#trauma after I told this one person that I had a fear of males

[olteacup]

after this im never getting another pet till i accept the cycle of life.. grr icky emotions, back emotions get back!! 🤺🤺

(im okay ish now thoo) :3

[profound-imagination]

I feel like some of you forget that Rhysand let an innocent human get murdered. “But he took the pain, she didn’t feel it!” She’s still dead babes.

I feel like some of you forget Rhysand forced Feyre into their bargain and then drugged her night after night. “He did it so she didn’t remember the horrors!” Still drugged her hun.

I feel like some of you forget Feyre didn’t hurt just Tamlin by destroying the Spring Court, she destroyed the lives of innocents.

I feel like some of you forget that Feyre used Elain against Lucien when they left spring.

I feel like some of you forget they ended up going through Autumn somewhere Lucien feared and knew he’d be killed on sight because she lied and stole from the summer court.

I feel like some of you forget that Feyre was playing Tamlin and Lucien off against each other.

I feel like some of you forget Amaranta groomed Tamlin and then cursed Prythian when he rebuffed her advances.

I feel like some of you forget Tamlin spent 50 years trying to make it right, sending his friends out to die, friends who went willingly.

I feel like some of you forget Tamlin took Lucien in when he had nowhere else to go, gave him a home and a semblance of family.

I feel like some of you forget Tamlin had his own trauma. “He didn’t check on Feyre and help her with her trauma!” Show me where she did that for him??

I feel like some of you forget how in Rhysand’s attempt to prove he is a “good guy” he cut Tamlin off from speaking, allowed Azriel to attack Eris (maybe they did both deserve it) but what about when he essentially said “You can work with me or I can go into your minds and make you.”

I feel like some of you forget Lucien had endured abuse and loss his whole life and stood by the one person he had even if the decision was wrong.

I feel like some of you forget Lucien and Tamlin were raised to fear Rhysand and yet they still did everything they could to save her. “But she told Lucien she was fine and she sent a letter!” How was Lucien to know Rhys wasn’t controlling her and how were they to know she could read or write? She couldn’t when she left Spring?

I feel like some of you forget Lucien stood his ground when he found Feyre in the woods despite knowing the male that stood with her could kill him with very little effort.

I feel like some of you forget that Lucien didn’t shout that Elain was his mate, he didn’t claim ownership of her, he said it in shock, as if he couldn’t believe that Jesminda wasn’t his mate.

In short, I feel like some of you were very quick to forgive Rhysand and Feyre but you can’t forgive Tamlin and Lucien?

[sleep-0-deprived]

im not sure if you are taking any requests rn but I NEED to see some male reader Shigaraki heavy, hurt no comfort, gut wrenching angst just cause there is barely any Shigaraki x male reader and barely any angst in general

(you can ignore this request if you want!!)

Things that your dad doesn’t know (Tomura shigaraki x male reader angst one-shot)

WC:. 1.6K

Tags: hurt not comfort, angst, internalized homophobia, past religious trauma, generational homophobia, unspoken feelings, religious AFO au

A/N: I have never written angst before, I have no clue if it’s any good but I think this is the only time I’m willingly trying to hurt my pookies! ໒꒰ྀི˃ ˕ ˂ഃ ꒱ྀི১

Being a villain wasn’t your first choice in life, in fact had you been told that’s what you would end up becoming ten years ago…well you would’ve been in shambles? After all your dream was to be a hero, to help those who needed it most and give comfort/security to those around you.

maybe that was just you wanting to be the person you wished was given to you but that doesn’t matter because it wasn’t who you became anyway. At the ripe age of fifteen you were a runaway, your parents had sent you off to a private academy in Japan. In reality it was just a fancy term for a boarding school for ‘troubled boys’ but those words tasted bitter because that place was just filled with naive boys questioning their sexuality.

That place left you filled with thoughts of things you’ve never worried about before, one moment you’re just a boy who has some silly crush in the boy next to you in class and the next you’re a thirteen year old being told the way you felt was ‘sinful’. You’d never forget the way your mom just stared at you blankly while your dad shouted at you “those thoughts aren’t normal boy, how’d you turn out like this?” God you’d give it all to forget those words, every remembrance of them felt like a puddle pulling you to the ground leaving you to wallow in shame.

By the time you were fourteen you started to fall for the words the headmasters of the school preached to you, you thought “if I could just deny it then it’ll go away” or if you didn’t accept it then it wasn’t there. By fifteen you knew you had to get out of there, you didn’t care how you had to do it but you felt an unwavering hate for yourself every second you stood in line for the daily mass at that place.

When you did finally escape you ended up on the streets, moving city to city across Japan, too afraid to head for the states out of fear for your parents getting you back. Then you met him, All For One was what he called himself, he found you in a dingy alley all littered in bruised and scars from the treatment you had endured from that school.

He took you in and gave you a place to live for as long as you did what he asked of you. He made you use your quirk for his own wants but you’d never tell him your past or where you came from because it was evident with his god complex that he wasn’t understanding, after all how could a man from his generation be.

Life wasn’t all bad, that was what you’d tell yourself but then you met Tomura, you two never clicked in the beginning. All he’d do is stare at you from afar and judge you, but you just accepted it because he was your leaders heir. Eventually by the age of seventeen the two of you had became friends, the league of villains was a new concept with barely five members

You didn’t know what you felt or how to feel it but all you knew was the days felt more bearable to live when he was there. When you two didn’t have tasks to fill or agendas to make you were teenage boys, you watched cheesy shows on his bed or video games in his room, energy drinks and late nights was the routine between you two and their was an unspoken blonde that came of it.

Eighteen rolled around for you and Tomura was nineteen by then, it felt like an extension of eighteen for you, nobody but Tomura even knew of your real birthday and maybe it was for the lack of care or the fact you never spoke to anyone besides AFO, Shigaraki and occasionally Kurogiri.

By this point you’ve realized that things aren’t totally platonic between the two of you but Tomura having spent his whole life enduring AFO’s standards and beliefs that he’s pushed onto him, he denies anything and everything. Tomura never had the most stable life to begin with even before he met AFO, his dad was the definition of a bigot, he looked down on him for not being manly enough, for crying when he got hit by him.

Tomura and you were closer than friends could be, the way you two held each other and cuddled in his bed at night, or spent free time locked away in your room away from the other’s gazes. But you were never truly together in the way you wanted to be, it was like being skin close with a thin barrier between keeping you two from fully touching.

The two of you liked being away in private the most, even with all of the denial in your head was better than the hurtful gaze AFO would give to Tomura when he was caught sitting too close to you in the bar. Over time it felt like you began to know Tomura less and less, the boy you once clung to like he was the air in your lungs became a man that hardly spoke to you unless it was about the leagues plans.

You were no fool you knew AFO had confronted and filled Tomura’s head with thoughts of how what he was doing was nothing less than “un-right” and those deep rooted memories of the past that always crept in when you least wanted found you again, reminding you of every word nailed into your mind on how you should feel in no regards for what you did feel.

All you wanted to do was run back to his room, to hug him and cling and not worry about everyone else but that wasn’t going to happen. You watch him become the second AFO knowing you can’t and do anything. Your once close relationship has a wedge in between, it was non existent and nothing you could say would make him accept you.

“What happened to our friendship Tomura?” You’d show up at his door late at night while the others were asleep, his blue hair gone and what looked back at you didn’t feel the same quiet man that used to be. “Nothing has happened, things change and people grow [name], you’re acting as though we were lovers.” You knew that he was only forcing his words but it never stung any less.

“No but we could’ve been Tomura” you manage to spit out, your voice cracks and your whole body feels like lava. “No we never could’ve, you’re a man [name] and no amount of emotions changes that”

“If I can’t be your lover why can’t we just be friends again tenko?”

You’re nearly to tears at this point standing in the entrance of his bedroom feeling your heart being squeezed.

“Because. Being close to you makes life hard, I can’t sit and pretend to be your friend when I know I won’t be the one that ends with you, and don’t call me that anymore, you’re just my subordinate…nothing else and you won’t ever be [name].”

There was the answer you knew would come, he pointed for his door clearly wanting you gone, and you quickly obliged in wanting of him seeing you break down. You hadn’t hurt this bad since you had first been sent off by your family, how were you supposed to be ok with this? Why did life have to be this way? Were you destined to always get close to what you love then have it slip away?

You had more pathetic questions than you did answers and the night was long, you weren’t sleeping anytime soon and you knew it. You’d rather have been his friend if you couldn’t be his lover, at least if you were his friend you’d still be something to him, you’d still be in his life, you’d still be the person he sat around and played video games with.

You were just doomed to a life of watching the person you love become unrecognizable. You and him had planned to stick together, he had promised you’d always be together, he always told you that you were the only person that understood him and now it was all gone.

When war against the hero’s began you couldn’t do anything to stop him. Your pleas fell on deaf ears, AFO was on his shoulder telling him every little move to make and what to do and his plan didn’t have you in it. You were forced to sit on the side lines unable to jump in when his final fight started, seeing his beaten form and his scared body broke you.

You had made Tomura your world, he was your reason to listen to AFO, if he did something then no matter how much it hurt you, you’d do it too. When Tomura started his fight against Midoriya, you were practically running to the fight trying to make way to him and trying to use your quirk to just stop it all.

You were three seconds too late. The final blow had been felt and you were right next to Tomura sobbing like a scared kid watching him decay away. All Tomura does is look up at you, red eyes glossy and you know he isn’t making it. “You can’t leave me Tenko! You just can’t!…you promised me?”

You’re hysteric when the police start dragging you away from his ash’s, you’re feeling your word shatter so fast knowing all the things you had planned won’t happen.

[acourtofthought]

This is the new argument from e/riels:

"Yes Lucien was feisty and powerful and sassy and funny in the first book, and that personality slowly started to fade in book 2. This happened because Lucien was originally supposed to be Nesta's mate, but then SJM changed her mind. Lucien slowly became a shadow of his old self to the point where he barely exists in the story. Yes it can partially be attributed to trauma, but he had lived through immense trauma already at the start of book one and still managed to be his foxy, witty self. This is because he will not be a lead in Elain's book or any book. SJM is purposefully downgrading him because he is not meant to fill the role of MMC. She realized that Azriel and Elain have much more chemistry, hence the famous statement about how sometimes she puts two characters together and they just won't work. She left readers a hint about the fact that she was doing this: 'Why make them mates? What if that is what she needs?' using Feyre's words."

What are your thoughts on this?

My thoughts? There will be many 😂

Feyre also said Az would probably never stop loving Mor.

Feyre also told Elain that Lucien cared for her and that he was a good male.

Feyre also once considered Ianthe a friend.

I don't think Feyre's word is one they want to get hung up on.

Lucien did experience trauma in book 1 however the majority of that trauma, the things that impacted him on a bone deep level, happened to him centuries prior. Lucien's main source of trauma in book 1 (to me) was not when Amarantha permanently scarred him but when he lost Jesminda and was chased out of Autumn after having spent years being tormented by Beron and his brothers. But he found some semblance of peace with Tamlin. Was he truly content? Not really but he had a friend, a place in Tamlin's court, the people of Spring looked to him to set the example (friends and purpose, sounds familiar, right?). Despite his past he had still had enough time to settle into his sassiness because his life was somewhat consistent.

However book 2 changed all that. Tamlin and his court began to suffer as a result of what happened during and after UTM. There was the added fear of what Rhys was possibly doing to Feyre and how that affected both he and Tamlin. The stability (illusion of?) he had grown accustomed too (even during Amarantha's reign), began to crumble and the threat of a war was pressing down on them all.

Should Lucien have remained sassy while worrying his friend and his other friends fiance was being tortured? Should he have been feisty knowing they were preparing to ally with the KoH in order to try and get her back? While his friend had taken to threatening him? While his friend was falling apart? While being sexually harassed by Ianthe than having to perform the Rite with her? It's funny how they claim Gwyn won't be ready to leave the library in her book or for sex with Az years after her SA but expect Lucien to be an absolute hoot while his was going on.

Should he then have been sassy knowing that Feyre was plotting the downfall of Tamlin in book 3? After finding out that his lost mate wasn't actually his mate and that his real mate had been taken by his enemy? Should he have been cracking jokes after his magic was stolen and he nearly died trying to fight his way to Elain's side to make sure she was alright? Should he have then been the life of the party while surrounded by multiple characters treating him like dirt in the NC?

Should he be witty and fun and snarky upon the realization that he had no place to go except the human lands after the war? When Tamlin gave him a black eye and cut lip?

SJM isn't putting Lucien through all of this so Az can lead a book with Elain. SJM is putting Lucien through all this so he becomes the ultimate underdog story. In an interview, someone specifically asked SJM if we were going to see the return of sassy Lucien and she said something along the lines of, "I hope so, he's going through a lot right now." The author knows exactly what she's doing with his character and it's not because he's being downgraded. Downgraded men don't get an upgrade to their father and Court they belong to. Downgraded men don't have the author confirming (after ACOMAF had already been written, the book she made Elain and Lucien mates) that Lucien has always been one of her favorite characters. Downgraded men don't school Cassian in his own book with a single word.

"Easy," Lucien said.

Cassian snarled.

"Easy," Lucien repeated, and flame sizzled in his russet eye. The flame, the surprising DOMINANCE within it, hit Cassian like a stone to the head, knocking him from his need to kill and kill and kill whatever might threaten -

If the author wanted us to believe that Elain and Lucien have no chemistry than she would not have had any reason to have Elain ignore him. Instead they would have shared many conversations on page and we would have seen that lack of chemistry playing out in real time. Instead she had Elain cut off communication with Lucien the second she no longer mourned for Graysen to the extent she once did. That's because a single Elain is an Elain that's going to fall in love with Lucien way too quickly, an Elain who shares very obvious chemistry with him and that can't happen before their book.

[anittmyer]

Glorfidnel vs. Religious Trauma

(This does contain some Valar bashing)

This was a headcanon I wanted to explore with my Golden boy! It's well known knowledge that Glorfindel is half Noldor and half Vanya, and the Vanya tend to be close to the valar and the most as you say "religious" and strict with the rules of the valar.

I personally headcanon Glorifndel as gay and he realized this at a young age while he still lived in Valinor. His mother was Noldor, but his father was a very loyal Vanya, making him quite religious and strict with his children and household. Same sex relationships were viewed as an abomination by the valar and so most Vanya thought so as well. Glorfindel hated himself for liking other Nèrs', he knew he should get over it so he can marry and nìs one day and make his father proud.

Glorindel spent a lot of his time trying to be a devoted follower of the valar and to follow their rules, but one day he kissed another male elf in secret and he was so scared he ran away home and cried. He was found by his mother and he knew his mother wasn't as tied to the Valar as his father was. He told her what had happened and how he felt, he feared she'd be angry and disgusted, like how many Vanya spoke about Prince Nelyofinwè (another character i headcanon as gay).

He truly felt lost and in a dark place once the flight of the Noldo occurred and he decided to cross the Helcaraxè with Fingolfin's host. He felt abandoned by the Valar even though he was devoted and faithful. He feeling lost had found happy company in a Noldor elf named Ecthelion.

In Gondolin, Glorfindel was still tense and no one knew his true nature besides Ecthelion. He had garnered the title of himself as Gondolin's most eligible bachelor in the secret city. Many elleths fawned over the Lord of the Golden Flower, but all Glorfindel could feel was shame once more for not being able to reciprocate and do his duty. Ecthelion was good at comforting him and telling him that how he was isn't shameful or a disgrace, but Glorfidnel couldn't help the sinking feeling in his gut and the nervous sweat on his brow.

It wasn't until he was brought back from the Halls of Mandos and was given a second chance at life, that he wanted to let go of his shame. Lord Elrond was the most kind and most understanding being to have existed since his friend Ecthelion. While living in Imladris, Glorfindel met his forever love in Erestor, a beautiful peredhel elf with dark hair, striking green eyes, and olive skin. He was studious and a bit cold, but Glorfindel had broken down those walls and the two were almost always plagued by a scarlet blush. Glorfindel knew he found his forever love, he didn't care what the Valar thought or what his father thought of him being in love with an ellon, of Fenaorion stock no less!

Glorfindel always dreamed of his wedding, he once thought it was never to be, his love would never be allowed by the Valar or even his father. He married Erestor in Imladris, surrounded by those who loved and accepted him. And once he sailed with Erestor, Elladan, and Elrohir, he reunited with Ecthelion who was furious he wasn't able to attend his best friends wedding. However, Glorfindel was most worried about his father... the faithful Nèr who spat hideous words about those loving the same gender as their own. Glorfindel had finally worked up courage to travel to his family home, with Erestor in hand, he wouldn't be hidden like some shameful thing.

They had arrived to his family house, before knocking, the door was swung open, the beautiful visage of his mother stared back at him, tears instantly in her eyes. Glorfindel introduced Erestor as his husband and his mother only smiled and gave Erestor a chaste kiss on his cheek. Her acceptance of his husband gave him confidence. It was finally time to face his father... after so many years...

He met his father in the garden behind his family home, age had found its way to his father's, gray hairs lined his temples and his golden hair line. His father's tired eyes had no judgement in them, only sorrow and longing... Longing for his only son. He embraced his son tightly and then he looked to Erestor who appeared slightly apprehensive. Once more, Erestor was introduced as his beloved spouse, speaking calmly and slowly as to avoid his father blowing up on him. Glorfindel's father did no show thing. He in fact also gave Erestor a hug and thanked him for loving his son.

. . . .

In my head, Glorfindel's father lost his faith in the Valar when they decided to send his son back to Middle-Earth instead of letting him come home to his family.

I also swapped out Nèr/Nìs and Ellon/Elleth depending on if we were in Valinor or Middle-Earth!

I'm a Glorestor truther till my DYING DAYS!

Let me know what you think!!☺️☺️

[cosmicjoke]

So I haven’t read chapter 52 of “Saezuru” yet, but I did read the summary of it on twitter, and after having a conversation with one of my mutuals, I have a few thoughts about what it is Yashiro wants, and why he’s having so much trouble communicating it to Doumeki. 

First of all, Doumeki himself still seems very hesitant to treat Yashiro with the gentility that they both want him to give, and obviously this stems from what happened the last time he did, with Yashiro pushing him away.  You would think, okay, well, this has an easy solution.  Doumeki wants to treat Yashiro with kindness, and Yashiro genuinely wants to be treated kindly, so all he has to do is tell Doumeki that, and problem solved.

But of course it’s not that simple, and after talking about it with others, and reading about how, during their sex scene, Yashiro was thinking about the Madam at the club, and how Doumeki treats her so gently, it got me thinking more about Yashiro’s difficult relationship with the idea of being treated as a woman. 

Yashiro wants to be treated with the same care and tenderness that he perceives Doumeki to be treating the Madam with, and the belief that Doumeki is deliberately treating him differently than that, because he’s a man, and because he is who he is specifically, (someone who’s always been treated with cruelty and told, indeed, that he deserves to be treated cruelly), is clearly very painful for Yashiro. 

The thing we have to remember about Yashiro is that, during the years he was being sexually abused by his step-father, he was being told by his abuser that he was really a woman, that his being born male was a mistake, etc...  And we see how this later affects Yashiro.  Afterward, whenever he was treated like a woman, or how he perceived a woman should and would be treated, anyway, he got spooked and made an effort to get away from that treatment.  Like Hirata’s underling whom Yashiro got thrown out of the Yakuza after he started treating Yashiro like his girlfriend, or Yashiro’s dissmisiveness when Ryuuzaki asked him about whether he ever wished he’d been born as a woman, etc...  I think Yashiro associated being treated kindly and tenderly with the memories of his abuse, and therefor, that kind of treatment was very traumatic to him.  It’s why we see Yashiro, during his and Doumeki’s sex scene from chapter 26 (I think, lol), crying and seeing an image of himself being raped by his step-father.  It’s why he freaked out so badly afterward and ran away.  Yashiro realized that he LIKED being treated gently, but it reminded him of what his step-father said to him about him really being a woman.  I think, in that moment, when Yashiro realized he wanted and liked being treated kindly, it was like a confirmation for him of everything his step-father claimed about him, that he was really a woman, that him being born male was a mistake, etc...  In that way, it was like a confirmation of every negative, cruel, vicious thing his step-father ever said and did to him.  An affirmation of Yashiro’s own, negative view of himself. 

I think Yashiro’s experience in middle school with the girl he has sex with sort of reinforced Yashiro’s views about women too, and how they’re supposed to be treated, versus how he thinks men are supposed to be treated.  When he tried getting rough with that girl, she started crying, and Yashiro immediately stopped and lost interest in her.  He realized she didn’t want to be roughhoused.  Subsequently, I always point to this incident as proof that Yashiro isn’t, and never was, a sadist.  A true sadist would be turned on by another person’s pain and fear, but Yashiro had the opposite response.  He was turned off by it. 

Yashiro realizes, after his first, sexual experience with Doumeki, that he, like that girl, doesn’t actually enjoy being hurt during sex, doesn’t enjoy being roughhoused and mistreated.  That of course was a coping mechanism he clung to to deal with his trauma, convincing himself that he wanted to be mistreated and hurt to defend against the reality that he’d been horribly vicitmized.  He realized, in that moment with Doumeki, then, that he was more like a woman than a man (just like his step-father claimed), and so for Yashiro, admitting that he wants to be treated with tenderness is tantamount to his admitting that his step-father was right about him.  This is why, I think, he’s still having such a hard time admitting to Doumeki what he really wants.  I know certain people in this fandom are impatient with Yashiro and demanding that he just confess his feelings already, but they forget just how traumatized Yashiro really is, and what it is he’s dealing with. 

It’s obviously going to take a bit more, or a lot more time before either Yashiro or Doumeki can fully open up to one another, and for Yashiro specifically, it’s going to be a lifelong process, being able to accept himself and what he wants without also feeling ashamed or guilty or wrong. 

[greensimp]

IF YOU UHM TAKE REQUESTS: could you do Gyutaro x extremely near-sighted s/o who refuses to wear glasses (only uses them occasionally) ?? I love your writing 🫂

Ayyy now there’s a handicap I actually have. Although I rarely take my lenses off, even when I sleep (if you wear glasses DO NOT DO THIS IT’S BAD FOR THEM). Thank you for this request, I was hoping I’d finally get one soon 😊.

______________________________________________________

Gyutaro With A Near-Sighted Reader

TW: foul language, trauma, implied/referenced bullying

A/N: reader is AFAB coded. I gave this one a lil "how you met" story before doing the headcannon stuff.

_______________________________________________________

You hate wearing your lenses. In the past, you’d be relentlessly teased for having them. You’d be called an old lady, a freak, a defective, just about everything under the sun. When your father decided to sell you to the Kyogoku house, he refused to allow you to wear them as it would hinder your chances of being accepted as a courtesan. You didn’t want to be sold, but you didn’t have a choice. Your father’s farm had a bad year for crops, as a disease ravaged about 80% of them.

Without your lenses, you were a beauty in the eyes of the public. Most people didn’t recognize you from your childhood, as you looked very different without them on. Over the years, you’d grown to navigate your extremely blurry world somewhat gracefully, but you still had your difficulties.

And that’s when you caught the eye on him.

Daki hadn’t exactly noticed how you stumbled over dips in the floorboards that a normal person would have easily spotted, nor had she noticed how you used your arms to feel how close objects actually were to you. But he did. He noticed how you’d need to lower your face just a few inches from papers to read them. Had he been spying on you in your room to gain this little morsel of knowledge about you? Maybe. His interest had been piqued after all.

Near sighted young people were extremely rare at this point in history. He wanted to devour you. He wanted to see you as pathetic. He wanted to toy with your emotions.

While you were away at the markets one night, Gyutaro rummaged through your belongings. His suspicions of your defective eyes were confirmed as he revealed a pair of lenses in the very back of one of your drawers. Obviously, you had not used them for quite some time. The excitement he felt at this discovery gave him a sick pleasure as he knew what to do next.

He waited for you to return, standing in the darkest corner of your room. Once you entered and sat on your mat, exhausted from having to avoid bumping into everyone and everything in the bustling entertainment district, a low, terrifying giggle startled you, causing you to fall to your back with a squeak.

“Look at you. So helpless, Like a little mole rat.”

A wobbly male voice teased you from the corner. Your eyes shot toward the source, but the only thing you could make out was a dark amorphous figure shrouded in shadow.

“W-who a-are you? A c-customer? I’m sorry b-but I’m done with s-services for the night-“

The male giggled louder, cutting you off.

“What’s the matter? Can’t see me?”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Did he know? How could he know?!

“Of c-course I can’t! Y-You’re in the d-dark!”

Annoyance was bubbling through your fear. You’ve had some creepy clients, but this one was just plain rude.  

You couldn’t tell he was moving closer to you until a pair of glowing orange orbs began to come into focus.

“You sure it’s just the dark, sweetheart?”

The sickening tone he used for the name he gave you sent a shiver down your spine, but you remained still. Partially out of fear, partially out of indignance that this guy was invading your personal space.

“Just what d-do you think you’re doing? Stay back! I told you my room is closed for the night!”

This isn’t the first time a man has intruded on you. Most of the time when you’re firm enough, they tend to just scoff and leave, promising to complain to the house owners about your “behavior.” However, you were growing increasingly aware of the dangerous aura of the man that was now about 5 feet away from you. In the dim candlelight, you could finally make out a fuzzy green blob framing the orbs you noticed moments ago. Was that his head? Green is such an unusual hair color.

“I don’t think I wanna leave just yet. Not before I have some fun.”

Your heart sunk. He was right in front of you now, and you could finally see just how tall and imposing he was. There was no way you’d stand a chance against him. You thought about calling for the Oiran, who was merely a couple of doors down from you.

“Oh, I wouldn’t start screaming if I were you, hehe.”

He crouched, his blurry form still seemingly towering over you, but his face was becoming a bit clearer. If you squinted, you could even maybe make out some black markings inking out the sickly grey color of his skin.

“W-What do you w-want from me?!”

You tried to back away, but your body refused to cooperate with you. Then, a rectangular shape began swinging in front of your face.

“Why don’t you slip these on for me, girl? Take a good look at who you’re talking to.”

You recognized the case he was dangling in front of you. It was close enough to even make out the familiar patterns in the fabric. Your breathing became erratic as the traumatic memories that came with that case started to surface in your mind.

“G-Get that thing away from me!!! How did you find that?!”

You began cowering, but not from him. Your arms shielded your face as you expected a rock to be chucked your way like all those years ago. All those cruel, pretty girls that treated you like dirt because of those stupid, ugly things.

Confusion suddenly washed over him. He hadn’t expected such a visceral reaction from you. At least, not before you put the lenses on. He narrowed his eyes at your shrinking form, frowning, and hummed to himself.

Somehow, this was becoming a lot less fun.

“Y’know, I was expecting this after you put these on, you pathetic girl. The hell is wrong with you?”

His words made you pause.

“Wha-what do you mean?”

He growled, becoming frustrated. He brought his fingers to the opening of the pouch and fished out your lenses before shoving them your way.

“Put em’ on and find out.”

The sight of your lenses brought a tremble to your fingertips.

“I… I can’t”

He scowled and shook his hand up and down.

“Whaddya mean ya can’t?! Are ya stupid or somethin’?!”

You felt your eyes mist over at his words, causing you to wrench them shut and shake your head.

“NO!”

In mere moments, your hand flung through the air and knocked the lenses to the ground.

He just stared at you in disbelief, his hand still outstretched to you.

A string of broken sobs erupted from your lungs as you crouched forward.

“I can’t wear them! I can’t wear them!”

Your fist banged the ground.

“They turn me ugly!”

Bang

“They make me weak!”

Bang

“They make me defective!”

Right before your fist was about to make contact with the floor again, a large hand wrapped around your wrist and forcefully pulled you up to your feet.

You yelped in pain, but another hand covered your mouth.

“Listen here, girl. You have no idea what you’re talkin’ about. You got it pretty good, ya know. Look at your skin, not a blemish or scratch to be seen anywhere. Ya got pathetic men from all over the district wantin’ you every night. You’re a lucky one. And I’m gettin’ tired of your pathetic blubbering. Now.

As you struggled and grabbed at the arm that had your face in a vice grip, you felt something be forcefully slipped onto your face.

“Look at me.”

He let you go, causing you to tumble to the floor.

The second you opened your eyes, you gasped at the clarity of the room. Your eyes strained against the corrective properties of your lenses, having not been used to them after so many years of not wearing them.

Then, your gaze snapped to the man… no… thing towering above you. The crystal clear visage of his sickly body froze you in your place.

It all became clear to you now. His strength, his glowing eyes, his hair color…

He was a demon.

A demon here to eat you, no less.

You hadn’t realized he was talking to you until he spread his arms out wide, scowl evident on his face.

“… what? Got nothin’ to say?! What’s the matter, stupid girl?! Worm!”

You couldn’t pinpoint what exactly you were feeling in that moment, but it wasn’t fear. Something in his mannerisms, his tone, you just couldn’t detect the malice from before. He was frustrated, now. It was as though he was repeating lines from somewhere.

The only thing running through your mind…

Was that this was the most beautiful creature you have ever seen.

Perhaps it was the first clear image of someone you’d witnessed in four years, or the adrenaline high you were coming down from, or maybe just pure survival instinct, but you couldn’t help but just… stare.

You’d expected to be terrified of demons. And maybe you should be running as fast as you can right now.

He crouched in front of you with that angry scowl of his, now balling a handful of your hair in his hand and bringing his face right up to yours.

“Go on, wench. Tell me how ugly you are now. Tell me how defective you are now. TELL ME!”

He snapped, but you didn’t flinch away. You just stared into his eyes with your wide, glassy ones.

Then, before you even processed what you were doing, you brought a hand to his face and brushed a finger over the largest black splotch that ran over his cheeks and nose.

He felt time stop at your touch, his face falling into a confused frown.

“I see you.”

Your gentle voice, now free of fear and trauma, talked through him. His eyes widened.

Now it was his turn to shiver.

Letting go of your hair, he shot to his feet, a foreign surge of emotion jolting his spite and spreading throughout his chest and throat.

Not a trace of fear showed itself on your features like he’d expected it too. No. It was almost as though you were… liking what you were looking at.

Endearment if you will.

Before you could stop him, he bolted out of your room, now overloaded with conflicting feelings and no one to take it out on. He certainly wasn’t going to take them out on you. He needed to understand your mysteries. He needed to prove that no one on this planet was just naturally inclined to look at him like that. The world was cruel, and he deserves to take from it for how it’s treated him…

You’re just a common whore. You’re just like everyone else. He’ll prove it.

At least… that’s what he tells himself.

…

Headcannon time!!! Do with your little origin story what you will, now it’s time to skip to the fluffy stuff.

You still refuse to wear your lenses most of time.

Once you’d tell Gyutaro about your past trauma (probably after he’d start courting you), he’d understand, but would insist that you let him guide you around.

You’d become frustrated that he would demand such a thing, claiming that you’d managed all these years without his assistance, but the moment you saw his downtrodden face you quickly relented.

He didn’t know it himself, but Gyutaro’s urge to protect his sister from the world was also extending to you.

Once you’d discover that the Oiran was actually Gyutaro’s sister, you’d still be cautious around her, but now there was a sense of familiarity with her.

Daki would find out about your poor vision through her brother very quickly. She’d be confused and a little angry that Gyutaro would waste so much time on you but would relent to his desire for you. After all, he gets what he wants and vice versa.

She’ll behave and treat you like an acquaintance, but nothing more.

You never expected to fall for a demon. Hell, you were still kind of skeptical about their existence until Gyutaro came into your life. And yet you managed to catch the heart of one of the most dangerous demons in existence. All through just… seeing him.

Gyutaro is the only being in existence that you’d ever put your lenses on for.

On lonely, rainy nights in particular, when you miss him the most, you have your lenses ready at your side for when he comes to visit. And when you hear his faint “hello, sweetheart,” you excitedly slip your lenses on just to see him.

Gyutaro had to admit, he’d grown to love the look of you with your lenses on. The way your face lights up when you can truly see him gives him just the right rush of emotions to smile. Not a creepy, malicious smile. A genuine, happy grin.

[insipid-drivel]

My Surgeon Ghosted Me For Having A Panic Attack

My surgeon ghosted me, devastated me and my family, and I only found out through their legal representative 2 weeks before a surgery I've been begging and waiting for almost 20 years for.

I'm a 32-year-old trans person with PTSD and a very, very rare mental condition called DDNOS-1B. Since I was 13 years old, I've been fighting for a hysterectomy both for my gender identity, and to cure a horrendously painful and life-threatening condition called Menorrhagia that causes me extreme agony and to spontaneously hemorrhage when I menstruate. I've been hanging on to life by my fingernails, and my own surgeon just stomped on my hands.

Today, with just 2 weeks before my surgery date and my insurance approving of everything, I received a call from my OBGYN's legal representation accusing ME, the patient, of accusing my OBGYN of assaulting me when I had a panic attack during a routine pelvic examination so my insurance would cover most of the medical bills of my surgery.

While I was panicked, I partially dissociated and one of my male alter personalities - who I had already told my OBGYN about in appointments before the examination - experienced the examination with me. In addition to having been assaulted by a previous doctor during pelvic examination years before, I'm trans, and the alter personality that manifested is staunchly male and found the sensation of the examination alarming. While trying to calm down from a panic attack and gain control of myself again when the pelvic exam was over, I followed my therapist's guidance to verbalize my emotions when I felt my trauma manifesting again, and said, "That felt violating," to myself without really thinking. I was on Valium specifically for the examination due to the severity of my trauma, but still panicked enough that I babbled the words without thinking, and asked to please be allowed to go home if my OBGYN had gotten everything they needed from the appointment.

My OBGYN confirmed they'd gotten what they needed, said, "I only want to help you," while I nodded and could only stare at the floor and tremble while I gathered my things to leave. My ears were ringing. I was fighting tears and hyperventilation. It was a normal pelvic exam, but they just happen to be triggering for me because of my past trauma. When I'm that stressed, I become functionally mute and can't speak at all if I can't relax. It took me 3 days to fully relax after my OBGYN's examination, but in no way did I feel like they had behaved inappropriately or been too rough or forceful with me. It was just an experience and sensation I don't tolerate well without re-experiencing my past trauma. I wanted to go home, recover psychologically from an odious and frustrating panic disorder, and prepare for the surgery that, I hoped, would make my quality of life better than it's ever been.

I was not aware that I had to be responsible for my doctor's feelings when I was the patient in distress, and now feel that there is no way for me to receive the surgery I need unless I can magically do it without showing any fear or trepidation that could be misinterpreted by medical professionals and send them running to their lawyers for instructions.

Today, I received a phone call from my OBGYN's legal representative, just 2 weeks away from my surgery, announcing that my OBGYN had canceled the appointment and come running to them with fears that I would file a malpractice suit. I was forced to write a humiliating apology letter to my OBGYN's legal representation trying to set the record straight - that I hadn't accused my OBGYN of anything and thought they provided me with the best care they could, and it was my own reaction from pre-existing trauma that had been witnessed. Nevertheless, I could not have felt more betrayed, embarrassed, or shattered. I've needed a basic hysterectomy since I was 13 years old and have spent my entire reproductive life begging doctors and surgeons to please perform it, but have been refused every time because of my age, my gender, and/or the fact that I hadn't had any children myself and "would change my mind" as I got older.

I never changed my mind about having children. I don't want to, because I am trans, and my body needs work done on it before I can feel truly like I'm comfortable in my own skin. Now, I don't think that will ever happen.

I'm writing to different news outlets and here because it is absolutely unconscionable that a licensed medical doctor could tell me to my face that my dream since age 13 of being pain-free and living with a body that feels normal was going to be realized… only to send their legal representation 2 weeks before the date to tell me that, because I panicked and babbled the wrong thing TO MYSELF that the doctor found threatening to their job security, my dream was gone. It would've taken just one question, "Are you okay?" from my OBGYN to clear up the direction my babbled words were aimed in, but instead, they assumed I was accusing them of something horrendous, and terminated my care without bothering to tell me why, or that they were going to do it at all.

My family is absolutely devastated. I'm devastated to the point that I just feel numb. My mother has been inconsolable, as she's nearing 70, can't retire, and has been my only caregiver for most of my life because of the severity of my disabling pain caused by a part of my body that, as a trans person, every fiber of my being screams isn't supposed to exist. I feel deeply discriminated against, and like we now live in a state where, regardless of how distressed you are as a patient, you must perform to a certain standard to receive the attention and dedication of your own doctors. You're allowed to be traumatized and struggle with it, but only so long as your doctor feels completely exempt from what triggers you, and that you have to shut up and take any procedure you're required to endure for further care without showing any fear or pain.

Is this really the case? Are our doctors getting so scared of their own shadows that people like me can have their care terminated on the grounds of Not Being Brave Enough? I thought that I was safe to be trans and seek gender affirming AND medically necessary care without discrimination by medical professionals in Washington - my birthplace and the only place I've ever really called home - but now I feel like there's nowhere I can go to receive the care I need, and would be better served if I waited until I developed a terminal illness and used my right to Death With Dignity to end my life on my terms than bother to go to the doctor again for preventative care and regular checkups. What's the point? If I have one panic attack and say the wrong thing trying to comfort myself, I'll lose my doctor completely.

Why is it taking almost 20 years or more for a single doctor in Washington State to perform a hysterectomy on a desperately, desperately willing patient that also medically needs it? What is going on? Do all transgender Washingtonians deal with this level of discrimination and hand-wringing from their doctors? If I weren't trans, or didn't have DID, would I finally receive the care I need? Or is it really a matter of having to be the emotional support for your doctor in order for them to feel cushioned and safe enough to do an effective job in caring for you without them getting spooked and clutching their licenses like they're a breath away from being revoked?

Why am I, a disabled layperson on SSI that can barely even get out of bed most days, forced to be emotionally responsible for my doctor's sense of job security when I'm the one coming to them for help? It's been 20 years, and all I need is a hysterectomy! Not a single surgeon in 20 years will help me, my family has been destroyed by this, and I don't know what to do anymore but cry for help from the press and public to shed light on what is, at least in my experience, an increasingly broken, dysfunctional system that I fear is going to get me, and people like me, killed.

My state should be better than this. For how proudly my state's representatives boast about Washington being a shelter state for women and LGBTQIA+ people fleeing other states, why won't anybody help me? Have I been secretly blacklisted somehow from receiving the care I need? How is it that our doctors can just ghost us while accusing us of POTENTIALLY taking legal action against them? And why on god's green earth was I spoken to as though I was a criminal that had just been stopped from committing a crime and forced to apologize?

Just… what the hell? If this isn't worthy of a little attention from the journalists in my state, I don't know what is. I need help. I need surgery. But I can't even so much as show a little fear - much less talk myself through a panic attack - without my own doctor dropping me as their patient after promising me that the surgery I needed was going to happen. How can a patient even address this? Who do you call when you can't find a doctor because you're too traumatized to make your doctor feel secure in doing their job?

I want to live, my family is suffering, but I can't find a single surgeon that will help me. Is it this bad for everyone?

[cherryblossomforest]

Ooo I forgot to update, although I'm not sure anyone would care...😅

It wasn't covid. I figured it out early enough and retested multiple times just to be sure. It was faulty because it was out of date lol. I was rundown though, my body's engine light was on and I needed a few days to focus on getting it semi okay. Back to my normal I guess..

It was nice to just focus on me and everyone left me alone. It felt good to have that time. I've also finally got into a semi-habit of drinking 1.5l of water each day. One step at a time I'm looking after myself better and better!

Also, I'm back to writing my books which feels very good 😌

Off topic. One thing that I've been very aware of is that since going out more the last maybe 2 weeks (memory hiccup) I've been approached by a loooaad of people just complimenting me. On one of the days when I actually dressed up properly, I started counting - I know it sounds big-headed but I did it after venting to my cousin about my confusion because I generally feel ugly and she told me I'm not and to count - and from what I remembered it was 14. I got called a Goddess, someone compared me to Queen Tuya from Prince of Egypt, someone said I should model. There was just a lot going on! When I was telling one of my male friends on another day and he didn't believe me, someone literally came up 2 minutes later to compliment me and he was literally laughing because he thought I was lying. Now I don't think I'm the prettiest person, very far from it, but to be complimented this much does feel nice but it also makes sense why I avoided this for so many years out of fear, because of my history.

Today I took my sister and the niblings to a huge park and I decided to climb up one of the hills (knowing I'll be in bed for the rest of the week lol) and it was crazy hard. At one point I was on all fours climbing up and my niece was laughing calling me crazy 🤪. Anyway, when I finally got down this random guy came up to me when I was sitting next to my sister. He was like "Did you just climb that hill on a crutch?!" When I said yes, he asked me why and I said why not... because why not?? He asked me how old I was and he was like "Any girl that climbs a hill on a crutch like you did is my type of girl, can I get your number?" My brain started spinning because I wasn't expecting it. I can't remember what I said but he was respectful when I declined and kept it moving. Thankfully.

This is the type of attention teenage me struggled with. People don't believe me when I tell them how much attention I get. Now that I'm a healthy weight and not so depressed, it gets overwhelming fast if my trauma brain is turned on. I'm not complaining in the sense that I want people to feel bad because it's never that deep. Like womp womp! But I think I'm realising that as a kid/teen it actually was a lot. It makes sense that my Anorexia was so bad and that I fell so deep into it. As a teenager having grown men treat me like how I'm being treated now was scary, especially with the things I had gone through. Now I'm learning to embrace it and keep it humble because at times I attract this certain type of It Girl and I'm Not about that. Inwardly, I don't always feel pretty but I know for a fact that I have pretty privilege so this isn't something I feel comfortable talking about most times because I get it... people are genuinely like "Shut the hell up you're beautiful why are you complaining?" And I promise it's not supposed to come off like That. It's more me navigating this with an extensive trauma background. Anyway, I often forget I'm mid to late 20s and not a teen, but as I'm getting more and more present in the now I think that's starting to shift which helps a lot! :)

[jessidogg]

I'm sorry to say this, but your plead to leave Justin alone just perpetuates white male privilege.

1. He criticized Britney Spears, his ex, for her drinking problems when she was a) being forced to perform to be able to see her children, b) forced to get an IUD, c) being financially abused and defamated by her father and ex, and d) recovering from the mental and emotional trauma of being exploited as a child star. This is one of the main reasons he's being so heavily criticized now. It was not only hypocritical, he ended up doing something worse because Britney never drank and drove

2. OF COURSE the cops say he was perfectly polite. He's a rich white man. He had no reason to fear for his life, the cops probably weren't aggressive towards him at all. He also knew he'd be easily bailed out

3. It is EXTREMELY out of touch to attempt to brush what he did under the rug. My uncle was killed by a drunk driver and it left my aunt and cousins devastated and in a really bad way after his death. Drunk drivers have ruined lives for purely selfish reasons. Just because he voiced your favorite animated troll doesn't diminish that

4. He's a grown ass man. He doesn't need you coming to his aid. People are allowed to be mad at him for his reckless and careless behavior. All your PSA does is try to guilt people to stop criticizing him. That's shitty

Hello! I have read all three of your asks and I totally understand where you're coming from! I'm so sorry that your uncle was killed, that is really depressing and sad and I'm praying for your family still💕

One, I'd like to say that no, JT does not need me to come to his aid. I'm VOLUNTEERING to bc I like him. I don't need his permission to tell people to forgive him, that's stupid. It's totally alright to stand up for people, just bc he is an adult does not mean that I cannot stand up for someone.

Two, you are so right! Driving while drunk is a stupid thing to do, and like I said, I am very frustrated he did such a thing. Justin has done tons of things he regrets from his drinking problems, and I wish he would just stop. But addictions are hard to stop (I totally understand that bc I have been thru multiple myself) but I wish he would just try a bit harder.

But I am not brushing what he did "under the rug". I'm sure that I won't persuade you, and that's fine, but I was only saying that we shouldn't take advantage of this to hate him even more.

I am sick of people going "haha, he's a loser" as if just because he is a celebrity that gives him more reason not to sin. I am saying that him driving drunk is just as bad as anyone else driving drunk, and that being drunk in general is terrible but that also shouldn't be the reason we hate him.

Justin Timberlake would never hurt someone on purpose. We all know that. The fact that he could have hurt someone is terrifying, but it's reality and I realize that. The point is, he made a mistake, and mistake does not mean an "oopsie" in this case, it means a "he knew what he was doing and it was a terrible idea".

In my other post I did not phrase it very well, and I'm sorry about that. What I meant was, Justin did something wrong. I am a strong Christian, and I believe that every sin is just as bad as any other. The difference is, some can cause way worse consequences. Driving while drunk is way more dangerous than maybe lying to your parents. But my God tells me that one is not worse than the other.

Even for those not being a Christian, I think everyone should know that there should not be worse sins, and "okay" ones. Everyone deserves a chance. You should forgive everyone 70 times 7. Then do it all over again.

If a liar told a nasty lie about you and didn't apologize and kept going, but a murderer turned himself in and repented and stopped, would you still say the murderer is the worst person?

The fact that Justin won't try harder annoys me. But we should never put even more hate on him just because he's well-known. He is a human. He is just as bad at stuff as other people are.

Also, Justin Timberlake is a nice guy. The fact that he knew he was going to get released wasn't why he was nice, and being white and rich should have NOTHING to do with what the police say (I find it extremely weird for u to use that description). Justin has been known for being a sweet kind guy and he loves his fans, friends, and family. He has been seen in the middle of a concert stopping everything to make sure a fan who seemed in need of help was alright by ordering security over and asking if they're good. He does tons of stuff around his town just to help out. DudePerfect, one of the most popular trick shot YouTubers, are strong Christians and said that one of their favorite memories was playing golf with Justin Timberlake. There would be no reason for them to lie about that.

Justin should not have criticized Britney Spears about that. That is very confusing why he would, and maybe he was just trying to get her not to go the direction he did a few times, but idk, it is just really stupid. But again, humans in general are stupid. I bet u can name a bazillion times u criticized someone about doing something that you have done or ended up doing yourself.

NOT HIDING IT UNDER THE RUG OR SAYING IT'S RIGHT BECAUSE IT'S NOT, JUST SAYING THAT WE ALL DO THAT KIND OF STUFF

Gosh, I know I'm probably no getting my point across, here lemme try to say this in an easier way. Erm... Justin Timberlake is human. Humans sin. Okay. Sinning is not good at all. We all do it, however, intentionally, from lying to murdering. Big or small consequences can come from any of them. DWI is terrible. I hate when I hear about anyone doing that. You have a right to be angry, I am angry at Justin. But I hate how the already Justin haters are taking advantage of every thing he does and making him seem worse than he is. You can hate him, whatever, but you can't stand beside him everywhere he goes, paper and pen, and mark down his every sin, calling him "even worse than before" with every count. Being drunk is bad!!! Driving while drunk is bad!!! But we should feel sorry for him that he doesn't seem to be able to find an outlet in something else. And we shouldn't hold up his every action, dangerous or not, against him. If we all counted everyone's sins, we would all add up to the same amount of terrible that Justin Timberlake is. We are all dumb humans. We shouldn't hold up everything against each other. We don't know the whole story of anything. All we know is that he was driving drunk. He was probably stressed, trying to have a good time, other stuff. This doesn't make it right. But it should cause us to be more cautious about the situation. Most of the people who bully have things going on at home that is causing them to let out their anger on others. Not saying that's right, but we shouldn't call them "bad people" and basically say "he did this so we're more better than them." That may not be how you think of it, but it's what you're saying.

I really hope I am not making people feel guilty, that is the last thing I want. I just want people to understand my view. If I made anyone feel guilty or it seemed that way, I apologize, that's not how I meant it at all. I just didn't agree with stuff, and I wanted to say what I thought, just how you just sent me what you thought.

Hope I said this right. I may not have because I am bad at explaining things through type. I'm sorry if I offended anyone, I love you all and mean nothing rude. 💕💕❤❤💕💕❤❤💕💕

-Jessi

[wheresmymilliondollarman]

Hello! I am so happy to find someone who writes for the naturals!

Michael Townsend x Redding!Reader

Dean would not be happy. Like at all.

There would definitely be a, keep the door open rule.

And he would make it his personal mission to make sure you two aren't left alone for long.

He strikes me as an overprotective big bro

(also established reader plz)

michael townsend x redding!reader

hcs about being dean's little sister, also in the naturals program, & dating michael townsend. aka a recipe for disaster.

a/n: omg. ur mind. I LOVE THIS!!! i am a team michael girlie thru and thru so this is gonna be fun to write. tysm for the request and i love ur writings of dean and michael !!! i hope u dont mind i added some backstory, i tried to keep it to the point🤞

word count: 2.3k

warnings: none rlly?, suggestiveish content, some violence

you and dean were close, probably closer than most siblings would admit they were to their brother or sister. being only a year younger than him made it easier to connect and relate to each other. 

because of the trauma brought on during childhood because of your serial killer father, you and dean were closer than ever. dean also became a lot more protective over you as the years passed by. 

dean had always been your protector since childhood — beating up anyone who bullied you, scaring off mean girls, bandaging up any cuts and bruises, etc. 

when the two of you started becoming more aware of your father’s horrendous acts, dean did his best to keep you out of it. he was the first to step for any torturous task your father asked of you, and was always quick to step in front of you in the presence of your dad. 

after the whole investigation and arrest of your father, you’d met agent briggs & sterling, who at the time were married. there he sat the two of you down to explain the two of you had a special trait that labeled you under the category ‘natural.’ dean’s gift being profiling while yours revolved around being a forensic analyst. 

it was difficult to comprehend, specially at a young age, but the both of you mutually agreed the best option was to go with agent briggs to join the beginning of the naturals program. 

you were brought to some sort of safe house, where you were ought to live for who knew however long. there you met an older man, whose name was judd hawkins. you found out he was the one going to watch over you and manage house tasks. 

after awhile, you were introduced to someone new, also natural. her name – lia zhang. 

she was a natural lie detector and at deception. you were a little wary of her at first, but then the three of you became close. 

however, she had always trusted dean more and was more best friends with him than you. 

a part of you felt left out, but you didn’t speak up in fear of being dramatic. it was enough lia was your friend you told yourself. 

not too long after another girl joined the small group, sloane tavish who was a natural statistician. 

she was quite weird and awkward, spewing the most random facts when she saw an opportunity, but you got along with her great. however, she was almost occupied in the basement doing experiments to be a friend to you in the traditional sense. 

you’d still hoped for a best friend of your own. and your wish got granted and brought to in the form of michael townsend, an emotion reader. 

though at first, he was like lia when he arrived, closed off and not very open to friendships. but eventually you all warmed up to each other. 

now that there was the presence of another male in the house, there was tension between the two. dean warned you to be weary around michael because he didnt trust him fully yet. 

however, michael saw to this and took the opportunity to come around you whenever he pleased. and dean would retaliate by telling michael to stay away, but this only encouraged him. 

you found him quite annoying at first, reading and calling out your emotions bluntly as casually as he says your name. but after awhile the two of you became very good friends. 

dean was more lenient as he got to know michael, but the two never became much of friends - more on a frenemies level.

you and michael connected over books, music, and learned more about each other. his mask started collapsing and you were able to open up the persona he tried so hard to hide. 

when him and lia started getting involved, you did your best not to care. you told yourself michael could be with who he wants, and him opening up to you didn't mean he liked you romantically. 

once cassie joined you guys, you and her became quick friends. you knew what it felt like to be left out, so you wanted to include her as much as you could. 

she helped you in realizing your feelings for michael. you hadn't ever let the thought cross your mind before, but after you confinded in cassie on your insecurity about lia and michael - it became clear. 

so you chicken out and spent time with michael less. it was lucky for you that being best friends with him meant you knew a few tricks to cover up your true emotions. but michael could tell something was off once you slowly distanced yourself. 

though your brother didn't mention it, you knew he was cheering on lia and michael if it meant you and michael disconnected. but he became occupied with cassie to get a chance to profile your reasoning for the distance. 

it came to a head when he cornered you one night, demanding an explanation. caught off guard, you let a crack of your true emotions reveal, and it was enough for michael to quickly pick up what it meant. 

you were utterly embarrassed and ready to face rejection, but he surprised you and instead kissed you. 

he admitted he had a fancy for you, as he put it. and the two of you began your relationship. 

you wanted to hide it for a bit because you knew dean would not approve whatsoever. but living with naturals meant there it was close to impossible to keep any secrets. lia was quick to catch on, and didn't waste a second in spreading it to the others.

the first thing dean did was punch michael in the face. it happened so abruptly, you both were in the living room then dean strided in angrily and just sucked punched your boyfriend. 

you immediately shouted at you brother for his overreaction, but dean kept throwing threats at michael to stay away from you . michael clutched his face, but wasn't faced - he was actually amused and just gave your brother a taunting smirk. 

you had to physically hold dean with all your might to prevent him from throwing another punch. 

dean's protectiveness only got worse from there. 

he watched the the two of you like a hawk. if he saw you close to one another, he would stand or sit between you both to divide you.

if you and michael went somewhere together, trust he was following closely behind. 

for instance, michael took you out to the movies for a date - going as far to rent the entire theater for you both. 

you leaned your head on michael at some point during the film, and that's when dean appeared from the seats behind you, and pushed your head off. 

you were startled so bad, the popcorn in your lap went flying.

dean consistently tried to tell you that michael was going to break your heart, he isn't the type to be serious, and that his past relationship with lia was proof of that. 

it was so much worse when he caught the two of you kissing or making out. 

he screamed to scare you two parts, physically separated the two of you, and he sometimes even tackled michael. 

you were completely embarrassed of your brother's actions, part of you feared it would actually scare your boyfriend away, but michael didn't care for dean's interference, he continued to be with you when and where ever he pleased. 

once cassie and dean got together, things cooled down a bit. she managed to get him to see a bit of reasoning. 

but dean still had a set of rules he expected you to follow. 

number one on the list was - if you and michael are alone in a room together, the door had to be open. especially if it was his room you were in. 

there was an incident that brought it on. 

you and michael frequently went up to his room for privacy to hang out. usually, you took naps, watched movies, researched a case, etc., although the both of you always just end up kissing on his bed. at this point, dean still could not believe the two of you were together. 

well, one afternoon the two of you were looking through interviews for a new case. then michael claimed he was desperately bored and needed to be entertained. you rolled your eyes at his antics and continued reading the transcripts. 

but then he slyly began kissing your neck, slowly pulling you away from the case and into the comfort of his bed. 

next thing you knew, you were under him, making out devoutly on his bed. no surprise that michael got what he wanted. 

his hands made it way under your shirt when dean came barging in, having an inquiry on the case you were supposed to be looking at. 

once he saw the position you two were in, he flipped out. yelling at michael to get off of you and threatening to kill him. you immediately sat up, composing yourself and tried to calm your brother down. michael was of no help, he just rolled his eyes at his outrage and said, "if your this angry at kissing, at hate to see your reaction to our other activities."

you threw a pillow at him, "not helping!"

everyone else ran into the room because of the loud commotion, much to your humiliation, thinking a something horrible had occurred.

lia was holding back a hard laugh, cassie tried to reel dean in, sloane threw in some statistics on sister and brother's best friend relations, judd had to break up michael and dean's fight, and agents briggs and sterling just stayed at their door annoyed by the whole event. 

you wanted to forget that whole event entirely, the thought enough makes you wanna cringe in shame. 

ever since then, dean has made it his sole purpose to ensure the door is always open; he even walks by the room every few hours, which he swears is just a coincidence. 

the only common subject that brings michael and dean together is you. it seems to be the only thing they agree on when it pertains to your well-being. 

they are quick to object to anything that would put you in danger.

lia had convinced you and cassie to go along with her to a college party, she claimed it would help you guys find more evidence for a lead on the case. she gave you guys some interesting clothing to fit the role. 

you three got in smoothly and split up to talk to possible suspects or witnesses. you talked to were able to talk with a few people, feigning curiosity. lia had been right, there was connections to the case at the party. 

you were talking with a guy who was as interesting as a brick, but he was unknowingly drunkenly babbling about possible useful information, so you acted interested, nodding along to his obnoxious story. 

but then he started getting handsy, trying to get you into his room, and you declined very clearly multiple times, but dude couldn't take the message. 

when you tried to walk away he grabbed your wrist harshly, calling you malicious names for leading him on. you were on the verge of calling for lia or cassie, when the drunk man was forcefully pulled away from you. 

you were then pushed behind someone protectively, and you recognized his back appearance; it was dean.

turning toward direction of where the drunk guy was pulled into, and there was your boyfriend, angrily holding the guy by the collar. 

"don't touch my girlfriend."

"girlfriend? dude, hate to break it to you, but she was all over me. practically whoring herself out since she's arrived."

michael wasted no time in throwing a fist to the guy's face for his remark. 

dean also look agitated at the guy's degradtion of you, and for the first time, looked satisfied at michael's actions. eventually, dean had to pull michael away from seriously injuring the guy, and drawing even more attention. 

cassie and lia made their way to you, surprised by the arrival of the guys, who looked pretty peeved at the fact you all three snuck out. 

wasting no time, you all were driven back home by michael; quietly making your way into the house to avoid alerting sterling and judd. 

lia and cassie were smart to quickly to make their way to their rooms, but you weren't so lucky; dean held your arm to stop you from escaping. 

you were used to dean's reprimands, and even the occasional chide from michael when you did something dangerously, but you knew you were in for it if both of them were ready to scold you. 

dean started it - rhetorically, asking what were you thinking, then went into his 'protective brother' rant you were too use to. then michael jumped in, saying you going along with a lia plan was never the best idea and that you should've at least told him to go along with you.

they even took turns having a go at how stupid the entire plan was. you never wanted them to go back to fighting more than now. 

why couldn't they have bonded over sports or games like normal people.

you tried to defend your side, saying you did find helpful information, but it fell deaf to their ears. 

you were watched like a hawk for week after that. dean even threatened to put a ankle monitor on you. michael was even amused at his threat. the jerks. 

dean and michael's small alliance quickly ended the moment michael made a indecent comment about you at dinner. 

in time, dean did start getting along with michael. he still liked to act protective, but you knew in his heart he trusted michael and knew he was a good man for you. 

but to this day, dean continues to glare at any pda you and michael share. 

god, you'd hate to see the day michael asks dean for his blessing. 

[littlemourningstarr]

Dreamstate

Vette can't be sure why he agreed to leave his home in Secomber and follow Gale to Waterdeep- but he told himself the possibility of learning under such an accomplished wizard was a once in a lifetime opportunity, and he needed to take it. But Waterdeep is a completely different world, and Vette is forced to realize just how alone he has always been- and that, perhaps, he felt it was justly deserved.

Chapter 7: Take What You Want

Read below or on AO3!

Pairing: Gale x Original Male Character

Part of the Eternally Yours series!

Tags: Tags to be added as this journey continues, teacher-student relationship, fantasy racism, pining, emotional hurt/comfort, hurt/comfort, miscommunication, if you squint there is some past sexual trauma, masturbation, fluff, slight voyeurism, handjobs, blowjobs, just a touch of sugar baby treatment

“I really think it would work,” Vette said, as he and Gale entered the classroom. Students were already beginning to settle in, most chatting amongst themselves. “Drow have used their house insignia for teleportation for generations- there’s no reason I can’t figure out the intricacies behind it. Make teleportation easier.”

“You forget you have done it, without the aid of a glyph,” Gale pointed out, setting the tome he was carrying on his desk- from his personal library, for today’s lesson.

Vette clicked his tongue. “Okay, let me just get stabbed again every time I don’t want to walk.” Gale gawked at him, and Vette gave a smug grin, folding his arms. “Tressym got your tongue, Gale?”

The wizard’s eyers flashed, this playful glint sparkling in them, making the sorcerer’s belly go up in knots. He swore that he’d been in some sort of dance with Gale, all morning- hells, even the night before, after what he’d done, knowing his wizard had to be listening.

“Or is it just little old me that’s got it?” Vette added, watching in delight as Gale’s breath caught. He could do this. He could take the initiative. He could flirt.

He’d done it countless times in his life- it shouldn’t have been difficult. Except he liked Gale- really liked him- and there was a clawing fear in him of messing this up. He didn’t want him to just be gone after a few days-

He wanted to wake up with him, and know he wasn’t just going to breeze out of Vette’s life.

Before Vette could say more- or savor Gale’s reaction further- he heard his name being yelled from a cluster of seats, close to the front of the room. The student from yesterday was nearly leaning over the table, about to fall out of her seat, waving excitedly at him.

He arched a brow, a bit perplexed, and then he felt Gale’s hand on his back, giving him a very gentle push. “Looks like you’ve got a fan.” Another gentle push, and Vette was walking over, offering what felt like a strangely nervous smile.

“What you did yesterday was so cool,” the girl said, not moving from nearly laying on the table. Around her a few of the other students her age had clustered as well, were all chiming in.

How did you make it so cold?

Did you really fight a lich-vampire with Professor Dekarios?

Can you breathe fire?

The last one might have been offensive, once- but Vette found he was just laughing over it. It had been asked by the youngest student in the class- a small dwarf boy who, according to Gale, showed such aptitude with the weave that he was sure he’d be apprenticed to a well learned wizard before he was even ten.

“It’s complicated,” Vette offered, looking at the student that asked the first question. “I absolutely did,” to the second, and then- “And sadly no, I haven’t figured that one out yet.”

There was a round of laughter, and the first girl finally slid back into her seat, patting the chair next to her. “Sit with us,” she said, to a round of nods and pleases from the other students. Vette glanced up at the spot he normally took, apart from the students-

And then back at Gale, over his shoulder. The wizard was watching, a bemused, glorious smile on his face. He gave a single nod, and Vette settled down into the offered seat, as the students continued to bombard him with questions.

*

Vette spent most of the day entertaining the younger students’ questions. Some of them had even circled back to Gale’s classroom well after his lecture, crowding around Vette, vying for his attention.

It was a mindblowing feeling, the rush of sudden adoration- and gods, did he love it. Vette couldn’t push them away for a single moment, until finally it was late and Gale was shooing them off, telling them he had best see this type of enthusiasm tomorrow during his class.

Vette watched them all file out, giving them a little wave, as Gale tidied up the books on his desk. Vette went to reach for one, but Gale waved him off. “We’ll come back for them.”

“Back?” Vette asked, as Gale headed for the doorway to his classroom. The sorcerer followed into the spacious halls, crossing through one of the many courtyards the academy boasted. Currently there were two students quite engrossed in having a set of elementals utterly pulverize each other.

Vette was distracted for a moment, slowing his steps, before he realized Gale had gotten quite far ahead of him. He hurried after him, noting that the man had not answered his question yet.

They bypassed the entrance to the library tower, instead pausing as Gale unlocked a door across the hall from its entrance, fingers dragging along the air as brilliant blue sparks appeared- an invisible combination being accepted. The door clicked open, and Gale stepped in, motioning for Vette to follow.

The room seemed just like a small sitting room- a few chairs, a comfortable looking couch. “Did you just bring me into some secret professor’s lounge?” Vette teased, daring to reach out, grasp at Gale’s teaching robes. He’d meant to tug on them playful, but in the end he felt he’d simply given the image of a lost child, clutching at their protector.

“We don’t lock that,” Gale chided, leading him across the room to a shelf. He glanced along the books, pulling a few out in a precise order- Vette assumed even to precise distances- before it groaned, the shelf sliding along the wall, revealing a set of stairs. Gale began descending, Vette rushing to catch up, trying not to get too hung up on the whole secret bookshelf door thing.

The room they entered was circular- not overly large, the walls completely lined with shelves, slotted with books and scrolls. The floor itself seemed to pulse a soft blue, like dancing lights around their feet.

“What is this?” Vette asked, standing at the base of the stairs, looking around in sheer wonder. He swore he could feel the heat of the weave emanating from the books.

“The academy’s most prized books and scrolls,” Gale offered, walking across the room, pausing to touch the spine of an old book that had to be held together by sheer force of will alone. “Accessible only by certain staff.” Gale turned, added, “you can move, I promise the room won’t eat you alive. You’re with me.”

Vette crossed the room, not pausing a pace from Gale but moving right into his space. “So, you’re saying no one can just walk in on us…”

He trailed off, thinking of the way Gale had pressed into the crook of his neck that morning, while holding his coffee. He hadn’t kissed but gods he’d been a warm, solid presence, had made Vette’s knees so weak.

Gale didn’t answer- he didn’t need to. The little smirk, the glimmer to his eyes, it was enough. If Vette could just take the invitation.

How can I take care of you if you won’t take care of yourself?

How could Gale act on Vette’s desires if Vette couldn’t act on them himself?

He swallowed the lump in his throat, before he splayed a hand on Gale’s chest, pushing him back against the shelf. The wizard moved easily, not a single bone or muscle resisting, as Vette grabbed at the shelf with his other hand, pinning Gale between he and the furniture.

He did hesitate, another single breath, before he finally gathered the courage to close what little space was between them, his mouth finding Gale’s. For a moment, a single, aching, terrifying moment, Vette did wonder if Gale would push him away, if he had overstepped-

But his mentor grasped at his waist, pulling him flush to his chest, forcing the hand Vette had between them to fall away, grip at the bookshelves as well. Gale nipped at his lower lip, had Vette trembling in a moment, before his tongue was soothing the sting of his teeth. When it pushed into Vette’s mouth he gasped, inclining his head to give Gale better access, his hips canting forward.

Unlike the previous night, Gale didn’t hold himself back. He ground against Vette, nearly jerking him against him as he tried to pull him closer still. When the wizard broke from his mouth, he moved with purpose to Vette’s jaw, to nip at his pierced lobe, making him utterly quake.

“You’re allowed to take what you want from me,” Gale murmured, before his mouth moved along his neck, his pulse point.

Vette sucked at his lip, let his eyes fall shut for a moment. What did he want? Aside of this, of Gale’s mouth on his throat, his hands clutching at him, making his very bones ache with need-

His stomach flipped in excitement and nerves as he realized he wanted to see the wizard fall apart, to see him proud and blissed out.

He wanted what he had imagined, the night before…

Vette let go of the shelves, forced Gale to straighten up so he could kiss him again. He was pleased to let Gale lead, guide him on how to incline his head, move his tongue, as his hands slipped between them, sliding along Gale’s robes, opening them.

He could just feel the heat of him, through his clothing, as his hands skimmed down his belly, pausing at his pants, fingers working at the lacing, the ornate buttons there. Gale broke the kiss as Vette slipped a hand in. “Shouldn’t we be- ah,” he gasped, losing his train of thought as Vette’s hand cupped his cock through his underwear, cradled the hard bulge of it pressing to his palm. “Reversed?”

Vette licked his lips, managing to carefully stroke Gale just slightly, given the lack of room. “No,” he whispered, before he pulled his hand from Gale’s pants and dropped down to his knees. He pressed his face into Gale’s belly, nuzzled soft skin, the bit of fat that padded him now that he no longer needed to run around all of Faerŭn or attempt to impress a literal goddess, his hands tugging at the waistband of Gale’s underwear, desperately seeking his cock.

The wizard reached down, just as Vette freed him, his cock nearly brushing his lips as it bobbed free. When he glanced up as Gale’s fingers dragged along his jaw, saw the man watching him with the kindest stare he had ever seen anyone give him in his entire life.

His chest seized, a buzzing pain rushing through him as he felt like he could burst from his skin. Choosing to focus that energy, Vette leaned in slightly, placed a soft kiss to the side of Gale’s cock, cupping his shaft as he held his stare.

“I want to taste you,” Vette admitted, mind beginning to drown in the scent of Gale’s skin. His own cock ached, but he could ignore it. He would ignore it. “It’s what I thought about, last night.”

Gale’s eyes lit up in the blackest of flames, and Vette knew in that moment he had been right- that Gale had stayed, had listened to him bringing himself off. He grinned, couldn’t help it, before he turned, opened his mouth and let his tongue coyly flick at Gale’s cockhead. The wizard relaxed back against the shelf slightly, as Vette stroked him slowly, his other hand holding onto Gale’s hip- not to steady the wizard, but to steady himself.

He eased his cockhead past his lips, sucked gently, heard a pleased little breath leave his mentor. The salt of Gale’s precum overtook his senses, left him feeling thirsty. He swirled his tongue playfully, before easing down his shaft, his hand falling away until his nose was nestled in the dark brown curls at Gale’s groin.

The older man’s hips twitched, a breathy “by the gods,” leaving his mouth, as Vette swallowed around him, without a hint of choking.

This, Vette knew, he was good at.

He eased back, all the way off Gale’s cock, a bit of saliva connecting his lips to the glistening head of his cock. He could see a bit of flush growing along Gale’s cheeks.

He wanted to be witty, to feed him the sort of saccharine soaked line that would have Gale melting in his hand, but his mind was nothing but a buzzing storm of static. Forgoing words, Vette took Gale back into his mouth, moving in a steady rhythm, taking the man all the way to the back of his throat.

He heard the thunk of Gale’s head, hitting the shelf as he sagged back against it, his hips canting slowly, chasing Vette’s mouth every time he pulled back. He curled his fingers tightly to Gale’s hips, but instead of holding him back jerked them forward, forced the man’s cock to push at his throat, pin his tongue down. A breathy fuck! filled Vette’s head, before one of Gale’s hands was reaching down, stroking along the top of his head, to the point where his hair was tied back.

Vette squeezed his eyes shut, felt the corners growing wet as his jaw burned, slightly. He welcomed it, a distraction from how desperately his own cock was screaming for attention. Gods, he swore he was going to come completely untouched, like this, happily choking on Gale’s cock-

He squeezed his hips harder, pushed Gale firmly back against the shelves as he desperately swallowed him, over and over again, chasing his wizard’s orgasm with such a fervor one would think it was his own. He drank down each little noise Gale gave him, each panted breath and groan, every whimper until Gale was shuddering, pulling his head in close. The rush of cum over his tongue, against his throat, had Vette whining brokenly, trying to swallow it down, not wanting even a drop to leak past his lips.

The bitterness was divine, made him squeeze Gale’s hips with a bruising force. He felt the wizard petting his hair again, trying to guide Vette off him. The sorcerer relented, pulling back, jaw slack as he panted for breath.

He was barely aware of Gale tucking himself away, his mind spinning with a pulsing joy, blood buzzing under his skin-

But when Gale got down on the floor with him, gathered him up into his arms, he drifted back to the present. The wizard kissed him without hesitation- if he had a single care about Vette’s tongue tasting of his cum, he never once voiced it.

The half-drow wasn’t used to that. So many partners had refused a kiss after he’d brought them to orgasm. But then again, so many had been done with him the moment their afterglow cleared.

Gale cradled his face in one hand, the other between them, pushing at his student robes and then pressing to his groin. Vette bucked into his touch, as Gale pulled from his mouth, dragged his teeth along his throat. “Let me touch you,” he breathed, voice a bit hoarse, a rasp from his throat and chest. Vette was trembling, barely able to string together a thought as Gale got into his robes and then his pants, fingers tracing the bulge of his cock through his underwear.

Vette worried at his lip so hard he tasted blood, reaching for Gale’s shoulders and grasping on with a death grip. The wizard hushed him, soothed him with little kisses along his throat, as he rubbed along his clothed cock, teased at the head. There was a large damp spot pressed to it, the precum Vette was leaking embarrassing.

“Teasing you seems cruel,” Gale observed, even as he simply dragged a finger along the underside of his cock. Vette’s hips bucked almost violently. “Shh, shh, I’ve got you,” Gale soothed, moving to pull at the waistband of his underwear. The moment his hand was around Vette’s cock the half-drow was shaking, hips eagerly wriggling about as Gale stroked him slowly. “Gods your skin feels like fire.”

Gale lifted his head, moved to kiss Vette again. The room had completely phased out of reality, to Vette- there was nothing but Gale’s mouth, his sweet kisses, the bliss of his hand. Everything else had ceased to matter, to exist.

“Look how wet you got,” Gale said, against his lips, his tumb rolling over his cockhead. Vette’s cock was weeping, precum making Gale’s fingers slick. The sorcerer flushed, a heated color rising along his cheeks, as he buried his face into the crook of Gale’s neck, trying to hide away. “No, no, it’s good,” Gale cooed, still stroking slowly. “I want you to feel good.”

Vette kept himself buried in Gale’s neck, inhaling the scent of his cologne, his sweat, grounded by the scratch of his beard, when he tipped his face up slightly, kissed his jaw. Gale wrapped his other arm around him, cradled him close.

“Can you come for me?” he asked, and Vette found he was desperately nodding, as Gale’s hand sped up slightly. “That’s a good boy. Like this?” He twisted his fist around Vette’s cockhead, and Vette stifled a cry into Gale’s neck, had the wizard chuckling. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Gale kissed the top of his head, still whispering little sweet nothings to him, calling him his, doting on him with little whispers of you can do it, and let yourself go.

“That’s it.” His words came with such ease, as Vette felt the pleasure coiling almost painfully in his pelvis, grasping with hungry tendrils at his spine. When Vette came, it was with a broken sob into Gale’s throat, body trembling so hard he swore his bones were knocking together. And Gale was telling him he was good, he was so good.

Gale’s hand worked along his shaft through the orgasm, until Vette was boneless, collapsing against him in a heap. The wizard chuckled over it, carefully pulled his hand away as Vette began to squirm a bit, over stimulation making him hyper sensitive. Vette tipped his head back a little, just to have Gale press a lingering kiss to his temple.

“You did well,” he offered, as Vette rested his cheek on his shoulder.

“Was sucking you off an assignment, professor?” he teased, even as his heart fluttered over the praise. Gale gave a very undignified laugh.

“Brat. If you’d rather I stop talking-”

“Never.” It came so quickly that Vette couldn’t even try to keep the thought in. Wanting to bury the admission, he reached for Gale’s hand as he sat up, the room still swimming a bit, the afterglow a pulsing joy inside his muscles, his bones- and eased a few of Gale’s cum-sticky fingers into his mouth, over his tongue.

Gale’s eyelids fluttered as Vette sucked at them softly, rolled his tongue over them and tasted himself. He held the wizard’s stare, a silent promise that he would gladly put his mouth back to work if Gale so much as breathed even a hint of desire for that.

Gale pulled his fingers from Vette’s mouth, his other hand moving to his face, thumb rubbing along his cheek. “You little minx.” The half-drow offered a grin, before Gale pulled back, stood up slowly. He offered his clean hand down, the other dipping into his robe, wiping off Vette’s saliva, as the sorcerer accepted the hand and stood up slowly. He fumbled with his pants, as Gale turned, took a few steps away and paused at a shelf, grabbing a scroll. “Ah, here it is.”

Vette stared for a moment. “Wait, you mean you came down here for a reason. And not just to put us somewhere with a little privacy?”

The wizard turned to face him, amusement alight in his eyes. “Of course.” He waggled the scroll in his hand. “If you’re so intent on your teleportation glyphs, this spell will be quite useful. Besides, if I just wanted privacy for us, I would have taken us back to the tower.”

He moved up to Vette, kissed his cheek with a smile.

“This was very unplanned but most welcome.” Gale paused, before he added, “even if I was trying to take my time with you.”

Vette could only grin. “I don’t need to be wooed, Gale. Trust me.”

“Oh my dear, I could do more than woo you.” Gale grasped his waist again, pulled him in close. “I could wow you.”

The fact that Vette could laugh as Gale kissed him, could grin against the wizard’s mouth, was such a new feeling that his mind didn’t know how to comprehend it. All he knew was he felt good, felt safe-

Felt wanted.

[octou-sin]

Something I hate.

The attraction to goth girls, manic pixie dream girls, or tóxica/latinas from a hetero male perspective.

When I first met my boyfriend and was around his down bad guy friends they would obsess over tóxicas or goth girls. Making jokes about wanting to date “them mentally ill girls”, and I am just that. I am hispanic, I dress in dark gothic clothes time-to-time, and I have BPD and schizophrenia. So, I am labeled into these categories by hetero white men. Some of these men are roommates of mine, but they don’t understand that these labels and diagnostics aren’t just for quirks. I have psychotic episodes, I have breakdowns, I have scary moments I don’t always remember, but I don’t hurt people.

After my roommates had a clear view of how my mental illnesses affect me, they viewed me completely differently. People who I once was able to hang out with and have pleasant interactions with is no longer there. As well, they now go out their way to annoy me since we have not spoken in months due to one of my outbreaks. I don’t understand why they would if they fear me in the first place, and do things which are obviously irritable. These are the same type of people wanting these type of women, but they don’t understand them. The reason I hate this so much is because I will be admired, or fetishized, but I am not one that someone will commit to. I’ve currently have had a boyfriend for two years and the only reason I believe we have stayed together is because he was aware of my issues and didn’t fantasize about them, and about abusing those diagnostics against me.

Many other women, or feminine outward appearance people have dealt in the past with men who think trauma can be used to manipulate, and abuse their partners. Many others like me have dealt with loving a person who sees you only as an object. Others like me have had those issues weaponized against them, like in; threats to institutionalize, threats of violence, psychical violence, sexual abuse, and many more issues like these.

These labels do AND don’t define us. I enjoy many hobbies, I am very well versed and educated in topics I am passionate about. I am not a person who is mostly bubbly then switches towards self harm. I do not act allistic, and I don’t act like a 1940s cartoon esc character who needs a lobotomy. Mentally i’ll partners are not accessories to your life. Mentally i’ll people are mentally i’ll for a reason, even with thorough treatment for cognitive issues, it doesn’t resolve episodes, and if someone is aware that their partner has severe diagnosis it isn’t just a label, it is a big part of understanding who someone is. If you leave someone after they told you their issues and they finally come to light, and then you leave them, you are fetishizing characters you deem as weak, until they show that they are not.

Sorry if this is all over the place.

[crimsonsongbird]

Heya, friend!

So, when I originally started my journey with the gods, I was very much against working with male deities. This was both due to my experience with the men in my life (mostly my father) as well as trauma from my time in the church. I feared all male deities would bring the same relationship I had with the Christian god, which was a very bad one. So I only sought out female deities, starting with Mother Hekate.

However, after listening to the experiences of others and receiving readings telling me that certain male deities were reaching out, I dipped my toe in and had such a lovely experience. My first few male deities were from different pantheons at the time (Kemetic and Hellenic), but I was shown that they were nothing like their myths or my father. And those experiences were nothing like the one I had with the Christian god either. I felt safe, heard, and comforted in the presence of these new deities. So I threw my starting rule out the window.

But, truth be told, I still had difficulty approaching certain male deities, like Zeus and recently Poseidon, because their myths had me very scared they would have overbearing, authoritative, toxic male personalities, but that was my trauma talking. I have since approached them both and was welcomed like a child coming home to loving father figures. I have since learned to look at a deity's epithets and not their myths.

Thanks for your question!

~Crimson

[acourtofthought]

Hello love, its been a while ~

I was doing a lot of re-reading and I don't know if someone ask before. Mostly cause Read something about Tamlin and I started looking more into it. While I won't ever forgive TAM For doing nothing while Feyre went through the trial, I get its based on the Ordeal of Tam Lin. But what happened after I am trying to Analyse his POV, since we already have someone who wrote Rhys POV. And i came to the part where Rhys had to go to Hewm city and he told Feyre, he's debating whether he wants her to come because he doesn't want her to see, who he has to become, and the part he has to play. Which in height sigh makes me take a double take, While Tam actions are terrible, In a way I can see his desperation because, This person, this male who he doesn't want Feyre to see, this person he's scared to show to his mate, is how everyone else besides the inner circle Sees Rhysand, and also there is already a strained relationship with him and Tamlin from before. So I wanted to see what you thought Tamlin's POV would be, and how desperate he must've been to make the decision he made, Cause I would've probably do some horrible things too If I thought My loved one was being kept by someone who's depicted as a terrible person. what do you think of this?

Hello!!!! I have missed you and hope you are well! I love that you're tackling something that not many delve into. You know, I don't necessarily blame Tamlin for not doing more UTM (at least up until the part where he and Feyre were about to hook up) because he was being monitored by Amarantha. He'd already seen what she was capable of doing to others and knew that she was looking for anything to use as leverage against him so had he given even a hint of his feelings for Feyre, she would have used that against him. I do think his lack of action or emotion was a smart play for the most part. Rhys was able to do more for Feyre because he'd had all those years to establish himself as Amarantha's "ally" and had gained a bit of her trust. Tamlin did not have that luxury. After that my frustration with Tamlin comes from his lack of truly listening to his partner telling him all the ways she was struggling and not looking at ways he could help himself. I don't think he was trying to cause her suffering, I think he truly wanted her to be happy but I think his fears, anxiety, etc made him behave irrationally and he lacked the self awareness to realize that "I need to fix myself first so that I can be who she needs". With that said, I don't know that it's fair that on top of everything else he was dealing with, like helping his court find their way again (Lucien tells us that the people of Spring ended up doing terrible things to one another during their confinement) and his own traumas, he was also stressed about the bargain Rhys forced Feyre into. Rhys allowed others to believe the worst of him so there was a countdown clock hanging over all their heads for the day Rhys called in his bargain. There was countdown clock on how many days were left before Rhys began torturing the female Tamlin loved. We saw how beside himself Rhys was at finding out about Feyre's pregnancy and that was a year after they won the war while his people remained somewhat sheltered from it all. Imagine how Tamlin probably felt weeks after being freed from a 50 year curse while worrying about his people (who were tormented for 50 years), his court and Feyre's life? It's a lot and honestly, I think many would make poor decisions during that time. It's a shame those decisions harmed Feyre's health and well being but it's more tragic than anything. He was fighting a hundred different enemies in all directions and he lost his way. Had Rhys and Feyre both been more honest about Rhys and the NC I don't know that things would have gotten to the point they did. Tamlin isn't blameless in letting things get to the point they did but neither were Rhys or Feyere. They all contributed to the shit show that followed. Really, I think a mistake on both Tamlin and Feyre's part was jumping into their engagement when neither was in a place to really focus on their relationship.

[alanaever]

I made my choices.

For hurricane, JustAlliHere. For the Fourth Wing Birthday Bash!

Thank you to @justallihere and @skyfallscotland (tumblr) for organizing!

Dialogue prompt:"How does it feel to not get your way?"from Jana-@creativepromptsforwriting.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Brennan Sorrengail, Type of death: violent Age: 24 Sex: male  Date of death: assumed 1st July

Comments: shot through the chest with an arrow, death immediate. However unnecessary physical trauma was exerted on the body after death; the lungs, liver, intestines and stomach were fully removed cut up and scattered around the body. The heart and brain are partially removed and the head is partially attached. Blood had been drained and used to paint phases and depictions of Lilith Sorrengail’s other children in similar states of disembowelment. 

This is a brutal mutilation suspected conducted by Fen Riorson himself, one that goes against Tyrrish respect for the dead on a great account allowing it to be known the Tyrrish have lost all respect for human life. We all know the gods don’t allow incomplete corpses to enter their kingdom. The corpse was burnt on sight. There was no pressing need to burden a family that has given so much to Navarre’s cause with those images. 

Unnecessary physical trauma exerted on the body… heart and brain partially removed… blood drained. 

Brennan was dead. 

We read the reports, we weren’t supposed to not after Dad’s first heart attack upon reading them. A heart attack I didn't know about till I read the reports and the medical advisement underneath for them not to be shown to the remaining siblings.  

I was in battle brief when I heard 20 to his 24. “Squadron 6 of Summerton engaged in battle against the Tyrrish forces on Tuesday evening… they were successful in pushing back the Tyrrish forces to Aretia,” the cheers. God the cheers. 

Granted there were Tyrrish in the room and a brawl nearly kicked off but god I cheered not knowing… “During this battle, all members of the squadron were killed. Most notably a siphon and a mender two of the rarest signets in our arsenal.” I remember the dread then, the desperation, the hope that it was someone else anyone else. I sat wishing death upon every one of the five menders in Navarre’s military desperate that this one wasn’t mine. 

“The Mender is suspected of being in close combat with Fen Riorson and managed to push him back into the boarders, however, he left himself exposed when he put himself in the way of one of Fen’s arrows to protect a group of civilians both Navarrian and Tyrrish… all of the civilians survived thanks to this. The syphon died channelling power into the mender to aid him in repairing the damage done by the arrow unfortunately it wasn't enough they both died in the process.” 

I knew, I don't know how I did but I just knew. Devera’s voice had somehow conveyed some kind of knowledge of my Brother’s demise. I sat staring at my desk not daring to look up and meet eyes with the professors fearful that they would confirm what I already knew. Brennan was dead and so was Naolin the person who meant everything to Bren even if he would never tell. 

Brennan was dead. 

But someone else asked for me. “Who were the members of the squadron,” a shaky voice, likely another younger sibling. 

“The Squadron was comprised of: Antonia Hows - an ice welder, Mayra Rice - an air wielder, Jaxson Wixinstien - a visual manipulator, Brax Sahali” There's a sharp intake of breath from one of the fourth wing squads “- an astral projector, Naolin Velasco” there are whispers with this name Tairn, Tairn’s rider. But all I can think of is the certainty that Brennan is gone. “- the siphon and Brennan Sorrengail - the mender.” I remember breathing in deeply through my nose and swallowing. Eyes were suddenly on me with force the name Sorrengail means something in these parts it always has. 

Brennan was dead.  

I asked for the report and was told it wasn't being distributed to cadets, I asked if it was being distributed to family. I was told it was at the desecration of the general. The General said no. 

That night I crept into the archives I searched high and low until I found it and her. It seemed Violet had got there before me. Her features had changed in the year we’d been apart but they were distorted now through tears as she sat reading long reports. We held each other tightly as we read the autopsy, the battle logs everything. That day burned into my soul the words etched into my brain like I was Violet capable of repeating every word I’d ever read i will never forget it. 

Brennan was dead. 

Brennan was dead.

Brennan was dead. But he isn’t any more. 

Brennan was dead or is alive or was dead or is dead. 

Brennan was dead. 

I don’t sleep that night. But I wake in the morning from a dream I’m scared to examine. Brennan was dead. 

I dress slowly in the unfamiliar room and open the door slowly to find a guard at my door. 

“Lieutenant Sorrengail,” I nod. 

“Is there a Lieutenant Colonel Brennan here? I don’t recall the surname,” there's a desperation in my voice that I wish I could mask.

“There is no Brennan here Miss. That is a Navarrian name, not a Tyrrish one.” Brennan is dead. “Can I take you to the lieutenant colonel perhaps he can aid you,” 

“Yes… please,” the desperation won't go and the guard looks at me with something akin to pity. 

I walked through vast hallways that reminded me of Castle Calldyr but I barely paid attention till the guard was rapping on an ornate wooden door and a muffled voice was saying enter. 

The guard is pushing open the door and gently cajoling me inside before stepping back and closing it gently. The figure at the desk doesn’t look up from the paperwork on their desk as I enter so I don’t speak I stand still and wait.

Brennan was dead. 

The room is familiar it reminds me of Mum and Dad’s office back home in Calldyr but it’s all whites and pale browns and marble where as there had been black and deep mahogany with onyx granite surfaces. It’s sleek and modern Navarrian in styling not Tyrrish and a contrast to the rest of this estate. I wonder if he put it together himself or if it was done as a reminder of who he is by someone else. I like it. 

Brennan sits up after about 20 minutes his eyes locking with mine. He stands up but doesn't move. 

“You shouldn’t be her Mira,” he says covering paperwork with blank pieces of paper, I’m a Sorrengail after all and he is not. 

“What’s your name,” it’s a strange ask, but if there’s no Brennan here then he’s changed his entire identity. The only child of two loyal parents of the Tyrrish Apostasy that kind of thing.

“You’ve known me for 26 years, Mira,” 

“You used to be Brennan Sorrengail, no Brennan of any kind exists in Tyrrandor.” He breathes a sigh.

“Damien Aiserigh,” I laugh hollowly and he raises an eyebrow. 

“Very clever, Aiserigh - Tyrrish for resurrection, Damien - Tyrrish for loyalty but originating from the name Damon which is Navarrian for Silver, with the letter D meaning 30 in numerals. 30 pieces of silver traitor to Navarre, loyal to Tyrrandor,” I laugh again.

“I thought you never paid all that much attention to Dad’s teachings but you got it as quickly as Vi and she was the first person to ever figure it out.” 

“Don’t speak to me about our father, Violet might be happy to reminisce with you but I’m not.”

“Violet won’t discuss it either, you’re not unique in that way Mira.” His tone is dry and I hate it it speaks of boredom and having better. Things to do.  “What are you doing here Mira, who brought you there’s sensitive information all over here and I have a meeting in five minutes,” 

“Shall I go, find someone to shove me in the dungeons I'm sure there are some promises diplomats around to lock me up or some Tyrrish ones,” 

“Mira.” The voice is short.

“Yes, Damien,” 

“Don’t call me that,”

I’d have said something else in the past but the idea of getting into a petty name argument is to siblingy to Bren and Miry, not Mira and Brennan.

“don’t you care how many people you’ve killed, don’t you feel remorse for the families you’ve torn apart.” He accuses. 

“It happens on both sides of the border Damien, they killed my friends as well,” 

“You don’t have friends Mira, you never have,” 

“I had friends. Had friends. Get it because they're dead. I’m not ashamed of what I did to avenge them and protect myself,” 

“You killed innocent people, innocent flyers,” 

“What’s the difference between a flyer and a rider Brennan do explain it to me, they fought to protect their home we fought to protect ours we didn't have the full story that’s the only fucking difference,” I’m raising my voice now his disregard for me, for his fucking sister hurts.

“You killed civilians Mira, battle of Strythmore, I read the reports,” 

“So did they, attack on Draithus, a school was blown up with their explosive arrows,” 

“It’s propaganda Mira use your fucking head.” 

“I WAS THERE. Don’t you fucking tell me to use my head? You use yours there is no good and evil not with soldiers were weapons used by the elites to fulfil their agendas, they killed civilians to Brennan.”

“You personally, singlehandedly slaughtered a village. They did not.” 

“I have never laid hands upon a child don’t you dare accuse me of such a thing.” “You have killed more children through your strategies with the flyers than I ever have. Read the fucking report at Strythmore if you know it so well I didn’t do it for Navarre I did it because they killed my friend, stripped the skin of her back and burnt her to death, I killed them for it. I have no remorse.” 

“Mira,” 

“Don’t you Mira me, don’t pretend to care.” 

“I do care,” 

“No you fucking don’t, if you did your first words to me this morning would have been an apology or asking me if I’m alright but instead it’s ‘Why are you here,’ let me cover up my paperwork because I don’t trust you,” 

“Do you blame me,”

“Who else is there to blame, you left us Brennan, you destroyed our lives for what? This is not a successful revolution in a thriving city you’ve accomplished nothing in six years but destroying your own family,” he shoves me hard and I smack my head into the wall. 

“Scared of the truth, don’t want to hear it. You killed our father,” 

“He died two years later,” 

“He died six months later after a series of heart attacks that followed reading your gruesome death autopsy,” 

“Six months,” “well that autopsy was a fabrication as well so that’s hardly my fault,” 

“You stayed dead Brennan, you choose strangers over your family,”

“Yes because our mother was such a good-” “Don’t you fucking pretend to be hard done by her your not Vi you can’t claim that accolade, she loved you more than anything in the fucking world Brennan,”

“She sent me to die,” 

“She fought on the front lines all her life Brennan she was there up until you left the quadrant or did you forget this in your desire to feel mistreated and betrayed,” 

“We were your family, we mourned you,” 

“I mourned you, I missed you,” 

“You didn’t miss me enough, didn't miss Violet enough,” 

“Violet is not acting like this, she gets it,” 

“Is that what you say to let you sleep at night, you don’t know anything about Violet. You don’t love her like I do. I’d die rather than leave her, rather than betray her.” I take a shaky breath. “You are ten years older than her Brennan anything you know is outdated information, you are four years older than me but six years changes people a great deal you know. You’ve changed beyond recognition. Have I?” 

“I made a choice Mira I weighed the odds, and I chose what was right for the continent,” 

“No Brennan you choose the easy option don’t kid yourself stay in Tyrrandor have a cushy job making treaties and patting yourself on the back with your fucking assembly that you're doing the right thing. Well, I’m sorry the right thing would have been to come home and use your social standing as the eldest child of a dynasty descended from the first 6, as someone from one of the wealthiest Navarrian households to make a fucking stand. Violet has made more of a stand in the last 3 days than you have in three years by forcing Riorson’s hand and making him tell the cadets.”

“You know who had social standing Fen Riorson,” 

“You know who had more YOU.” “We like to pretend that were an honest good military family, we had more fucking resources at our disposal than the Tauri dynasty. Nobody had really heard of the Riorsons until the succession unless you were Tyrrish or involved with the aristocracy, everyone has heard the name Sorrengail. So get the fuck off your high horse,”  

“I’m late for my meeting Mira we can finish this another time, I’ll find you later,” 

“Please don’t bother Brennan, you made your choices I made mine, Violet made hers. You just made shitty ones, but you won't admit it. Go to your meeting you chose them after all not us. Riorson and Tavis and the rest there your replacements for me and Violet goes strategies with them instead of cleaning up the mess you made of your family,”

“Your acting out Mira like a fucking spoilt brat,” 

“You acting like we mean nothing to you Brennan and that hurts.” 

“You mean something to me,” 

“Not enough, you were everything to me and you abandoned me,” 

“Mira,” 

“How does it feel to not get your way, Brennan?” 

“I never pretended this was an easy decision,” 

“No, you didn’t you implied it, GO on get to your meeting fuck off,” 

“I can’t leave you in here with my paperwork,” 

“Why because I’m a Sorrengail, well Brennan you are too,” 

“I wish I wasn’t every day,” 

“Glad you finally admitted it so I’ll leave and let you get back to the city you loved more than us,” 

“I did miss you, Mira,” 

“Don’t kid yourself,” 

“Mira,” 

“Miry,” I turn then and smash my fist into his jaw. 

“Don’t you fucking call me that, you're not my brother or my sister you can’t call me that,” 

“I’m your Fucking brother,” 

“My brother died a long time ago,” 

“Mira, let me make it right. Sit down we can talk we can do anything please,” 

“I wanted to talk earlier you didn’t, thank you for your time Lieutenant Colonel” I walk out the door to the panicking shout of: 

“MIRA”