#and several other things around the house.

[sunshineyuyu]

princess treatment (j. yh)

★ summary: you have a crush on jongho, but he’s chatting up someone else. so, you end up getting high and hooking up with yunho instead. ★ pairing: yunho x f!reader ★ genre: college, smut (mdni!) ★ word count: 4.3k ★ tags/warnings: weed & alcohol consumption, yunho calls reader princess, high sex, piv sex (with a condom!), vaginal fingering, spanking, choking, slight dom/sub undertones, ig under-negotiated kink?, big dick!yunho, yunho manhandles reader, yunho is taller than reader, yunho has tattoos lol, dirty talk, intentionally lowercase ★ notes: this is the prequel to the jongho fic chained and the final “part” of this series! yunho from chained was just a lil too hot for me to not write something for him too! let me know if i missed any warnings!! ofc beta’d by the bestie @starhwas-bunny ★ masterlist | read on ao3 | chained (jongho sequel)

you look so hot tonight. you’re wearing your new favorite top—with a deep deep cut that makes your chest the center of attention—and a pair of jeans that you know makes your ass look good.

all of this to hopefully attract the attention of one choi jongho, who you’ve been crushing on for the better half of the semester, since san introduced you to him. he’s built and tan and nice and smart and sexy.

and he’s currently leaning against a wall—cradling a red solo cup and swirling its contents like he’s james fucking bond or something—and chatting up some pretty blonde girl.

you practically feel smoke coming out of your ears as you stare at the two of them—the way jongho leans forward so that he can hear the girl amidst the blaring sounds of somebody come get her, she’s dancing like a stripper. ryujin puts a hand on your shoulder and the warmth of her palm makes you realize how tense you are. she shoves a beer into your hand.

“forget about him, honey,” she says. “he’s not worth it.”

“it’s not like he’s a fuckboy,” you whine, struggling to crack open the can with your recently cut nails. ryujin takes pity on you and opens it for you. you take a deep drink from it before wiping the edge of your mouth with your wrist. “he’s nice. he brought homemade coffee to class for me the other day.”

“mmm,” ryujin says. “i know, honey, but no boy is worth it. c’mon, let’s go play rage cage.”

you let ryujin pull you away to a different room, where the birthday girl yeji is parading around on wooyoung’s shoulders while spraying everyone with bubbly champagne. you don’t even really know yeji—she’s an acquaintance of an acquaintance, but you came because you wanted an excuse to get drunk and look hot and get jongho’s attention, only two of which you’ve managed to succeed in.

you finish the beer at an alarming rate and crush it in your fist.

“i’m gonna go get some air,” you say. “i’m not really feeling rage cage right now.”

“i’ll come with you,” ryujin says.

you venture to a different part of the house, trying to locate the stairs back down to ground level, but instead spotting a balcony. ryujin follows you here, where up close you realize it’s not empty.

the balcony is big—big enough to have several foldable lawn chairs strewn around, all occupied by various zooted-adjacent individuals. you and ryujin find a small opening against the railing, and you push up against it to feel the wind blow against your hair.

“men are shit,” you proclaim, apropos to nothing.

“men are shit,” ryujin agrees.

“you wanna smoke?” this voice is new, and it doesn’t belong to ryujin. it comes from your other side, and you turn slowly to appraise the person it originates from.

he’s holding a blunt out to you, a small thin thing between his thumb and pointer finger.

it’s jeong yunho. 

you don’t really know yunho, but you know him enough. he’s a friend of seonghwa’s, which means you’ve seen him at enough parties—been shoved next to him during rage cage, had him hold your hair back while you took a bong hit. he’s tall, with soft black hair, and has a tattoo of a dragon curled around his right forearm. there’s a perpetual lazy look to him—a smirk always playing at his lips.

he’s attractive, and he’s offering you a smoke from his blunt. you don’t think twice before you’re stepping closer, pressing your lips against the end of the blunt and inhaling. a low tsk comes from ryujin, but you focus on letting the sour smoke fill your lungs, all while you maintain eye contact with yunho.

“ryujin,” you say, coughing a little since it’s been a while since you’ve taken a direct hit. “can you get me some water?”

ryujin gives another tsk, but then you shoot her a look that she understands in an instance, and she slips away to “get you some water.”

you turn back to yunho.

“you looked like you needed it,” yunho says, taking a pull from the blunt and then blowing the smoke back out. 

you hum lightly, crossing your arms from both the night chill and because you know it makes your tits look better.

“you’re right.”

yunho holds the blunt back out to you, right in front of your mouth. you take another hit. this time you close your eyes and you breathe it back out, letting your head fall back and your hair hang loose.

“it’s nice,” you say. “thank you.”

“anytime,” yunho says.

you continue the back and forth of the blunt a few times, until you’re starting to really feel it, which is good because the blunt is practically finished, yunho barely pinching onto it after your puff.

“last one,” yunho says, a little breathy, and eyes more hooded than usual. 

on this last one, you meet yunho’s half-gaze and blow the smoke directly into his face. he’s closer than you really remember him being, but you don’t mind. he’s big and he blocks the wind. he flicks the stub of the blunt onto the ground, grinding it with the toe of his shoe. he raises his head back up to you.

“that was hot,” he says.

“i’ve always wanted to have high sex,” you say.

“i can make that happen,” he says.

he leads you to the stairs, down them, and out the front door with a surprising amount of clarity. meanwhile, you’re letting the sound of whatever chainsmokers song is playing drag you back to your high school days. an uber appears out of seemingly mid-air, and you’re suddenly in the backseat of a sedan. yunho’s shoving the armrest into the backseat and pulling you into him.

the ride is smooth, and you take it in turns to focus on different things. first, the dulcet sounds of a jazzy trumpet, fragmented and dusty because of the car’s worn speakers. second, the rushing of lights in the windows, leaving behind trails of white, yellow, a smear of blue.

finally, yunho’s hand on your waist, his thumb rubbing soft circles in that sliver of skin between your top and your jeans. it’s nice, makes you feel warm. you press deeper into his chest, your hand pressed into the cotton of his shirt.

he leads you up to his apartment and throws his keys into a ceramic bowl near the front door. 

“do you want water?” he asks, heading towards the kitchen like you hadn’t propositioned him fifteen minutes ago after sharing a blunt together.

“yeah,” you admit, when the full feeling of cotton mouth hits you.

after several gulps of the most delicious filtered water you’ve ever had, yunho’s crowding you into the countertop. he towers over you, but that works because you like feeling small, overpowered.

“you sure about this?” he asks, and if you weren’t high you would’ve said something about appreciating the ask for consent. instead, you lock your arms around his neck, pulling him down to your height and pressing your lips against his.

the kiss is immediately intense, his tongue roving against yours, while his hands—jesus, they’re massive—press into your sides, palms hot and fingers digging.

“yes,” you say.

he picks you up effortlessly, and you manage to wrap your legs around his torso as he carries you into his room. he sets—no, throws—you down onto the mattress. you bounce a little and fall backwards onto the pillows. you’re getting ready to bite out a retort at being tossed aside so roughly when you see his face: calm, emotionless, but a distinct darkness in his eyes.

“fuck.” you mean it as a breath, but it comes out like a moan. 

yunho pounces.

he kisses you briefly, before descending to your neck, your collarbone. he’s pushing your top off your shoulder, mouthing at the flesh at the top of your breast.

“take it— take it off,” you say.

yunho obliges, sitting back to push your top up past your chest and over your head. he lingers there for a little longer, eyes running over your tits and your nipples hardening under his heavy gaze.

“hot,” he says. “you’re so fucking hot.”

“touch me,” you say.

he obliges, palming your tits and pinching your nipples. rolling them between his fingers and revelling at the way you keen under his touch. 

“sensitive?” he says, all breathy while watching you.

“y- yes,” you say. “the- the weed—”

“mmm, yeah, i know what you mean.”

you reach down to the button of your jeans, but yunho catches your hands and lifts them above your head. he presses into it, hovering over you.

“i’ll take care of you, princess,” he says. “be patient.”

this pulls a squeak out of you. the assertive tone, the pet name, combined with the way that it only takes one of his hands to lock your wrists in place—it’s new to you, but you’re suddenly so fucking desperate to get out of your pants.

the unoccupied hand goes to your jeans, and you close your eyes, as yunho deftly unbuttons it, but drags down the zipper slowly to reveal your mildly scandalous underwear: red and lacy with a little bow.

yunho whistles. “y/n. that’s kinda sexy.”

he releases your wrists to use both hands to slide your legs out of your jeans. he goes slow, trailing behind his hands with his lips, which leave a scorching trail of lazy kisses. he’s looking at you as he goes, his eyes never wavering. you almost blush from the heat of his glare.

“you shy?” yunho teases, reaching up to palm one of your tits. 

“no,” you say. “just- just ready.”

“mmm,” yunho says. “i told you, princess. be patient.”

in an instant, you’re suddenly on your stomach, bouncing again. your waist feels a little tender from where he gripped you hard to turn you over, and your head feels a little woozy from the sudden movement, but then you feel yunho tapping on the outside of your thigh.

“up.” one word, one syllable, but coated in dominance, and you’re on your knees in an instant, ass up.

“fuck, that’s a nice view,” you hear yunho say, and you feel his hands splay out on your cheeks. he squeezes a little and chuckles.

slap! 

you fall onto the mattress, arms slow to catch yourself. did he—? did he just smack your ass? the kinkiest thing you’ve ever done in bed was some light hair pulling, but you’re finding that you don’t mind the buzzing you feel in your ass right now.

in fact—

“oh.” it comes out like a whine, and yunho hisses in satisfaction.

“you like that, huh, princess?” yunho says, his voice low.

“mm.” you can’t manage words.

“good,” he says, but even then you can’t anticipate the next slap. it’s harsher this time, and you jerk from the touch. “gonna make ur ass red to match those panties.”

it’s filthy. the way he’s talking. you’ve only heard talk like this in porn, and you’d always thought it was overly scripted. but yunho’s just talking, eliciting tiny squeaks and squeals of surprise from you that you also have only heard in porn and thought was fake.

“p- please,” you say, lower lip trembling a little. you finally chance a look back at yunho, and you find him still completely clothed, kneeling on the bed behind you with his hands on your hips.

“please what?” yunho says, smirking.

“touch me,” you gulp.

“where?”

“here.” before you can overthink it you’re taking his much bigger hand and moving it to your core, to where your underwear is already soaked. 

“okay, princess,” yunho says. “since you asked nicely.”

he starts rubbing your clit over the fabric of your underwear, a feathery touch that still makes you shudder. his other hand slides up your back and settles between your shoulder blades, pressing you down into the mattress.

“stay still, okay?”

you whimper in response, because soon he’s pushing aside the crotch of your panties, teasing the pad of his finger at your dripping entrance.

and then he’s pushing not one, but two long fingers into you. the first thrust is slow, and you can feel your walls pulsing around the digits. the second, third, fourth thrusts are hard and fast, and his hand on your back is bruising.

“fuck,” yunho hisses. “so wet and tight, princess.”

“hnng,” is your reply, because yunho is hitting that spot in the back, and your thighs are quivering.

“turn around,” yunho commands. “i want to see you when you cum.”

you scramble to follow his direction, flipping onto your back and pulling your knees closer into you. yunho shoves fingers into your mouth before you have a chance to say anything, and you suck on instinct, lapping at his fingers and tasting yourself on them.

“fuck,” yunho says, and then he withdraws the fingers and pushes them back into your cunt. you stare down at his hand, at his arm—the one with the dragon tattoo wrapped around. at how the scales of the dragon dance with the veins of his forearm as he pistons his fingers into you.

you’re a babbling mess of whines and coos and squeals, and suddenly yunho’s other hand flies up to your throat.

“this okay?” yunho asks quietly. his voice is low, like he’s trying to be sultry, but you can tell he’s watching carefully to see your response.

this is new. you’ve never done this before. you’ve seen it, heard about it. 

you like it.

you nod, and yunho smirks.

his grip is loose, but this new pressure on your throat makes you a little dizzy, a little lightheaded, and makes the fluttering in your stomach speed up. both your hands come up to grip his arm, to feel the muscle beneath your fingers.

“i’m- i’m close,” you croak.

“good.” and yunho picks up the pace, fucking his fingers into you until you feel that crest of nerve endings exploding. your back arches, your head falls back, your eyes close—the feeling ten times more intense than usual because of the weed in your system.

you collapse against the bed, breathing heavily and clenching around his fingers.

“fuck,” yunho whispers. “that was hot.”

he’s perched over you now, a hand on your cheek brushing your sweaty locks out of your face. he kisses your neck, softly.

“i- i want—” you have to pause to catch your breath.

“yeah, princess?” he grins at you.

“this,” you say, your hand cupping the very apparent tent in his pants. this takes yunho by surprise. he jerks, but your hand remains. you experiment with palming him a little, feeling how firm his cock is. how big it feels even under the thick strain of his pants.

“yeah?” he says.

“yes,” you say. “please.”

“ok, princess.”

he reaches behind his head to pull his shirt off by the collar. you blanch at the sight of his torso. lean, lithe muscle. another tattoo along the top of his ribcage that you’ve never seen before. black calligraphy strokes that spell out something in what you think is japanese.

“what does it say?” you say, before you can stop yourself. you run your fingers along the words, touch soft.

“nana korobi, ya oki,” he says, equally softly. “it means ‘fall down seven times, get up eight.’”

“it’s beautiful,” you say.

“not as beautiful as you,” yunho says, and he tugs your underwear down from your hips and off your legs. you suddenly remember exactly what you’d asked for.

“so. fucking. beautiful,” he continues, undoing his belt and throwing it aside. he unbuttons his jeans and pulls them halfway down his thighs. there’s a small wet patch on his briefs, but those are soon pulled down too to reveal—

he’s big. long but not too thick. the head of his cock flushed red and leaking pre-cum.

you feel your mouth inexplicably fill with saliva.

“you’re- you’re—”

“you can do it, princess,” he says, kicking off his briefs and jeans the rest of the way. “you can take it.”

you nod obediently.

he reaches over you for his bedside drawer, returning with a silver foil condom packet and a little plastic bottle of lube. he tears the condom open with his teeth, spitting out the corner and then rolling the thing down his length. you lay back, eyes up to the ceiling. you hear the distinct pop of the lube cap, hear a liquid sort of noise, and then you feel his fingers again. cold and a little slimy, probing at your entrance and briefly nudging at your sensitive clit.

“you ready?” he says, lining himself up.

“mm.”

he pushes in slowly, and it takes all of your willpower not to clench instinctively. he groans while he slides into you, and the pace allows you to feel every inch of him. the stretch is difficult at first, but the further in he gets, the less control he has and soon, he bottoms out.

“you can- you can move,” you say.

“don’t have to tell me twice, princess.”

yunho’s hands find your waist, grip it hard, and then he pulls back and thrusts in again, but still slow. you can feel his eyes on you, making sure his size doesn’t overwhelm you. as he builds up his pace, his hips snap against yours, filling the room with positively lewd sounds that combine with his deep breathing and grunts and your whimpers and whines.

he fucks you into the mattress, stretching you so deliciously.

you find one of his hands and lead it up to your throat. yunho’s eyes widen, but he wraps those long, perfect fingers around your neck, grip tighter this time.

“fuck, you’re so pretty, princess,” yunho says. “taking my cock like that. such a good fucking girl—fuck!”

you’re overstimulated, but in the best way. lightheaded from the choking, sensitive everywhere from the weed, and so turned on from yunho’s praise. you close your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the sensation of being so thoroughly fucked.

as yunho pounds into you, he starts cooing and moaning about how good you look, how good you sound, how good you feel.

“yeah? you like that, princess? yeah—let me hear you. tell me how good i’m fucking you. fuck—your pussy is perfect. like you were fucking made for me. such a perfect princess.”

you can’t tell if you’re close to another orgasm, or if this is just all one long extended orgasm. all you know is that your body is buzzing with pleasure, and you feel really fucking good.

eventually, yunho’s thrusts grow faster and more erratic. he gives one final push and stays buried in you, chest rising and falling.

he pulls out slowly, checking to make sure the condom worked.

“fuck, that was good,” he says, breathless.

“yeah,” you agree, boneless.

yunho swings his legs over the side of the bed, taking off the condom and tying it up before throwing it into a trash can. you’re a bit miffed that he is already fully operational, while you feel like you had all of your inner organs rearranged.

“give me a sec, princess,” he says, as he tugs on a pair of sweatpants. “i’ll get you some water and get you cleaned up. just relax.”

your head still feels a little woozy, but you slowly come back to your senses as you hear yunho bustle around outside. finally, he comes back into the room guzzling a chilled bottle of water. he recaps it and hands it to you. you drink deeply as you feel yunho wipe at your thighs with something warm and wet. the cool water reinvigorates your throat after having yunho’s hand pressed against it. 

“you good?” he says. “i wasn’t too hard or anything?”

“no,” you say. “no, it was good. i liked it.”

“good girl,” he says, sitting on the edge of the bed and patting your head. it’s mildly patronizing, and but you’re to tired to retort back. 

he shifts deeper onto the bed to lean back against the headboard, running his fingers along your spine. it’s relaxing and—together with the water—helps you ground yourself as you feel the last remnants of weed and arousal fog clear from your mind.

“you like jongho, right?” he asks, apropos to nothing.

you choke. you spend the next few seconds spluttering and coughing while yunho rubs your back soothingly.

“i don’t- why are you—?”

“that’s why you were all sad at first, right?” yunho says. “on the balcony?”

you stare at him, finally able to breathe properly.

“yeah,” you say quietly. “but it doesn’t matter because he doesn’t like me.”

yunho hums. “i don’t know about that—” and he pinches your back when you open your mouth to protest “—but i don’t mind being your fuck buddy while you get over him.”

you purse your lips. truth be told it was good sex, but your… thing for jongho isn’t something that you can just get over with a couple good fucks and some weed. you don’t know how to tell yunho—someone you’ve only really ever been around either drunk or high or both—about pulling all-nighters with jongho to finish your homework together, sleepy and giggly and delirious; or how he knows your coffee order without ever having asked; or the way his eyes crinkle when you show him a funny meme.

so, you settle with a small smile and a peck to yunho’s jaw.

“i’ll consider it,” you say, and you get up to start redressing. you’re sobering up properly now, and the flimsy top you’d been wearing before feels a little scandalous for your current mental state. after hesitating briefly, you grab yunho’s discarded top and put it on.

“well shit, when you do stuff like that,” yunho says, running his eyes over how his shirt dwarfs you.

“i’m- i’m cold,” you mutter.

yunho just laughs, ruffling his hair.

“hey—you hungry?”

he takes you to the 24/7 burger joint just outside his apartment, harsh fluorescent lights and greasy air doing their best to sober you up even more. he orders and pays for you, while you slide into a corner booth to avoid anyone seeing how utterly fucked out you look: hair in a messy bun to hide the knots, body swimming in yunho’s shirt, mascara smeared under your eyes, and hand constantly on your neck to cover up the massive hickey you discovered while peeing—when had yunho even given it to you?

yunho scoots into the seat opposite you with a handful of napkins and a little paper cup of spicy ketchup. after you receive your tray of food, you and yunho spend the next fifteen minutes talking about the basics when you both realize that you don’t know much about each other.

it’s easy to talk to yunho, whose light chuckles and lazy smiles are comforting. while you might not take him up on the fuck buddy proposal, you just might keep him around as a friend.

you feel your phone vibrate in your back pocket, and you reach for it to see a text from san, asking if you’re okay.

to: san

[1:40 AM] yeah i’m good

[1:40 AM] actually can u come pick me up. i’m at the burger place on 8th.

from: san

[1:42 AM] yeah omw

you slip the phone back into your jeans while you sip on your soda.

“san’s coming to get me,” you tell yunho.

“oh, cool,” yunho says. “yeah i was gonna offer to take you home or something—it’s so late.”

you hum, warming in appreciation for yunho’s intent. he really isn’t a bad guy—not that you’d thought that before. he’s always been a neutral acquaintance, but you’re really starting to enjoy his company now.

“thanks,” you say. “for the food, and—the other stuff.” 

yunho laughs.

“you’re cute,” he says, tapping the tip of your nose with a greasy finger. you dab at it with a crinkly brown napkin.

ten minutes later, your phone vibrates again to indicate that san is outside in a silver uber. you thank yunho again, and even give him a quick peck on the corner of his lips, your face flaming as you turn away from him to leave the diner.

when you throw open the door of the car, you find not san, but—

choi jongho, stuffed into the backseat with a slight flush on his cheeks and a loose grin. you stare at him, and he stares back. the only empty seat is in the middle.

“scoot,” you say.

“i’m too big for the middle seat,” he says, but he doesn’t make any moves to exit the vehicle to give you the space to slide into the car. you nudge him. “just climb over me.”

a low string of curses leave your mouth as you reluctantly clamber around his big frame and into the middle seat, where you finally see san sitting on the other side. you’re so preoccupied with greeting him and thanking him for coming to get you that you don’t notice jongho’s eyes narrowing at the shirt you’re wearing—yunho’s.

“you coming to our place or going home?” san asks.

the words your place are on the tip of your tongue when you look back at jongho, noticing now a small red bruise blossoming just under his jaw. this causes you to snap a hand to your own hickey, which you hope is hidden by the shadows.

“home,” you say quietly. “ryujin’s probably waiting for me.”

the uber starts up again, and you lean your head back onto the headrest, determinedly avoiding jongho’s gaze. you know that you just went off to hook-up with someone random, but it doesn’t sting any less that apparently jongho was doing exactly the same thing.

at that moment, your phone lights up with a new text.

from: unknown number

[1:59 am] hmu whenever, princess ;)

continued in chained (c. jh)!

[2econd-of-1sts]

yo this one is so cool thanks for the tag!

Actually, no, I wouldn’t want to go back in time. My experiences shaped who I am today, and this is the version of me that I’m trying to work on and help grow.

Skydiving, actually. Basic ass answer though 😅😂 I’ve been zip lining several times, and it seems…fun. I’d just never do it unfortunately.

I’d want to be…idk. Some kind of bird, probably. Flying would be cool.

Hm… Idk, actually. I don’t watch a whole lot of movies that are…pleasant to imagine living in.

Well…none, really. I always thought I had to know the source material before I could join the fandom space.

I wish I could colour things digitally, that’s all 😭

Valeria Garza

God my mum would kill me if I got merch whilst still living under her roof. One, she doesn’t know I’m in fandoms/on tumblr. Two, I don’t have my own money to spend on merch. Three. She’s kill me for even knowing what cod is. I’d want a shit ton of posters, though

Hm. Well, I’ve always said that I’d wanna be friends with Roach.

All food is bad for you if you have crohn’s, my friend 🥲👍

NOW, my questions for whomever picks this up next:

If you could change the way one word is pronounced in the English dictionary, what would it be?

What is one article of clothing you wish you could have two of readily available at any time?

Whats something you wanted as a kid that still holds relevance today?

If the effects of gravity did not apply to you, what’s the first thing you’d do once you started floating around aimlessly?

If you had the ability to pick a fight with one letter, which one would it be?

What’s an animal (other than the basic family of pets—cat, dog, bird, etc.) that you’d realistically find lounging by your front door based on where you live?

If you and a friend were stuck wearing only one colour for a week, but you each had to pick for the other, what colour would you pick for your friend?

What is one book that you’d like to firmly argue not to judge by its cover or reputation?

If you had the complete ability to raise one specific kind of plant in your house/yard, what plant would it be?

What is one fantasy animal/creature you’d love to be able to pet/ride?

open tags from here, my friends 👍

Ten questions to ask a mutual

Instructions: prev asks ten questions and you answer them, then ask ten new ones and tag ten people to keep the chain going! I’ll go first

What is the weirdest thing you’ve eaten? (For me it’s the time I accidentally drank ants)

do you like purple or green more? (For me it’s a 50/50 I love them both)

what is your favorite two color color combo? (For me it’s purple and gold)

are you a cat or dog person? (Dogs 100%)

what is your favorite painting (Miranda by John William Waterhouse)

Mountains or beaches? (Mountains)

what’s your favorite dessert? (Lemon bars)

are you right or left handed? (Right but I used to be left handed)

salty or sweet? (Sweet)

summer or winter? (Winter)

I’m tagging 11 people but it’s whatever

@wra1th-k1ng

@bladevoyager

@tragedyanddust

@kindred-spirit-93

@urfavgreekmythnerd

@sickneurotic

@ry-diggity

@we-are-but-dead-stars

@thestarryfalls

@tamaruaart

@hermesmoly

[nebulousmoon3990]

SPECTERS OF SILK

[Dark!Paul Atreides x Runaway Reader]

part 1

Description: In an alternate universe where Paul never dreamed and fell in love with Chani, he becomes a tyrant feared throughout the universe, being a sadistic maniac whose power is worshipped as that of a god. The Brotherhood sent you as Muad'Dib's concubine to try to manipulate him, but all you want is to live free, so you don't try to persuade him, but to escape. But your unexpected twist in fate makes Atreides start to love you, his obsession growing without you realizing it. So when you finally escape, Paul is not accepting it.

.

Warnings: possible spelling mistakes (English is not my first language), bene gesserit!Reader, nsfw, afab!reader, obsessive and possessive behavior, Dark!PaulAtreides, slavery (not sexual), child abuse, mentions of torture and blood, swearing, mentions of ideas like suicide, use of Voice, sexual content (not recommended for minors, read at your own risk), obscenity, (Spoiler: Corrino!Reader), everything is fictitious and false!

You were always going too fast.

Always fast.

But now it seemed you were too slow.

-

You were a slave, sold from master to master, you never knew your parents, you never knew your origins or what made you a slave in the first place, you were just… there.

Being used, being ordered around, obedient, educated, all for your own good.

Maybe that was what drew Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam to you.

What had it been like? Oh, you had been thrown out by your former master and taken to be sold again. On the streets, you walked in handcuffs, your gaze expressionless as you walked, you had been taught that, as a slave, you should look down, never directing your gaze to those above you.

That was why you had bumped into her.

She was accompanied by two sisters, all three dressed in black, with a veil like night over them. The slave buyer attacked you in front of everyone for your carelessness, but you didn't say anything, you weren't allowed to. Imagine your surprise when somehow, the Reverend Mother approached her seller wanting to buy you.

Her sisters also showed surprise (moderate, of course), but they said nothing. That day you were taken by them, and you were never the same again.

You were trained in the bene gesserit arts, your teaching was much more severe than the others, said by the Reverend Mother herself, but she never told you why.

You never questioned it further, fearing punishment.

You trained in all kinds of things: history, politics, justice, posture and reflexes, trained to control and know the human body and its reactions, trained to control your body. You trained in the Voice, the mechanism was the hardest, trying to find the perfect timbre, you trained your body in hand-to-hand combat, trained to study and identify any poison, toxin or anything harmful to health and well-being and how it all affected the body.

You learned everything.

But you were never told why you, a slave, should learn these things.

And, although you could not ask the reason for your training, you asked about your freedom.

"Will I be free?" "Will I have freedom after I complete my purpose?" "Will I be able to have freedom someday?"

The answers were always the same.

"Only destiny knows, child."

It was not a No, it was a doubt. You could be free someday, that is why you obeyed the Reverend Mother, that is why you pushed yourself beyond measure. In the hope that, someday, you would be set aside and could be free.

You never knew your purpose, but the hope of sweet freedom remained like a blanket of comfort over your heart.

There was hope.

That was until Paul Atreides ascended the throne.

The Kwisatz Haderach.

He killed the former Emperor, Shaddam Corrino, and seized power. He showed no mercy as he brought the Fremen into the universe and subjected the great houses to his empire. A tyrant, sadistic and cruel, he killed billions, his power unknown even to the Brotherhood.

Your influence and fear spread throughout the universe, your presence dominating and claiming everything in front of you, even though your reign was only five years old, everyone already felt the weight of your power.

It was in this dictatorial regime that you understood the reason for your training.

A sacrifice.

Reverend Mother Gaius had trained you to control whoever rose to power, whether it was Feyd-Rautha or Paul Atreides, you were a plan B in case Irulan failed, and although your training at first was for the case of Feyd reigning, with Paul conquering the throne and massacring the entire Corrino house for treason, the Reverend Mother focused your training on controlling the Kwisatz Haderach.

And you only found out about this a month before marrying the Emperor.

Shocked, you accepted it, you trained for it and to maintain your obedience to the brotherhood, but you did it because you didn't realize the main point, you only realized it after a few hours.

The Reverend Mother did not expect to give you freedom.

That was enough for you.

You wanted to be free! You were a bird trapped since birth, with no choices, no peace, no love, no affection, living a life of fear and suffocation, where you could be given and subjugated by anyone who bought you for a price, you were tired of being controlled and handled like a doll.

With your marriage to Paul, possibly being one of coldness and appearances, just to manipulate events, you would only be taken from one cage to another.You refused to do that.

So, as you approached the throne room, with a light gray dress and veil that covered your entire face, along with the bene gesserit accessories that you clutched tightly, either out of anger or fear, you decided at that moment.

You would do anything to escape, both from the brotherhood and from Paul Atreides.

You would be free.

Whatever the cost

—

Paul made many choices in life.

Some good, some bad, and that led him to who he is today.

The Emperor of the Universe.

Paul Atreides stopped being the innocent and kind boy when his entire home, his honor, and his father were taken from him. And although he made many bad choices, he will never regret keeping a part of the innocent boy he was inside him.

The golden path he was following, for the survival of humanity, would make him be recognized as a maniacal and heartless tyrant, never as the savior of the human race. But for him it was okay, the only people he loved and cared about were his mother and his sister, and they were both on his side in this game.

But perhaps, the decision to keep the old Paul Atreides inside him, would make him regret or be grateful for the rest of his life.

It all depends on you.

-

Paul was intrigued.

He knew the old witch would try anything to keep him under her control. But he had expected that after Irulan's death when she tried to poison his little sister, Gaius would be more fearful of confronting him.

Apparently, she was braver (or stupider, it's the same) than he thought.

Offering a political marriage was a bold move, one that Paul could have easily rejected.

But the Reverend Mother needed a lesson for defying him so openly, and what would be better than seeing her plan fail miserably?

Oh, that would be fun.

To become a tyrant, Paul had immersed himself in the memories of his Harkonnen ancestors, seeking to delve into the pleasure of others' suffering, the diabolical and maniacal methods he had so immersed himself in made him find himself silencing the whispers in his mind to go further, to do more.

So there he was, sitting on the throne in black robes, he allowed himself to sink into ways in which he could break his new concubine. Delighting in the good manners of making the woman surrender to the brink of madness.

Then when he felt the Reverend Mother he was confused for not feeling anyone with her.

Wouldn't the union be today? Why didn't she-

"My lord, Reverend Mother Gaius is here." Gurney said as he entered the throne room, Paul waved his hand tediously as Duncan went to his side. The large doors opened with a creak that everyone had become accustomed to, Gaius' figure approached him along with another woman at his side, it took more than a few seconds before Paul realized.

He didn't feel that woman, didn't feel her presence and hadn't even anticipated her arrival.

He didn't see You.

He waited until you were at the foot of the throne, where you bowed subtly, your movements being followed by everyone in the room "Your divinity."

Only those closest to Paul could call him sir or by his name, the rest could only address him with titles befitting the Emperor. The slightest bit of disrespect caught in speech could lead someone to the gallows, or even a worse sentence, in another life, Paul would be disgusted by this and would be more benevolent.

But he didn't go.

He smiled falsely at the witch, his anger towards her hadn't diminished one bit over the years "I was beginning to think you wouldn't come." No expression appeared on the old woman's face, but in her eyes, deep down, he could see the trace of anger towards him.

Even after years, the enmity between them remained strong and firm. Paul was amused by how the witch was forced to respect him, even though years ago she had treated him with ferocity. "We didn't mean to take so long, but Your deity knows how rigorous the process is to enter the palace."

"Yes, I know." His attention was on the girl beside him, once again his interest being drawn to her. He stood up from the throne, the movement attracting the attention of both of them. With slow steps, he approached you. Wisely, you didn't dare meet his eyes or raise your head, not even when Paul was in front of you.

"I assume this is the girl you talk about so much, isn't it?" He tried to look through you again, to see your mind or your ways, but Paul found himself blank again. It was as if he was near a black hole, a beautiful mystery that constantly pulled him closer to you.

What the hell are you?

"That's right, your deity." Paul looked at your face through the gray veil over you, for some reason he felt like seeing your face. So he took the veil and lifted it up, passing it over your head, finally giving Paul a view of your face.

Although Paul had acted surprised when he took your veil, your face still seemed unmoved, he got no reaction from you other than the almost imperceptible movement of your head when the veil was lifted.

Your face was a truly divine vision, the features of your face were like a painting taken from the sky, the skin as soft as the clouds and soft as the petals of the Caladan flowers he still remembered. Your hair was like a flowing river, caught in the hairstyle you wore, its vibrant and vivid color hidden behind the veil.

And your eyes, Oh your eyes.

Your eyes were lowered, but Paul could still see them, they were a mixture of your own tones that made Paul sigh in ecstasy, an explosion like the immense clouds of nebulae that roamed the universe, their beauty reflected in your irises. Your eyes, your eyes were the window to your soul, the soul that Paul Atreides lost himself in the moment he saw you.

Still mesmerized by you, Paul put two fingers to your chin and lifted your head. "Look at me." His voice came out lighter and sweeter than he had used in years. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ducan and Gurney looking at each other in confusion, but he didn't care.

You followed his order, your beautiful eyes meeting his deep blue, you stared at each other for a few seconds before his voice rang in the air again. "What is your name?" Your eyes blinked slightly before your voice, the voice he had unconsciously longed to hear, spoke.

"It's [Name], your deity."

"[Name]" he felt the name on his tongue, tickling his mind, he traced his thumb across his lips, gently parting them "Indeed, it is a very beautiful name, it suits the owner." His cheeks darkened slightly and his lips trembled, his eyes averted to the new floor, shining in subtle embarrassment.

How cute you were.

Maybe this wasn't as bad as he thought.

NEXT CHAPTER

bye

[armysantiny]

Straight from where? – Sylus

P: Sylus x female reader | G: fluff, oneshot | Inc: mc!reader, those dreadful dark romance booktok books, office work, Mephisto being a glorified camera, a domestic morning, Sylus being compared to those shitty booktok male reads, mentioned Tara, mentioned Luka and Keiran, small mention of blood on Sylus| Wc: 1.9k | W: mentions of blood | R: G

Summary: After work, y/n’s gifted a few…interesting romance novels from a colleague at work, under the premise that Skye is just like the male love interests. The white hair, red eyes and slick motorbike? A perfect match, if Sylus actually was like the men in those dark romance books. Except he’s not, and the man in question is just as mortified to learn what y/n’s colleagues think he would do to her.

Min's notes: Remember when Sylus was intially released and people started wrongfully comparing him to those really shit male leads?? Yeah so do I which is why I wrote this out of spite. I started writing this a while ago, but it got sidetracked for my Wooyoung fic. Anyway~ enjoy almost 2k words of Sylus not being a shitty dark romance stereotype

It’s the sound of several books hitting her desk at the end of a gruelling workday that brings y/n out of her focus, fingers coming to a pause on the desktop’s keyboard. There are still the mission reports on her screen that need to be filled out, yet the new additions to her desk and her coworker’s eager expression spark curiosity. Taking a quick break to indulge in said sparked curiosities, as per a certain crow’s encouragement, shouldn’t be too bad. She’s been at this for hours anyway, safe to say she’s earned it.

So, she bites.

“What are these?” Y/n chuckles, then takes a proper look at the titles. “Romance…novels?” It’s not that she doesn’t appreciate a good book, but the titles she’s looking at are…fascinating, to say the least.

“Mhm! After Skye accompanied us on our outing last time, and since he’s been here to pick you up a few times, I figured I’d lend these for you to read!” Her fellow hunter answers, al bright-eyed and genuine. They go on a little longer, comparing Sylus—Skye, as far as her coworkers know—to the kind of dark romance male leads that are going viral online. A Zade Meadows kind of man, is the consensus y/n gets once her coworker is done explaining and bids her a good night before getting ready to head home themselves.

And while Sylus is… the way that he is, y/n’s having a hard time believing the very same leader of Onychinus would be capable of doing any of the things she’s heard these male leads do. To other people, sure, y/n’s seen Sylus exert his authority in a myriad of violent ways, but the Sylus Qin she knows is a man weak to her affections, amongst other things.

“Thanks for letting me read them,” she chooses to say after a beat, “I’ll try and get him to read them with me. I’m sure he’ll appreciate the comparison.” Moments after her coworker heads out of the office and is out of earshot, y/n snorts a laugh behind her palm.

As if he’d appreciate it. Which is exactly why y/n plans on taking these books with her to Sylus’ house—castle—tonight.

Driving into the N109 Zone after a long day, a long week in fact, is comforting, the never-ending darkness surrounding y/n as she rides her bike to her destination. The broach is fastened to her coat, a silent badge of protection in the place where shadows exist even in the dark. But it’s not long until she arrives outside the front door of her home away from home, and the home of her favourite crow.

“Pretty bird..?” Y/n calls out, helmet tucked under arm as she wanders around the oddly quiet walls of Sylus’ home. Sure, her bike is parked out front, and the hunter very clearly recalls hearing distinct caws as she left work, but the sprawling expanse of a home is pin-drop silent. Even by N109 standards, it’s quiet. Slipping her shoes off in favour of comfortable slippers, y/n continues her search, her helmet discarded on a side-cabinet.

An endless swath of doors, that’s what y/n decides Sylus’ home is after she opens the nth door to no success. Just where is this man?

Familiar hands wrap around her waist.

“Hello, sweetie.” Sylus smiles, cradling his hunter close against his chest. There are traces of blood on his clothes, a smear or two across his cheek, but that doesn’t matter. Not when his y/n has come all this way to see him. What an honour he’s been bestowed. “A pretty kitten decided to come all this way just to see me. What a pleasant surprise.”

“Do you enjoy scaring the hell out of me?” Y/n complains, trailing her words off with warm laughter that he could drown himself in. “Anyway, where have you been? The house was dead silent, it was weird. Thought you weren’t doing anything today.”

“I had to take care of some… last-minute business with the twins, it kept me longer than I’d have liked.” He admits, unfurling his arms from around y/n’s delectable waist when she wriggles around to go do something. There’s a pep in her step, an excitement that Sylus knows very well means she’s up to something. Or she has something to show him. Either is good.

But there’s still the pressing matter of blood on him and his clothes.

“I’ll head into the shower, sweetie.”

Heading out of the shower a full thirty minutes later and noticeably blood-free, Sylus is met with a stack of books on his dresser as he reaches for his robe, y/n watching him from her spot on the edge of his bed. It doesn’t take long, just a couple of glances between the literature and y/n, for him to come to his conclusion.

“I didn’t know we were expanding our library,” he purrs, sneaking in a forehead kiss and bringing some of the books with his Evol. “Did you buy these? Pardon the assumption, kitten, but I know your taste and… this isn’t exactly it.”

She snickers and oh, he’s not wrong. He’s being set up, lovingly, of course.

“Well, if these aren’t your taste,” he says, “enlighten me with your plans, since we’re evidently going to be reading these for the next few days.”

And, well. The next few days are interesting, to say the least.

He peruses the novels in between meetings, digesting chapter after somewhat delusional chapter, disbelief nearly a permanent expression on his face each time one of these novels are in his hands. How anyone finds any of this… literature, something of actual substance is a mystery and the sooner he can give these sorry excuses for published books back to y/n to return to her colleague, the better. Everything about the ‘romance’ stories he’s been reading leaves a rotten taste in his mouth, worsened further by the fact that this is how y/n’s colleagues think Sylus treats his beloved.

All accusations that couldn’t be further from the truth. Frankly, he’s a little insulted.

He should go and correct this mistake.

“Boss! We’ve got a lead on the group peddling fraudulent weapons out of the old warehouse!” Kieran announces, Luke already heading off to the armoury to gear up. “Shall we get the jump on them?”

So much for seeing his pretty hunter tonight. He’ll just have Mephisto watch her instead.

Just what is so good about these anyway? It’s the only thing that’s been on y/n’s mind all night, tucked in bed with one of the dark romance novels out of the set she’d given to Sylus. A flask of jasmine tea sits on her bedside drawer, the drink and her several plushies around her bed much more interesting than the book in her hand.

If she’s having such a hard time right now, sure her favourite crow isn’t faring any better. She can almost see it now; the displeased hum, his lips curled into a frown and the distinct furrow of his brows.

And of course, the only thing better than thinking about a grumbling Sylus, is to see it in person. Obviously.

Humming along to her playlist early on in the morning as she goes about preparing breakfast, y/n startles at the knock on her door. It’s god-awfully early today, ruling out anyone she could think of off the top of her head. Her hunting partner doesn’t get up for a few more hours at the very least, and there’s no delivery to pick up…

“Morning to you too, sweetie. Off to work?” Sylus grins as she opens the front door, bending down to greet her and with a familiar looking stack of books tucked away under his arm. “Why don’t I drop you off? You can take these back with you as well.”

“How did you know I had to get to work early today?” Y/n certainly doesn’t remember texting Sylus anything other than good morning and a series of happy crow emojis, so she watches him step inside and look towards her balcony. Locking the door behind her before following his line of sight, y/n deadpans.

The crow is there. What a surprise.

“So, would you like that lift to work, kitten?”

Sylus’ motorcycle comes to a stop outside the doors of the Hunter’s Association, the hum of the engine replaced by a fresh dawn breeze as y/n removes her helmet. Her bag is several times heavier, courtesy of Sylus’ effective persuasion during breakfast. Persuasion she couldn’t exactly say no to.

“Sweetie, you can’t possibly believe any of this is good reading material,” Sylus groans, leaning against y/n’s kitchen counter while she eats breakfast. It’s probably the most offended she’s seen him in a while, and out of everything that could annoy Sylus this much, it’s the borrowed book in his hand. “This is frankly a waste of paper and the publisher’s expertise, who allowed this to be released to the public?”

Trying not to laugh through a mouthful of food is proving quite the challenge.

“Some really stubborn people, I imagine. Safe to say you don’t agree with the author’s version, then?” Y/n replies, finishing the rest of her breakfast, pure satisfaction on her face at Sylus’ indignant grumblings. It certainly makes up for Mephisto watching her from the balcony like a glorified spy camera. “Here I was think you didn’t care much for romance. Silly me~”

“The only silly thing here, sweetheart,” his voice echoes out, in time with large, warm hands wrapping around y/n’s waist. “Is the ridiculous notion your colleagues have that I’d be anything like the bastards in those books. Where did that idea come from, hm?”

Surely he’s just messing with her.

“You know exactly why, c’mon.”

“No, enlighten me.”

Her desk is just as tidy as it was when she left it, except for a croissant and her favourite morning coffee from Tara. Setting herself up doesn’t take too long, and all y/n’s left with are the books she needs to return. Books she’d rather never have to look at or read again, thanks very much. Though, there’s nothing she can do about it just yet, when the book’s owner has yet to show up.

With remarkably little callouts, there’s nothing much else for y/n to do but catch up on her remaining reports. Her hands fly across the keyboard, filling out line after line with practically no interruption.

“Y/n!” The same voice from last time calls out, breaking her out of her concentration as her colleague bounds over with enthusiasm. “How were those books I lent you? Any good?”

…is there a polite way to say absolutely horrifying and utterly dreadful?

“Definitely pretty interesting,” Y/n nods, pushing her chair away from her desk to reach for her bag. Might as well return the affronts to literature to their proper owner while she’s at it. “Skye had a read of a few as well, don’t think he’ll be reading anymore now.”

The books exchange hands, finally out of her possession, and y/n’s phone buzzes. Of course it does. Of course he’s watching.

Pretty Bird: Finally, took you long enough sweetie. Good riddance [12:54]

Pretty Bird: Let’s agree to never punish our eyes with that garbage ever again. Deal? [12:54]

Miss Hunter: As long as you agree to pick me up after work, Sy [12:56]

Pretty Bird: Then I guess we have a deal. See you after work, my love [13:00]

© copyright work of armysantiny 2025-2026

If you’ve made it this far, thank you for reading! Consider reblogging, leaving some feedback or donating to my kofi!

Taglist: @freakywonbin | Taglist Form

[punisheddonjuan]

(I Will Soon Be Offering) Private Guitar Lessons

A few months ago one of my followers inquired if I had ever given thought to offering guitar lessons online via webcam. I replied that it was indeed something I had thought about but that I would need to give it more thought as to how I would approach teaching online, whether or not I had the proper equipment and software to provide a professional experience, how many students I could take on, and what exactly I could offer as a teacher. I also noted that I would have to create a suitable space in my apartment for hosting students, this part took care of itself when my roommate moved out, my girlfriend moved in and we converted his old bedroom into an office. As for the rest? Well I gave it some thought and I've hacked together reasonable solutions for most of those other issues, so I would like to announce that beginning later this winter/this spring I will be offering private one-on-one guitar lessons via webcam.

My Qualifications:

While I graduated with a degree in Classics and attended graduate school in that field, I was initially accepted into university as a music major on the basis of my guitar playing. It was only after a few years that I switched majors into Classics. In the end I still managed enough credits to claim a minor in music.

Before attending university I spent a year studying jazz theory/jazz improvisation at college.

Both prior to and concurrent with my college/university music education I studied classical guitar privately with my former guitar teacher for a little over a decade; through him I can claim teaching lineage back to Francisco Tárrega.

I have played in a few little garage bands that never really went anywhere, performed with friends at house parties, jammed around as much as I could, and performed live as a solo guitarist.

I previously taught guitar privately during university; this is not my first rodeo.

All things accounted, I have been playing guitar for near to twenty-five years.

What I Can Offer:

If you're an absolute beginner, I would be happy to guide your playing to a level where you would feel comfortable learning songs on your own, and we would start with learning basic chords, basic technique, and putting it all together into learning a few songs.

If you're past the beginner stage, I can take your playing to a level where you would be able to convincingly improvise a solo over a song, play more advanced songs, and sit in with a jam session.

If learning to read sheet music is a goal of yours' I am able to assist with that.

If you're interested in beginner classical guitar I would feel comfortable teaching repertoire and technique to the level of what is asked for by the Royal Conservatory of Music Grade Five examinations. Grade Five repertoire is generally the minimum requirement for auditioning to a university level music program in Canada. I have several guitar methods at my disposal for teaching technique, and access to a wide array of repertoire sheet music.

I am also able to teach theory as it pertains to playing the guitar and point you towards texts that from beginner levels up to basic harmonic analysis. I can teach you how chords are constructed, how they fit together into a progression, and the basic grammar of music.

What I Can't Teach:

I can't teach you to shred. Shredding has never really been my thing. Can I show you how to sweep pick? Sure. Can I teach you to play some arpeggios? Sure. Can I drill you in accurate and fast alternate picking? Absolutely. Can I show you a few weird and exotic scales? Yes. But I'm not a shred player.

I can't bring you to a level where you could effortlessly solo over the changes to "Giant Steps" or play in a Steely Dan cover band. But, I can teach you some jazz chords, I can teach you how to comp with chords and how to use guide tones, and I can teach you the basics of soloing over chord changes and what scales to use with what chords. That said, I'm not an expert jazz player, but we can still jam on some modal stuff.

Lessons, Pricing, What to Expect, What a Prospective Student Will Require:

The typical going rate for private music lessons is around $35-$40 and ranges up to well over $100 for some in demand teachers. My fee operates on a sliding scale with a floor of $20USD/$25CAD per hour lesson. If you are comfortable with paying the typical going rate, wonderful, if you are unable to afford more than $20/$25, then that's what you will pay, no questions asked. Payment can be sent through PayPal or Interac e-transfer.

Due to the nature of my chronic illness it would be extremely difficult to take on more than five students a week. They needn't necessarily be the same five students every week; if a bi-weekly lesson schedule works better for a number of people, they can alternate. In the rare event that there is more demand than I am able to fulfill mutuals and longtime followers will have priority.

What you need as a student: A guitar (reminder that these lessons, excepting students interested in the classical guitar, are geared towards the electric guitar); a webcam (I will need a way to see you, your hands, and what your hands are doing); a microphone; a way of letting me hear your playing (whether this will be through positioning your microphone in such a way that it picks up your amplifier or utilizing a direct input method); headphones would be a good idea too.

If you commit to more than one lesson the first will be free of charge. Your first lesson with me will look something like this: we'll talk about your goals and intentions i.e. what it is you hope to get out of taking guitar lessons and how far you want to take your playing. As we chat about that we can chart out a course to get you there, and then we'll just generally see where you're at. The rest of the lesson will be taken up with some pointers on properly caring for and tuning your instrument, and then we'll put some thought towards the way our bodies are posed, how we have the guitar positioned in relation to our bodies, exercising good hand ergonomics, and finding a playing position that is both comfortable and which allows for optimal freedom of movement.

I live in Toronto which is located in the Eastern Standard Timezone (UTC -5) keep this in mind if you're interested in taking lessons and are located elsewhere.

I intend to do my best at being a trooper and toughing it out, and I will aim to not cancel lessons without fair warning, but the nature of my illness virtually guarantees that I may need to resort to this occasionally. You will need to be alright with this.

If you're interested, you can contact me here or at brendanpalangio@gmail.com. Hopefully I can get enough people interested that I can go about figuring out everyone's availability and drawing up a schedule.

[yinyuedijun]

since it is on the brain tonight. have one of my favourite (very very long) scenes of desire path backstory (happened in both versions of the fic, og and current)

(tw implied child abuse and incest)

background: you've just been adopted into the itoshi household and have had a really hard time opening up. sae hears you crying in your bedroom every night. here, he finally decides to try and help you. you're about 6 here, sae is 8.

___

Still, you had your bad nights. Progress has never been linear with you, not now and not back then. Sae recalls one midnight where you had a crying fit that disintegrated into a violent string of coughs, each one so powerful that it made him wince.

He wondered how the whole house wasn't awake, listening to your pain. Rin always slept like a rock—Sae could see him snoring away in the other bed, so it made sense that he wasn't bothered—but surely their parents were hearing this? But then he decided not to linger on it for too long.

It didn't matter since he was going to help you anyway.

He ended up knocking on your door with a glass of water. Almost immediately, all the shifting in your room stopped, almost like you were trying to silence yourself. But Sae could hear the coughs being torn violently from your throat, even though they now sounded strained and muffled.

"Hey," he called out softly. "It's me. Are you awake?"

Silence. Sae knew to give it a moment before he tried again.

"Can I come in?"

If it had been anyone other than you, you told Sae years later, your fingers running lazily through his hair, lifting the bangs out of his face, I wouldn't have said anything. I'd have pretended to be sleeping. But I let you in because it was you. You squeezed his hand, then, and your eyes were close—so close, heavy on his own and weighed down by the vulpine flick of your eyeliner, by the mascara sooty and thick on neatly curled lashes, by your childhood shadows. Your strawberry gloss shone next to his lips, and your heated and tender words kissed them: Do you understand what I'm saying, Nii-chan? If it had been anyone else, I wouldn't have been—

"...okay."

When Sae crept into your room, found an empty bed. You were hiding underneath it, curled up in the tiny space between the floor and the mattress, hugging the quilt he'd handed to you weeks ago. He crouched down, showed you the glass of water. Sae wasn't sure if the offering would be enough to draw you out from under the bed, but another coughing fit—this one strong enough to make you teary-eyed—had you crawling out. You mumbled a little thank you as you took the glass from him and drank.

"You haven't cried like that in a while," Sae commented, and you gave him a stricken look. After a long moment of unadultered panic in your eyes, he heard you string more than two words for the first time:

"...s-sorry. I'm really sorry." You were looking down at the floor, and it was like all the progress Sae had made over the past several weeks had gone up in smoke—you looked petrified, small, a cornered animal with nowhere to run. "I didn't know you could hear me."

"Don't apologize. I don't mind it."

"...you're not mad?"

Sae thought it was a funny question. "No. Who'd get mad at something like that?"

You didn't reply, just looking away, and Sae felt a little frustrated, then. He'd been working so hard to make you feel comfortable and thought he'd finally made some progress—but now he was seeing you regress in real time. Back into the fragile little thing that his parents had decided to adopt out of the blue, looking like you couldn't trust anything around you. Like you couldn't trust him. Sae couldn't help but think—

"You don't like it here, do you."

Even at that age, you had a distinctly doe-eyed look when you were confused, and he remembers staring at it.

"No," you said. "I do."

"Then how come you don't wanna talk to any of us?"

Maybe his voice was a little too harsh. Or a little too blunt. You flinched, your body retreating into the turquoise shell of your quilt.

"Sorry."

"That's—" Sae paused, chewing his lip. Tried to make his voice as gentle as possible, because he knew his usual tone would scare you. "...you don't need to be sorry. I'm not mad. I just wanna know what's been making you so upset. Like—how come you always cry at night?"

You got that nervous, uncertain look in your eye again, and Sae got the distinct feeling that you were wondering if this whole conversation was some kind of trick. He added, "I just wanna know how to cheer you up. I don't like seeing you so sad all the time."

You blinked, gave him a surprised look, but it was fleeting, quickly making way for another gloomy expression. "You don't need to worry about me… I don't think I'm going to stay here for very long."

Sae's brow furrowed. His mom had made it sound like you were going to be his little sister just like how Rin was his brother—that is, permanently. "Why not?"

The face you made was so miserable that it startled Sae. He hadn't had a lot of experience with sadness as a kid—most of what he'd witnessed revolved around soccer, when the opposing team lost, and Sae never felt very sorry for them. Sometimes Rin would throw tantrums or cry over silly things, but those were easy to handle. Sae supposed that the worst sadness he'd ever seen was in his mother, who tried her best to hide it—

—but not even her saddest expressions could compare to how shattered you looked in that moment.

"...your dad doesn't actually want me here, Sae-san."

Sae's brow creased. You have a new sister, he recalled. You need to take care of her, OK? It's your job as the eldest.

"That can't be right," Sae replied. "Dad said he wanted you to be part of this family. He even said I should look after you."

Instead of responding, you looked long and hard at Sae, and for the first time, he experienced the strange feeling of being dissected by you. He felt translucent and naked under your eyes—keen for such an innocent age, seeing everything in the dark.

"We have the same father, but different moms. You know that, right?" you asked quietly.

He hadn't.

"Your dad didn't like my mom very much, and that's why he didn't want me. He's only being forced to take me now 'cause my mom decided she didn't want me either." Your eyes started to shimmer, and you hid them in your blanket. "My stepdad and my brother also left 'cause they didn't want me. And I don't think your mom likes me very much, either. So"—you breathed in deep and whispered, and Sae felt like he was watching a vase tip over the edge, a sandcastle crumbling into dirt, his mother crying as she fumbled for her cigarettes when she thought no one was watching—"it's not gonna be very long 'til your parents throw me away too."

Sae went silent. If his heart ached for you when he first laid eyes on you, then it was being crushed right now. He didn't think very hard about it when he placed a hand over one of yours.

"They wouldn't do something like that," he said.

Your fingers twitched under his, like you wanted to pull away.

"They want to. I can tell."

You're just imagining things, Sae nearly replied, but then he remembered that he'd never once heard his parents come here at night to check on your crying, and then he went quiet.

"...it doesn't matter," he eventually decided. "I won't let them."

A little sniff. "No?"

"No. I'll make sure you stay with us."

You blinked the saltwater away from your lashes, then gave him a curious look. "Why?"

"Because I'm your brother, and it's my job to take care of you."

"Really?" you asked, voice watery.

His eyes softened, his usual impassivity crumbling for you.

"Really. I would never let anyone throw you away," he said, and the words felt so ugly in his mouth that he couldn't fathom how anyone had done that to you. How anyone could have done anything to you. You were so sweet, and so kind, and so vulnerable, and it left him feeling sick when he imagined you being hurt in any way. "I'll keep you safe. Promise."

Sae nearly jumped when he felt something move in his hand. He looked down, saw your little fingers prodding at his own, and he offered you his open palm. You took it readily, Sae found himself transfixed by the latticework of your entwined fingers.

"Thank you, Sae-san."

"It's nothing," he wrote off. His thumb rubbed the back of your hand, gentle in a way that his voice wasn't. "But I'm your brother now, remember? You should address me properly."

You smiled a little, studying your interlocked fingers, and Sae felt a peculiar warmth in his chest, an uptick in his pulse.

"Okay, Nii-chan."

Nii-chan. Sae's always loved hearing that title in your mouth. Not out of a demand for respect the way Rin obsesses over it, but because you've always seemed so happy to say it, the syllables sweetened by your adoring tongue. Okay, Nii-chan, you've always said. I'll listen to you, Nii-chan. I trust you, Nii-chan. I love you, Nii-chan. I love you, I love you, I love you.

So please don't leave us again.

Please don't throw me away.

[genderqueerdykes]

Do you have like, some nice words?

Like I’m just so tired of how constant tme/tma speak is on my dash. Posts about how transfems should leave friend groups of “tmes” because they will inevitably be bigots

Why are half the popular transfems on this site horribly transphobic in their own right the moment a transmasc dares exist in their vicinity

Sorry I’m basically just venting in your inbox, thank you for being a breath of fresh air

i'm sorry you're dealing with this. it's natural to be worn down by this behavior, it's literal transphobia and intersexism and people just don't seem to care.

the tme/tma (transmisogyny exempt/transmisogyny affected) binary doesn't work. the issue is that in real life, most queerphobes you come across are assuming you are a trans woman. the average person associates the concept of transness with transfemininity on average, unless they personally know some transmascs or trans men, or are one. it's very rare to find a stranger who gets it. every time i come out to a stranger, they immediately switch to she/her pronouns, call me ma'am/miss/girl/etc., and ask what my "real" name is. it's really weird

transmasculine invisibility is a genuine issue offline. certain pockets of the internet are obsessed with hating trans men but that doesn't mean that the vast majority of people in the offline world know a damn thing about any of this. i do not ever have anyone understand that i mean i'm transmasculine when i say im trans. as i'm transmasc and transfem i don't really challenge it, but it sucks that people have one assumption and one only.

it happens with other queers. i moved in with a bunch of perisex trans femmes and was dating one for a while and flirting with a few others. my other roommate was a perisex cis gay man. i was the only intersex person who was there at the time, and i think a very small handful of others were around regularly, so there was a high chance that people should've been pretty informed about the existence of intersex identities. i know some people who came around pretty often were intersex, at least from my memory

the second people found out about my physical anatomy, they switched how they treated me. everyone thought i had a penis for some reason? and were made wildly uncomfortable upon finding out about it. when i revealed that i'm intersex & genderqueer, and that i'm bigender: a trans man, and a trans woman all hell broke loose suddenly nobody knew what to think or feel or anything.

people honest to god just defaulted to misgendering me.

and treating me like i was stupid as fuck.

this was the hardest part. i was being treated like i was dumb as HELL and it frustrated me to no end.

my emotions were "too much". i kept getting told i was too needy or whiny or possessive or that i needed too much of sometimes time or that i was touching the wrong things around the house. i kept being criticized for moving objects that impacted an environment i was allowed to work at. i was criticized for organizing a bookshelf i was asked to organize. i was ridiculed and insulted. my roommate and a girl who was flirting with me questioned my dissociative identity disorder, which i have plenty of medical records spanning back to 2017 from various doctors in various states and hospitals showing my diagnostic history with dissociation and dissociative disorders, and he also questioned my schizophrenia when i have records dating back to 2015 showing my history with severe psychotic episodes and the development of schizoaffective disorder, bipolar type

i was no longer the arbiter of my own lived experience because everyone found out i didn't have a penis. i'm a vagina haver so i'm stupid. i'm dumb. i'm a cis woman. i'm faking. i'm not actually a man. well i am a man. i'm evil.

i'm breaking this silence on this garbage. it's time stop treating trans men and mascs this way. we're real people. we have real experiences. we are also being talked over. it really is possible to speak over us. it's happening right now. it doesn't need to. trans men talking about how we don't need to be seen this way isn't hurting trans women. we're being misgendered. we're being hurt by transandrophobic and misogynstic behavior. one does not need to hurt trans men in order to heal from one's own trauma with manhood. it won't help. it doesn't do anything

this is such a goddamn long ask but i wanted to thank you for this because your honesty and bluntness is what's needed right now. thank you to every trans man and transmasc speaking up about this right now. please feel free to send your own experiences with this because it's over. i'm not humoring it. i'm going to keep talking about it until people calm down and understand that conversations have multiple participants

i now more than ever want to actually focus on uplifting transmasculinity and trans men. i have been forcing myself to try to focus on a broader range of topics to avoid backlash but let's not start 2025 thinking we have to do this anymore. we literally don't. it's over. trans women are allowed to talk about the struggles we face. always and forever. but a trans man talking about their own experience is not an attack on you. and sometimes a trans man will give you criticism. and sometimes... you have to take it.

sometimes you have to take a trans man's criticism.

you really, really do.

and it's not the end of the world.

if a trans man tells you you're talking over them, you really should actually stop and step backwards and reassess what you said to them. you may have done it on accident. actually listen before you keep talking. if a trans man tells you they have a health condition, listen. don't participate in this behavior. there's literally no reason to think that trans men and mascs are too stupid to articulate our own experiences. it's ridiculous. that's how society treats women- you don't want to be treated that way! please don't do it to other people, especially people you view as women...

anyway i hope that this helps in any way. i'm just tired of this shit. i'm happy to start 2025 by completely and totally breaking the silence on transmasculine and trans male erasure. join me. we're not doing this shit anymore. we're starting this year off being more compassionate. we're starting off this year accepting that manhood isn't what has traumatized any of us, it's toxic masculinity, it's patriarchy, it's specific men. let's ditch this shit

[faghubby]

Little cocksucker

I am not sure how it grew but it started when I moved to Pennsylvania. My parents moved us out to a small town 30 minutes from even a gas station. I was 17 and hoped to be away at school in a next year. I had grown up in New York and the culture shock was insane. It had been months and I had no friends. Then I met Jack

Jack and I couldn't be different he had lived in this small town his whole life. His family owned a farm. And he looked like he worked his whole life on a farm. 6 ft tall and huge I swear he could of flipped a car if he wanted to. While I was 5' 3" damn most of the girls where bigger then me even my little sister. So when Jack invited me to go horseback riding I told him I didn't know how.

"Don't worry I will teach you" he assured me. He drove me in his pickup truck. I didn't even know how to drive and he had been driving since he was 14. Jack walked me thru how to ride. Giving me an older horse to ride.

"He is not going to go hard" he told me. Helping on to the horse. He watched as I rode around the field before he joined me. He then led me thru the fields into the woods. Before we came upon an old house in the woods. He stopped and helped me down. Grabbing my ass as he did. I was shocked but thought it just an accident.

"There aren't many girls our age around" he commented as he showed me around the old abandoned house.

"So I noticed" I told him.

"Have you ever been in a circle jerk?" He asked plainly.

"What, no" I told him.

"There are some of us who help each other" He told me pressing me against a wall. His hand cupping my crotch.

"Go ahead" he told me. Leaning in closer.

"I'm not" I told him

"Non of us are. Animals often do things when there is a shortage of females" he told me. I reached down and felt his hard cock thru his jeans. Holy shit was that all him? He unzipped his pants he wore no underwear his cock sprug free. I stroked him. He just held his hand against my crotch. His hand was able to hold not only my hard dick but my balls as well, while I needed two hands to hold him.

"You can be the female today" he told me as I stroked his cock. It was odd but excited me at the same time.

"There are a few of us, but no one speaks of it" he told me. I shook my head.

"I understand"

"Would you like to lick it?" He asked. I shook my head no but knelt and kissed his cock.

"No one says anything?" I asked.

"Top secret" he smiled as I took the head in my mouth. He kissed and licked but made him cum on the floor. He helped me back up his rough hands rubbed my nipples.

"We are going to have lots of fun together" he told me. He fixed his pants and helped back on the horse. This time not hiding his grab on my ass. I was worried and ashamed as we rode back to the barn. I couldn't even look Jack in the face. But caught myself thinking about his muscles.

The next day in gym class everyone seemed to be behaving different towards me. I wasn't the little funt outcast. Several guys "helped me"

"Hold the ball like this. Or stand with your feet apart " they showed me standing very close I thought.

When we went to change, Bill came up behind me.

"Jack says you joined our little circle" He smiled as he pulled off his shorts and boxers. His cock swinging free. I quickly looked away as he laughed softly. Jack started driving me home everyday. It was a week before he pulled down a dirt road. He stopped and pulled out his cock.

"I can't stop thinking about what a great job you did" he told me. I blushed and took his cock in my mouth. He was more forceful this time. Pushing my head. Gaging me encouraging me to take more. He finished in my mouth but I spit it out.

"It's time you met the rest of the group" he told me.

"Are you going to?" I asked looking down at the bulge ini my jeans

"Not my turn to be the female" Jack smiled not giving me anymore explanation. I rinsed out my mouth. Wondering if they expected more from the "female" . Jack drove me home.

"I am glad you are making friends paul "my mother smiled. she was folding clothes. I blushed a bit as I saw her fold her panties.

I was 17 never even kissed a girl but had sucked Jack's cock twice. I started to obsess over who the other guys where, what they would expect, where they all big like Jack? Was I just really small? I searched the internet. And found myself watching bisexual porn. I came across one with a man wearing panties sucking cock. I would catch glimpses of the guys changing at gym. I found myself looking at their assessment. And not the few girls in class. Was I gay?

"Should I pick you up around 7" Jack said as he came up behind me in the hallway. His hand cupped my ass. I blushed

"Sure"i said a bit higher pitch then I had meant too. I obsessed over what to wear. My hair and how I smelled. Should they want me to Smell like a girl? I grabbed a bag. And thru in a spare tee. Incase Jack came on me again. Should I wear panties? I had never wanted to but now? I decided against it and Jack was right on time. He drove to an old factory on the edge of town the place was huge. He walked me thru.

"No reason to be nervous" he told me. He lit a joint and gave me some. I had only smoked weed once. I got high on just two hits. I heard music as we got close. I saw Bill and Roger they handed me a beer. As Jack led me into a room. Pete was there. Sitting on a chair naked.

"You know what to do" Jack told me swatting my ass. I went to him. Jack left, Pete pulled me onto his lap. His cock now rubbing against my bulge. He kissed me. Long and hard his tounge darting around my mouth. I loved it. And relaxed in his arms. My hand reached down and stroked his cock. He stole the kiss and I slid to the floor and sucked his cock. It was smaller then Jack but bigger then mine for sure. Pete also came quicker then Jack. I didn't try and move I let him cum in my mouth.

Pete calmly got up and dressed as I took a swig of beer to cleat the taste. As soon as Pete left Roger came in. He was the tallest of them. Roger wasted no time he grabbed me and pulled me to his crotch he held my hair as he tried to face fuck me. But I kept gagging. And he would stop. He pulled out and came all over my face. I took off my shirt and wipped it off. No sooner had I done that when Bill presented his cock to me. Bill let me do whatever I wanted. I tried to do things I had seen in pornos I licked his balls. And cupped his ass as I sucked his dick. Almost taking all of him. He asked me wear I wanted it, I just sucked him harder and he came in my mouth. I swallowed it all down. Proud of myself that I was able too.

Jack came in offered me more pot. I was really stoned now. He stripped me naked. And pushed me to the floor, I sucked his cock my jaw aching. But the pot made me not care. As I sucked his cock he rubbed my ass. Then his fingers spread my cheeks I didn't stop. As his finger probed my ass. I moaned as he did. I don't remember much after that.

I must of passed out. I woke the music still playing. I got dressed and went back out. Pete handed me a beer. And another hit off a joint. I watched as they just drank beer and wrestled each other. Jack Sat down and pulled me to his lap.

"You are definitely the girl of the group" he told me his hand cupping my ass.

"What does that mean" I asked softly.

"You will do what girls do for us" he told me. Then kissed me. I was shaking as he then led me his truck and drove me home. As he dropped me off I hesitated. How did I look before I went inside. I was still pretty stoned. My mom was still up looked at me and smiled.

"You have fun honey" she asked

"Yeah" I laughed. I went to bed and passed out. Jake showed up at my house the next morning at 10. I was still asleep. My mother sent him into my room to wake me up. I woke to him sitting on my bed. His hand down my boxers rubbing my ass.

"Wake up sleepy head. I got a surprise for you" he told me. I came to and freaked jumping up.

"Shh, Jake whispered" he pulled down my boxers and stroked me a few times. He stopped

"Better get a move on" he told me and left. I jumped in the shower. As I rushed back to my room. I heard My mom talking to Jake. I couldn't find any clean jeans and rushed to the laundry room. I grabbed my jeans but next to them was a pile of my mother's things. I stopped I flipped thru and grabbed a pair of her panties and rushed back to my room. I slid the panties on they where simple cotton white panties but they felt so sexy. I finished getting dressed and headed out with Jake. Mom handing me an egg sandwich. On the way out the door. As soon as we where out of the driveway Jake handed me a joint. I took a hit and handed it back.

"You enjoyed last night didn't you?" He asked. I blushed and took another hit. Then laid across the old bench seat in his truck my head on his lap. I felt his hand slid down the back of my pants. He pulled over quickly.

"What are you wearing?" He asked surprised. I sat up and undid my jeans showing him my mother panties.

"You can" I fell silent I wasn't sure. But I wanted him.

"The guys will eat this up, they will rape you all day long" he told me. I was scared and excited.

"Can't it just be you" I asked in a meek voice. Sliding close to him my hand rubbing his hard cock thru his jeans. He started to drive again.

"Roger just wants to get off. Bill just goes along with everyone but Pete he wants the whol domination experience" Jack was telling me I pulled his cock out and stroked him.

"What do you want" I said softly.

"I you can never tell" he said. "I like girlie boys" he said now he was blushing. I went down and started to suck his cock. He pulled into a secluded spot. He finished in my mouth. I licked him clean.

"I don't know if I am gay or what. But I know I am attracted to you" I told him. He showed me some of the stuff he liked to watch on his phone. It was alot of twink porn. He didn't want a girl he wanted a little gay sissy to fuck. It turned me on as well. He had me pull down my jeans and he rubbed my ass thru my mother's panties. I was rock hard and throbbing. He had sent the guys a text saying we weren't going to make it. I wanted him to touch my dick but he was careful not to. He pulled me close and kissed me. I was going to explode.

"I want to fuck your plump little ass" he told me. I nodded. But we had no lube. He stopped and drove me to his house. I tried to act all non crazy with lust for him as he led me into a barn. He grabbed a tube of something off the shelf and led me up to a loft. The barn smelled so bad. But he grabbed me and practically tore my pants and panties off. Bent me over and smeared the tube all over my ass. I moment later he shoved his cock in my ass. I yelled. He didn't stop. Fucking me. I tried to be quiet as he tore my ass in two. He didn't stop until he had filled my ass with his cum. He half collapsed on top of me. His cock growing soft inside me.

He let me up.

"Did I hurt you?" He asked concerned. I smiled and kissed him my erection gone. My ass sore. I pulled my clothes back on. As we climbed out of the loft, A woman stood waiting.

"Dad not going to like this" she said. I timidly hid behing Jack. She then turned to me.

"Hi I'm Mary this idiot big sister" she told me. Offering me her hand. Her hands where rough and big. "Take your friend home and get back here we got work to do" Mary told him.

"I can help" I crackled. Still holding on to jack.

"Take him home" Mary told Jack. He led me to his truck and drove me home. He stopped and kissed me before we turned down my road. He dropped me off at the end of the driveway and I went inside to take a shower. Cum, lube and even a little blood was soaked into my mother's panties. I felt my asshole it felt huge. Nobody was home so I took a long shower. I noticed my mother's razor in the shower and shaved my ass. But I kept going I shaved off all my pubic hair as well and jerked off thinking about Jake. I went into my parents room after. I searched thru my mother's drawers. I felt so naughty as I looked thru her things. I opened a drawer full of very sexy lingerie. I was amazed my mother owned such sexy things. But also wondered if Jack would love to see me wear them. I took a black pair of lacy panties and ran back to my room. I put them on under my clothes. They rode up giving me a wedgie whenever I moved. I became accustomed to them rubbing against my sore asshole.

Jake would pick me up everyday and drive me to school. I tried to act like we were just friends. But I so wanted to kiss him in the hall between classes like the girls did to thier boyfriends. The guys left me be. I wasn't sure what Jack had told them. But everyday on the way home we would stop and I would suck his cock. And swallow his load. When I got home I would jerk off. It had been only a week and I couldn't take it anymore. I found myself sneaking into my mother's things again. Trying on bras and stockings. I loved the feel of all the soft fabrics. I shaved my legs and instantly regretted it. Knowing someone would notice.

Saturday night Jake picked me up. I wore little red panties under my jeans. As we drove off.

"I want you so bad" I told him almost climbing in his lap. He pulled over and grabbed the tube of lube. They used it to insemination cows. Shoving there hands inside them. I pulled off my pants. Showing him the pretty panties and shaved legs. He kissed me and bent me over the hood of his truck. He fucked me so good. Coming inside me again.

"You are mine now" he told me. I got dressed but he grabbed my shirt and cut it with his knife. I put it on and my belly showed. Then he yanked up my panties so the waist band showed over my jeans, I felt exposed as he drove to the party. Once there I didn't want to go. He dragged me put of the truck. Terrified I held his arm and his shyly behind him. I got alot of laughed and strange looks. Pete even smacked my ass. But one look from Jack and he backed off. We walked up to the keg to get a drink. And ran right into my little sister Terry.

"Holy shit" she spit out the beer she was sipping. Jake introduced himself when night was suddenly unable to speak.

"Jake, Paulie's boyfriend" he told her. She just smiled and introduced her date. Some kid Jake already knew. Terry walked up to me and pulled the waist band of my panties.

"Are those mom's she giggled. As he date walked her away with his hand on her ass. I spent the whole party clinging to Jake afraid to be away from him. It was after midnight when we left. Jake fucked me again on some little dirt side road before he took me home. I heard My parents in their room when I came in bit just went to bed.

I woke late to yelling.

"I don't care you where way past your curfew" my mother told Terry. I stumbled into the kitchen to grab something to eat.

"Why isn't Paul grounded then" Terry yelled.

"Your brother is older then you" my father said quietly from the table.

"You came home late, drunk with some boy we don't know" my mother continued. I wanted to stay out of this and went to leave with my orange juice.

"Paul's boyfriend knows him" Terry spit out. I almost swallowed my tounge. As my mother and father both stooped and stared at me.

"Terry you are excused" my father said. Terry stormed off.

"Paul we support you in whatever you choose" my father said softly.

"Jake is a very nice boy" my mother smiled.

"Jake?" My father said surprised.

"Of course it's Jake isn't it?" My mother said running her hand thru my hair.

"Yes, I don't know maybe it's just" my words drifted away.

"He should come for dinner either way" my father announced. I went and showered. Terry was in my room waiting

"Sorry I didn't mean I was just mad" she said

"I know it's okay" I told her. She hugged me and headed back to her room. A moment later my mother knocked I was still in my robe. She closed the door.

"You been in my things?" She asked.

"Yes, I am sorry" I told her.

"You can't go into my things" she told me. "Get dressed we will go out and talk" she told me. I got dressed. My mom drove for a long time. As we talked. We talked about being safe, and predators. Seemed like a dating talk like my dad had given me years ago. Just a girls point of view. Then she asked.

"Do you want to be a girl?"

"I don't know" I muttered.

"I liked wearing your underwear and I love how Jake makes me feel" I confessed.

"You too have had sex?" She asked. I blushed unable to answer. Just as we pulled into a shopping center.

"Your father gave us a budget but you can get anything you fancy" my mother told me. She led me straight towards woman's intimates. I was suddenly surrounded by pastel colors, lace and satin. I grew very shy.and my mother let me shop with my eyes, she watched and if I saw something I liked she would find it in my size and put it in the cart.

"You don't need one but do you want one" she whispered on my ear looking at bras. I blushed and my mother went and picked some out.

"You have to try one on make sure it fits" she told me. I couldn't but she grabbed some jeans and stuffed the bra in between and asked the women for the changing room. I tried on the bra, it fit I had trouble hooking it but got it. Another pair of jeans flipped over the door.

"Try these as well" my mother said. I tried on the jeans they fit odd. I realized they set lower. My mother had given my girls jeans. The first pair was too loose. The second fit better. I got more comfortable and excited to try things on. We left with two huge bags of clothes.

"Terry never let's me help her go shopping." My mother smiled. On the ride home I opened up about Jake exposing me at the party. And how he kissed me. Leaving out the sex parts other then to confirm we had had sex.

"You should go to school tomorrow in your new clothes then. Everyone already knows" my mother assured me. She even helped me pick out the outfit. A pair of tight fitting jeans with flowers on the rear pockets. With a pink tee shirt that had spaghetti straps with a white blouse over it.

"You could even wear one of your bras under it all if you wanted to" my mother told me.

The next morning I sat at the breakfast table wearing exactly what my mother had suggested minus the bra. But I did have a cute pink thong on. As Jake picked me up. I sat up against him as he drove my hand on his thigh the whole way. I walked with my hand wrapped around his arm through the school. He walked me to my first class and kisses me.

"Meet you right here" he told me.

"Paula" I told him and skipped into class. I got teased a little mostly by girls the boys to afraid of Jake. But I didn't care. We dated all year even going to prom together. Mom had gotten me the pretties gown. It was way to girlie but I loved it. I became a girl for the most part. Nails always done, my hair grew out some. Terry started dating a guy named Tom. And we would actually double date. So mom didn't worry. I couldn't get enough of Jack. His father disapproved but did nothing to stop us. We are about to graduate and Jake has still never made me cum. While i make him cum everyday. He will be going off to school it's only an hour away. I can't imagine a day without his cock.

[ofmdrecaps]

01/05-08/2025 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; OFMD Recaps on Mastodon; David Jenkins; Rhys Darby; Taika Waititi; Samba Schutte; Wee John Wednesdays/Kristian Nairn; Rachel House; Dominic Burgess; Kristen Johnston; Hugo Pierre Martin; Aotearoa Treaty Principles Bill Submissions; Articles; AdoptOurCrew: Call To Action; LettersToSeaForSeason3; Fan Spotlight: Jax/North FL OFMD Cosplay/ Fandom Meet Up; Love Notes/Resources;

== OFMD Recaps on Mastodon! ==

Some awesome news! The absolute sweetest person alive, Lowrah (https://gaypirates.club/@lowrah) has been kind (and brave) enough to join my team and create an OFMD Recaps for Mastodon! She has offered to help crosspost the recaps over to Mastodon (blorbo.social) and manage that which I appreciate so much because I am completely inept at that site! She's also the one helping me with all the alt text (that I am behind at updating tumblr with sorry!) so please send her some massive love if you see her around because she is helping me out so much right now! One thing to note -- Since she's on the other side of the world for me, the recaps cross-posted there will be a bit delayed, so please bare with us :) Thank you so much Laura for all your help! You can check it out here!

Source: OFMD Recaps Mastodon

== Cast & Crew Sightings ==

= David Jenkins =

David's giving us some interesting updates on the eve of the first cancellation of S2.

Source: David Jenkins bsky

= Rhys Darby =

Rhys was in Auckland recording the first Cryptid Factor show of 2025! For all of you Cryptid Factor fans out there, he's also finally gotten to come in contact with the Sir Ed YETI Expedition backpack!

Source: The Cryptid Factor's IG

= Taika Waititi =

The Golden Globes celebrations were this past weekend and Taika was everywhere!

Source: Loop Mag

Source: Instagram

Source: VasJMorgan's Instagram

= Samba Schutte =

"14 years in LA today✨ Arrived on Ethiopian Christmas with one suitcase and 5 guiding steps I had come up with in my hut while staying in a remote Kenyan village, for my future self who would eventually make it to Hollywood. Hope you’re proud Past Samba🫶"

Source: Samba's Instagram

= Kristian Nairn and Nathan Foad =

Some great news! Wee John Wednesday is back on Wednesday the 15th! This news also has some clown potential, so please clown responsibly everyone!

Source: Adopt Our Crew Bsky

Kristian is also going to be attending MegaConLive in Dublin on January 18-19, 2025! Get your tickets at megaconlive.com!

Source: MegaConlive Instagram

= Rachel House =

Rachel House was out with friends looking badass!

Source: Maria Lewis IG

= Dominic Burgess =

Dominic is back from the UK and posted some great "Beef" pics from Skeleton Crew. He fits the Star Wars Vibe so well!

Source: Dominic's bsky

Dominic and several of our other cast members live in California so a lot of folks are being affected by the fires. I'll try to post what I can about safety/news but for now, looks like Dominic and family are prepared.

Source: Dominic's Bsky

= Kristen Johnston =

Our "The Widow Evelyn" is now on Bluesky too! Special thanks to @jilliansauers for catching her!

Source: Kristen Johnston's bsky

= Hugo Pierre Martin =

Our friend and crewmate Hugo Pierre Martin is on Bluesky now! HPM's Bluesky

Source: HPM's Bluesky

= Aotearoa Treaty Principles Bill Submissions =

Now, I generally try to keep "politics" out of the recaps because this is meant to be a positive space for the fans-- but I do know that A LOT of our cast and crew are affected by this bill personally so I do want to throw this in there. It looks like you don't actually have to be a resident of Aotearoa to submit your feelings on the bill. Here is helpful linktree with things you can say and how to submit that I tracked down via a post Rachel House reposted.

Source: NZGreenParty

== Articles ==

Thank you @adoptourcrew! You are article maniacs! So many in so little time! Thank you for always sharing!

Source: Adopt Our Crew's Bsky

== Call To Action From AOC ==

January 9, 2024 marks the first cancellation of S2 of our beloved Show. Our fan-crew, @adoptourcrew has asked that you help support our show by: 1. Taking Action 2. Sharing your love 3. Showing your pride. In short-- sign a petition, share something about the show, tell the world how it affected you! If you can get the #OurFlagMeansDeath, #SaveOFMD and #AdoptOurCrew in there, that's great too! Show all the new and seasoned fans how much you love the show!

Source: Adopt Our Crew's Bsky

== Letters To Sea For Season 3 ==

The Letters to Sea for Season 3 campaign that was being spearheaded by the darling Molly, aka aproperpirate, is finally coming to fruition! Tomorrow is the day the letters should be arriving! Molly had a special message to share re the letting writing campaign!

Source: AProperPirate's Bluesky

== Fan Spotlight ==

= Jax/North FL OFMD Cosplay/ Fandom Meet Up =

Florida crew! One of the Truly Docked members @ladymekaella is hosting a little get together in Jacksonville on Jan 19! Wanna join in? Follow them on facebook! Deets below!

1/19/2025 11am - 2pm, Atlantic Beach, FL 32233

Source: Truly Docked Instagram

== Love Notes / Resources ==

Hey Lovelies, I know 01/09/25 is going to be a very mixed feeling kind of day for everyone. It's the anniversary of the first time S2 was cancelled. It's going to bring up a lot of sad feelings, and you should absolutely sit with those feelings and embrace them. It was a rough time for all of us. There's no shame in feeling that grief again. I know I didn't show it much, but I cried so many times. Seriously, like SO MANY TIMES. My parents asked me if someone whacked me in the face with a shovel (which, thanks folks, I feel so pretty) but it was true-- I was devastated. It was a slow burn for me too because I wanted so very much to keep up hope. Seeing you all really push for the show helped keep me going-- and helped me learn more about how to cope with that kind of grief (and it was grief for so many of us because the show meant so very much-- and changed some of us at our core). No matter how tomorrow makes you feel though, I do want to remind you what came of it. This beautiful community rallied together and did some absolutely AMAZING things this past year (I wish I hadn't been sick this past two weeks cause I wanted to get you some stats). From billboards, to faxing, and calling in to Max, and Netflix, and Amazon, and Apple TV, to raising a SHIT TON of money for SO MANY charities-- to making beautiful works of art and fiction-- to making our cast and crew (not just the actors) feel loved and impactful-- this cancellation brought SO MANY OF US TOGETHER. People stepped out of their comfort zones-- talked to people they didn't know, reached out to streaming platforms and learned to use their voices in ways they'd never done before. We all built our own little communities within the fandom, bit by bit-- and those little communities have spread so much love, and kindness, and made life worth living for so many of us. It's been almost a year for my recaps too-- those officially started on Jan 13th, once again, because of the cancellation, and because of the camaraderie of the crew and all the support we all gave each other. Jan 9 is probably a tough day for most of us, but it's also the catalyst for so many wonderful things, and I'm so very grateful for it in a way. I've gotten to know so many of you, gotten to experience your joy, and participate in your struggles, and vice versa. I've met so many people from all over the world I'd never have once dreamt I could meet-- and I know SO MANY of you have too. This fandom is one of a kind-- and this special show and it's cancellation brought us together. I am still in full clown mode at all times, and I believe S3 is an inevitability, it's just a matter of when-- but no matter when it happens, I'm grateful we got this past year together, and all that came with it. So thank you lovelies. Thank you for being a huge part of my life, and turning it in a much better direction I could ever have thought possible given where I was. Lean on each other tomorrow, okay? We got through this past year together, and we'll get through whatever happens going forward, as a crew. Take care of yourself lovelies, drink some water, and get some sleep. Love you <3

= Resources =

Outside of the fandom in my day job, I work for a company that works with 211's and non profits, and so resources are really important to me. I have a lot I'm aware of, but if anyone has more they'd like to share around, please let me know! I'm happy to spread the word to help people get support they need right now!

For those of you in California or who know some folks who are-- please be sure to download the Watch Duty App, it keeps track and notifies you of nearby fires in real time.

In addition here's some additional info on go bags if you are in the evacuation areas:

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Brown Issues (@brownissues)

Source: Brown Issues Instagram

Also looks like Airbnb will be pairing up with LA 211 to offer shelter for those evacuated from the Palisades fire. You can visit www.211la.org for more information.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Drew Droege (@drew_droege)

Source: Drew Doege's Instagram

As I hear more resources I'll try to share more in the recaps/on socials. I hope you all are staying safe out there!

[egosdelirium]

My Marauders Headcanons:

(Part 1)

- Sirius sings in the shower, no matter the hour, the situation or whether he has company, if he's in the shower he WILL perform (however he sings really quietly if he knows someone is sleeping close to the bathroom, or he just resorts to humming). When he was a child he was forbidden from making too much noise around the house, so he just hummed or sang whenever he happened to have a moment of privacy, which often meant during a bath or in his bed chambers. The habit kind of stuck.

- Peter is a giggly drunk. He laughs at every little thing in a really carefree way he'd never be comfortable with when sober, and it's so contagious that it usually ends with everybody in stiches

- Remus has always had a lot of anxious tics as a child and he's never really managed to outgrow some of them, so he picked up smoking to try to stop biting his nails or the inside of his cheeks. Only now he's addicted and he's always fidgeting with a cig or a lighter in hand

- Marlene was mainly raised around boys. She was the second child and the only girl out of four siblings, and she had an especially close relationship with her older brother. James and Peter were among her first friends ever and she only ever played or hanged around boys who were her brothers' friends.

Mary was her first female friend ever (and she had a monstrous crush on her from Day 1)

- James HATES sleeping alone. Up until he was around six years old he would sleep in his parents' bed every single night (spoiled brat that he was) and since then he has always felt really off when he's had to sleep alone. His mum used to cover his bed in stuffed toys and plushies to make up for the lack of company, but James still missed the presence of someone else. After meeting Sirius, James rarely slept on his own for the first two years, and it was bliss for both of them (Sirius used to get horrible nightmares and being held helped)

- Peter practices stand up comedy in the dorm room and he has such immaculate comedic timing that the marauders always end up with tears in their eyes at his stories. He usually tells them about stuff he overheard in class or his horrible Hogsmeade dates. One time James pissed himself from laughing

- Sirius thought he'd never love anybody as much as he loved James or Remus, but the day Harry was born he instantly became Sirius' number 1 favourite person in the world. He bonded a lot with Lily over it

- Mary dances really, really well. Her bachata and merengue are so hypnotizing that once she put up a little show in the common room, per Sirius' request, and it was all the entirety of Gryffindor would speak about for the next two weeks. She was given lessons since she was a toddler by her caribbean relatives when she went to visit them in Martinique, and her parents later signed her up for summer classes during Hogwarts. She tried to teach each and every one of her friends a couple of times, of course, but they all sucked in their own way. Surprisingly, the only one who kind of got the hang of it in the end was Peter, who had a severely underestimated sense of rhythm. (Sirius was admittedly very good at the technical aspects of both dances, but he couldn't seem to shrug off the stiff posture he'd learnt to Waltz in, so he never looked quite natural enough)

- The marauders are codependent™️.

And it's not just James and Sirius, it's all of them! If ANYTHING happens to one of them without the other three knowing/being present to witness it, a reunion MUST be held in the dorms recounting the events in chronological order. And when I mean that they share almost every single detail of their daily lives, I mean every single one. James and Sirius are obviously the worst, and it took Remus a while to get used to being so open with them, but over time, it just became natural to him too. Peter just loves it because he likes being listened to and giving advice, so he's having the time of his life.

As a result of it, they're insane gossips. They know everything about almost every person in Hogwarts because one of them always ends up in a situation.

Mary, who's a sucker for good stories and scandals, has weekly meet-ups with James to share gossip.

Obviously this becomes a problem when Wolfstar get together. Their secret relationship lasts a grand total of four days before one of them eventually crumbles and spills everything to James and Peter (it was Remus)

- Lily likes tinkering. Manual labour helps her get her mind off of things that make her uneasy or anxious, so if she wants to disconnect for a couple of hours she resorts to knitting or making jewelry from scratch. Mary and Marlene start collecting colorful rocks around the perimeter of the lake and bringing them to Lily so she can make bracelets, necklaces and earrings. In a few months they have a whole collection of matching pieces that they wear all the time. Lily eventually moves on to bigger projects, like sewing dresses or knitting bags, usually as gifts for the people she loves.

She makes James a sweater of his favourite quidditch team for his 18th birthday because money is tight (which she feels incredibly bad about), but he likes it so much that he wears it every day for a month straight and the others have to wrestle him out of it to have the elves wash it

- Remus is unexpectedly very touchy with Sirius. He's always generally shied away from hugs or pats or kisses from his friends (mainly James), so everyone expected him to loathe PDA too, but Remus doesn't. On the other hand he craves it, and he always searches for a way to be touching Sirius in any and all situations. Holding hands or playing with Sirius' fingers stops him from wanting to bite his nails, having his hair played with relaxes him, and being kissed is one of his new favourite things in the world. So if it were up to him, he just simply would never want to detach himself from Sirius, like ever, but he's anxious about coming off as too obsessive, so he makes do with small touches

- Marlene has only ever had a small crush on one boy before realizing that she liked girls, and that boy was Sirius (she liked the longer hair and the cheekbones, the rest of his body not so much)

And, lastly, here's how they rank on most to least likely to be a sore fucking loser during any type of competition:

- Sirius (he's absolutely insufferable, complains and whines for hours even if he loses at goddamn tic tac toe)

- Lily (also insufferable, complains really loudly and quickly turns into a the most paranoid conspiracy theorist who thinks everyone else cheated)

- Marlene (not as bad as the first two, still very annoying. After losing, she gets in a sour mood for a while that only Mary can snap her out of)

- Remus (this man never makes a scene so, at best, he simply looks frustrated about losing. He can still get really competitive, though, especially academically)

- Mary (depends on the competition, but she's generally not a sore loser)

- Peter (a very decent loser, he takes a loss gracefully. Except at chess, because no one can beat him without cheating so he only gets mad because he knows that he's being tricked)

- James (he believes that a win should always be earned, so if he lost fairly he has no right to get mad about it. Unless someone cheated. In that case it's fucking over for everyone because he WILL be out for blood. 99% of the time he just pats his competitor on the shoulder and congratulates them)

[the-daydreaming-show]

(1.) Threads of Time.

SUMMARY: Ever since you arrived in the Night Court, you've avoided awkward confrontation and the thought of going out of your way to talk to Feyre. You've barely looked at her in an attempt to avoid facing the very thing you came here for. But finally, one evening, after a flight over the mountains with Balerion, you come face to face with the past and present you've been avoiding.

Or

After not seeing each other for over a decade, you and Feyre finally meet in the woods again, but nothing is the same, not even the two of you. You make an agreement to try to find a balance, and you fail miserably.

NOTE: (All together, we are going to ignore that this should have been published yesterday.) The plan is for there to be an episode every Thursday, until it is finished. So stay tuned for that.

We are skipping many dinners and political discussion meetings because I did not like them and in the end what you need to know about them is explained by the reader in her monologue.

As always, English is not my first language so sorry for spelling mistakes and mistakes of the type, any comment on it is welcome if it is respectful. I am always trying to get comfortable and improve my writing in this language.

I hope you like it, let me know in the comments your opinions. XOXO Ella

“The past is never dead. It's not even past.” — William Faulkner.

The night in Velaris was as beautiful as it had been said to be during the endless negotiations with the Night Court's emissary, Morrigan, and in the secret meetings of your council regarding this visit.

The balcony you had ended up on after insomnia woke you before the sun came up was the size of a ballroom, and you suspected that was what it was used for due to the beautiful marble that decorated the floor. It had a view of the entire city, spreading below you in all directions.

Since you had arrived three days ago, it was the first time you could stop and admire the view that the House of Wind offered you of the city over which it loomed. Between uncomfortable meals, less-than-secret conversations, and discussions about the court's functioning, you had not had time. And you thought it had been for the best.

Upon your arrival at the house, you had been greeted by the High Lady and High Lord, with their court, as well as Morrigan, who, as the one in charge of the negotiations, was in charge of the introductions. Feyre had been perfect—the perfect image of a ruler that is everything. But you had not seen her outside official meals and meetings. Your people, and you suspected that she stayed at the private residence by the river. It made sense, given the matter of the child. In the house with your court, there was Nesta with her husband, General Cassian, who owned the residence and had opened his home to you.

It did not escape your notice that the highest point in the city was ideal for you, because it did not allow you to move around too much without being noticed. It kept your dragons as far away from the city and its inhabitants as possible.

You'd seen more of Nesta than Feyre or her husband, Rhysand, which didn't bother you as much as Armin said it did; he must have given her the disrespect he claimed she represented in matters of politics. But Night Court politics were more lax than the mortal ones they were used to, so you told him to relax. Well, to do what Armin considered relaxing. You weren't going to ask for a miracle, either.

You found it amusing to see how the proud and seemingly shallow Nesta Archeron was married to and in love with a man like General Cassian. They were so opposite in the eyes of the world that it was fun to watch them interact. It even made you feel tender. Nesta had caught you staring a couple of times, and she had already told you several times to shut up, even when you hadn't said anything.

You had seen Elain the day you landed too; she had been fascinated by Dreamfyre, one of the dragons that had come to the Night Court with you, along with Caraxes and Balerion, your own mount.

You hadn’t looked at Feyre much. Or at least, you hadn’t looked at her normally—not thinking much about how the interactions would be normal. You didn’t want to make her uncomfortable either, and you knew there were things you couldn’t control if you looked at her. Like the way it made you gasp at how she seemed to glow in her place in the world. She looked so comfortable and right where she was, and it led you to believe that you no longer had a place in her life, which led you to believe that was selfish.

And her husband could reportedly read minds, so you'd rather not think about her, out of respect for him. You didn't look at him much at first either, but it seemed like you'd be spending some quality time with him during meetings he wasn’t going to.

The sun began to peek over the mountains as you finished your thoughts, and the lights in the city slowly faded as the city took in the morning light. You decided you needed to get out and quickly returned to your room in the house so you could change into your riding gear.

As you changed in your room, Balerion woke up in his sleeping spot in the mountains, which he had taken as his own for the first few days of your visit. You could feel the way he moved, the way his muscles stretched, and the way the earth shifted beneath his claws. Finally, the feeling of both of your bodies coordinating through the bond, until your breathing and the dragon's were coordinated as if they were one, washed over you. Filling you with a calm that nothing else in this life had ever given you. Your breath felt hot as you pulled the harnesses over your head to adjust them at your waist and hips, then hooked those to the harnesses on your thighs.

Balerion took flight in the mountains as you walked around the house to the highest point you could reach on foot and began to climb without any problem to the house's highest point. Balerion circled the house twice before he was close enough for you to jump into the void and land on his back, something you had done many times. You got hooked on the mix and took Balerion to fly over the city and then the sea for a good while. You enjoyed the feeling of flying together and allowing yourself to leave all worries on the ground for a while.

You wanted to fly back to the house for breakfast, but Balerion was feeling like heading out into the woods and mountains, so you let him wander around the outskirts of Velaris with you on his back as well.

“Haven’t you played enough these days?” you asked the beast beneath you as he circled the sky in slow loops, indicating that he wanted you down there. He had probably smelled some prey in the mountains and couldn’t wait to drop you off at the House of Wind. A growl, the equivalent of an eye-roll to humans, sounded through the bond. “If I asked so nicely,” you scoffed, letting go of the reins of your mount and unhooking your harness from your saddle. You leaped off and landed in the woods surrounding the city, swooping down to the meadows that surrounded it. It was the first time Balerion—or any of your dragons—had seen mountains and forests of that immensity.

The three eldest, Vhagar, Balerion, and Meraxes, had been born in the lava of the volcanic islands. While these had a jungle surrounding the massive, steamy mountains, it was nowhere near a sight like Prythian and the Night Court. The rest of your dragons had already hatched by the time you reached the bay, so they knew only the burning desert and colorful cities. Dreamfyre, the youngest of the dragons you brought, was fascinated by the flowers and meadows surrounding the city. Balerion was obsessed with the mountains and the fighters he could take there. And Caraxes, the middle one, had a fascination with flying over the sea and perching on the rocky outcrops of the hillsides a few miles from the city. He wouldn’t go into the sea, but he fought the waves that rushed toward him when the tide came in.

Balerion's roar as he charged forward and the ground shaking at his energetic landing further up the mountain only made you laugh as you descended the mountain and admired the surrounding forest. You made it down a couple of meters when you heard a pair of footsteps in the forest and stopped dead in your tracks.

You had known these footsteps for years.

You walked through the forest, following the small, noisy footsteps. They were where you had been told they would be, and you approached, making noise so she would notice you, but you soon realized that the girl's awareness was not yet trained enough. You should have made more noise, but now it didn't matter. You would scare her one way or another because, standing a few meters behind her, young Feyre hadn't noticed you were there.

Something twisted deep inside you. If you were a man, and you had bad intentions, she wouldn't have noticed until it was too late. The hunters in the area were mostly good husbands and sons, good hunting partners to go out with from time to time, too.

But you can never know someone well enough, especially a man.

You saw a branch on the snowy ground and stepped on it, making a noise that would cause the girl to notice, with the file raised. At least she had good reflexes, you thought.

“Hey,” you greeted her with a smile, the same one you used to give Rue when you wanted to encourage her to do something new. “You are being too loud. You aren't going to find anything being so noisy.”

You approached the area where the footsteps were sounding, and with the silence that had characterized years of habit, you silently came to stand behind the footsteps that advanced with a predatory rhythm on the ground. They stopped dead a few seconds before she entered your vision.

The image was strangely familiar.

There stood Feyre, bow in hand and arrow on the string. She was watching a fully grown deer eating the grass a few feet away, visible between the trees. But she wasn't ready for the shot. You didn't understand why she wouldn't get a better angle to kill such a large animal. Her feet weren’t positioned for the shot or the possible chase. The string wasn’t stretched, nor was the bow raised to aim. If she moved too much now, she could make noise on the ground, and she’d miss the shot.

She wasn’t really looking to hunt that animal, you realized.

You could have turned around and left the place as quietly as you came. Feyre wouldn’t notice, as she hadn’t noticed you were so close, letting the opportunity slip away and going back to ignoring the moment until there was no other option. But you were here just for this, so you let habit take over.

“Are you planning on waiting for the deer to walk to the arrow on its own, Fey?” you asked, loud enough to send the deer running.

If she wasn’t ready to shoot when you found her, she was now. Feyre had turned fully and nearly fired her arrow at the sound of your voice, but you didn’t even blink and just let your gazes meet. With the hearing of a High Fae, Feyre must have grown unaccustomed to being surprised.

“Fey,” you called, and the rabbits that were just a few feet away from Feyre ran away in terror at the noise, returning to their hidden cave underground and easily avoiding the fired arrow.

“Stop scaring me,” the aforementioned begged irritably, her youthful and elegant voice echoing through the woods, probably scaring any other animals that might have been in the area.

“Stop being so mean and thinking so much, Fey,” you recommended with a mocking smile. “It’s not a good combination for a hunter.”

“So she can be loud or dubious? But not at the same time?” she asked, mocking your logic.

“You have a bow and arrow; if you want to hunt loudly, you simply train your hands and eyes to be able to reach greater distances,” you explained softly as you crouched down beside her and pulled a wild blackberry from your pocket. Feyre leaned in but gently moved her chin out of your reach. “And if you want to hesitate, you can let nature decide for you.”

You left the innocent-looking blackberries a few feet away from you, and both of you went off to continue your hunt. That day, when you walked down the road back to the house, a rabbit lay dead with blackberries in its mouth, with no physical wounds to be seen. Nature had decided.

“Good to know you still know how to draw a bow. For a second there, I thought you didn’t remember how I saw you there.” You turned to look at her, approaching her, not offended by the arrow pointed at your face.

You stood a meter away from her and looked into her eyes as she slowly lowered her bow, coming out of the fight instinct. You heard her subtly sniffing the air for any trace of a non-human scent on you, the same way Morrigan had when you had done the same to her once when she visited the bay as an emissary during negotiations. But like Morrigan, Feyre wouldn’t find anything amiss, and you wished you had an explanation to give her, but you barely knew more than she did about what you were these days.

“You ruined my dinner,” Feyre said matter-of-factly, to which you smiled knowingly and simply crouched down, grabbing a rock from the ground. You heard Feyre shift her feet out of habit.

It was like the world had suddenly lost all sense of time, as the present bled into your past. When you threw the rock at the tree, causing a group of hidden birds to fly away, and Feyre killed two of them with a single arrow, it felt like nothing had changed. Even though neither of you was even the same species you were when you used that trick.

A silence formed between the two of you and the forest, with only the abrupt sound of birds falling to the ground echoing around the area before silence returned. She wasn’t sure if she was expecting you to leave or if she just didn’t know what to say about the sense of time running out around the two of you. It was all the forest’s fault.

“I’m sorry about Rue,” was the first thing she said to you directly after all these years.

The forest moved naturally as you and Feyre each held Rue’s hand while venturing out on the little girl’s first expedition. At ten years old, Rue was two years younger than Feyre, and she seemed excited to teach someone else as you had done with her. The fact that she was teaching your little sister felt like a full circle for her—a way of repaying you for your teachings.

Watching her crouch beside a trail in the dirt, diligently explaining how to follow it and how much time had passed since the animal had gone by, you realized that you could never tell her the truth about your teachings.

“Look, Rue,” Feyre whispered lovingly as she pointed to where the trail ended, at the door of a cave where the rabbits lived. “We need to set the traps here, near the cave. Not too close so that they leave and create a new entrance, but in the area where they’ll take a path in search of food. Look over here.”

Feyre led Rue, who was watching her intently, by the hand through the area. You didn't interrupt her lesson.

When you learned that Nesta and Elain were alive, despite everything they had been through, you found envy in your heart.

Rue had been safe, barely managing to buy her freedom from the brothel where she had been sold, without ever having someone lay a hand on her, thanks to your uncomplaining work. Nesta and Elain had been in the middle of a war, turned into beings they didn’t understand, fighting with their own identity and caught in the crosshairs of many enemies.

The odds had been on Rue’s side, not Nesta’s or Elain’s. You should have felt something about the fact that the sisters had survived against those odds, while she had died in a situation that hadn’t even been targeted.

But you quickly realized, with sadness, that you were only relieved the Archeron sisters had beaten the odds—all three of them together and against all logic. The absence of your sister weighed on your heart like a stone sewn into it, tugging at the stitches, opening unexpectedly at the thought of something she would have liked or moments she would have enjoyed seeing.

Never fully healed, but never truly as raw as the moment she bled out in your arms. You wanted to say something, but a lump formed in your throat, and you realized you didn’t really have anything to say to that. All you could manage was to acknowledge that it was what it was—and you meant it deeply, too.

That always drew looks from people you didn’t like, and you didn’t want to, nor could you, allow Feyre to see you that way now.

“I hope you’ve learned to cook with seasonings over the years, Fey,” you said, moving a little closer to her and pointing at the dead birds a few meters away. “Because wild geese require skill so they don’t turn out dry on the grill.”

Feyre grimaced as she looked at the fallen animals. She quickly concluded that, first, she didn’t need the meat since she didn’t hunt for food anymore—she just went out shopping—and second, she lacked the skills to cook them even if she wanted to, judging by the face she made while staring at the dead birds.

There was a time when such a hunt would have been a relief, providing a week’s worth of food for both families. The weight of the present lingered between you both more than you’d like.

“What are you doing out here so early?” Feyre finally asked, trying to spark a conversation and shake off the awkwardness. You realized the one stuck in the past was you, not her, so of course she wanted to escape the memories that were creeping into the moment. “I thought you’d be sleeping in, given the late meetings your court had.”

As you walked downhill asymptotically, pacing yourself to avoid getting too close, you thought about what she might have said if you did approach: We know what you are doing; We are in the house, and we are watching you.

But you and your council had anticipated that. There were magical barriers you couldn’t defend against. Still, you knew what not to say, simply assuming that the shadowsinger would pass his information along to his superiors one way or another. Communication, in your humble opinion, was much easier that way.

“I’ve found sleep less necessary than usual these days,” you commented as you passed her. “And if I didn’t take Balerion out for a ride, he’d start getting fussy and end up landing on the house just to annoy me. It’s a very nice building, and I fear Nesta would poison me for dinner if even one brick of her house moved because of my dragon.”

You heard Feyre moving through the forest, but you resisted the urge to turn around and look. You allowed yourself to walk slowly, telling yourself to watch for uneven ground. Feyre joined you silently, the birds tied around her neck, with her quiver of arrows resting on her back.

“Personally, I like to keep my quiver on my hip,” you pointed out as you adjusted yours in its place, hanging below the bone on your left side. “It’s easier to draw several arrows at once that way. With my eye, it’s sometimes necessary before I get a prey to fall.”

Feyre nodded, looking at the left pupil that dripped down onto your iris. She had noticed the way you turned your head to the left over the days, so she had gotten used to walking on that side every day.

“Balerion?” Feyre’s question set off a roar that echoed into the distance. She looked in the exact direction of where your beast was in the mountains, and with her hearing so precise, she would surely create a beeline to it if she wanted to.

“He’s a bit of a diva,” you explained as you began to walk down the mountain.

In the pace of the walk, you naturally ended up half a step ahead of Feyre, with her to your left—the same formation you used when walking in the woods to hunt. Your right eye was not only a genetic anomaly, but it was also a cause of vision loss on that side. You had never known how that drop had gotten there. Your mother had once told you that you were born with it. Your father had once coldly told you that it had come to you by accident.

Now both of your eyes could see perfectly—both of them. The fire and the lava had healed them the same way they had healed any scars or pains on your body. But you didn't say anything about it.

At the foot of the mountain, at the edge of town, was a clearing of green grasses and small white mountain flowers growing in random places. You and Feyre walked in silence; you wished you had something to say, but anything felt wrong. When you stopped, you waited for her to keep walking, assuming she didn't want to either; she had nothing to say.

As you began to walk across the grass and passed the first patch of flowers in your path, Balerion flew over the area, casting a shadow that made it seem like night had covered the hillside. Feyre looked up to see him pass. Your feet settled on the ground, ready for the tremor that came as the dragon landed dangerously close to your position, but Feyre stumbled enough that she had to instinctively grab onto your arm.

When the earth stopped shaking and Balerion settled back on the ground, Feyre was still clinging to your arm. You could understand why. You were the odd one out in this situation, smiling at the beast in front of you like it was a puppy barking at your arrival at the house because it brought a new friend.

“Relax, Balerion,” you demanded, using the language of dragons, making sure he understood and heard what you were saying, still not approaching the part of the dragon that was raised in front of you. “You are like a child!!”

The dragon's breath washed over both of you, and you pulled Feyre's arm so she was behind you. The color radiating from Balerion's breath was always bright; sometimes it could burn the grass he breathed on when he took naps, and sometimes it was like a summer breeze.

You never knew what would happen, and you didn't know how Feyre would react to the worst options. You knew it wouldn't affect you, so the instinct to protect led you to act before thinking. You immediately felt uncomfortable with your actions. You were out of place, you shouldn't have done that, you thought to yourself.

You let go of her hand and walked toward the dragon's snout; his jaw was higher than yours, but Balerion lowered his head so you could caress his nose. You took a deep breath, resting your forehead against the tip of his nose, and he imitated you naturally.

The way Balerion moved under your hands and the sound of their coordinated breathing left you baffled by the world for a few seconds. You didn't notice when Feyre relaxed into place and sighed heavily.

“I don’t know what to say,” Feyre confessed from behind you. You lifted your head from where your forehead was resting against Balerion, but you didn’t look at her. “It feels like I don’t know you, but I know I do, and I want to know everything about why—I don’t know how to ask without feeling like I’m invading someone’s life and that I have no right to want to know when you were alone.”

Silence.

“We both live what we have to live, Fey,” you said, caressing the scales on the dragon’s nose, looking at the shape your sunlit hand made against Balerion’s blackness, which seemed to absorb the surrounding light. “You have to believe that we are both where we should be now, and that will not change.”

Silence.

“The past doesn’t change either,” Feyre said, whispering your name at the end, the same way she used to call you when you were both young.

She was right; they both are who they are now, but they had also once been what they had been, neither canceling out the other despite the feeling that filled you these days. Sometimes you wished one would undo the other, that the past would be enough to win over the present. Or that the present would wipe out the past. But it didn’t work that way. Maybe, just maybe, you might be able to accept the mix, to lose nothing and have everything.

Could you do it?

Yes, you could try.

“He wants to know who you are.” It wasn’t a lie; Balerion really was like a puppy wanting to meet a new friend; he probably sensed through you what Feyre meant. But you were desperately changing the subject with them.

“Looks like he wants to eat me or you.” Feyre stared blankly at Balerion from her spot, bowing over the man, dead birds still in her hand.

“He always looks like that; he just has a problem with not knowing when to stop eating.” The joke caused an irritated growl from the dragon, who blew to ruffle your hair and playfully tease you. “It’s the truth.”

Balerion sat his butt down on the grass with a slam, agreeing to change position so that his new friend could get closer, thus making his form smaller in front of both of them. This was an attempt to make himself less intimidating, you assumed.

“Would you like to introduce yourself?” you asked Feyre, and she saw that for what it was: an attempt to not want to ignore the past or the present, an attempt to find a balance between the two without what they were and what they are or will be preventing them from knowing who the other is now. And she nodded slightly.

You motioned for him to put down the birds, bows, and arrows on the ground. He walked calmly and steadily up to where you were standing in front of Balerion's enormous head. Balerion moved closer in excitement, and you pushed him back into position immediately by pulling on one of the tusks protruding from between his fangs, while Fey waited for you to signal him to come closer.

“Give me your hand,” you asked when she was at your side. Feyre gave you her right hand. You placed her hand on the scales and let it sit there for a moment, letting the tension of the moment pass. When you felt her body realize there was no danger and her fingers moved only over the scales, you let go of her hand and allowed her to pet the dragon herself. “See, he’s a very big pup.”

“A fire-breathing one,” Feyre joked back, Balerion snuggling under her hand like a kitten, causing you to roll your eyes at his attitude. He’s not all that gentle and obedient when it comes to dealing with younger dragons. “He’s quite beautiful for such a dangerous animal,” Feyre commented as she stroked the scales with both hands and felt the heat of the fire running beneath Balerion’s scales. You smiled at the sight.

“You should see it at night, in the moonlight. When he flies through the sky, it looks like he has stars and can camouflage himself perfectly. He disappears from view if you are underneath him,” you explained, proud of Balerion and how he had grown from a rock in the volcanoes to the enormous beast he was now.

A glint on Feyre's hands caught your attention. Her wedding ring, a jewel that sparkled in the sun, reflected in your eyes as if it wanted to purposely annoy you more than its meaning could.

“It must be quite a sight,” Feyre commented, and your frown changed before she saw your face as she turned to ask you more questions about Balerion.

To your chagrin, you quickly realized that the plan for acceptance and balance you had outlined with Feyre that day was far too ambitious for your circumstances.

It all started the next morning. It was time to visit the Illyrian Mountains. Armin, as your general, and Luka, your secretary and master spy, refused to let you go alone, despite your insistence. It wouldn't make any difference if they tried to kill you, whether they were there or not, but you still gave in, in the end, for their peace of mind. Rhysand, Morrigan, and Azriel were your guides on that occasion.

You figured Cassian was staying in town because the dragons were supposed to be staying there, too. Though that must have meant Feyre’s court believed the Illyrians would be able to handle several dragons at once if need be, which you found amusing, both because it sounded like something Cassian would do and because it also meant they hadn’t decided yet how much control you had over the beasts.

It was even funnier when the three of them appeared flying over the camp hours after you arrived, where you had to explain that it was difficult to tell them to stay far away from you. Dragons are protective beasts, and you were their mother, after all.

Cassian joined you not long after. He was the punchline in your statuses, and Armin had to hit you to stop you from laughing.

Spending time with Rhysand was torture. You wanted to hate the bastard.

Would that be the most logical thing to do, right?

You wanted Feyre, and he had her; hate should have been the healthiest way out of everything. But you didn't. You severely suspected he was perfect. Not because he didn't have flaws. No, you'd heard plenty of those flaws from Luka. But you also knew what he'd done, which was more than you should know.

When Luka, with his tattooed face, ink-blackened hands, and raspy voice, had offered the most drastic way out for information, you had refused his sacrifice. But ultimately, you knew there was information about the High Fae that no information network you could muster would get from them without them noticing. You needed the tactical information if you were going to move forward with negotiations and visits for a potential deal, and you desperately wanted to follow through.

So you ended up giving in, knowing that it was the only way to overcome the Shadow Singer, or at least level the playing field as much as possible in your favor.

You had offered to make the sacrifice, but he had refused, as there was no telling what your blood might do to the process, and so now Luka had no ring finger on his left hand. “I don’t plan on listening to wedding tales for myself. So I can’t do anything but grip my daggers, and I can use my other hand for that until I get used to it,” Luka had told you.

The ritual gave you the information you knew you needed, even if you didn't know you needed it or that you needed it at some point. For more precise information, more sacrifice was needed, and you wouldn't let your friend sacrifice a full hand for you, even though he had been more than willing until you sternly ordered him not to.

The information you had been given was indeed what you required. Your council needed to know how trustworthy the Night Court was and what they might find there if they went. That they had received, and perhaps all too effectively.

Rhysand played the annoying idiot role well enough, but you had the information to see through him in a way you hadn't expected to be able to. You weren't sure if it was his love for his people or his loyalty to Feyre, but you couldn't find it in yourself to hate him. You respected him in a way that wasn't just out of fear, but because he seemed to be where many (including you) would want him to be and not waste the chance (like others).

And it only made everything more difficult because the trip to the mountains confirmed the information about the Illyrian armies you had thanks to Luka's missing finger. You returned to the House of Wind on Balerion to ensure that you got the dragons out of the mountains as quickly as possible, as the few days you were there caused nervousness among the locals. You definitely wouldn't be going on vacation to the mountains at the invitation of anyone from the area anytime soon.

“And?” Mayhem, your lady-in-waiting and bodyguard, asked. You glanced at her through the mirror, and it answered the question sufficiently. You silently wondered if Azriel and his shadows had already realized that they weren’t communicating, as if they already knew what they should know and what they shouldn’t.

You still didn't understand how you would manage the balance if the path remained as marked as it had been since before you left the Bay. The next stop would be the Court of Nightmares, so you could see the other part of the court's military forces.

You found yourself standing on the same balcony, looking up at the darkening sky the night after your arrival from the mountains.

“Hello,” Feyre greeted, appearing in the doorway. The two courts were supposed to be dining together that night—some sort of political dinner, you supposed. You waved back, leaning over the balcony railing, looking down. She leaned against you, and you shifted in place to put some distance between you, even if it was just a few inches. “How were the mountains?”

“Very windy,” you commented, sighing heavily, “and it seems the locals didn’t like me very much. I’m still not sure if it was my lack of a penis or my extra dragons. A mystery indeed.” You scoffed, and Feyre laughed in response.

“Devlon is a delight to be around, no doubt about it,” Feyre explained as she turned to sit on the edge and looked at you for a moment in silence, as she often did when she wanted to tell you to stop thinking. “I hope you still enjoyed the beauty of the mountains.”

“I did,” you admitted, glancing at her briefly and pointing at Balerion in the distance with a smile. “And Balerion seems to want to take up residence in those sacred mountains of yours. He says it has good hunting, which is a guarantee of moving by their standards, but I don’t think he’d be very welcome.”

“I don’t think they could do much about that, could they?” Feyre seemed amused at the idea of the massive dragon you called a pup taking up residence in Ramiel and no one being able to stop it, the same way she imagined you taking the bay. Her imagination wasn’t close to the truth, but they didn’t know, nor would they be told anytime soon.

“The wedding,” you pointed at her ring, shining in the sunset, looking at it instead of her face, afraid something would betray you. “And the birth.”

“Thank you,” Feyre whispered sincerely and looked at the ring on her finger fondly, as if remembering her happiness and being happy about it. You moved your gaze to the horizon again.

“I hope he was and is chubby.” You wished for him, remembering the words that adults in your town exchanged when a baby was born alive in one of the families. The memory made Feyre smile honestly.

“Yeah, I guess that’s consistent,” Feyre whispered, and you nearly rolled your eyes as the scent of expensive cologne hit your nose before you looked at the man in question.

“Your husband has nosy tendencies,” you blurted out before you could control yourself, crossing your arms. Feyre let out a laugh at the lack of malice in your voice.

“A little,” she admitted, looking over at where Rhysand stood, his expression feigned offense.

“And I wanted to tell him that the food is ready, but I ended up being insulted,” he complained, approaching Feyre. And before he could reach her, you were already on your way to the door. “I thought we were all friends.”

Rhysand stood in his way as if expecting you to confront him and share a mocking fight, but you simply muttered and continued on your way, not even looking at him, running away from the situation as if you weren’t even aware of the fire.

“Something like that.”

The balance slipped from your grasp as if you were trying to hold onto seawater in a storm, and it cruelly hit your face during your visit to the Court of Nightmares. You sat in an elegant chair in front of an elegant table, with your boots on the polished marble floor, so polished it was like a mirror. A high-faced fae stared at you in disgust from her spot directly in front of you. You didn’t know if it was your presence or your casual attire (your usual riding clothes) that bothered her. You suspected it was a mix of both.

Rhysand asked for updates on the court and didn’t explain who you were or what you were doing there. He just allowed you to sit and listen. The fae whose name was Keir was the ruler of this side of the court on behalf of Rhysand and Feyre. Keir answered Rhysand’s demands, not taking his eyes off the way your boot was thrown over the edge of the table and into his line of vision because of the way you had crossed your legs. You had only made sure he had that angle of vision, much to his irritation.

Azriel was leaning against a wall not far from where Rhysand was sitting, and he seemed as entertained by Keir's irritation as you were, though it was less subtle.

For some reason, you felt the comment coming. Ever since you’d taken over the bay, it always got through to some people, and you’d learned to feel almost like you were an oracle when the need to point fingers got the better of people. You picked up the wine glass on the table, and the single sip you took while Keir was talking about what you knew about court caused him to grimace in disgust.

“Is our finest wine of the season not enough for our mortal guests?” Keir asked, his tone making it clear where he had changed the word he wanted to use to one that wouldn’t get him into trouble. But he spat out the word "mortal" with such abruptness that it felt just as insulting in some way. Now that was a skill, you thought with amusement.

“Is this the best there is here?” you asked, genuinely concerned about the quality of the spirits here. “I guess you can’t expect much from a vintage made in stone and darkness.”

“The whiskey is more passable,” Rhysand commented in amusement. You let out a murmur and looked at him skeptically.

“We have better wines in the Bay, and it’s a desert!” you pointed out indignantly.

The floor is a mirror; the wine should be just as luxurious; it was a huge contradiction in your opinion. You wondered when else that place was just part of a facade for the rotten and bitter beneath.

“That is true,” Keir said again, looking and speaking with undisguised disgust now. You looked at him in response. “The Aspiring Whore of the Slaves sits with the Night Court this moon.”

You smiled. There it was, the comment.

“Well, I’m retired as a courtesan. And I use the term 'courtesan' because if I had been just a prostitute, I would have been cheaper,” you commented. You settled back against the back of the chair to move your boot in front of him again, annoyed as much as you could.

“You’d think a courtesan would be better educated,” Keir spat.

“You wouldn’t know, with the quality of wine you drink. You couldn’t pay me dead,” you explained simply. It was true that, at your peak in the market, you had been one of the highest-paid in the Pirate Islands. It wasn’t something you were bragging about; it was a fact. You knew what you had been and what you were. That idiot couldn’t use it against you. You had learned that long ago. “And in my view, I have tasted fine wines in the Night Court, mostly in the restaurants of Velaris. I assume you haven’t had that opportunity, given their low standards.”

A bitter but malicious smile formed on Keir’s face, and there you knew. The idiot.

“I haven’t had the honor yet, but soon, I hope.” The arrogant idiot. If only he’d kept quiet. Or maybe you could have, but you needed the information.

You dined with your court privately that night. Nesta and Cassian were gone, but you wouldn’t let a word slip out of place because you knew that didn’t mean you weren’t being heard.

“Was the visit as we expected?” Luka asked casually as he figured out how to hold the fork with his missing finger, trying out positions and attempting to poke his potatoes, slowly figuring out how to best use it.

“Yes,” you said in a tone that ended the conversation before it even began. You downed your entire glass of wine (the same one you bragged about that afternoon in the Court of Nightmares) in one go. You quickly wiped the little that escaped your lips with the napkin on the table.

Everyone at the table knew what it meant. There would be no alliance because the Night Court had not yet recovered from the Hybern War.

Luka's sacrifice had not only shown the truth of Rhysand and his Inner Circle's character; it had also laid bare the results of the wars and circumstances that had wronged the Night Court.

With Amarantha ruling for sixty years, leaving Rhysand trapped without the ability to control his queen, the Illyrians had grown too accustomed to freedom, not only resisting the High Lord's ancient rules but the laws as well. They had gone to war through gritted teeth, but more for the chance at glory, and had been slaughtered in the thousands at a time. Many believed Rhysand had driven many to their deaths, knowing they had no chance, and though death in war was noble in the culture, the grudge of those who hadn't died still smoldered. To top it off, Nesta and her Valkyries had been spit in their faces, for they surely hadn't expected her to survive as she did.

To add Keir's forces to his troops, a deal had been made, one that the appointee himself had confirmed had not yet been paid.

The rest of the war with Hybern wasn't enough to get you back into battle, something you needed them to do if you signed that treaty. It was sooner rather than later because you had fired the first arrow when you declare yourself queen of all mortal lands. The queens of the continent were quick to respond with their own declaration or action, which wouldn't be long in coming, and it was only uphill from there.

She would be flying with Balerion into battle before the year was out, something he had seen coming. And the Night Court could not offer you the troops you required even if they now intended to help you, and you could not walk into battle with one of the Inner Circle as your weapon. They would tear apart any mortal army that crossed them, and you were not going to rule over ashes other than those of your own making.

What security would it give to the people who would be your subjects, who feared invasion because of the lack of a wall, if you won their lands with the direct help of those they saw as enemies?

There would be no balance, no matter how much you held on or wanted to put on or take off the scale. The reason you were there was nonexistent, and that left anything else you built on top of it in the dust.

You knew that. But you had still come. You had come anyway, knowing the possibilities, and you knew it would break your heart one way or another. It was a reality now, and it didn't feel any better even though you saw it coming.

TAG LIST: @pinksmellslikelove @saltedcoffeescotch @raisam @asweetblueberry2 @kabekusa @throneofsapphics @makayla2036789 @jojodojo02

[onbearfeet]

I live in southern California. Everyone I personally know who's affected by these fires is, AT MOST, middle-class. And by middle-class, I mean "boomer retiree who bought an affordable house on a middle-income salary 40 years ago and now can't breathe indoors". Pretty much everyone else I know who's affected, including everyone I know who's evacuated, is below that.

Yes, many of them make more money than people in other parts of the US. But 75% of it goes to housing costs (there's a housing crisis here caused largely by corporate greed and rich NIMBYs), and guess what just went up in smoke? Yeah, the thing they won't be able to replace. No one's rent is going DOWN after this. Anyone who gets an insurance payout on their home from this won't get enough to rebuild on, and that's not counting displaced renters.

There are MILLIONS of people who live in this region. Thousands have been evacuated. And you're shitting on them because maybe a dozen of them are rich celebrities? Fuck you. Who do you think does the actual work around here? Who do you think cleans the commercial buildings, maintains the sewer and electrical systems, drives the buses and light rail trains? LA is one of the busiest ports in the world, the place where all your shitty Chinese merchandise comes ashore--who do you think works there? We JUST had a major strike where everyone was talking about how underpaid and ill-treated writers and actors are--they live here! And 99% of them you've never heard of, so no, they're not millionaires! Lots of them famously work as waitstaff to make ends meet! There are jokes about it and everything!

The Hurst fire is currently burning right next to the neighborhood where my grandparents lived. It's a scrappy little early postwar suburb full of postage-stamp houses that no movie star would ever touch. The Eaton fire is burning near one of the largest Chinese immigrant communities in the United States. And yeah, the Palisades fire is ripping through fancy-schmancy Malibu, but it's also threatening a large state university, a giant-ass VA hospital, a museum full of irreplaceable ancient artifacts that offers free admission year-round, and several ecologically sensitive parks and wetlands. Not to mention that because of the way the wind works around here, half the region is now breathing smoke.

Unless you somehow think everyone who lives within smelling distance of a city is a CEO, please treat this like the climate disaster it is. Just like with hurricanes and blizzards, it isn't the rich who suffer most.

The reaction I'm seeing to the LA fires on social media is DISGUSTING, have some of you no compassion?

Not everybody who lives in LA is rich or a celebrity or a CEO. We're people of all different backgrounds and incomes, and to categorize one of the country's biggest populations under "rich" removes all of that

Furthermore, hi, PEOPLE'S HOUSES ARE BURNING DOWN. DO YOU GET THAT?? THEIR HOMES ARE BURNING DOWN

It's not about whether they have the money to immediately make a new one (remember that majority of people in LA county do not), it's about the fact that their entire livelihoods are disappearing right before their eyes and they can't do anything about it. Those memories are gone in an instant

Even if someone isn't being directly affected, they feel it in other ways. The air quality is extremely bad, everyone is smelling the smoke and seeing the flames

To generalize all of this and say "well only the rich are affected" and you having no sympathy whatsoever for that is disgusting. Shame on you

[write-it-motherfuckers]

I haven't got much of an update to give you all right now, however I do have an apology gift for you. It's not the best shot since I had to take it at an awkward angle, but it's the only clearish photo I have right now.

I would like you to meet Bug, during one of his rare non bitey moments while we were waiting for his littermate to get checked out. I unfortunately don't have any images of Bunny, his sister, as she is exceptionally anxious and chaotic, but she is just as cute, I assure you. Though I may be biased.

Thank you again for all the patience, support, and understanding. I will update you as soon as anything changes.

Stay safe Darling ones 🖤

[megumi-fm]

.

[goldensunset]

i do not like thanksgiving (week)

[erin-unknown]

Dalgar Thorne would give you a different answer for the "worst thing that's ever happened to him" than I would.

My answer would be the night he set fire to his bed, himself, and his family's home while having a nightmare. He was twelve. However, Dalgar doesn't see that as something that just "happened," but rather something he did...

He came into his magic at nine and was told to hide it so that he could stay on the family farm with his father. Hiding became a struggle when Dalgar started to have vivid dreams and nightmares, resulting in odd activity around the farm; whether from his magic, or something else, Dalgar never got the chance to find out.

In the fire, both he and his father suffered severe injuries and the house, their farm, and the fields of their neighbors all burned. His father succumbed to his wounds, but Dalgar was saved with spirit healing from Warden Casilda Thorne. When he followed her into the Grey Wardens, the nightmares stopped. He never learned why but he never questioned it, either. He still had vivid dreams on occasion, but he didn't experience terror like that again until after the siege of Weisshaupt, well into adulthood.

Casilda Thorne drilled him hard to overcome his aversion to fire, which was probably not the kindest thing for him, but it forged him into a force to be reckoned with against darkspawn. He does bear physical scars from his burns but, as an adult, he's more or less used to them. If people have a problem, it's their problem, not his.

When the nightmares return, Dalgar is hesitant to sleep, or sleep near people, stricken with fear at the thought of waking up to discover he had done something horrible again.

~

If you ask Dalgar for the worst thing that's ever happened to him, he would say it was the day of Casilda's funeral. Not the day he learned that she'd died - no, he barely remembers that - but the day she and the other Wardens who fell alongside her were cremated.

He was fully an adult when she died out in the field, but she was very nearly (read: absolutely) an adoptive mother to him and losing her was devastating.

Dalgar and the other Wardens built the funeral pyre and watched the Revered Mother prepare the bodies; he helped light the fire, kept vigil nearby with a few other Wardens, and then helped remove the ashes and bones, afterwards. He couldn't tell her bones apart from the other Wardens' in the ash pile. That observation's stuck with him to the present day.

When Varric came calling, Dalgar was very reluctant to leave his last surviving "family" member, Senior Warden Olivier du Lac, at the Warden outpost... and it turns out maybe he was right to be worried (sorry, Olivier).

Boy, death really follows this guy 🫠

Heyo, it’s Friday again!

It’s the Rook Introduction Hour! ✨🎉🎊🥳

How it works: I ask you a question about your Rook(s) and you answer it with as much brevity or verbosity as you desire. You can do this whenever you want, and I’ll reblog it + add some comments! There’s no time limit— if you want to do the older ones, they are collected here! (The post is updated on Fridays!)

Today’s Question(s): What is the worst thing that’s ever happened to your Rook? Was it during the course of DATV, or before that? What impact did it have on their life? How did it change them as a person? If their decisions had a part in creating the situation, do they regret it?

Thanks for sharing !