremely annoying woman with a particular penchant for bureaucracy. One of those people who never knows when to stop, whether they mean well or not. 

“The war is over and we should focus on repairing what it ruined first, don’t you think?” you replied sarcastically, but the minister as if she were deaf to your tone. 

“But..what if something happens to you? We need to have the security of an heiress! The people need it, it will boost the morale of the entire nation too!”

And this was already going on for 20 minutes. For the third time just this week. 

Thankfully, this useless exchange was interrupted when one of your highest advisors, an ancient noble lady, an advisor of your mother before she was yours, stepped out, essentially ending the bickering. 

“Your highness, there is still the..new war prize. You surely know which one I mean,” the advisor bowed deep in front of you. “He seems very strong. He could give our queendom many heiresses. It would silence many mouths, not only about the ones talking about you, but also those that are raising concerns about his future and purpose. Please consider that.” she spoke and retreated back amongst the others.  

Of course you knew which one she meant. Ever since the moment he was brought by your army, and as a part of war prize paraded around the capital to be finally thrown to kneel at your feet, he’s been the talk of the entire country. There were many captives brought in that day, but this one, as if he had put the spell on our entire country. All the men and women alike were marveling at his beauty, mouths hanging open with fingers pointing at that one, do you see that one? as the procession of soldiers and captives and carriages full of gold was passing through the capital city towards the Queen’s Palace. People soon started spreading eyewitness accounts and half-truths as well, even sharing made-up stories how he was so strong and raging that he almost fought off an entire squad of your soldiers before he was captured, how they had to bring him bound in thick iron chains and muzzled, a beautiful, but rabid beast. 

Most of that was not true. As far as the generals’ report that was handed to you said, he was ambushed while he was quietly traveling on his horse alone on a forest path, and went willingly, with a smile. He just let himself get captured, even shooting a joke or two, greeting his captors goodnaturedly like old friends. However, under his plain clothes, your soldiers found out he was armed up to the teeth.

They tried to interrogate him, but even after hours, no one was able to figure out where he came from and where he was going. He spoke with an accent not native to the conquered kingdom, so he clearly wasn’t a local citizen, but refused to prove his ties to another country to avoid being taken as a war captive. Nothing about his clothes or things he had on him specified anything. He provided his name when asked, but it was a simple, plain name, very common in any country around, so no one even believed it’s real. 

So they just followed the orders and just like any other captive, they brought him to the palace to have his fate decided there, and most court people half-expected you would have him publicly executed, as a statement and also just to simply get rid of the potential threat. They threw him at your feet, and he didn’t beg for his life as everyone expected he would. He raised his head from where he was kneeling, dirty with hands tied behind his back, but said nothing and only smiled at you, before dropping his head back down. The crowd gasped at the audacity of him daring to even lay his eyes on their Queen and immediately started whispering, everyone expecting you would immediately order your guards to have his head cut off, bloodthirsty atmosphere rising in the hall.

But you didn’t want to. You have learnt years ago, by necessity, to have no qualms or hesitation about ending an unworthy life, but something drawn you to him. You couldn’t tell what, but you didn’t want to kill him, at least not before he would give you an actual reason. You didn’t want to waste his life, just for the fleeting enjoyment of the masses. You wouldn’t have admitted it, not even to yourself at that time, but you were also intrigued.

You couldn’t decide and you ended up stalling, staring at the back of his head that was hung between his shoulders, with his forehead almost touching the cold marble of the throne room as he was slumped on his knees. The throne room was completely silent, everyone waited with bated breaths for the verdict.

Then a sharp pain in your rib woke you up from your stupor. You startled and looked at the source - your closest court lady, who was until now only standing at her usual place by your right hand, entirely bored, has just elbowed you to bring you back to earth. 

She leaned over to you, covering her mouth as she whispered to your ear. 

“Keep this one. We will put him to good use.” 

You rolled your eyes at her as she drew back, and she just shrugged. What? Sue me, she mouthed back at you before she resumed her bored expression. 

You sighed and irritatedly waved your hand to the right, signaling the guards to take him to the dungeons instead of beheading him right on the spot. The crowd groaned a little, annoyed that they couldn’t witness an almost poetic death of an exquisite beauty, but no one dared to raise a protest. They all knew better than that.

~~~

This is all entirely her fault, you were rubbing your temples two days later to stave off the headache, thinking about what to do about him, cursing your best friend and her one track mind. 

But she did have a solid point, and you are a benevolent and generous queen so you decided to put him where he would be appreciated the best and guarded the most - a royal harem, private only for you and your court ladies to use at your leisure. 

Despite his dubious and potentially dangerous origins, you weren’t afraid for the safety of your court ladies. None of them were here just for decoration - all highly trained professional guards and assassins, the loyal extensions of your power, you weren’t afraid of them getting hurt or letting him escape. Vice-versa too - if anyone decided to become some kind of a vigilante justice and lay a hand on the mysterious dangerous man who could be seen as a threat to the queendom, he would be well-protected. 

It really seemed to be the best solution.

A solution that would make everyone happy - you would have one less problem, the man would be out of prying and gossiping public eyes hidden well within the palace walls, the court ladies would get a new shiny toy and him…Well, no one cares about what he thinks or wants. 

But even this turned out to not be an issue, because as it was reported to you a month later, the new harem addition was settling into his new role well. Maybe even too well, as you have found out from the gossips and giggles between the court ladies. Apparently, not only he didn’t have any reservations about the kind of services that were expected from him, but also he provided them very willingly and enthusiastically. Seemingly impossible to tire out, he was always happy to let himself be used by any woman, even multiple at once! as you heard the whispers.  

The never ending rumors about his skills with his fingers or tongue were constantly making you blush every time you overheard. But not only that, part of why he was so popular was also how comfortable and desired he made the ladies feel. He seemed to always figure out very quickly how each woman wanted to be touched or talked to, or whichever kink she might have. He was also not shy about his own body or sexuality, but his own needs always took a back seat. He seemed to be born for this role, made to please the others. 

The only thing he was not approved nor allowed to do was penetration. He was not deemed fit or deserving to sire a child for your queendom yet, that was an honor and a privilege reserved for only few distinguished harem members that have been in service for a long time. But the potential was there and everyone acknowledged it. 

The beautiful, charming Probably Na Jaemin has quickly become the darling of the harem. Friendly with everyone, staff, servants, even other harem members liked talking to him and had nothing to say about him but high praise. 

No suspicious behavior was reported, no escape attempts, no strange questions, no forbidden items found hidden between his possessions. Na Jaemin seemed to be fully satisfied and content with his living situations and when the servants asked if there were anything he could be missing, he only asked whether there would be a teeeny tiiiny possibility of getting a cat, maybe? If it wouldn’t cause too many problems, of course?

This bastard is just having a vacation on my account, you fumed as you were stamping your Queen’s Approval seal on the request to purchase a ragdoll for the palace. 

Despite the continuous nagging and encouragement from your court ladies, especially your best friend, you haven’t seen him yourself yet. Actually, you haven’t seen anyone from the harem recently, because you were avoiding the entire palace wing by a mile. You wouldn’t admit that to anyone, but you didn’t even want to run into him in the corridors. 

And now you’re expected to consider him as a possible father of your daughters. And you didn’t even have any good reason to reject this idea outright. 

~~~

You have been tossing and turning in your bed for hours already and sleep was yet to come. The full moon has been shining into your chambers so strongly you could see everything even with the lights of. That must be the reason why you can’t sleep, you fumed as you were annoyingly shutting the curtains. 

And then you were lying down staring at the ceiling in complete darkness for one more hour. 

Okay. I give up. You said to yourself and climbed off the bed, picking up a robe, some slippers and a candlestick holder for some light to take with you. 

You left your room quietly and let your feet lead you while trying to not think about where you are going. You passed a few guards on your way, replying only with a curt nod to their deep bows. At the very least you could see for yourself that they are doing their job properly. 

You finally ended up in front of the door that was the target destination of your night trip. You put your hand on the handle and were just about to open it, when the door flew open and a young giggly lady ran out straight into your arms, startling you both. 

You did your best to not drop your light or burn either of you, while she quickly (and with complete horror) realized who did she run into, composed herself and started apologizing, bowing deeply and begging you for forgiveness. You just dismissed her with a wave of your hand and she didn’t need to be told twice - she bowed once more for good measure and disappeared into the corridor. 

Once the commotion calmed down you were free to look into the room. It was a normal harem room, nice and spacious, beautifully decorated with imported furniture and full of lights and candles, with a big bed in the middle. And just there, in the middle of the bed, leisurely spreaded on the finest silks your country could provide, was Jaemin. And what a sight for sore eyes he was - dressed only in light silk pants,so thin, you could almost make out what’s under them, with only his upper body on display, all in its tanned and muscular glory. Lying there, like a picture perfect example of debauchery, sweaty, used, and covered in lovebites and bodily fluids, as if letting himself to show you what he's there for.

He didn’t scramble off the bed to bow to you, which would be a punishable offense and he must have known. Instead, he let his head drop back on the pillow and with drowsy eyes, tired voice and wide smug smile he asked: 

“Your highness… How can I help you?” he drawled slowly, without any care about what’s proper and what is not. He seemed to enjoy being seen in such a state, especially by you. 

You clenched your jaw. You will not be entertaining this kind of behavior. You promptly turned on your heel and left his room, slamming the door behind you. 

You took on the way back to your quarters, fuming the entire time, but trying to not think about why exactly. 

~~~

It’s been a few days and you can’t sleep again. But this time, you are not trying to. You’ve been periodically alternating lying restlessly in your bed with pacing around your room. You might have checked yourself in the mirror once or twice. And now you’re back in bed, more nervous and anxious than you should be. You keep glimpsing on the clock even though it’s still a little bit too early - your instructions were clear - better later than to be seen. But you still can’t wait, you’re not sure if it’s just the anxiety or also maybe some anticipation. 

The heavy door to your chambers slowly opens, revealing your visitor - Na Jaemin, slipping through the door silently like a cat, closing them after himself without any sound. He’s wearing only a thin, almost translucent white silk shirt and some light linen pants - both entirely inappropriate attire even for slinking through the palace corridors deep at night. He is looking at you, his facial expression neutral, not exposing any of his thoughts. 

“Your highness,” he greets. He doesn’t bow. 

You nod in reply, but don’t know what else to say. Usually you wouldn’t be so shy or embarrassed, but none of your harem members unsettles you like he does. You could just order him around, but it doesn’t feel right, you don’t want it like that. The moment is so awkward that you don’t know whether to start laughing or not, as you are just staring at each other. So you decide to slightly break the tension by lifting the silk duvets in invitation. 

He doesn’t wait a second and swiftly joins you in your massive canopy bed, throwing half of the bedding off on the ground. He settles between your legs, laying down on his belly and pushes your nightgown up. With just a brief glance at your face to confirm his intentions he gets to work. He starts eating your pussy with the skill and talent of someone who, well, eats pussy as a profession - and it would have felt maybe too impersonal if he weren’t so good at it. He’s enthusiastic and he clearly likes doing it, with his eyes closed and occasional humming. It feels good, his tongue feels like it’s everywhere at the same time and the tempo is perfect, even more when he dares to slip two fingers inside you. 

It’s good, too good and you don’t want to come. Not yet, not before he does what needs to be done. But he doesn’t know that yet. 

You reluctantly grab him by his hair and unstick him from your pussy. He looks so beautiful, his eyes are closed and his face is flushed, with sweat gathering on his temples. His lower face is all wet and his lips are so red. He opens his eyes, slowly, blinking: 

“You don’t want to? Is that not why I am here?” he asks, looking surprised. You are not sure whether to trust it or he’s just pretending.  But you don’t feel like you are obligated to explain yourself to him. 

“Take it out. Put it in,” you order. 

“Oh, so it’s like that, is it?” his face transforms completely, his smug wide shark smile back on his face. You let his hair go and he gets up, keeling between your legs, towering over you. He starts to untie his pants. 

“Is that what this is about?” he asks, while grabbing you by your hips, pulling you closer to him so easily as if you weighed nothing. “I heard some gossip about an heir. So are you just using me for breeding?” he says, putting on a fake accusatory tone. How does he have the mental presence to pretend-pout while he’s literally pushing his hard cock inside, flashes through your head. 

He stops when he’s all the way in and leans forward over you, unmoving and staring right into your eyes, his unsettling smile plastered on as usual. 

“Yes.” you do your best to keep your voice stable as he starts moving. You relax and lift your legs to wrap them around his back to push him deeper. His movements are fluid and he’s gentle, clearly thinking of your comfort first, not just hammering in without consideration. 

“The royal court has found you a purpose,” you breathe out, closing your eyes. You drop your head back on the pillows. “And I am not using you, you should be honored.”

“Does the royal court not care about the father of its heirs being just a lowly pleasure slave? Maybe we are more equal than you think, you know” taunts Jaemin. You run your hands over his wide back, holding on for the dear life and he’s starting to fuck you more thoroughly, his tempo getting faster. Despite that, he doesn’t seem to get any winded, his stamina is solid and his self-control clearly impeccable, as he doesn’t seem to be affected in any way. But he is, you can feel him sweat, you can feel the slick wetness between your bodies just as well as you can feel how hard he is. 

“It’s-it’s not important,” you stutter between thrusts. You’re slowly getting there and it’s becoming hard to think. He’s going fast and deep and finally you can hear him getting out of breath. 

“Okay,” he breathes out. He lowers down so he can kiss you on your neck. “I’ll give you your daughters” he puts his lips close to your ear, his deep voiced whispers accompanying his final thrusts, as he loses the rhythm and cums inside of you, with your orgasm following right after, triggered by his and his words. 

You keep holding on to him tightly as you feel pumping his cum inside of you, both coming down from your orgasms. You’re enjoying this closeness and you don’t really want to let go, but everything is getting too hot and sticky, so you reluctantly let him drop on the bed next to you. 

You feel completely liquid but when you glance at him, he’s already recovered, with his breath back to normal and wits fully gathered. 

He grins at you. “Your highness~~ Were you satisfied with my services?”

Yes. “We will see that soon.”

He turns to his side and gets close to cuddle up to you. You don’t know what to do with your limbs, but let him do as he wishes. Which is sticking himself fully onto you like an octopus. 

“I was thinking, If it works out well, maybe you could let me make a few more babies for your court ladies, so the throne heir has friends to play with, what do you think?” he mumbles into your skin.

Fuck no. It’s not that you are possessive, not over a measly harem member, but something about this proposal rubs you the wrong way. You frown and start to fight your way out of his embrace to scold him from a more dignified position, but you’re stuck in an iron cuddle grip. And the more you try to wiggle out, the tighter it gets. 

“Noooooo? Does your majesty not like this idea~~?” he asks. “That’s okay then, we will just have to work eeeeeextra hard to make this one a twins,” he laughs, already scrambling up so he can get between your legs again.

And you can’t help yourself, and laugh with him.  

~~~

a/n: i like to imagine that this jaemin is actually a runaway youngest prince of some neighboring country who decided to become a hitman for hire, because that’s just so much more fun. he loooves killing people, but he really did need a vacation :) 

[fluffymarshmalllows]

In every universe, I'll look for you

fanfic about Reader getting sucked in the portal first, Ford follows.

Another restless night for you and your husband in the basement. Coffee staining the journals as he scribbles more blurbs about this “Bill” person he keeps calling his muse. You didn’t want to feel jealous but ever since that absurdly long late night walk Ford took months ago, he’s been nose deep into every physics book and theoretical researches to prove something, anything. Every time you beg him to rest, he refuses making you a bit annoyed, blame it on the sleep deprivation and lack of quality time.

“Please, Fordsy, you really need some rest. We’ve been working on this project for weeks now” you muttered, half-asleep at this point. But words fell on deaf ears as your husband just waved you off with some empty promises of he’ll be with you to bed soon.

Too tired to argue, you kissed him on the cheek which caused his face to get dusted pink for a bit, but still very much focused on his calculations. A sight you will never get tired of. You also waved to Fiddleford who was roped in this whole project bidding farewell.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” he says without looking up as you climb the squeaky staircase. You reminded them both to get some rest while internally praying to whoever God that will listen that you get your doting husband back sooner than later.

Not even hours later, loud metal clashes and bangs from the basement jerked you awake. You shot up and dashed straight to Ford worried that something might’ve happened. Did he get injured? A part fell on him? Was he trashing the place? Shaking your head ridding of those thoughts. Running towards the basement fueled with adrenaline and a power nap is not ideal but the situation called for it.

You got there as quick as you can and witnessed a rather vulgar argument between your husband and Fiddleford leading to the latter walking out and bumping your shoulder muttering unpleasant words towards Ford.

Peering out from the basement stairs, on the other side of their makeshift divider was a big glowing construction whirring with power. “Oh my god” those were the only things that you could mutter in that moment. The machine was… working. It was finally working. After months of sleepless nights, exhausted arguing, they finally made it work giving you hope that things will soon get back to normal, or as much as it used to be.

Ford felt your presence and looked at you like a mad-man, eyes crazed with no sign of sanity. It made you question if the man standing ahead of you was really the guy you married. “It finally worked! The math finally made sense. Do you understand, Y/N?! This is our key to figuring out all these anomalies.” You took a step back your back against the door while he tries to coax you in joining him. “No, Ford, this doesn’t look safe”.

Ford turned his back to you, staring at his creation. “Fiddleford said the same thing” he mused, “but please, beloved, I won’t let you be in any danger”. His reassuring voice was enough to put you in some ease as you walked to him extending his hand.

He held you by your waist supporting your trenbling body, guiding you to admire their creation. Observing some sparks of electricty dancing across the ground and bouncing off the walls. Ford was explaining to you how it works, how he plans to use it, what they should do next and all that but one look at your alarmed face gave him all the hint he needed to keep quiet and let you process all this.

He was so enamored by this portal he built, you both did not realize the glass dividing the area was slowly cracking. Only took some more volts of current to run by it to shatter and allow the portal to suck you in.

It happened so fast. Ford tried grabbing you but the force was too much, pulling you in within seconds. You managed to maneuver yourself to grab on the portals frame. Using all your strength pulling your body out to ask for help one last time before you were completely lost somewhere some time in space.

“Ford, help me!” The last words his lover spoke before getting lost in the oblivion haunts him in his every waking hour. He tried consulting Bill about this, how to get you back, but Bill was adamant about the situation, believing that Y/N was just a hurdle to their masterplan. He spent too many lonely nights missing you and regretting what he has done, it was driving him imsane. This lead to him calling quits with Bill which ultimately made the polygon mad.

Alas, he struck the courage to contact his twin after years. This was not an easy decision for him but to set up his grand scheme of finding you in the vast universe, he had to have his brother fit the missing link.

Ford explained everything to Stan, or as much as his twin needed to know but things did not go exactly as planned. He was planning to portal jump, sure, but not get sucked into it accidentally. He found it somewhat humorous that he ended up the same way his lover left, through the portal—asking for help.

Journal log no. 176? 177. Two years, 18 dimensions, 3 timelines. I saw them again. Different hairstyle but with that same aloof smile. Happy in this dimension with me, alternate universe me. I still live to regret that day. It also appears that she is also being tracked by the space-time continueom agencies (noted from the encounter at the do-over dimension). Just what in the world did my Y/N get to?…

Journal log no. 320+. It has been almost 10 home years if I calculated it correctly. Still no sign of my Y/N in this timeline. From the dwellers of this dimension, it appears that the Time Paradox Avoidance Enforcement Squadron has laid low on the investigation of their whereabouts. It has become harder tracking them down, maybe they learned new tricks. Best to take a note of this…

Journal log __ . I have lost track of days in this dimension. Some part of this dimension are mirrors that behaves like looking glasses. Upon my first arrival, a mirror reflected Y/N staring back at me. As I am writing this, I am still formulating probable hypothesis that could explain their reflection on mine. Seeing them again after so long makes me yearn for them more. If only I h

A zipping sound ripped from a distance away from Ford as he's trying to journal his discoveries.

“Time to go” quickly packing all his materials shoving it in his makeshift bag careful not to drop any while going on another leap. He looked back at those men? Aliens? Whoever those guys are they are pretty hot on his trail. Getting too close for his own comfort. And too many close calls with them than Ford will admit.

“Get him!” The smallest tentacle humanoid man commanded or something similar of the sort, it’s another universe language he has yet to decode. Learning the tongues became much more difficult since he accidentally stumbled on a rebellion matched with a bounty picture of your face displayed in every available surface they can stick it on to. Knowing you, whatever you did there most likely called for it or he hopes so, anyway.

Muttering some curses he took his grand leap and entered another dimension. Not once did he look back.

This time it looked like another parallel timeline of his home universe. Ford walked around pin pointing important anomalies, most of them minor like an extra toe on a cat or a bird with butterfly wings. He slumped down under a tree near the opening of the forest to draw these creatures. Pulling out his journal, he realized something in this dimension feels right, for the first time in a long time, he felt like he belong. Another minor anomaly in a dimension filled with other anomalies. It made him feel normal, but not complete. Ford sniffled his tears back overwhelmed by the feeling of missing you. He never stopped looking for you. Eyes scanning every place hoping to see you again, waiting for him, happy with him.

Coast is clear and the sun was slowly setting. It lulled Ford to take a nap. Closing his eyes trying to remember what you look like. It’s been years since he last saw you. In every universe and timeline you were in, they did not look like you, his Y/N. Something was always off, but one thing remained constant— you were always happy together with him. Ford chuckled bitterly. Only in the universe he lived in was he alone. It was unfair, but he did this to himself. He regrets all the time he spent with Bill than his own spouse. His only lover, to think that fame and knowledge blinded him to put you in danger.

A soft thud was heard from the tree he was resting on, followed by a feeling of being watched made chills ran down his spine. Ford became hyper-aware looking, searching, for anything. Standing up quickly, he was ready to dash for it but for unknown reason he stood his ground. His feet felt glued to the ground, waiting for whatever it was to emerge from the trees’ shadows. The now dark forest was eerie and he could not risk getting hurt in another dimension. A pitter patter of steps from the forest heading his way made him draw his gun aiming at the darkness. His fingers at the trigger, steady.

“Fordsy?”

His breath hitched. Hands trembled. A figured appeared out of the dense forest. Face to face with the gun he was ready to fire. His heartbeat was so loud it was almost all he can hear. Seeing you, still perfect after so many years. With gray hairs and past your prime, yet you still had the same effect on him. Decades or more has passed but the feelings remained the same.

Both of you did not dare to take a step. You feared that this is all in your head, a fragment of your imagination that you did not want to go away. The air was still, and the silence deafening. You can’t take it much longer and you run up to him. Ford took you in with open arms.

He hugged you tight, not willing to let go. Never again will he let you go. All those years of longing and you’re finally back in his arms. He stared at your eyes, filled with the love and adoration like the days you were married and living with each other. You took a step back and slapped him. Hard.

“How dare you!” You angrily muttered to him. Voice tight but not so loud to disturb the silence. “This?! This is what you were trying to make?” Shoving a pointed finger to his shoulder blade. Ford was hurt, but he knew he deserved that anger. “We were always together! In every dimension I went to, even in our past, did you know how much it hurt seeing us together? Knowing that every version of me is happy and loved while I am trying to go back home to a husband who’s cheating on me with a guy!” Y/N rambled exasperated. Your cheeks felt wet, not realizing the tears already started falling. All those years of resentment and anger to your husband resurfaced. “And you know what the worst part is?” You sniffled trying to sound brave “I still love you! And at times I feel like a fool for doing so.”

Ford was confused with what to feel to say the least. He felt sad you had to endure being lonely, longer than he had been. Joy? That you still love him despite his wrong doings. Humour as he realized that you thought Bill as a mistress. That made him crack a small smile which you noticed. You turned around calling him a jerk while wiping your tears muttering cusses.

“Dearest” he tried calling out to you. “You know you’re the only one I love right?” He cooed, still not getting over the fact that he had someone else. He reached out to you gently, wrapping his arms around you. His chest at your back as you felt his breathing on your neck. “Y/N, please face me, it’s been so long since I’ve seen your beauty.” Ford purred. What else can you do but look at him again, you reached your hand to the cheek you hit and soothed it for a bit. “I’m sorry for hitting you” you muttered looking at his eyes. “It was deserved” he replied sheepishly avoiding your gaze. The tension was as thick as the dense forest behind you and you can’t take it anymore.

You pulled him down by grabbing the collar of his coat to give him a kiss. A bit stunned Ford was but he warmed up to it. Breathing a sigh of relief, finally in the arms of his Y/N, with no plans of letting her go.

They trudged into the woods, conversing on what they witnessed and all the universe they jumped, comparing notes and journals. You proudly showed him yours as you stated “I was just copying you but it became a scrapbook of some sort”. Inside were trinkets from dimensions folded into the paper with drawings and detailed descriptions of things you saw. Ford was more of interested with the folded wanted poster between those pages. He took it out and observed it closely. “Yeah, I became part of their council for a while,” you said which earned a questioning eyebrow raise from your husband. You raised your hands in protest “Well, I didn’t know that fruits were their money! I was hungry”. This made him laugh and it sounded like music to your ears. Mr. All seriousness laughing with you again, everything felt perfect.

Until the familiar space ripping nearby brought you both back to reality. Whipping your heads towards that sound, Ford exclaimed “I’m getting too old for this”. Grabbing your hand he lead you the forest clearing and pulled out his dimension jumper and you followed suit.

“We are now easily trackable since we are together so we need to be extra cautious” Ford explained as you both explore the city-esque universe you landed in. “Do you think we’d ever go back home?” You asked, stopping in your tracks. Ford turned to you “I trust Stan. It might take a while to be honest.” You nodded in respond, still not giving yourself false hope. “But I’m with you Y/N, and anywhere is better when you’re by my side.” His voice was so sincere you can’t help but believe him. You held him interlocking your digits together. His six fingers perfectly hugging your hand as you both jumped into another dimension unprepared but together.

word count: 2.5k words

woop woop first published fic! should i make a part 2?

[ghqstwriter]

love the stuff you write!!!

Can you do a deaf hero (cause of an explosion) x villain?

It's totally fine if you can't :]

Tyy

The villain couldn’t remember when this had turned into a regular habit: breaking into the hero’s apartment. At first, it was supposed to be a kidnapping attempt. Hero didn’t work on Wednesdays, so Villain thought it an opportune time to catch them off guard at home. Only, when they had finally managed to get through the window, nobody was there. No sign of Hero, as though they hadn’t been back for a while.

No worries, Villain had thought. Maybe they’re on vacation. They’ll come back a week later. And so they did, but they were still met with a lifeless apartment, bookshelves and tables collecting dust. That was worrying. The criminal had then started to monitor the agency’s mission reports, just to see if there was any mention of Hero being away on some international assignment, yet their name had not been mentioned for multiple weeks.

So, Villain had made a habit of visiting the hero’s vacant apartment, keeping dust away and checking for any signs that they were still here. After the first month, the realisation that Hero could be dead had conjured itself in Villain’s mind, and that made them sick to their stomach. No, they couldn’t be dead, and they couldn’t start thinking like this. Hero wasn’t someone easy to take down, and if they were involved in a fight with someone like Supervillain, that rumour would have made it’s way to the villain and their allies.

It had been three months since Hero had vanished, and this routine had become like a second nature to Villain. Muscle memory was already kicking in, and the criminal made their way into the building, ready to be faced with the exact same image as usual. Except this time, there were some relatively noticable changes to the apartment. For example, Hero was sat across the room, a bowl in their hands, looking rather startled.

“What are you doing here?” Villain asked, a question that really should have come from the other party here, considering this was Hero’s house, not Villain’s favourite dusting simulator. Yet, they continued. “You haven’t been back for months, there’s been no missions in your name. You practically disappeared off of the face of the Earth, what the hell happe—“

“Can you please just give me one moment,” Hero interrupted, their voice slightly raised. Then, they stood up, placing their bowl down on the oak coffee table, and headed for their bedroom. A poor move that could have been, on Villain’s side. Letting them leave. Because, chances were, they were grabbing their phone, ready to call for backup. Or, worse, they were looking for something to keep Villain out of their apartment permanently.

Hero returned moments later, looking rather pissed at Villain’s entrance, but not seeming angry enough to start firing. A good sign, at least. They didn’t have anything in their hands, no gun or phone, however Villain noticed something wrapped around their ear, though they were too far away to identify it, standing in the furthest corner of the room.

“What is that, some headpiece to contact the agency?” Villain asked, noticing how Hero’s face immediately shifted to dumbfoundedness.

“A headpiece?” They repeated, their tone dripping with utter disbelief. “Are you— are you stupid? A headpiece? Villain, these are hearing aids. For hearing. Please tell me you know what that is.”

“Hey! Yes, I know what a hearing aid is. Does it look like I can see your ears well from here? I’m not stupid, nor am I blind,” Villain retorted, slightly offended by the comment, but mostly overwhelmed with relief that Hero was back and bantering with them like before. They missed this, more than they realised. “Why are you wearing those, anyways? Is it to do with why you just vanished completely for three months?”

Hero flumped down in response, beckoning Villain over. The latter obliged, taking a seat on the sofa across from Hero’s armchair. They shouldn’t have been so comfortable in the presence of their archnemesis, but the room was more than familiar by now.

“Do you, uh, remember that explosion in the city centre three months ago? It was all over the news, I think,” Hero took a breath, recalling the story. “I was pretty close to the blast, trying to fish out any remaining civilians. The external injuries were nothing worse than the stuff we’ve both dealt with before, but according to the doctors there was major damage to my eardrums, and the hearing loss is likely permanent. I’m not completely deaf, but it’s pretty severe, so I really can’t hear well, even with these things in my ears. It’s put me out of commission for months, I only got discharged yesterday.”

There was silence for a few moments, as the words set in. As much as Hero and Villain fought all the time, whenever something major happened in one of their personal lives, the other was the closest a confidant could be. It started when Villain’s sister had passed, and they broke down in the middle of a battle. Instead of taking down a weeping, vulnerable enemy, Hero was by their side in an instance, offering consoling words and a shoulder to sob into. After that, their dynamic had shifted, and they both knew they could trust one another with these kinds of things.

“How are you holding up? I mean, it’s a pretty big life change, especially for someone in this line of work.” Villain asked, wanting to show their concern, yet they were worried it might come across as pitying.

“It’s uh, definitely been something,” Hero wrung their hands together as they spoke. “The doctors recommended some councilling stuff, as well as telling me about some support groups. I’m just a bit worried how it’ll impact my career going forward. Heroism isn’t exactly the most accomodating job industry.”

Villain nodded in response, understanding exactly what they meant. If Hero failed any of their bimonthly testing, the agency would likely let them go. Both of them knew how dear this role was to Hero, and both of them knew just how easily the agency could cut people out. The villain had multiple criminal acquaintances who had turned to this sort of lifestyle due to some form of rejection from them.

The two supers looked at each other in silence. It was evident how worried they both were at the situation. Hero’s eyes were glossy, as though the stress had been eating away at them for months, and it was only now coming out. Hero didn’t trust easy, and their relationships with colleagues were nothing beyond professional. Throughout those months of recovery, they probably had nobody to console them.

“Well, I don’t know what’ll happen in the future, but I do know that if you keep distressing yourself over this, recovery will be an even slower, steeper journey. Relax, just for tonight. I can stay if you’d like me to, we can watch one of those idiotic movies or console games you’re always raving about,” Villain offered them a small smile, standing up in search for the remote.

“Sounds nice to me,” was Hero’s response as they drew shapes into the arm of their plush chair. “Definitely better than you fighting and/or kidnapping me. I assume that’s what you were here to do, right?”

Villain froze in response, though mostly out of embarrassment. Of course, Hero didn’t know why they were here. So, they tried to explain. “Oh, I, uh, have been coming here a couple times a week now. Since you’ve been gone and everything, I’ve just been trying to look after the place. No ill intentions here.”

A civillian would have likely recoiled at the idea of that, a criminal breaking into their home on a regular basis to do the dusting. Yet, Hero smiled in response, almost lovingly. They recognised the Villain’s strange affection after knowing them for so many years. After so many days of pain and spiralling in fear, Hero started to feel some of that weight lift off of their scarred chest, as though Villain’s mere presence made everything else in the world inconsequential.

“Besides,” the villain began, sitting back down in their spot, and dragging their finger idly across the remote buttons. “If the agency does foolishly decide to let you go after this, I’ve heard I’m a rather considerate and accommodating boss.” Villain grinned brashly as Hero chuckled and playfully hurled a throw pillow at their head in response. Everything would be ok.

[novaursa]

Caught by Fire (the fallen)

- Summary: A story where Daemon's daughter falls from the sky. And by some strange events orchestrated by fate, Otto catches you.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Otto Hightower

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: the absence

- Next part: the sinful

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround

The air in the small council chamber was heavy with unspoken anxiety. The assembled lords took their seats, the hush of anticipation broken only by the shuffling of parchment and the occasional scrape of a chair against the floor.

At the head of the table, King Viserys I sat with his fingers pressed against his temples, his expression one of visible irritation. It had been two weeks since your return to King’s Landing, and yet the matter of your betrothal remained unresolved.

Otto Hightower sat at his usual place beside the king, his hands resting lightly on the table. His face betrayed nothing, but internally, he braced himself for the inevitable.

Lord Jasper Wylde, ever the opportunist, was the first to speak, his voice smooth but laced with amusement. “Your Grace, it has been two moons since the princess embarked on her tour, and yet we remain at an impasse. Surely she must have some inclination.”

Viserys let out an exasperated sigh, leaning back in his chair. “One would think,” he muttered. “Yet every time I ask her, she gives me the same answer: she has not yet decided between Lord Corwyn Velaryon and Lord Edric Baratheon.”

Tyland Lannister chuckled lightly, though there was no true mirth in it. “Ah, the knight and the storm.” He smirked. “Both fine choices, if one values battle prowess and salt in equal measure.”

Lord Lyonel Strong, ever the voice of reason, leaned forward, his brow furrowed. “It is not uncommon for a lady to take time in such matters, Your Grace. These are not small choices. The princess understands the weight of her decision.”

Viserys groaned, rubbing his forehead. “I understand that. I do. But this is not just about her choice—this is about the realm. The lords are growing restless, whispering about favoritism, about delays. We must put an end to this uncertainty.”

Otto remained silent, his fingers curling slightly against the wood of the table. He had heard the whispers, too. Lords grew impatient, alliances were questioned, and rivalries simmered beneath the surface. And yet, he also knew that your hesitation was not due to carelessness but rather a refusal to be coerced into something you were not yet ready to accept.

Jasper Wylde leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Perhaps the princess enjoys watching them squirm.”

Viserys shot him an irritated glare. “She’s not playing a game, Lord Wylde.”

Otto cleared his throat, speaking for the first time. “It is possible that she does not see either match as wholly suitable.”

Viserys sighed, shaking his head. “Then she must say so. If neither pleases her, we must look elsewhere. I will not have her dragging this out indefinitely.”

Tyland Lannister folded his hands together. “Perhaps a… nudge would be in order, Your Grace.”

Viserys arched an eyebrow. “A nudge?”

Tyland shrugged. “A firm reminder of the importance of duty. Her cousin, the princess Rhaenyra, eventually made her choice for the good of the realm. Perhaps the princess needs to be reminded that her decision must serve more than just herself.”

Viserys sighed, rubbing his temples. “I have already tried to explain this to her. She is not deaf to duty—she simply refuses to rush.”

Jasper Wylde chuckled. “Perhaps what she truly desires has yet to present itself.”

Otto stiffened almost imperceptibly at those words, but his face remained composed.

Viserys waved a hand dismissively. “Enough speculation. If she refuses to decide between the two, then we must look at other options. I will speak to her again before the next court session.”

Otto inclined his head. “A wise course, Your Grace.”

Viserys exhaled heavily, shifting in his seat. “Very well. If there is nothing else—”

Jasper Wylde smirked, glancing toward Otto. “No… nothing else of importance.”

Otto shot him a warning look, but the man only grinned wider.

The meeting concluded shortly after, the lords dispersing into the halls of the Red Keep. Otto remained seated for a moment longer, staring down at the untouched parchment before him.

Two weeks.

Still no decision.

And yet, even amidst the king’s frustration, Otto could not help but feel an uneasy flicker of something dangerous and unspoken.

A hope he did not dare acknowledge.

The Red Keep was unusually quiet in the late afternoon, the usual hum of courtly life dulled by the golden light slanting through the arched windows. The heat of the day had begun to wane, leaving behind a soft breeze that whispered through the stone corridors.

Otto Hightower had not intended to seek you out. He had told himself that a man of his station, a man of reason, should not be so easily swayed by matters of the heart. And yet, as his feet carried him through the corridors, as his fingers brushed against the edges of his sleeves in some feigned attempt at composure, he knew there was no more use in denying it.

You had consumed his thoughts.

And so when he saw you—alone, standing upon one of the quieter balconies that overlooked the Blackwater—he did not turn away.

You were dressed simply, as befitted the waning hours of the day, your hair unbound and shifting lightly in the breeze. The weight of the past two moons still clung to you, evident in the slight tension in your shoulders, in the way you exhaled as though trying to dispel something unseen.

Otto hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward.

“Princess.”

You turned at the sound of his voice, surprise flickering across your face before settling into something softer.

“Lord Hightower,” you greeted, your tone even. “I did not expect to find you here.”

Otto’s lips pressed together for a brief moment before he inclined his head. “Nor did I.”

You tilted your head slightly, studying him. “And yet here you are.”

Otto let out a slow breath, his fingers tightening behind his back. “It seems we are both given to wandering.”

A small, knowing smile touched your lips. “Or perhaps we are merely trying to escape the endless demands of court.”

He exhaled through his nose, a quiet laugh that barely escaped his lips. “That is a far more reasonable explanation.”

You turned back toward the view, your fingers brushing absentmindedly against the stone railing. “I imagine you’ve come to speak of my indecision.”

Otto hesitated before stepping beside you, his hands bracing against the railing as he cast his gaze toward the horizon. “It is what the court whispers of, yes.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “They call it indecision, but in truth, I have already decided.”

Otto turned his head slightly, watching you. “Have you?”

You glanced at him, something unguarded in your eyes. “Yes. I do not wish for either of them.”

There. The words were spoken plainly at last. The admission sent something sharp and hot coursing through Otto’s chest—something dangerously close to relief.

“And yet you have told no one,” he said carefully.

Your fingers curled slightly against the stone. “Because to admit that I do not wish to be bound by expectation is to invite the king’s frustration.”

Otto studied you in the fading light, his pulse betraying him as his gaze lingered on the curve of your lips, the way the wind caught the loose strands of your hair. He had spent so long denying what was already written into his bones, but here, in this stolen moment, with you beside him, reason faltered.

“You are not like them,” he said quietly, his voice softer than he intended.

You turned toward him fully now, curiosity flickering across your face. “No, I am not.”

Otto exhaled, shaking his head slightly. “And that is why they fear you.”

You watched him for a long moment before stepping closer, tilting your head slightly. “Do you?”

Otto swallowed, his heart beating a fraction too fast. “Fear you?”

You nodded, eyes searching his face. “Yes.”

There were a thousand ways he could have answered. A thousand words he could have spoken to steer himself back to safer waters. But when you stood so close, when the air between you was charged with something neither of you had dared to name, he found that deception no longer served him.

“Yes,” he admitted, his voice rough. “But not in the way you think.”

Your gaze flickered to his lips, and something inside him snapped.

He reached for you before he could think better of it, one hand cradling the side of your face, his fingers threading into the loose strands of your hair. You inhaled sharply but did not pull away—if anything, you leaned into his touch, your own fingers curling against the front of his tunic.

“Otto,” you whispered, and the way you said his name was his undoing.

He closed the space between you, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was at once desperate and restrained. It was the kind of kiss born from long-held restraint finally breaking, from stolen glances and words left unsaid.

You melted into him, your hands fisting in his tunic as his other hand found the curve of your waist, pulling you against him. The kiss deepened, his thumb brushing over your cheek as if to memorize every inch of you.

It was intoxicating. It was madness.

And yet neither of you pulled away.

When you finally parted, your breaths mingling in the cool evening air, Otto did not step back. His forehead rested against yours, his fingers still tangled in your hair.

“This is…” He swallowed, shaking his head slightly, voice barely above a whisper. “This is dangerous.”

You smiled, breathless. “Then why did you let it happen?”

Otto exhaled, his thumb brushing against your cheek one last time before he forced himself to step back, to put distance between you. “Because for once in my life, I did not want to listen to reason.”

You watched him carefully, your own breath unsteady. “Then tell me, my lord—will you listen to it now?”

Otto was silent for a long moment before his gaze darkened, his voice steady despite the fire still burning in his chest.

“No.”

And then he turned and walked away, before he could ruin you both completely.

The heavy wooden door of Otto Hightower’s chambers shut behind him with a dull thud, the finality of the sound echoing in his mind like the toll of a bell. He stood motionless for a moment, his fingers curling into fists at his sides, his breath measured yet uneven.

He had lost control.

The weight of what had just transpired on that balcony pressed against his chest like a vice. It had been reckless, foolish beyond reason. He was a man who prided himself on restraint, on measured calculations that ensured stability and order. And yet, with a single moment of weakness, he had thrown caution to the wind and kissed you as if the world itself did not matter.

Otto exhaled sharply, his pulse still betraying him as he moved toward the washbasin, splashing cool water onto his face. His reflection in the polished mirror above it looked no different—still the same man, still the Hand of the King—but beneath the surface, everything had shifted.

Seven hells.

He braced his hands against the basin, inhaling deeply, forcing his mind back into order. He would not let this affect him. He could not.

And then—

The door swung open without warning.

Otto’s fingers twitched toward the dagger at his belt before he registered the intruder’s identity.

Lord Jasper Wylde stood in the doorway, his ever-present smirk widening as he took in the scene before him—the slightly disheveled Hand, the beads of water still clinging to his beard, the tension that hung so thick in the air one could slice it with a blade.

“Well,” Jasper drawled, stepping inside as if he owned the place, “I must say, Otto, I have never seen you so… discomposed.”

Otto inhaled sharply through his nose, his patience already worn thin. “Wylde.”

Jasper closed the door behind him, his smirk only deepening. “You know, I was wandering the halls, minding my own business, when I happened upon a most curious sight.”

Otto clenched his jaw. “Jasper, leave.”

Jasper ignored him, strolling leisurely toward the hearth, as if this were his own chambers and not Otto’s. “Princess Y/N looked quite radiant tonight, didn’t she?”

Otto turned away, willing himself to ignore him.

“And you, my dear lord Hand,” Jasper continued, his tone dripping with amusement, “look as if you’ve just committed an act of treason.”

Otto stiffened.

Jasper chuckled, shaking his head. “Oh, Otto, Otto, Otto… you really are terrible at hiding things when you’re shaken.”

Otto exhaled slowly, turning to face him with a cold, measured glare. “If you value your position, Wylde, you will tread carefully.”

Jasper’s smirk never wavered. “Come now, do you really take me for a fool? I don’t need to hear the court whispers to know what transpired tonight.” He tilted his head. “I saw the way you left the balcony. You looked like a man who had either committed a sin or was desperate to commit another.”

Otto’s fingers twitched.

Jasper’s grin widened. “And then, of course, there was the princess.”

At that, Otto’s breath hitched ever so slightly.

Jasper’s gaze sharpened, and for the first time, his voice lost some of its playfulness. “She was smiling, Otto.”

Otto’s expression hardened. “That is not your concern.”

Jasper let out a short, knowing laugh. “Oh, but it is.” He leaned against the back of a chair, watching Otto like a predator watching wounded prey. “Because if I can see it—then others will see it soon enough.”

Otto turned away, pacing toward the window, his mind racing. This was dangerous. This was beyond dangerous. If Jasper had seen it, who else would? How long before the court began to whisper, before Viserys caught wind of it?

“I have nothing to say to you, Wylde,” Otto finally muttered, though his voice lacked its usual bite.

Jasper tutted. “A shame. I had so hoped you’d confide in me. After all, who else can you possibly talk to about this?”

Otto’s grip tightened behind his back.

Jasper’s smirk faded slightly, and when he spoke again, there was something almost genuine beneath the mirth. “Tell me, Otto… what exactly do you intend to do now?”

Otto’s breath was slow, measured, controlled. When he turned back, his expression was unreadable, his voice steady.

“I intend,” he said carefully, “to ensure the realm’s stability, as I always have.”

Jasper studied him for a long moment before shaking his head. “Ah. There it is.”

Otto frowned. “There what is?”

Jasper smirked, though this time there was a glint of something sharper beneath it. “That self-righteous lie you tell yourself to sleep at night.”

Otto’s gaze darkened.

Jasper exhaled, stretching slightly before stepping toward the door. “Very well, my lord Hand. I shall leave you to your stability.” He paused at the threshold, glancing back one last time.

“But do be careful, Otto,” he murmured, and this time, there was no amusement in his tone—only quiet knowing. “It’s a dangerous thing, falling for a dragon.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving Otto standing alone in the dim candlelight, his pulse still betraying him, his mind an unrelenting storm.

Jasper Wylde was a fool.

But he was not wrong.

The dining chamber was quiet, save for the occasional clink of silverware against fine porcelain. A warm fire crackled in the hearth, but even its warmth did little to dispel the tension that had settled between Otto Hightower and his daughter.

Alicent sipped from her goblet, watching her father over the rim of her cup with the sharp, assessing gaze that she had inherited from him. He had barely touched his meal, his movements slow and deliberate, his usual keen expression dulled by something far heavier than mere exhaustion.

For a man who had built his life upon control and discipline, Otto Hightower was decidedly not himself.

“You are troubled,” Alicent finally said, setting her goblet down with careful precision.

Otto did not immediately respond. Instead, he cut a small piece of bread from the loaf beside him, though he did not eat it. His fingers tapped absently against the table, his gaze distant, lost in thought.

“I am not troubled,” he said at last, though the weight in his voice betrayed him.

Alicent tilted her head slightly, her lips pressing into a thin line. “You have not eaten, nor have you spoken much. If you are not troubled, then you are certainly preoccupied.”

Otto sighed, setting his knife down beside his untouched plate. “The affairs of the realm do not often allow for restful nights, my dear.”

Alicent narrowed her eyes slightly. “This is not about the realm.”

Otto’s fingers twitched, but otherwise, he remained still. “Everything is about the realm, Alicent.”

She exhaled slowly, folding her hands in her lap. “Is this about the princess?”

At that, Otto finally looked at her, his green eyes sharp, though not unkind. “Why would you ask that?”

Alicent arched a brow, unimpressed by his attempt at evasion. “Because you are a man who thrives on certainty, on order. And yet, ever since she returned, I have seen you become… unsettled.”

Otto inhaled through his nose, his lips pressing into a firm line. “Your imagination runs too freely.”

Alicent smirked faintly. “No. My mind is simply sharper than you give it credit for.”

Otto regarded her for a long moment before exhaling heavily. He leaned back in his chair, his fingers coming together in contemplation. “She has not chosen.”

Alicent nodded. “No, she has not.”

“And that uncertainty has made the court restless.”

Alicent hummed, tilting her head slightly. “The court or you?”

Otto’s jaw tightened ever so slightly, and Alicent caught it—the brief flicker of something he wished to hide.

She sighed, setting her goblet down before leaning forward slightly. “Father… do you truly believe the princess delays her choice because she enjoys toying with the lords of the realm?”

Otto frowned slightly. “She is weighing her options.”

Alicent shook her head. “No, Father. She has decided. She simply does not wish to speak the answer aloud.”

Otto stilled.

Alicent studied him, her voice lowering slightly. “And I think you already know why.”

For a moment, silence stretched between them. Otto’s fingers curled into his palm beneath the table, hidden from view, his breath slower now, heavier.

Finally, he spoke, his voice quiet but firm. “Alicent. This is dangerous.”

Alicent exhaled through her nose, shaking her head slightly. “You say that as if you do not already know that it is too late.”

Otto’s lips parted slightly as if to protest, but no words came.

Alicent leaned forward slightly. “She looks for you, Father.”

Otto blinked, his breath catching ever so slightly. “What?”

Alicent gave him a knowing look. “At court. At feasts. In the halls. When she walks into a room, she searches for you before she sees anyone else.”

Otto’s grip on his goblet tightened. “You should not say such things.”

Alicent’s smirk was soft, but her gaze was sharp. “You are the one who should not deny such things.”

Otto leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his face. “The king would never allow it.”

Alicent nodded, but there was something almost smug in her expression. “Perhaps. But the question you should be asking is whether she would allow it.”

Otto looked at her sharply. “Alicent.”

But she merely leaned back, sipping her wine with an air of quiet satisfaction.

“I think you should ask yourself something, Father.” She set her goblet down, tilting her head as she regarded him. “What is more dangerous? Admitting the truth? Or pretending you can still control it?”

Otto said nothing.

And for the first time in a long, long time—he did not have an answer.

The Red Keep was draped in twilight, the last rays of sunlight bleeding into deep shades of crimson and violet as the city below slowly came to rest. The air was warm with the remnants of the day’s heat, though the corridors of the castle remained cool, the thick stone walls swallowing the warmth like a beast devouring its prey.

Otto Hightower knew he should not have sought you out. He had spent the past days reinforcing his own discipline, reminding himself of his duty, his station, the boundaries that must exist between you. But restraint had never felt so fragile—not when you looked at him the way you did, not when the weight of unspoken things sat so heavily between you.

And so when he found you alone in the dimly lit library, standing by the open balcony doors with a book idly resting in your hands, he had not turned away.

Neither had you.

"Lord Hightower," you murmured, setting the book aside, watching as he stepped deeper into the chamber. The flickering candlelight illuminated the stern planes of his face, his beard still neat despite the tension that lingered in his jaw.

"Princess," he replied, his voice quieter than he intended.

You tilted your head slightly, the corner of your lips curving just enough to betray the amusement beneath. "You always seem to find me when I am alone."

Otto exhaled, his hands clasping tightly behind his back. "Perhaps I should take that as a warning to be more careful."

"Or," you countered, stepping closer, your voice softer now, "perhaps you should stop trying to resist what we both know to be inevitable."

Otto inhaled sharply. "You do not know what you say."

You smiled faintly, reaching out to brush your fingers against the edge of his sleeve. "Do I not?"

His resolve cracked like glass under pressure. In one swift motion, he caught your wrist, his fingers wrapping around your skin as if to stop you—but neither of you pulled away. The air between you crackled, thick with tension, with something dangerous and intoxicating all at once.

"You tempt fate," Otto said, his voice low, almost hoarse.

"And you," you murmured, stepping even closer, your breath warm against his cheek, "tempt yourself."

His self-control snapped.

Otto crushed his lips against yours, his grip tightening just enough to pull you flush against him. Your hands slid up his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his tunic as you returned the kiss with just as much fervor, just as much desperation.

It was not a gentle kiss. It was not a careful one. It was filled with weeks—moons—of restraint unraveling all at once, of unspoken words given voice in the way your lips moved against each other.

Otto’s hand cradled the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss, his body pressing yours against the cool stone wall beside the balcony. His other hand slid to your waist, gripping you firmly as if afraid you might disappear.

But just as your fingers slid into his hair, just as your breaths mingled in the quiet hush of the library—

The door swung open.

"Cousin?"

The sound of Rhaenyra Targaryen’s voice sent a bolt of ice through Otto’s veins.

You pulled back instantly, though Otto saw the brief flicker of frustration in your gaze before you schooled your expression into something composed. He took a single step back, turning just in time to see Rhaenyra standing in the doorway, her brows lifting in slow realization.

There was silence.

Rhaenyra’s violet eyes flicked between the two of you, lingering for a fraction too long on the way Otto’s hand was still resting on your waist before he quickly let go.

Otto straightened, clearing his throat as he clasped his hands behind his back, forcing his face into the impassive mask of the Hand of the King. "Princess Rhaenyra," he greeted stiffly.

Rhaenyra smirked.

It was not the reaction Otto had anticipated.

"I thought you might be here," she said to you, her tone light, amused even. "But I did not expect to find you with such… distinguished company."

You exhaled, rolling your shoulders before stepping forward as if nothing had transpired at all. "What do you need, Rhaenyra?"

Rhaenyra tilted her head, clearly enjoying herself far too much. "Oh, nothing of importance. But now that I am here, I must ask…" Her smirk widened as she glanced at Otto. "Are you keeping our dear Lord Hand very busy?"

Otto’s jaw tightened, but he refused to rise to the bait.

You only smiled. "Why? Are you in need of his wisdom, cousin?"

Rhaenyra chuckled, shaking her head. "No, I think he has given enough guidance for one evening."

Otto exhaled slowly through his nose. "If my presence is no longer required, I shall take my leave."

Rhaenyra stepped aside, waving him forward as if he were nothing more than a guest being dismissed from a feast. "Oh, please do not let me interrupt."

Otto walked past her without so much as a glance, his mind already reeling, his pulse still betraying him. But as he stepped into the corridor, he heard Rhaenyra’s voice drift after him, soft but laced with amusement.

"I do wonder what my father would think of this."

Otto did not look back.

He did not dare look back.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for threatening to become a girl's step dad to troll her into blocking me and stop dragging me in a group chat ? Jenny (23F) blew up because I (24NB) said she'd be a shitty social worker bc of her specific autism symptoms + class bg. My gf (45F) said it was warranted because of how  overwhelmed i got by the wall of text with triggering details of my abuse. I never told my GF that the fight started because Jenny called me a gold digger. I also never mentioned that I ended it an hour later by posting pics of Jenny's mom in the chat, ignoring her ranting and discussing the vacancy left by her dead dad*, and how i could fill said vacancy. 😬😬😬 Might of gone too far with this one.

Backstory: I lived with Jenny when I was houseless indefinitely. She only let me stay for two weeks because it would be too "distracting" to her studies. Jenny was incredibly rich, didn't work, and her parents paid her rent for a 2 bedroom. She admitted she got rejected from every grad school she applied to except for the one her mom was in charge of. Her mom bought her a condo in the city the school was in. She kept asking me how she should decorate it, completely ignorant to how uncomfortable this made me and my other friends. Jenny was oblivious constantly to how she made others feel. She was actually the most incompetent person I've ever met in terms of comforting other, always tone deaf and completely absorbed with her own, single traumatic event. She made constant jokes about the abuser I was fleeing and even compared this stalked to a /serial killer/ documentary she watched, but never EVER showed any signs of internalizing how I almost lost my life to another person, how that might affect me or even just bum me out. Seriously, I've never met someone else who was so incapable of even being sensitive to issues that were /EXTREMELY SERIOUS/. Forget comforting, the stuff she routinely said to me and my other friends to try to cheer us up was beyond degrading. It was wearing on me a lot.

Jenny herself was neurodivergent. She often said her autism prevented her from understanding the feelings others had, reading their expressions, and tolerating crying or loud noise-- she forbid her musician roommate from doing both. None of those mean shes a worthless person, but all of those things would make someone a horrible therapist or social worker. Oh my God, literally every time I talked about my recent trauma, she would talk about herself and then blame her autism when I told her it just wasn't helping.

The final piece of this was I had a nervous breakdown and screamed at her over discord that she was a shit friend and needed to give up on social work, for like an hour. NOT MY PROUDEST, but I ALMOST DIED. I was living with her because SOMEONE WAS STALKING ME. and I would have liked to not have my abuse JOKED about. HOW DID JENNY RESPOND!? She began dragging me, through the mud, in the group chat, for, dating, an, older, woman, who, paid, for, my, air bnb, because, !!!she!!! wouldn't let me live with her for more than a week. I was HOMELESS. It became all about "OP you are such a b*tch, you are with a woman twice your age and she pays for everything now but you are still a miserable and angry person. You are so blah blah blah you are an ableist, you said I can't become a social worker bc of autism blah blah blah you have major major issues, Go back your rich granny and leech off of her you useless, fucked up little gold digger."

U_U Then, she started graphically describing how I deserved my abuse, so I shrimply began to troll. And yes, I pulled out my magnum oppus like fucking playing blue eyes white dragon, oh yeah I slipped her a pristine Jenny's mom facebook photo and said "Hey you never said your mom was so cute. Maybe, I could leech off her next and become your new dad." Yes, her dad died.* She blocked me immediately. Its OK. It was knives out for Jenny as soon as my GF gifted me a pair of $700 Isabel Marant shoes** , the most EXPENSIVE thing ive ever owned in my whole life, and Jenny saw me excited and called her mom to buy her a pair. It's, absolutely OK, if I am the asshole. I wear my crown of thorns, judas that I am, but I really, really think Jenny was being cruel. *he died 18 years ago ** the shoes are no more because i fell into my gf's rich friend's koi pond

[indigostudies]

i've been looking around to try and find resources for csl, and i think i've found another great one! i have yet to try it out (i'm very busy right now with getting settled into classes), but i found a course by the shanghai international studies university is offered through futurelearn for free! it covers word categories, linguistic features, syntactic structures, csl varieties, the distinction between csl and signed chinese, deaf culture, the history of csl, and deaf education and historical figures. it's six weeks long and four hours per week, and you can sign up for it here:

[odinsblog]

In the darkest chapter of German history, during a time when incited mobs threw stones into the windows of innocent shop owners and women and children were cruelly humiliated in the open; Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a young pastor, began to speak publicly against the atrocities.

After years of trying to change people’s minds, Bonhoeffer came home one evening and his own father had to tell him that two men were waiting in his room to take him away.

In prison, Bonhoeffer began to reflect on how his country of poets and thinkers had turned into a collective of cowards, crooks and criminals. Eventually he concluded that the root of the problem was not malice, but stupidity.

In his famous letters from prison, Bonhoeffer argued that stupidity is a more dangerous enemy of the good than malice, because while “one may protest against evil; it can be exposed and prevented by the use of force, against stupidity we are defenseless. Neither protests nor the use of force accomplish anything here. Reasons fall on deaf ears.”

Facts that contradict a stupid person’s prejudgment simply need not be believed and when they are irrefutable, they are just pushed aside as inconsequential, as incidental. In all this, the stupid person is self-satisfied and, being easily irritated, becomes dangerous by going on the attack.

For that reason, greater caution is called for when dealing with a stupid person than with a malicious one. If we want to know how to get the better of stupidity, we must seek to understand its nature.

This much is certain, stupidity is in essence not an intellectual defect but a moral one. There are human beings who are remarkably agile intellectually yet stupid, and others who are intellectually dull yet anything but stupid.

The impression one gains is not so much that stupidity is a congenital defect but that, under certain circumstances, people are made stupid or rather, they allow this to happen to them.

People who live in solitude manifest this defect less frequently than individuals in groups. And so it would seem that stupidity is perhaps less a psychological than a sociological problem.

It becomes apparent that every strong upsurge of power, be it of a political or religious nature, infects a large part of humankind with stupidity. Almost as if this is a sociological-psychological law where the power of the one needs the stupidity of the other.

The process at work here is not that particular human capacities, such as intellect, suddenly fail. Instead, it seems that under the overwhelming impact of rising power, humans are deprived of their inner independence and, more or less consciously, give up an autonomous position.

The fact that the stupid person is often stubborn must not blind us from the fact that he is not independent. In conversation with him, one virtually feels that one is dealing not at all with him as a person, but with slogans, catchwords, and the like that have taken possession of him.

He is under a spell, blinded, misused, and is abused in his very being. Having thus become a mindless tool, the stupid person will also be capable of any evil – incapable of seeing that it is evil.

Only an act of liberation, not instruction, can overcome stupidity. Here we must come to terms with the fact that in most cases a genuine internal liberation becomes possible only when external liberation has preceded it. Until then, we must abandon all attempts to convince the stupid person.

Bonhoeffer died due to his involvement in a plot against Adolf Hitler, at dawn on 9 April 1945 at Flossenbürg concentration camp - just two weeks before soldiers from the United States liberated the camp.

—Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s Theory of Stupidity

[whyse7vn]

KIM TAEHYUNG

HERE:

[ recommend that you read this for context ]

“You’re…. here?” Taehyung is confused.

It’s not like he was unhappy to see you or anything, in fact his insides felt as if they could fucking explode out of joy right now you’re here. He could of sworn you were mad at him, like reallly mad at him like i’m not talking to you for at least 24 hours, running you over with a car in my mind i’ll push you off a bridge type of mad at him but like he said you’re… here, at his front door. Kinda weird he notes, you definitely do have a key that you make very frequent use of but he decides he’ll call you out on it later.

“Problem?” You voice seems hoarse.

Taehyung frowns. Had you been crying?

You immediately notice the frown that boy in front of you wears and let out a small cough in an attempt to clear your throat.

“Problem?” You try again followed by an awkward smile.

Taehyung can’t help but mirror your small smile with his own boxy grin “Never”

———————-

You now sit on Taehyung’s soft brown couch legs crossed holding one of his many decorative pillows to your chest. You inhale deeply and a musky wood scent fills your nose as you exhale his automatic air freshener, located on a shelf near his tv, goes off and a sickly sweet rose scent fills the room. You scrunch your nose up in disgust but choose not to comment on it knowing that your complaints will fall onto deaf ears as Taehyung claims the smell is “super romantic and alllll the girls love it” You giggle at the memory.

“Water right?”

You break away from your thoughts and look over your shoulder to find Taehyung’s eyes staring right back at you over his kitchen counter. You’ve always liked the way Taehyung’s place was laid out. The open plan really helps his home feel connected and has become your groups go to when hanging out.

You give Taehyung a small nod and turn back around. Something’s…. missing. Your gaze falls to the floor. Oh. You now notice one of Yoentan’s chew toys tucked under the corner of Tae’s fluffy carpet, the toy is purple in colour and what seems to be in a bone shape. Your lips pull into a smile.

“Where’s Tan?” You question.

Unbeknownst to you Tae freezes. “I— erm he’s with my parents right now” He internally cringes he hates lying to you. “Schedules have been real busy lately had to put him somewhere” At least that part was true.

Realistically there was no need to lie you about Yeontan’s whereabouts. I mean sure you would have looked at him funny probably asked a bunch of questions too but ultimately he could have told you. Yet he knew as soon as that question left your mouth he wasn’t going to tell you the truth.

Simply because he’s afraid.

Afraid that you’ll be ok with where Yeontan is right now. Who he’s with right now. And knowing you as much as Taehyung hates to admit it you most likely would be okay with it. You’ll probably read into it congratulate him on finding someone. Taehyung physically rolls his eyes at the thought. He wants you to burn like he did, like he does. He wants the thought of him choosing to leave Yeontan in the care of her instead of you consumes you whole. He wants it to devour you to haunt your every waking thought he wants it to—

“He’s all the way in Deagu? You know i would of taken him if you needed me to”

Taehyung blinks “I know”

He definitely does know.

But call him jealous, call him petty he didn’t care the thought of you and Jaehyun, Joon, Yoongi, Kook and fuck even Hoseok now consumed him. Consumes him. And that’s practically why he felt no shame in calling that number buried so deep in his contact list a week ago.

Now though, he must admit as he sits around an arms length away from you on his couch this whole “no shame” thing he was feeling before had just turned into pure guilt. Taehyung desperately tries to find your eyes but you refuse to make contact the air around you both suddenly awkward. Do you know he’s lying to you perhaps? Or is this just you upset because of the breakup? It’s very rare for Taehyung to be at a loss of what to say most of the time, so with everything in him he decides to break the awkwardness that has somehow found you both.

“Soooo…you went to see Hobi?”

Your eyes lighten up instantly thankful that Tae had taken the initiative to break the silence “Yeah i just wanted to make sure he got that the whole situation wasn’t actually his fault you know he gets in his head about that kind of stuff”

Taehyung nods along with what your saying

Another wave of awkward silence takes over.

You sigh and begin to get up off the couch.

“Maybe i should lea—”

“Did you fuck him?”

Both you and Tae’s eyes widen after the bold question leaves the man’s lips. Taehyung even slaps his hand over his mouth to had to the dramatics of it all.

“I’m sorry?” You begin

“No i’m sorry. I-I didn’t mean to ask that i just— i just noticed you are wearing Hobi’s hoodie and i just thought that— you know so i asked and—” Tae rambles trying to save himself.

You look down at the light blue hoodie you’re wearing very clearly not yours and equally clearly Hoseok’s due to the bold “J-HOPE” printed on each hoodie cuff and it entirely being a little too big for you. You look back up from the hoodie to Tae finding him still rambling on.

“I mean with you Jaehyun it’s like crazy so if you—”

You make eye contact with Taehyung and he shuts up almost immediately.

“What if i did?” The air shifts.

“Huh?” Taehyung is quick to reply

“Fuck Hoseok, what if i did fuck Hoseok?”

“T-thats cool” Taehyung suddenly feels small under your intense gaze.

“Is it?” You press

Taehyung nods unable to trust his own voice right now.

“Are you sure Taehyung?”

“Super sure. I don’t care”

“Then why ask?”

Taehyung turns his head away from you breaking the eye contact you both once held. The Tension in the room in the room is thick, suffocating. Taehyung takes a deep breath.

You’re here.

And Taehyung is still confused as to why. You’re making him feel guilty. Taehyung has nothing to feel guilty about. You’re still here you shouldn’t be here. Not after what’s happened today no. You’re here, why are you still here? This isn’t fair, not on him on you, on Hobi, on Joon Yoongi Koo—

Your delicate fingers on his jaw pull Taehyung both out of this spiralling thoughts and his head to face you again.

“I’m here” You speak slowly to him.

Taehyung can’t breath, he won’t breathe he refuses to breathe so many thoughts, too many thoughts it’s-it’s all not fair. Hot, his body feels hot his mind feels hot everything is just hot and the way you’re looking at him is just so…

Hot.

Fuck it. Taehyung throws all the nonexistent composure he had out the window and tugs you closer smashing his lips onto yours. His hands immediately find you hair while yours find rest on his neck your tongues dance in each other’s mouths for what feels like hours your kiss filled with so much passion and unspoken words before Taehyung pulls away for some much needed air. His hair just as disheveled as yours and lips just as swollen he smiles at you. He doesn’t say anything just stares and smiles. You go to open you mouth to say something but he’s quick to cut you off by diving back into your lips. He does this partly out of fear you’ll ask him to stop say this isn’t right and leave and party no fuck that definitely because if your lips aren’t on him in the next five seconds he’ll actually pass away.

In this moment Taehyung is happy. He’s happy and you’re here.

—

i don’t know where tf this came from shocked at myself actually

tags: @piw6n @92jinnies @birdie-vhs @kooksmilitarywife @hob3loveofmylife @jujubiism @bloopkook @ratchetpizza1 @myntalks @arloo00 @watamotee33 @y2kcy3brz @taiwan0618 @freyadanvers @gguksbeloved @raetf @bbsantc @winuvs @medicinemybish @bxnnyhime @leleluvsbts @baetukki @zyaaaszn @thelilbutifulthings @jazminethecreator @k4ngelz @jmnscutie @sopebubbles-replies @cynicalyoongs @lightningpussy54 @eunthv @gigiiiiislife @lowkeykin @elissasimp

[wolfpackss]

I LOVED your last post! May I request Jacob with a deaf imprint? She was born deaf but is offered the chance to get a cochlear implant and the first thing she wants to hear is Jake's voice(could be her parents are gone so he's the closest thing she's got.💖)

Please and thank you!

You come up with the best ideas! It’s not that long because I don’t have much experience with deafness, so many information is from google.

Thank you so much! Hope you enjoy

Your entire life you’ve wondered what it would be like to hear your own voice, to hear your own heartbeat, to hear your loved ones tell them they love you. When you were little, you remember your father asking you what would be the first thing you’d like to hear if you’d ever get the chance. The tears burn in your eyes as you remember your answer, the only thing you signed being “mom and dad.” You have something that’s called CHL (Conductive Hearing Loss). You know it’s treatable with a hearing aid or a cochlear implant so you signed up for every treatment you could find but never got accepted. Two years ago, your world changed as your parents lost their lives in a car accident meaning you’ll never get the chance to ever hear their voices. Depression followed and it took a while for you to get your life back together. You didn’t know it came with the help of a man who could shift into a wolf. Six months ago your life changed for the better when you ran into an old friend from school who invited you to have dinner with her at her cousins house. There you met the love of your life, who took you into his world of the paranormal. Exactly 36 days ago you got the call that you’ve been waiting for. You’ve been approved for a cochlear implant. Now all you want is to hear his voice.

“Babe? You nervous?” Jacob rests his hand on your thigh and squeezes it. You give him a shaky smile and nod your head. “You’re gonna be fine, sweetheart. I’m here every step of the way.” You can see Jacob struggling with his signing and it makes you giggle. The moment Jacob found out you were his imprint and that you were deaf, he started sign language classes. He’s even teaching the pack some off the thing he’s learned so they can communicate with you better. Today is the day the cochlear implant will be turned on, two weeks ago you had surgery for your internal implant which they placed on your brain. The specialist walks in the door and informs you and Jacob how it’s gonna work. Not long after she turns the cochlear implant on. “First you’ll hear a beep, which means it’s turned on, okay? Now, it may sound loud, but you’ll get used to it very soon. Okay, here we go!” The specialist smiles at you and works her magic on the computer. She looks over at Jacob and tells him to start talking.

“Hi baby, i love you.” Jacob grips your hands and squeezes them. For a moment time stands still as your brain wraps around the sound of his voice. You don’t even feel the tears streaming down your face but notice them when they fall onto your hand that’s clasped in front of your mouth. “Your voice.. it’s beautiful.” Your shoulders start shaking from happiness, Jacob wraps his arms around you as the specialist smiles and gives you the information you’ll need for the next couple of days. You make an appointment for a checkup in a couple of weeks and you’re ready to go.

The moment you step in Sam’s house, everybody looks at you with wide eyes. “How did it go?” Embry is the first one to speak up. Jacob smiles while squeezing your hand tightly. “It went well”. Everybody jumps up as you speak, happy you can hear them without having to sign.

“I’m gonna tell you how much I love you, every second of every day.” Jacob kisses your lips. “I can’t wait to hear it.” You smile at each other.

[ahhhhhhh-e-i-e-i-o]

this is ur free pass to talk about ur hyperfixation. i have no idea wtf it is but i want to hear

You dont understand how happy that just made me, I literally giggled and jumped up and down like a little girl.

Ok so it's this show called SKAM, or Shame in norwegian (and I'm deep in it rn). So it's basically this Norwegian teen drama but there's a ton of remakes around the world (so far I've seen Skam France and WTFock which is Skam Belgium, but there's a ton, like Skam Italy and Skam Austin). But the cool thing is when it aired it was in real time and random, so basically if there was a clip of an episode that took place at 5:30 on Monday, it would air at 5:30 on Monday and then at the end of the week they would release the whole episode. But ALSO, they would randomly release texts between the characters AND all the characters had Instagram accounts run by the show that would post randomly. And so basically each season follows a different character and the OG only had 4 seasons but some of the remakes have many many more, and the remakes have to follow the same characters and general storyline of the first four seasons, but then they can do whatever they want and it's really cool.

So basically everyone's favorite season (and the reason I watched) is season 3 because it's about these guys Even and Isak who fall in love (and we love queer romance) and it's actually soooo good. Basically Isak is gay but super in denial and has all this internalized homophobia that goes out the fucking window when he meets Even, a raging pansexual with enough charisma to make a lesbian fall for him istg (ok maybe not a lesbian but at least a straight man I'm sure). But, mild spoiler, Even has bipolar disorder and has this intense manic episode around Isak which fucks everything up and his ex is like super toxic, but then they get over it and have some of the cutest scenes I've ever seen in TV history.

I've really onyl watched season 3 of Skam France and WTFock, and just clips from the other ones, but from what I can tell, Skam France is very similar to the OG, and WTFock is a little darker (like at one point they get beat up on the street by homophobes). But I really like the remakes because the characters aren't exactly the same even though the story is. So like Robbe (Belgian Isak) is super adorable and little tiny baby and like Isak is too but not in the same way. And like Eliott (French Even) has more of a temper and he's a little more "cool guy" and yeah idk.

I also love love love season 5 of Skam France because it's about Arthur who is the love of my life (dear lord he's so hot) and he goes deaf and I think it's a really great story. I also really like television that focuses on a sense (or lack thereof) especailly hearing because you can do some really cool stuff with it. I think the show did some things about it really excellently and some things I would've done differently just to evoke a different or stronger emotional reaction but I still think it was really cool.

Idk I just love it sm it gives me so much dopamine and just like. joy. ahhhhh thanks for letting me rant even if you don't read it I love talking about Skam and my friends are probably so happy I'm talking about it here and not to them anymore haha.