#and people with hearing loss do not suddenly forget how to speak.

[bonefall]

it is healing to come onto this blog and see basic respect for diasbility after being in other corners of the fandom and reading the words “snowkit could never be a warrior because he wouldnt know what anything is. he wouldnt even know what a clan is because nobody could explain it to him” said in full seriousness

Im..... That statement is so ableist I cannot even imagine the worldview you'd need to have in order to come up with that.

They really think the only way anyone learns anything is through verbal-speaking-words-noises? No one has ever observed something before? Not even once?

This is beyond touching grass, this person just fell out of the fucking Jurassic Period when all they had was ferns and stegosaurs.

I just...

OH YES. I remember my first day of Society Lessons as a hearing person, where the everything was explained to me. Via Audiobook. FIRST they spoke and said, "you are standing on the ground." It was a life changing revelation, and the world began to spin.

But it did not stop.

THEN they said, "there are fingers on your hands." The sensation of flesh and bone crackling into existence is indescribable, but I did not yet know pain, until they told me, "that hurts." I began screaming immediately.

And yet... it continued.

They explained so much. Chairs. Tables. Walls. The sky. Frogs. Ionizing radiation. Breathing. I was told all of it, in one sitting, and only then did I understand. Only when my ears were bursting with normal hearing knowledges, did they begin... my final test.

A strange wall-chair-finger emerged from the sky-of-the-wall, stood on the ground several times, until it was in front of me. A second one came behind it, this one slimmer. The audiobook gave these things names;

Human. Father. Mother. Door. Walking. It was completely impossible to know what these things were until that very moment.

I watch a human dip a hook into water and produce a fish, and I recall my Society Lessons where they called that "fishing." I am decked in the face by a nefarious hooligan, and I have only the audiobook to thank when I know I have been "punched" by a "bad guy." It was only the magic of verbal-speaking-words-noise that made me understand that there are "other people" and that they "do stuff."

Sometimes, even, in "groups."

Before the Society Lessons Audiobook, I knew nothing. I was pure, innocent, uncorrupted by concepts such as "parents" and "door." I am grateful every day that there is no such concept as "being shown things" or "simple logical reasoning" or "looking."

Blessed be those amongst us who escape the horrors of the Society Lessons Audiobook. I pray that you never learn what anything is. Be free! Free as a bird, which also knows nothing and famously cannot learn. 🤗

DEAF/HOH FOLLOWERS I'm losing my mind do you want me to bump a 'Hearing Disabilities Herb Guide' to the top of my priorities? Something you can use to bludgeon whackadoodles like that. This is ridiculous

Obviously not a MEDICINE guide but like; common causes of hearing disability in clan cats. Accommodations for hearing loss vs congenital deafness. Actual difficulties of not having that sense Clan-by-Clan. Debunking of misconceptions like... not being able to learn APPARENTLY.

#bone babble #Fennelposting #Obviously the answer is 'theyre incapable of THINKING' but like... they do know snow has a line right #In the book. He figured out. A word. Through observation. #He says 's'all right' because he knows it calms ppl down #He did not need to hear the magic words 'You can make noises at others to influence them' #Like a fucking tutorial tip #Im going to start keeping a JOURNAL of ''times people have been weird about snowkit specifically'' #Ableism #cw ableism #I could also link to the pawspeak thing so it's all in one place #I wrote this last night and put it in the queue and I laid awake thinking of this... #What do they think happens when someone goes to another country where things aren't written/spoken in a language they know? #Do they think they wouldn't be able to figure out anything? Do they think the tourist would just perish #Would they collapse in the streets of Berlin sobbing? #Happened to me. Went to England and they called it a Car Boot Sale instead of a Flea Market and I died to death #AND if I did make that guide please tell me if there's any other weird misconceptions you need to see in it #I know that ONE of them is going to have to be that. like. deaf people make noise. #theyre actually quite loud because they don't know they're making noise #and people with hearing loss do not suddenly forget how to speak. #and people born deaf dont talk like cavemen #cw body horror #tw body horror #EDIT: OOPS sorry I have such an astonishingly tolerance for body horror I did not realize that counted as body horror

[coquettetoji]

{🥊} BOXER EREN HCS

boxer bf eren hcs 🥊😁

— good lord boxer!eren is so fine

— definitely the type of boyfriend to just have the full walking mentality of “i hate everyone but you.” and an “i will kill for you” mentality

— but even though boxer!eren is pretty aggressive to other people

— he is the softest boyfriend ever with you

— the same mouth that holds his mouth guard and grunts out profanities in his matches is the same mouth that kisses you softly on every inch of your skin

— his hands literally hold you as if you’re made of glass

— speaking of hands, minus how hot they are boxer!eren always has you wrap his hands before sparring, matches, and honestly whenever he needs you to.

— it became such a routine between you two, he’d just walk up to you, towering over you. looking down at you with begging eyes saying, “baby, hands please?” while holding one hand out to you with the other holding the wrap.

— he loves to have some aspect of you on his body other than his mind when doing the hobby he loves.

— before his matches, he looks forward to you pressing a kiss on his wrap, prior to the gloves, leaving a lipstick mark on the white cotton.

— before his match, he always taps his glove softly on his head as a signal for you to kiss his forehead.

— during the match, the only thing that ever gets him super riled up to where his movements are more aggressive and impactful is when his opponent says something about you, his pretty girlfriend standing near his team off to the side.

— “pretty, isn’t she?” he smirks cockily trying to hide his anger before absolutely decking his opponent. 💀

— you’d just watch off to the side curious on why his opponent was suddenly now knocked out on the floor.

— but once you take a look at his face, staring down at you with possessive eyes, you realize exactly why.

— during the break of his match, as he sits down on the side stool and hears his coach point out his small mistakes on what else he should do, his eyes are just glued on you.

— god his eyes just looking up at you as you pour the water into his open mouth…. 🤰🧎‍♀️

— after the match, with his face and body is all bloodied and bruised, once the bell rings and he is declared winner by the ref he immediately makes his way towards you, holding his side in pain.

— forget a stupid trophy, or title. his prize is the kiss he gets from you.

— one kiss to the lips, one on his left cheek (FACE CHEEK 😁) and one to the forehead is all he needs.

— you’ll always be there waiting for him with open arms no matter win or loss with ‘jaeger’ engraved on your necklace

— outside of matches, eren brings you to his practices in the boxing gym whenever he can.

— he just wants you there so he can do what he loves, while having the person he loves experience it with him.

— whenever you’re not able to be there he always texts you before his matches or sends you some “cute” photos

EXHIBIT A: 😁😁😁😁

— has definitely tried to spar you, and though he was extremely gentle, you still managed to lose.

— you just can’t land a punch on boxer!eren.

— he’ll slightly laugh as you basically just get exhausted trying to throw punches at him but missing every single one.

—he’ll absolutely never lay a hand on you in an aggressive way. instead he literally just slightly moves out of the way of your punch of catches your fist 😭

— but in the situation in which he gets hurt

— whenever he needs to get cleaned up after practice, sparring, or a match he has you in the room with him.

— it’s just you and him in the little infirmary room tucked in the back, with his chin resting against your stomach as he sat on the inspection table and as you stood between his spread legs

— the slightly pained face he makes looking up at you as you clean the cuts and bruises on his face is just HJSSBHSJAHANAN. (he refused for anyone else to clean him up but you)

— he’d just tiredly hug on your waist, with his eyes slightly hooded as he whimpers slightly in pain and exhaustion BARK BADK BARK

— always expect boxer!eren to be clingy with you.

— his intimidating and frankly kinda terrifying boxing side is so much more different than with you.

— god he literally just melts.

— no matter win or loss QUEUE “ and i’ll be there for him. With open arms. And open legs. And an open mouth.” 😸

#aot #eren x y/n #eren jaeger x reader #eren headcanons #eren fluff #eren x reader #eren smau #eren x you #eren jaeger #eren smut #eren aot #eren jeager smut #eren jeager x reader #aot headcanons #aot moodboard #aot fluff #aot x reader #aot fanfiction

[hiraethwa]

one summer day

03 shining light. where you find yourself making friends with two more volleyball players

<< 02 fly high. | >> 04 new dawn. | << the collection >>

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x reader a/n: so excited for them to finally be friends, ahhh! - ave word count: 1k warnings: cursing, not much, fluffy

september, first year

the next time you see semi after shiratorizawa wins the miyagi prefecture preliminaries for spring nationals, he had a remorseful expression about him, looking like a kicked puppy. “what did you do now?” 

“awh, y/n, did you not miss me?”

“i did, but you are acting suspicious…” you squint at the ash blonde, trying to pinpoint what it was that he is hiding from you. 

he tilts his head to the side, trying to act innocent. “tendo and ushijima may or may not be joining our little study session…”

“hah? explain that, you idiot” you smack him in the arm. perhaps you did not smack him hard enough because he was completely unfazed by your hit. 

“it was not my fault i swear. i had a bet with tendo for him to stop calling me semi-semi if i won, you know how much i hate him calling me that, but i lost, so they are coming with us today…” he trails off, looking guilty for agreeing to such a bet when the stakes are not even his to decide. it’s your house they are going to, for goodness sake.

you shake your head at your best friend in disbelief and resignation, “what the heck did you even bet on, idiot? you know what, i don’t even want to know, don’t tell me.” and that was that. 

so you find yourself at home with the three boys, bringing the strawberry shortcake out from the fridge. “don’t touch it!” you swat semi’s hands away from you as you carefully bring it to the kitchen counter to be cut.

“you know, this is all your fault, semi eita. you could have had a whole strawberry shortcake to yourself, but now you have to share.” you don’t think you will ever let him live it down. he may be in one of the top classes in school, but sometimes he really makes you question his intellect when he pulls shit like this. 

you hand out the plates of shortcake to the two newcomers first before offering one to semi just to torture him a little more. they quickly finish their own helping of the light dessert before asking you for more, to which you gestured towards the cake for them to go ahead and don’t be shy.

before long, the cake disappears. the appetite of three growing boys is astonishing. semi burps loudly, to which you yelled “disgusting!” 

you suppose it’s up to you to clean up before your parents come home. better do it before you forget and get an earful about it again. you stand up from the coffee table where you and semi and his friends are seated, collecting the plates and cutleries. ushijima follows suit, carrying his used plate to the kitchen behind you. 

“oh you can leave that in the sink, i will get that.” you start scrubbing the dishes with soap and sponge, methodically going over each surface. 

“let me help,” he comes up to stand next to you, making you suddenly conscious of his large frame. putting himself to work, he rinses off the soaped items that you place in his side of the sink and stands them neatly on the dish rack in the corner. “you know, you didn’t have to go along with semi’s loss bet if you didn’t want to have us here.” he speaks up over the sound of water.

you shrug, “it’s not like i am opposed to it… more like, i don’t know, out of my comfort zone, maybe? you’re eita’s friends and not my friends, so there’s definitely the degree of separation there,” you pause, trying to find your words, “plus im not the brightest at making friends and talking to people i'm not familiar with, so it’s not like i have many friends to begin with. in fact, i can count on one hand how many friends i have at school,” you lift your soapy left hand in front of him. “and it’s extroverts like eita who adopts an introvert like me to be their friend” 

“hmm, i see. want to hear something about myself in return?” you nod in answer. “i don’t have many friends either. when people look at me, all they see is the ace, the immense value i bring to the team or how they can best use my skills. i think they forget i am just human like them too.”

“ehh, i mean, the vibe you give off scares me a little, you do this thing with your face where i feel like you’re judging me all the time.” he raises an eyebrow at you. “exactly, just like that!” 

“you do realize people don’t say that to my face, right?” 

you scrunch your nose at ushijima. “well, i just did. what are you gonna do about it?” 

he lets out a laugh, a rumble with a higher pitch than you expected coming from him. “well, i guess we have to be friends now.” 

“friends?” you echo after him, confused. 

“yep, you said we’re eita’s friend, which made you uncomfortable. so now we’re friends, and you don’t have to feel awkward around us. deal?” he holds out his right hand. 

“that’s totally not what i said!” you try to protest, but finally relent as he wiggles his fingers waiting for you to shake hands with him. “fine, fine. i’ll be your friend.” you pretend to be exasperated as you seal the deal with a shake of your hands. 

“what’s that?” tendo pokes his head around the corner startling you. ushijima’s hand keeps you firmly planted in place as though he thought you might accidentally slip and crack your head open on the sink. you scoff at the thought, as if. but knowing yourself, it was a huge possibility. not that you would ever let him know. 

“you scared the shit out of me!” you exclaim at the redhead.

he tilts his head to one side. “why, why, you’ll forgive me, won’t you, dear friend?” 

“huh?!” 

“stop stealing y/n, she’s my friend” semi pops into the kitchen, strolling around to your fridge to look for more snacks. 

what did you just agree to?

and just like that, the two boys walked into your life. not only do you have one volleyball friend, you now have three. three volleyball players for a powerhouse school. oh, you absolutely can’t wait until the volleyball fan club starts harassing you.

what the fuck just happened. 

reblogs and comments are appreciated!

#ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x you #ushijima wakatoshi x y/n #one summer day #ushijima fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima #haikyuu ushijima #ushijima x reader #ushijima x you #ushijima x y/n #ushijima angst #ushijima wakatoshi fluff #ushijima wakatoshi angst #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst #semi eita #shiratorizawa #wakatoshi x reader #hq wakatoshi #ushijima wakatoshi haikyuu #haikyuu wakatoshi #ushijima x reader fluff #ushijima x reader angst

[imaginesfordifferentfandoms]

Dear John

Click here for my masterlist.

Click here to add yourself to my taglist.

Prompt - ‘Run as fast as you can.’

When you had first met House hadn’t known what to think of the man. You hadn’t caught his attention, less vocal than some of the others competing for a fellowship under him but he had caught yours. He was so self-assured, the way he walked into a room and immediately started talking, not needing to see if he had everyone’s attention because he already knew he did. The games he played, putting you all against each other so obviously, eliminating people from any chance of a fellowship mid-sentence. 

You hadn’t known if he was a good man, it was hard to determine when you were in such a competitive environment where the man only wanted the best of the best but you had known he was a good doctor, sure he might not have given a damn about the patient but he was always determined to get a diagnosis. 

You had caught his attention two weeks into the fight for a fellowship. It had been an impossible case, not even he could figure it out, no matter how long he spent bouncing ideas back and forth just like the ball he threw against the wall. It was driving him crazy and even worse was that none of his potential fellows could figure it out either, how was he meant to create another perfect team when this lot couldn’t come up with anything? 

That was the day he noticed you. Of course he’d seen you before but you hadn’t done anything to catch his attention. He’d seen the way you’d open your mouth to say something only to close it, he’d seen you stick to the back of the group. He hadn’t said anything though, sure you were pretty and any other time he would’ve been all over you but it wasn’t worth his time if you weren’t going to be around long enough to make it fun. 

He stood at the front of the room, the remaining 26 hopefuls sat in seats around the room, all silently contemplating the case. House’s gaze shifted around the room, seeing nothing but stumped and defeated looks until he got to you.  

You were the only one in the room, himself included, who didn’t look disappointed, in fact you were sitting up straight in your seat whereas everyone else had slumped in theirs. Your eyebrows were knitted together, not in a frown but in a way that told House your thoughts were running wild. 

“You, number 7, come with me.” House said suddenly, watching as you startled in your seat and looked at him wide eyed as every gaze in the room turned to you. “Now.”

House didn’t wait after that, turning on his heels and leaving the room, hearing your footsteps hurrying behind him. He didn’t say anything in the elevator, staying silent until you both stood looking into the patient's room.

“What’s your diagnosis then, number 7?” He finally asked and your head shot from the patient to stare at House but he kept his eyes forward, waiting for you to speak.

“I don’t-”

“Oh don’t do that.” House interrupted, turning to glare at you. “Every single person in that room looked devastated. They couldn’t figure this out but you, no you have a diagnosis. You wanna work for me? Speak up, even if it’s idiotic it gives us something new to work with. So, go, what’s your theory?”

You took a shaky breath, letting his words roll around your head for a moment before nodding and turning back to look at the patient.

“Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease.” You said, watching House out of the corner of your eye to see his eyebrows knit together. “Her husband said nearly a year ago she became clumsy, people with CJD lose balance and coordination, they see double or they have blind spots. He said it became worse a few months ago and this causes loss of brain function and mobility, her brain is forgetting how to do the things she’s been doing her whole life. Add that with going from a highly respected professor to not knowing basic answers to the questions we’ve asked, it makes sense.” You defended your theory, shifting to look back at House as he stayed silent, showing no signs of how he felt about your answer. “I know it’s a rare disease but-”

“You’re right.” House said as he cut you off again and you could do nothing but stare at him in disbelief. “It makes sense. Have a biopsy done to confirm.”

And that was that. House walked away leaving you staring at him before you were able to snap yourself back to reality and do as he requested.

House had been surprised by you. He had honestly expected that you wouldn’t have made it much further into this little game he had made of gaining a fellowship but now, now he suspected you’d already won and he was more than happy to focus his attention on you now.

After that day House watched as you grew, confident in yourself now and offering theories and diagnosis’. You blushed and stammered under his newly given attention but refused to give into the man’s request of dinner or skipping the meal and heading straight to the bedroom.

It wasn’t that you weren’t interested in him, you were but you refused to let anything happen, needing to know that if you were awarded a fellowship it would be because you deserved it not because you were sleeping with the man giving them out. 

Once you were in though you held out for only a few weeks before you found yourself sat opposite the doctor in a surprisingly nice restaurant, House seemingly making an effort with his appearance and it was easy to let yourself get swept up with him and even easier to let your guard down.

It didn’t matter that he was your boss, it didn’t matter that he was years older than you, all you cared about was how he made you feel. 

And so just like that you found yourself getting wrapped up in House, whether it be going out together for food after work or falling into bed with him, suddenly your whole life was consumed by House.

“So you and House, huh?” Cameron asked as you sat down at one of the tables in the cafeteria, taking a seat opposite you with her own lunch.

“What about it?” You asked, frowning slightly at her. 

You hadn’t spent much time with House’s old fellows, only Foreman who had been brought back whilst you were fighting for a spot. From what you heard Cameron and House used to have a thing but you hadn’t pried, not sure how serious it ever got or if it had just been a fling. 

“You like him?” She asked, ignoring your question and you tried to figure out what her plan was. “I’m not here to cause trouble, me and House, there was never anything there.”

“There was something.” You told her and watched as she sighed.

“I had a crush on him. I realised it was a bad idea.” She told you after a moment to think about it.

“Why?” 

“You want my advice?” She asked you, sitting up in her seat and continuing without giving you a chance to answer. “When it comes to House, just run. Run as fast as you can because that man is incapable of putting somebody else’s feelings before himself. This won’t end the way you want it to and you’ll be left alone, heartbroken and angry. You’ll have to see him at work and you’ll hate it.”

“Thanks for the advice but just because it ended badly for you doesn’t mean it will for me.” You said, standing from your seat and leaving the cafeteria.

Cuddy was the next person to warn you away from him. She had managed to catch you just as you were heading towards your car and told you to be careful, told you that you were a good doctor and she’d hate to see House ruin that.

You weren’t so sure what to say so just smiled politely and excused yourself, brushing off her warning just as you had Cameron’s. 

You refused to think much more about the two of them as you pulled up to House’s and the man let you in, immediately attaching his lips to yours and pushing all thoughts and warnings out of your head.

It stayed good for a while, or maybe it had never been good and you were just so blinded by your feelings for him that you couldn’t see how bad it was. 

When things eventually took a turn you tried so hard to blame it on something else, convinced yourself that it was just the pain in his leg that made his mood shift more often than you were used to. 

“We had plans.” You said into the phone, already sitting in the restaurant House had said he would meet you at after his meeting with Cuddy. 

“This is important.” House told you, his tone even and not showing much concern for the fact that he was standing you up. “It’s just dinner.”

“Yeah, yeah it’s just dinner.” You nodded even as your heart sank.

The next time he called you it was like it was a different man, so apologetic and full of promises to take you out again, to make it up to you. You had smiled and written his earlier behaviour off as Cuddy frustrating him but it started happening more and more to the point you dreaded answering his calls, not sure which version of House was going to be waiting on the other side.

You were more than used to getting stood up at this point, House differed between having excuses for not showing up or just brushing you off when you finally did manage to catch him. 

You could feel yourself becoming drained, dealing with House’s mood swings was starting to take its toll on you. The nights you spent with him where just as confusing as everything else, some days, usually the days he had seen you withdrawing, he showered you in affection, kissed every inch of your body and made you feel so loved, other days he shut you out, glared and snapped at you until you left and somehow always managed to make you feel like it was your fault. 

Even during work, House made you feel useless, no matter how right your diagnosis was, no matter how much the others stuck up for you it was like you couldn’t do anything. You couldn’t remember how many times you’d walked away and cried silently in the toilets or gone home only to cry yourself to sleep.

You hated that you felt so bad about yourself, you hated that you were doing everything you could to please this man and he always made you feel like you were the problem. You hated that you hadn’t taken Cameron and Cuddy’s warnings when they were given, hated that you were so wrapped up in how good House made you feel that you had let him treat you like you were nothing just to soak up the small bits of whatever this sick, twisted thing he had convinced you was love was.

House liked his puzzles, he liked his games and he liked answers. He liked knowing how far he could push you and still have you running back to him, still having you thinking he could do no wrong.

You couldn’t do it anymore. You couldn’t keep running away from the hospital in tears, you couldn’t keep playing his games with their ever changing rules that you couldn’t understand.

“You can’t leave, we can work this out.” House told you, a soft hurt look on his face.

You’d usually fall for it, usually shake your head like you were being foolish and fall into his arms, savour the day or two of the House you had fallen for before starting the cycle all over again when he eventually turned cruel.

Now that you had made the decision to leave you couldn’t believe how you had missed how bad everything about your relationship with him had been. How had you been so blind?

“That won’t work anymore. Whatever game you’ve been playing with me is done, go find some other girl who’s too naive, who wants to believe there’s good in people to mess with because I’m done.” You told him, feeling a spike of pride for finally standing up to him.

“What game? I have no idea what you’re talking about.” House sighed, leaning against the desk. “Look, I’m sorry, I know things have been rough but I’ll be better. I promise.”

You’d believed that the first time. And the second. And third and fourth time. 

You wouldn’t fall for it again.

“Bye House.” You said softly.

“Don’t do this.” He pleaded with you but you ignored him and turned to walk out of his office.

On the way down to Cuddy’s office you bumped into Cameron and because word spread like wildfire in the hospital she gave you a sad smile.

“I hate to say it but I told you so.” Cameron said and you couldn’t help but laugh, a small laugh that bubbled into a slightly maniacal one.

“I promise to listen to you next time.” You swore and Cameron laughed back, squeezing your shoulder gently.

“If you ever need anything…” Cameron told you and you nodded gratefully, smiling back at her before her pager alerted her she was needed and you said goodbye, heading into Cuddy’s office.

Cuddy was sympathetic, she’d been waiting months for this meeting, knowing that at some point House was going to ruin it and send one of their best fellows running out the door. 

“If you decide to come back I’ll find you a spot somewhere, somewhere far away from House.” Cuddy told you and you smiled at her, thankful for your time at the hospital and hoping one day you would take her up on her offer. “It’s a shame to lose you.”

“Thank you for everything.” You told her softly before standing and shaking the hand she reached out towards you.

“You’re really just gonna leave? Like this meant nothing to you?” House asked as you left the clinic, walking alongside you towards the exit.

“I loved you, House, and all I wanted was for you to love me back but all you ever did was mess with me. You never loved me, hell you never even cared about me!” You told him, yanking your arm from him when he tried to stop you.

“Oh please, I missed a few dates and suddenly I’m the bad guy.” House rolled his eyes and there he went again, trying to make you the problem.

“House, I’m done. I’m done trying to get you to love me, I’m done playing your games, to shifting my whole life to revolve around you. I’m done feeling like I’m not good enough. Tell everyone it’s me who doesn't understand you, who betrayed you, say whatever you want but I’m done with you.” You told him, refusing to let your eyes tear up, knowing House would see it and jump on it.

You took a deep breath, behind him Cuddy was making her way out of the clinic, watching you and House carefully but you just shook your head because you didn’t need her to intervene. 

You weren’t lying when you told House you were done so you ignored whatever retort he had and turned away from him, walking out of the door and finally let the tears fall, sitting in your car until you were able to breathe properly before making your way home with tears running down your cheeks.

Doctor Gregory House Taglist (Click the link in my bio to add yourself!) - 

@softmullet, @wheredidiputmyfish, @famouscrusadsluminary, @missabsey

#house md #gregory house #house #greg house #house md x reader #gregory house x reader #house x reader #greg house x reader #house md imagine #gregory house imagine #house imagine #greg house imagine #house md imagines #gregory house imagines #house imagines #greg house imagines #gregory house fanfic #dear john #speak now prompts #imaginesfordifferentfandoms

[fieldofdaisiies]

Azriel x Reader | Till Death Do Us Part? pt. II

type: angst warning(s): depressive thoughts, gloomy, mentions of war, mentions of death and loss word count: 1.8k words summary: based on this request: Azriel is shattered over the loss of his mate, his life no longer makes sense until one day when he sees her again. He cannot believe his eyes–this is his mate. Only problem she does not remember him or what they once had and moreover is now part of his sworn nemesis’ court–the Autumn Court. 

masterlist

—all rights reserved—

Azriel’s feet are rooted to the ground. He cannot move. He cannot breathe. His soul comes alive, the bond, dull and dead for so long, starts to glow again when Azriel’s eyes trail over your figure. It is true. This is you. There is no mistaking. This is you. 

His mate. His lover. His wife. His homes. His once believed dead mate. How is that possible. 

His knees give in first when Azriel tumbles forward only getting caught by Cassian in the last moment before he made friends with the ground. 

“I assume you saw what I saw?” Cassian questions when he steadies his brother, holding him up, having a tight grip on his upper arms. “This can’t be. This is—“ “It is her,” Azriel rasps, slowly getting back his grounding. His holds himself up by the general’s arms until his knees no longer feel so wobbly.

How is that possible. You died —have died— in his arms. He held your head when you inhaled your last breath, when your chest made its last heave, when your heart did its last beat. How could you stand here now? This was not possible. But at the same time there is no denying that this is you. You look just like the same. You walk just like the same. Your facial expression are exactly the same. 

Azriel threatens to lose his grounding again but before he knows what he is doing his legs carry him over the ground. He is determined, shoving Cassian who is trying to hold him back away. He ignores Nesta's and Cassian’s words of worry, their words of caution, telling him to stop, to come back, to not go over immediately. 

Azriel ignores it all, there is only one target and that is you. He has to see you, speak to you, hear your voice again. He has to find out if it is really you.

Maybe once up close he is hit in the face with the realisation that he has been mistaken. That right in front of him there is another person. That this is not indeed you. 

But even when only one metre away from you he knows, he is one hundred percent sure, that this is you, his mate, standing right there, behind Eris.

Is the mother playing tricks on him? Is she mocking him for something? Is this a payback for all the lives he has taken in his life? 

He bolts through the crowd, making a beeline for you, regardless of all the people he is shoving out of the way, his wings tugged in tightly. His whole body is shaking, heart beating rapidly against his ribcage, hammering in his throat and cold sweat breaks out on the back of his neck and his palms. 

Air wheezes out of his lungs, when dread collides with disbelief, making his soul split into a million parts. 

The spymaster comes to a quick halt right in front of you, Eris currently not paying attention so his has to take his chance. Your gaze moves to the male who suddenly stopped next to you and for a long moment you forget how to breathe. 

He has robbed you of air to breathe and of thoughts to think. Your mind is blank when you take in the stunning male right next to you. 

“Is this possible?” he breathes, his eyes trailing over every small details, the ones he has loved to kiss and worship in the past, while his hands are balled into fists at his sides. He is worried he might touch you, making sure you are really real. You lift your gaze, lips parting slightly while you assess him. You find yourself unable to speak for a moment, he is the most beautiful male you have every seen and something seems so familiar about him.

Through dry and parted lips you say, “What is possible?”

The breath gets knocked from your lungs when you watch shadows appear from behind the male, smoothing over his shoulders, stretching out, and his wings flare a little bit. He is cruel, stunning beauty, mysterious and lethal and every part of you wants to get to know him. 

But Azriel, Azriel he fins himself in shock. The clueless expression on his face, the questioning eyes — you don’t know him. You don’t remember him. How is that possible? How can you not remember him? After all you have shared, after all you have been through. How can you stand here, right in front of him, all flesh and blood, breathing, alive, but having no remembrance of who he is. Azriel knows, that he has once been your everything, your mate, your husband, your home, your life, your world. 

He swallows around the lump in his throat, clamping his eyes shut to keep the building dampness in. “You don’t remember?” he questions, his voice barely above a whisper, lips only slightly parted.

“What? What should I remember?” you ask, your heart squeezing at the pain in his eyes. “What is your name? Maybe this helps?”

His throat starts to burn, constricts. Azriel wants to open his mouth, but is interrupted.

“Azriel, spymaster of the Night Court.” Eris steps between you and Azriel, shielding you form the tall, dark male. “My spymaster, Y/N.”

His whole body trembles at your name. You still have your name, so there is truly no mistaking. 

But his spymaster? This has to be a nightmare. The most cruel and painful nightmare ever, but why does he not wake? Why is there no waking up from this. It can’t be real. There is no logical explanation for it. 

“Am I not here as your guard, High Lord?” you say, your voice a tone playful when you glance at Eris from the side. Eris chuckles lowly and Azriel’s heart sinks into his lower belly, shattering when it hits the bottom. Why are you acting like this around Eris? Haven’t you loathed him once as well?

“Lady Y/N, I am, but I am also here to tell you—“ Eris gives Azriel a once over— “to stay away from this male.” Eris crosses his arms in front of his broad chest. “And you are not to speak to my spymaster.” “And you are not to tell me or her what to do. She seems like a grown female, she can speak for herself.” That rattles you somehow. That this random male speaks up for you like that. 

You smile at Eris and give your head a little shake. “The spymaster of the night is right. I am a grown female and I can speak for myself, but if you do not wish for me to interact with anyone from another court this is fine.”

It is not fine, Azriel thinks, his soul yearning and he wonders why your soul isn’t feeling the same. The problem is, you cannot quite place the odd feeling in your soul. It feels like longing, but what would you be longing for?

“Good,” Eris says and a smile full of pride spreads over his face. “We shall meet the High Lord now, excuse us,” —his voice turns low and dark— “spymaster.”

You want to move past said spymaster, but he is quicker, softly grabbing you by your shoulder which makes you wince. It is his grip, how softly he holds you that makes something like memories spark in your mind. Like a deja-vu. 

“I need to talk to you later. It is urgent,” Azriel rasps, his throat so damn dry. He looks deep into your eyes, hoping to convince you that way, have you loved his eyes so much back then.

You slowly dip your chin and part your lips. “About business?” 

Azriel wants to say, ‘no about us’, ‘about what has once been’, ‘about our bond’, but he does not. He slowly nods his chin. “Yes, about business. Security business, from one spymaster to another.”

It makes sense, but you don’t really buy his lie. It is obviously a lie, his posture, how he has said it, how he acts have given him away. You feel like you know him, know that he is lying. But still you find yourself agreeing to his suggestion. You want to know what he has to say. You need to know it. 

And so he, hesitantly and not wanting to, lets go of you arm, letting you slip out of his hold, just like back then when you died in his arms. 

And he lets you go after him, after his nemesis. After the person he hates so much and that you seem to have come to like. 

This feels like a dagger piercing right through his heart. Anguish about the talk later on collides with panic over you being in Eris grip collides in side of him and makes a kernel of dread bloom in his chest. Azriel wipes his sweaty palms down his pants when a hand clasps his shoulder tightly.

“It is her?” Cassian asks behind him and all Azriel can do is nod. After a long moment he brings out a yes. 

And then waiting for you — it is dreadful, long, Azriel’s heart finding no rest in his chest. But, even though you don’t remember him, he finds peace in seeing you alive. His soul slowly heals and he revels in the feeling. It is warm, tastes like honey, feels like a summer evening. Love. 

Azriel hasn’t felt this in so long and he knows, he is sure, that he can make you his once again. You have fallen for him once, he could manage that again. There is another chance for you.

A smile, fully on its own accord, spreads over the shadowsinger’s face when his eyes follow you through the room. He just ignores whom you are trailing after, after that night you will be his again, the High Lord of Autumn long forgotten when you are in his arms again.

A spark of hope ignites inside of Azriel, colliding with the soft feeling of happiness when you turn around and tilt your head towards the door, signalling that you can talk now. 

And so you end up in the corridor outside the throne room before Azriel leads you to a chamber, a study apperently, close by and closes the door behind you two.

“So? Business?” you asks, leaning against the table and staring at him. Your tunic parts slightly and your dagger is revealed which has Azriel grinning — oh, you always used to do this.

“Not business,” Azriel says, his voice low, shaking slightly. “We have to talk about us?” “Us?” you question and raise a brow. “There is no us.”

“But there once was.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

tags (crossed-out I couldn't tag) : @juulle987 @marimorena06 @danikasthings @younxii @nightcourtwritings @mrofontaine @lunalilyf @whor-3-crux @tired-all-the-time @anni-was-here @ummmmmwat @azbracadabra @j-pendragonx @hollyismentallyillhelp @famousbasementpainter @bsenpai @lena-davina @red-highlady @thesugatoyourtae @azrielsbabyg @cityofidek @moony-thoughts @wrensical003 @cherryjain17 @moonfawnx @crushedcloudsx @devilsfoodcake22  @valeriedarkness @azrielscertifiedslut @mulansaucey @cynicalpotato95 @hanasakr @high-bi-andreadytocry @eerievixen @feyretopia @moonlightazriel @randomness-it-is @brekkershadowsinger @eliieee23 @girasoli-e-sorrisi @illyrianvalkyriecarynthian  @kennedy-brooke @highladyofillyria @theworthlessqueen @marina468 @topaz125 @illyrian-dreamer @azriels-mate123 @eos-princess

taglist for TDDUP: @ladylokilaufeyson5 @buckysimp101 @autumndreaming7 @lucyysthings @feiwelinchen @kemillyfreitas @margssstuff @im-bili @goldentournesol @leeknows-wife @waywardcasbutt @reiincarnatiion @thesongofselene 

#azriel x reader #azriel #azriel fic #acotar x reader #acotar #acosf

[chapitre7]

eye of the beholder

แฟนผมเป็นประธานนักเรียน | My School President fanfiction

Tinn Tinnaphob Jirawatthanakul/Gun Guntaphon Wongwitthaya

8k words

Rated M for sexual content

Crossdressing Tinn

An ode to queerness, beauty, freedom, truth and first love

For @silverquillsideas ❤ Happy birthday, beloved

Read on AO3

Gun thinks he misheard at first. Suddenly everything around him is too loud, both the sound coming from the speakers around the massive hall and the sound coming from those surrounding him. It’s Tinn that grounds him to the present; his hands on Gun’s neck and his lips covering his face with kisses.

He can only hear Tinn’s giggles because they share no space between them. He sees the joy reflected on Tinn’s face, radiant and honest and full of admiration and love. There’s no one Gun can read better than him, and among all the people that Gun has known and loved all these years, there’s no one whose thoughts and feelings are as transparent to him as Tinn’s. He feels like a winner for that smile alone, for the pride that Tinn so easily carries for him. He loves him so much. But he can only look at Tinn for a few beats, before his bandmates are pushing him off his seat and towards the stage.

“Um,” Gun starts at the microphone, but for the first time in many years, he’s at a loss for words. There are so many people he knows in the audience, and so many other people that he has only heard of, but doesn’t know personally. All the other artists in the category are also there, looking at him, waiting for his speech.

Desperate for an anchor, Gun searches the crowd until he finds Tinn. He’s smiling broadly, his beautiful teeth in full view, unlike the shy smiles so characteristic of him that Gun can see even with his eyes closed. The one dangling earring he’s wearing catches the stage lights in the single gem that balances at the end of the thin, gold chain that tickles down to his neck. His hair is tousled to the side unlike his usual style, and he fits right in with the artists in the room, charming and expensive. He’s mouthing something that seems like “Speak,” but Gun can only look at him, trophy in hand.

Gun thinks he might do something embarrassing like cry. Sound has an arm around his shoulders before that emotion is realized, and he’s lightly pushing Gun aside to talk into the mic and start their thank you speech.

Gun gazes back into the audience, his eyes naturally falling back on Tinn, as if magnetized.

He tries to think of who he wants to thank, of how to put his whole trajectory into just a few precious seconds without forgetting a single thing, but his whole mind is an ecstatic blank.

***

Singing had always been a passion, yes. Inherited, like the best of passions, the type that lasts longer than a teenage dream. Passion enough to make him ditch university when he started getting more gigs, and enough to last several changes in the lineup of his band. “I’m sorry, Gun,” so many of his friends had said before leaving to pursue more regular, tangible dreams. Some of them didn’t even apologize, but those weren’t his friends. Sound stayed, though. Despite his dreams being bigger than the stage Gun could provide him, Sound stayed.

And that’s how, on one night that had everything to go wrong, Gun met Tinn. Because Tinn wouldn’t have been there if it hadn’t been for Sound, and Tinn wouldn’t have gone to Gun if Gun wasn’t a massive fucking idiot.

Who trips over their own equipment? Who sprains their ankle on the way down a stage?

Sound had already been drilling him about how little sleep he got every night, and the incident would make him no kinder. If he somehow had broken his neck on that fall, Sound would probably have looked for a way to resuscitate him just so he could kill him again. Gun was doing his best, but between anxiety, fatigue, too much caffeine and post-performance buzz, it was only a matter of time before something stupid happened. And like a self-fulfilling prophecy, it did. But then there was also —

In the middle of his embarrassing incident and cries, there was Tinn running up to him, all nerdy glasses and ironed clothes with angular patterns, saying, “Let me see, I’m a doctor.”

Sound had helped Gun sit down on the steps down the side of the stage and stood hovering around like an overbearing mother. Gun didn’t know where the rest of the band was, but given the bad mood they were in all evening, he wouldn’t be surprised if they had left altogether. Tinn was probably the first person Gun ever saw Sound look relieved upon seeing.

Tinn removed Gun’s right shoe delicately, and then his sock. His hands were cold but kind, moving Gun’s foot from one side to the other. He looked up when Gun made a pained sound, and that’s when Gun took a proper look at him. He didn’t think Tinn fit very well in that bar. He seemed too... neat for it.

“It doesn’t appear to be broken, but it’d be better to take an x-ray,” Tinn said then.

“But what if it’s broken?” Sound said, hand on Tinn’s shoulder. “It could be broken, right?”

“Nothing’s broken, I can stand just fi— ah!”

It’s interesting how memory works. More than the first touch between them — Tinn’s grip on his arms, keeping him from falling ungracefully back down — what comes to Gun every time he thinks about that moment is Tinn’s scent. Something floral, fresh but not extravagant, that Gun had never smelled before. The girlfriends he had had before had always smelled too sweet, and his bandmates all smelled identical, possibly the same brand of cologne.

Caught between pain and a boy who smelled really good, Gun’s mind was white noise. He looked up at Tinn but Tinn was looking at Sound.

“Help me take him to my car,” Tinn said, and Gun frowned, protested, but Sound sounded remarkably like Gun’s mother when he was nervous, so it was a battle lost before it even began.

Minutes into a car ride with Tinn, Gun said, “I’m sorry.”

“Hmm? What for?” Tinn asked him, while slowing down to a stop at a red light.

“For ruining your night. It’s still early but instead of enjoying your Friday night, you have to take the band’s stupid singer to the hospital.”

Tinn gave him a pretty smile and shook his head.

“I was only there for your band anyway. Sound invited me, I’m— Oh I’m sorry, I never introduced myself, did I?” He grimaced, and Gun couldn’t look away from all of Tinn’s little expressions that he could catch with the city night lights. “My name’s Tinn. I’m a friend of Sound’s.”

“Sound has friends?” Gun quipped, partly genuinely impressed and partly to see if it would make Tinn laugh. It did.

“I’m the only one, I’m afraid.”

“Sound has a doctor friend.”

“We go back to a time when I hadn’t made such big life decisions and he was a little cuter.”

“Must be before I met him then.”

They both laughed at that, the car shifting back into gear as the light turned green. Gun’s phone rang with the ringtone he set just for Sound, as if he could hear them. He picked it up and sent Sound short replies, quickly ending the call, and then muted his phone. He didn’t want to get stuck in a back-and-forth with Sound and get himself motionsick, but mostly, he wanted to focus on Tinn.

“I’m Gun,” he said after putting his phone down on his lap.

Tinn smiled before he said, “I know,” and Gun didn’t know why it made him feel shy. Gun was the leader and singer of the band Tinn had come to watch, and Tinn was friends with Sound, so it was only natural that he’d know who Gun was. Plus, Gun had been singing for many years at that point, so he had already met people who recognized him before. He could look at so many different people every day and not see them, but he was seen. Perhaps he even meant something to them, which was something he dreamed of.

But something about the way Tinn said it — confident and a little proud — made Gun pause. He wouldn’t really be able to put into words why.

Gun’s mother always said he was perpetually stuck at five years old when he got sick, and injured Gun wasn’t much different. He would have preferred to cling to Tinn as they entered the hospital so he could smell his perfume again — a normal thing to do to a guy you just met — but Tinn got him a wheelchair. Maybe Gun did pout about it, or maybe something else showed on his face as the wheelchair gave him an unpleasant, queasy feeling, because Tinn crouched beside him and said, “Don’t worry. I won’t be your doctor but I’ll stay here, okay?”

The LED streetlights cast Tinn in much clearer light than the neon lights at the bar and the partial darkness inside his car. Now that he didn’t have to move, that he was being so kindly gazed at, he could look at Tinn. At his dark hair styled away from his face save for a few strands falling near his left eye; the beauty mark under said eye; the touch of pink dusted high on his cheeks; and the sheer gloss over his lips when he smiled at Gun.

Why the fuck did Sound never introduce Tinn before?

***

“Ow, fuck, stop pinching me, Gun!”

Sound deserved it, even if he did help Gun into his apartment after Tinn dropped him off, and even after he helped Gun shower and dress back up. He rolled his eyes when Gun still glared at him from the comfortable bundle he made under his bed covers.

“Look, Gun, Tinn is— It’s annoying, okay!”

“What is? He is?” Gun frowned, having seen exactly zero things annoying about Tinn.

“No— well, yes, he can be, I just mean—” He huffed and Gun raised a perfectly skeptical eyebrow at him. “Look, Tinn was very quiet in middle school, and then in high school it was like— everyone wanted to talk to him, to whisper about him and get his attention. They’d leave him letters in his notebooks and backpack.”

“So you’re saying he’s too hot.”

“I’m saying he doesn’t like it,” Sound said, rummaging through Gun’s wardrobe for worn-out pieces he could wear. “Having all that attention, I mean. He ran for school president so it’d look good on his curriculum and he had girls following him home. And guys.”

“Oh.”

Gun liked attention, but he wouldn’t like anyone following him home.

“Yeah. So he doesn’t get out much. I’m taking this, by the way.”

“So how did you get him to come to the bar tonight?”

Gun picked at his cuticles on his left hand, curious as to why the question made Sound pause.

“He asked to come,” he said. He held Gun’s gaze for a few seconds before finally leaving with a, “I’m going to shower, good night.”

***

It turned out that Tinn, who didn’t like attention but wanted to watch Gun’s band play, was not so bad at texting. A few exchanged messages with Gun asking about his condition and then offering to accompany him to the hospital for another check-up turned into whole conversations, which led Gun to see him again.

“I can’t believe you just want me for my body,” Gun joked out when Tinn inspected his ankle himself, even though Gun had told him he was feeling much better and didn’t need another trip to the hospital.

Tinn’s response was a much more amused smile than Gun had expected, but Tinn couldn’t maintain eye contact without blushing.

“It was the music, at first, but I didn’t think you’d fall for me so easily.”

Gun could never really anticipate Tinn’s responses, it seemed. Sound had led him to believe that Tinn was just a shy nerd, but he was the one who initiated contact and kept it going. By all means his flirting was silly, but still Gun couldn’t help letting out a startled laugh, louder than he had anticipated, and it, coupled with Tinn kneeling before him in a simple neighborhood café, rendered them more than a few stares. He paid it absolutely no mind when he had Tinn at ease around him. Perhaps because he hadn’t met anyone new in a while, or perhaps because Tinn was so naturally charming, but he found that Tinn was a company that he wanted to keep.

He also wanted to kiss him senseless.

“Why didn’t you tell me Tinn was so cute?” he’d ask Sound.

“Don’t say that shit to me,” Sound would reply, making sure to increase the volume in his headphones, loud enough for Gun to hear, which could not be healthy but Gun valued his life enough not to comment on it.

And Gun did know Sound since he graduated high school and formed his first fraught band. Though Sound still had odd acting jobs during the day, he still met Gun for band practice during most of his evenings and he took every opportunity seriously. He wasn’t afraid of talking Gun out of slumps, because their drive to carry on, despite their difficulties, matched like letters in a scrabble board. Years passed, Sound stayed, they knew the code to each other’s homes, and still it took so long for Gun to meet Tinn.

Not that he blamed Sound for being as reserved as he was. Sound had plenty of colleagues, all with his modeling, acting and singing careers, but he didn’t have many friends. If Gun himself was a reference for Sound’s friendships, then they would be steadfast and loyal to him and Sound to them. Of all people Gun knew, who’d lie to please him or simply take him for an idiot, Sound was the one no-nonsense bastard he trusted above all. However, the longer he spent with Tinn, the more Gun wished he had met him sooner.

Midnight walks with him weren’t boring or awkward, but rather occupied with the serene sound of footsteps and unimportant questions such as, “Did you have a pet as a child?” or “What’s your favorite childhood memory?” or even “What place would you like to visit?” They would walk side by side, shoulders brushing occasionally, fingers drawing close to each other like magnets eager to find their opposite. Gun would talk about obscure Japanese bands, Tinn would talk about dishes he wanted to try, and though they both needed to rest before long days, neither wanted to admit the night had to end.

Did kisses before Tinn taste as sweet? Gun remembered liking a girl in the student council back in high school, and he remembered writing music about her, of the way she could make a rainy day sunny when she walked into the room, of the lighter color in the tips of her hair, and the freckles that looked hand-painted on her cheeks. He more or less remembered his first kiss, because he was nervous, afraid of going at it wrong and becoming a joke in someone’s story.

And yet, the story of his first kiss with Tinn was a funny one.

Tinn had been sick at the time. A yearly cold, he had said, looking every bit like a soaked dog, miserable and sad and with eyes that begged you to pick him up. “Leave, Gun,” he told Gun from his sullen spot on the couch when Gun entered his apartment.

“You know how I am with authority, Tinn,” Gun said, taking the containers of food he had brought to the kitchen to arrange them in Tinn’s perfectly matching kitchenware.

“I’m serious, Gun.” Tinn’s voice from the living room barely carried over. “You know you can’t get sick.”

“You know my mom used to be annoyed at how I never got sick?” Gun said as he walked back into the living room, and Tinn looked at him every bit like he was an idiot. Gun was immune to it. “No, I mean, like, she would get sick and have to stay in bed and I’d man the shop and wouldn’t even get a runny nose. I’d wake her up to give her her meds and she’d call me a butt.”

Tinn cracked a laugh at that, which instantly turned into a coughing fit. Gun rushed to get him some water, which he took, looking deflated and flushed and extraordinarily adorable.

That was precisely why Gun leaned in to peck him on the cheek. Tinn, for his part, sick and probably not even especially aware of his surroundings, turned to talk to him, and the kiss landed on his lips instead, just like in a scene from a drama. Gun was surprised and Tinn was a little scandalized, trying to lean back from him and actually making whiny sounds in his throat, which was honestly a bit too much, so the only thing Gun could do was cup his face with both hands and lean for a kiss he actually meant.

It was brief and unromantic. Tinn’s face was hotter than usual, not in the pleasant way, and he was supposed to lean into it, which he wasn’t keen on, but still — still his lips were plush and soft against Gun’s, moving ever so tentatively as if it were a first kiss. Gun didn’t know if it was Tinn’s first kiss, and he wasn’t going to ask Tinn, because he didn’t want to know and it didn’t matter. He could ask him later if he had dated anyone before, or kissed, or slept with anyone, but those were faraway thoughts to Gun. There were only Tinn’s warm hands resting on his chest, his hair tickling Gun’s cheek, and his sticky, sweet lips.

When Gun broke the kiss, he licked his lips and touched them with the tip of his fingers. Tinn seemed to flush darker.

“M-My lips were chapped, I just—”

“Strawberry?”

Gun gave him a quick peck again and Tinn did a little jump in his seat. Gun wanted to eat him.

“I like it,” he said. Before Gun could kiss him without warning again, Tinn pushed him away and picked up his bowl of Tom Kha Gai, mumbling something unflattering about the guy he had just kissed.

But despite how much of an idiot Gun was that night, despite the nasty cold he got afterwards, despite Tinn’s whining about how their first kiss was supposed to be different and under the stars or something equally sappy and planned down to the phase of the moon, he always seemed to wear the strawberry lip-gloss after that. Like his perfume, Gun found himself developing a strong preference for it. He liked how it matched Tinn’s words and gestures, so caring and sweet. The scent of gardenias, as he learned was the predominant fragrance of his perfume, soothed Gun’s insomniac nights, filled his lungs as Tinn leaned over him, his strawberry lips leaving trails down his neck and chest, before Gun demanded to taste them again.

All the intricacies of Tinn delighted Gun. His straight posture and pristine white coat; the tilt of his head when he was noting something down. If Gun stayed out of town for a few days, he liked visiting Tinn at his clinic upon his return, completely unannounced, just to see his benevolent doctor smile turn into the Tinn smile that Gun liked to see directed at him, pretty like a star on a summer night.

No one seemed to notice but Gun, why was that? Gun could recognize Tinn from the back just by the way he walked, elegant and poised but not aloof, not putting on airs. There was the way he would have to bend to hold Gun, and the look in his eyes when Gun looked at him from above, from his stage, the two of them pretending there was only them under the stage lights; or when Tinn was on his knees, between Gun’s legs in the living room of his blue apartment, the lamp casting shadows on his red cheeks, his red lips. No pretense in his eyes, in his fingers that closed around Gun’s wrists and brought them down to kiss his pulse there, leaving heart-shaped lipstick marks there.

Tall and reliable, timid and shy, eager and passionate, all so easily given. Was Tinn just like this, terribly and achingly open, or was Gun just so damn lucky?

***

Gun was standing in front of his mirror, eye pencils and powder puffs on the bed close to him, wondering if he should attempt a rocker look for his next performance, when Tinn walked in.

“Dinner’s ready,” he said, leaning against the doorframe. Gun’s chest filled with countless emotions upon catching Tinn gaze in the reflection. Years of sharing dorms with people he could barely call acquaintance or sleeping by himself, and now his moments between events were graced with homemade food again. “What are you thinking about?”

“I’m thinking about being a rock star,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows, just to make Tinn laugh.

“You’re already a rock star though?”

“I’m thinking of early 00’s rock star,” he said, waving an eye pencil at Tinn, and Tinn hummed.

“Let’s see,” he said, moving towards Gun, sitting on the bed and motioning for Gun to sit with him.

Gun had noticed light make-up on Tinn before. Not just the healthy red of his lips, but a hint of brown eye shadow when they went out, his well-defined eyebrows and the thin outline of his eyes. Tinn’s hand held the pencil like a fine surgical instrument, firm and precise, with just the right amount of pressure. Gun liked his breath fanning on his face, and opening his eyes to Tinn’s focused expression. He was ruined for any future make-up artist. He should just snatch Tinn away and take him on every tour, his patients be damned.

“Where did you learn this?” Gun asked, his hands comfortable on Tinn’s knees.

“My mother taught me,” he said.

Gun hummed and closed his eyes, feeling like a flower basking under the sun of Tinn’s attention.

“What else did you learn from her?”

He felt Tinn’s huff on his face, and it made him smile.

“How to debate,” he said, and Gun grinned.

“Is that so? Why do you always lose arguments against me then?”

Like when he said he wanted to see Tinn, and Tinn would apologize, tell him he couldn’t make it, but he showed up late anyway.

“You have very strong arguments.”

“Can I call my old class president so you can tell him that? It’ll be just a minute—”

Tinn tapped him gently on the shoulder and Gun opened his eyes to see him giggle and shake his head. He wanted to kiss Tinn then, but he was reaching for the lip tint, and Gun held off.

“My mom should get along well with you,” he said. Gun looked at him in a way that seemed to amuse him. “It’s true. She’s strict but she loves authenticity. I... There were some things in high school that made her really sensitive to lies.”

Gun’s grip on the fabric of Tinn’s pants tightened slightly, and he scooched closer.

“You’re... wholly you, though,” Tinn finished, hesitant, as if unsure his words truly conveyed everything he was thinking.

It was funny. That was the one thing Gun would always think about Tinn.

For his gig, he did wear eyeliner, and Tinn’s red lip tint, and a red jacket tied around his waist. His sleeveless shirt showed off his arms, and there was glitter in his hair and rings on his fingers. Tinn was there, looking up at him in a way that reminisced of their first meeting, but Gun was more aware now. He could see the awe in Tinn’s eyes, the slight parting of his lips, and Gun would sing the bridge on one knee, looking straight at him. The whole concert house sang along to his song, and that should thrill him, but it was Tinn, legs crossed, eyes barely blinking, that gave him energy to sing himself almost hoarse.

“Tinn used to get bullied,” was a confession Sound made not many days later, after one too many of Gun’s inquiries. “I told you he got too much attention.”

“What? Wasn’t he—”

“He never told his mom.” Sound wouldn’t look him in the eye, but he could see the anger set in his jaw. “And it was never physically violent, not too many people knew about it, it was just... Mean.”

Mean.

Tinn would squirm when Gun touched his sides while they kissed, so Gun would do it all the time. He would break into giggles, and Gun would kiss his neck and cling to him as he tickled him more and Tinn would laugh and say his name breathlessly. He preferred to make love to him face to face, so he wouldn’t miss the way Tinn looked at him, open and direct and a bit unbelieving, his hand firmly gripped in Gun’s, mouth opening but he was never loud. When they finished, he liked to lay still for a bit, still connected, his breath in sync with Gun’s, and his hands, tired and awed, traced the lines of Gun’s face, the fast beating of his pulse on his neck, before he pulled Gun down for a new kiss, one that lingered, like a blessing and a promise and grace, all at once.

People were mean. To Tinn?

Tinn with messy hair and Gun’s red satin shirt on him, lipstick smeared on his lips and cheeks and neck, sleepy but not asleep, hands in Gun’s hair as Gun bit a new bruise on his collarbone and his hand moved down to fully awaken him and continue the dance from the night before. Tinn, who looked at him like he could see all of him and wanted him more for it, as if he could reach into him and pull from Gun a lifetime of longing finally fulfilled, as if Gun didn’t understand the meaning of the songs he sang until he talked to Tinn that first night in his car. “I’m a friend of Sound’s.” He had been so close and Gun had never seen him and now Gun didn’t want to look away again.

How could they be mean to him?

Gun didn’t have to ask anything of Tinn. Just like in their early conversations, where they could talk about anything to chase the loneliness away, Gun didn’t have to gather the courage to tell Tinn his worries about recording his first album, or how he missed his mother after going months without seeing her. Tinn could see his tells as clear as day. In return, he tried to take care of Tinn as much as he could. Carrying him to bed when he fell asleep in the living room, reading. Cooking for him, because he so often forgot. Singing to him as he dried his hair, or as he called from two towns over and Tinn had to stay home.

Mean for what? None of the answers he could easily think of could justify it. He knew exactly how teenagers were, he remembered them well. Because he was too smart, too soft-spoken, non-confrontational? Because he was the principal’s son and the school president? For completely arbitrary reasons, for petty reasons, just because?

It was an unremarkable day when he came home and saw Tinn preparing dinner in a dress. It hadn’t been any harder than any other day, and the sun hadn’t set completely, not a cloud in the sky. The skirt was long and pleated, unpatterned, and the cuffs were white, carefully pulled up as to not get in the way of his cooking. The color was just like many of his shirts, a familiar lavender.

Seeing the color pulled Gun from any pause he might have felt. It was Tinn. It was just Tinn, the man he had been living with and whom he had known for so long now. They had shared more than one anniversary. His hair was still the length Gun enjoyed — not too long that it looked unkempt, but long enough that Gun could run his hands through it. Artist-like. When Gun circled his arms around Tinn’s middle and breathed in, he smelled the familiar gardenias, and nothing had changed. Nothing except his heart, falling in love again at being trusted with something new.

“You stink,” Tinn said, but didn’t make any movement to pull away from Gun’s grasp.

“You smell good,” Gun said, knowing Tinn would roll his eyes at him.

“You should shower.”

“Hmm. Five more minutes.”

“Did that ever work with your mom?”

“Yes.”

And it worked with Tinn too.

After dinner, there was no rush to the bedroom. They walked in, hand in hand, and laid in bed, facing each other. Gun let his hand touch the collar of the dress, sharp and long and elegant, down the buttons at the front, and then rested his hand on Tinn’s waist.

“They didn’t like me,” Tinn said, because he knew. He barely saw him talking to Sound, but he knew they talked all the time. “They didn’t like what they saw, but I don’t know what it was.”

“They were fucking stupid.”

“There was a teacher who didn’t like me either.”

He pulled Tinn closer, grip firm. Tinn smoothed a thumb over his frown.

“He didn’t do anything to me.”

“But also didn’t do what he should have done.”

Protect you. Shield you. Support you, when you needed.

“Sound was there. We knew each other for a long time. It wasn’t so bad.”

There was always a reason why Gun liked Sound even though his bandmates kept getting in conflict with him. Perhaps he also saw something that others couldn’t see.

Tinn turned shy, hid his face on his pillow.

“I... had a crush.”

Gun frowned.

“On your teacher?”

He shook his head.

“Someone from a different school.”

Gun tried to tickle him, but Tinn protected his sides. His long skirt spilled on the bed, showing off his legs, and Gun reigned his hands. Tonight, he just wanted to know Tinn. Know what he had missed this whole time.

“Who was it? Was it a girl your mom didn’t approve of? Was it a delinquent boy? Who...”

Tinn turned to look at him again and Gun stopped. He tried to remember which high school Tinn went to, and he recalled... The international school his own school would compete against. The principal had been a beautiful woman with long hair, but Gun couldn’t remember her face. Boys in blue pants and red ties. His music club performed to them during cultural fairs, and he would face them whenever he helped in sports events.

“Tinn,” Gun said, voice weak, unbelieving, “that was over ten years ago.”

Tinn’s hand played with the collar of Gun’s shirt, and for the first time, he was incapable of holding eye contact.

“The music... It didn’t make everything better, but... There was so much honest joy in it, that it made me want to feel it, too.”

Gun understood why Sound seemed so reluctant to allow Tinn to meet new people, and especially himself then. There was in Tinn a desire to be good that surpassed the bad that had been done to him. Or perhaps, now that Gun knew him better, it was in spite of it. When Gun sang, when he looked straight at Tinn, Tinn looked back at him like he was a guiding light. Gun wasn’t, couldn’t believe he was such a thing with all his failures and rejections through the years, but for a few minutes, all those years ago, he meant something to Tinn. Something that carried over, that stuck to his character, that resonated within him. He had always seen Tinn as someone similar to him, incapable of being anything but authentic, and maybe Tinn had seen that, too. Maybe he had drawn from Gun’s love for music that wish to inspire, to be there for others. And if Gun sang for an audience that looked at him the way Tinn did, then who inspired who first, really?

How much could have been dispelled that first night, if they had not been compatible? When Tinn picked him up when he fell, when he looked at Gun out the corner of his eyes in his car, carrying in his lingering gaze a number of words unspoken that Gun felt compelled to hear? Gun was not good at flirting. By every account, Tinn was out of his league. Sound couldn’t have known that it would work. Gun didn’t have a record of keeping relationships, of fighting for them. He didn’t know what he wanted out of them, just some form of — peace. Of delight, like his mother spoke of his father. Something that felt like he didn’t have reinvent himself for, just to please them.

Something like hugging Tinn in the kitchen, eyes closed, listening as he hummed a song Gun didn’t know yet. Tinn helping him with his make-up, unhurried, soft brushes and softer touches. And waking up to his lavender dress, the fabric cool and light as water against Gun as they tangled together, Tinn’s hair on his pillow.

***

Standing on that stage, with a trophy in his hand, his bandmates by his side, all of the words of thanks that Gun can think of are for Tinn, clapping for him from the audience, his earring shining like a tiny fallen star. Gun wears the other earring, matching him. When Sound finishes his speech, Gun takes the microphone, and he says, “Thank you everyone who believed in me when I was just a kid singing at school fairs. Thank you for what you saw in me then, that helped me get here today.”

Gun sees a screen with his face, his smile big and eyes so small, and he laughs when he sees the red lipstick stains on his nose and cheek. It’s too late to wipe them away, so Gun only shakes his head, and waves at Tinn. His band is led off the stage and towards a different spot for pictures and more speeches. He catches sight of Tinn in a dimly lit corner, but it’ll be hours before he can touch him again. They’re winners now. It’s the happiest Gun has ever seen Sound, and the others look happy enough that they might want to stay for a few more years.

When he has time to check his phone, he sees notifications not just from his mother, but also from his old school friends. His first little band of misfits, the ones who believed in him the most. He can’t cry. Not right now.

The night carries on in bright flashes and indistinctive chatter. Gun stays for the after-party, buzzing with an energy that feels a little manic. Every once in a while, he’ll look around to find Tinn, to ground himself. So he knows that at the end of this night, he’ll still be the same man with a home to go back to. Not just Gun, the frontman, but the same Gun that Tinn once met. The one who got grumpy and unsociable when he got writer’s block and couldn’t write a good song. Whom Tinn called “difficult” when he was sick and refused to rest.

“Are you proud of me?” he asks Tinn on the ride home, tipsy, unable to look out the car window without getting sick. He keeps his head on Tinn’s shoulder, Tinn’s arm secure around his waist, and he can only see blurry details of Tinn — the red of his lips, his long bangs framing his face, so close, too close but at the same time, not enough.

“I’m proud of you,” Tinn says, kissing his forehead, and Gun will not cry, not yet, even though he can’t name a single feeling he’s experiencing right now. “I’m always proud of you, Gun.”

“Even when I get mad at you for not replying to my texts?”

“Hmmm.”

“Even when I forget to do the laundry?”

“A little less then.”

Gun whines but he’s also laughing into Tinn’s neck, where he kisses Tinn, just because he can. Tinn tries to argue, to push him back a little, saying something about “Not in the car,” but Gun doesn’t care about his surroundings or the time or anything at all at that moment. The car jolts, running over some irregularity on the road, and Gun clings to Tinn. Always his safe port. He breathes in and out, through his mouth, and Tinn’s perfume fills him. City lights flash outside, a reminder of the night and the outside world, but Gun thinks only about Tinn’s skin, soft underneath his touch, underneath his lips. How long has it been since he kissed Tinn? Hours.

It’s so long still until they’re climbing the steps to their home — a home that is technically only Tinn’s but that has Gun’s shit everywhere. His favorite guitar, the clothes he’s been wearing since college, shampoo from a brand that’s sponsoring them, alongside Tinn’s things. Gun’s boots are in the same wardrobe Tinn keeps his dresses, some of which Gun bought himself, because now, he sees Tinn in everything beautiful. Not high heels, no, Tinn doesn’t like those, but discreet rings with a single gem; dangling earrings like the ones they wore that night, that suit Tinn’s hair nicely; and red lipstick, with all different kinds of finish, none of which Gun understood until he applied them to Tinn himself and ran his thumb over his lips.

Gun pins Tinn against their front door as soon as they’re inside, asking, “What do you want?”

Tinn’s breath leaves in a surprised huff. Gun can see him clearer now that they’ve stopped moving, the entrance light shining above them until the timing goes off and they’re left in the dark. Still, Gun sees him, and he brushes Tinn’s hair away from his face. He leans closer, lips close to Tinn’s ear.

“Should we find another house to live in? Open a new clinic for you?”

He kisses a trail down Tinn’s neck, his hands pulling Tinn’s shirt from inside his pants and going underneath, fulfilling his desire to feel the skin there. Tinn’s arms circle his neck, fingers tangling with his hair, making Gun latch onto his skin, right where his shoulder meets his neck, lips and teeth and tongue and a pressure that steals Tinn’s breath.

“Come to Milan with me next month,” he says, and he feels more than hears Tinn say his name. “Tinn.”

He takes a step back and the light goes on again. Tinn’s pupils are blown wide, and his eyes are round and dark and seeing only him. Good.

“I want to give you everything,” Gun says.

“You’re drunk,” Tinn says, and his smile is a little weak, a little uncertain.

Gun shakes his head, not because it’s a lie, but because it’s not the whole truth. He wants to say it. He’s wanted to say it for a long time.

He steps closer again. Nose to nose, lips millimeters apart. Tinn leans down to touch his forehead to Gun’s and Gun smiles at that.

“I want you to be there for me, and I want to be there for you,” he says as the light goes out. “Whatever you need, would you tell me what it is?”

All this to say, I want you to tell me all about you. All this to say, I want to know your dreams. All this to say, talk to me about anything and everything. All this to say—

Tinn’s kiss falls on him like an unexpected downpour. It’s not usual for him, who’s timid, always setting the pace when they make out. Maybe he’s drunk on whatever it is that takes the inhibitions out of Gun tonight, that makes them stumble on the way to the bedroom, tripping over discarded clothes. They’re giggling and kissing and falling askew on the bed. Gun should be holding his weight away from Tinn as he falls on him but they’re not graceful tonight. Tinn has lost his jacket but Gun kept his white shirt on, though fully unbuttoned, because he liked the way the silk felt to the touch. They’ll probably find lipstick on it in the morning, but it would be far from the first time it’s happened. Gun’s not even embarrassed to bring Tinn’s clothes to the cleaners anymore.

He finally stops kissing Tinn long enough to pull himself up, hands on either side of Tinn’s head, to look at him. Hair mussed, lipstick smeared, eyes shining and dark. His hands lay on the bed, just beside Gun’s, palm up and waiting. Open. Trusting.

Tinn once told him that he decided to become a plastic surgeon not to take up expensive jobs for celebrities, but to help those who wanted to feel better about themselves. He always chose every job very carefully, working together with the patient for a healthy mindset, and he said there was a special type of joy about looking in the mirror and liking the person you saw there.

Gun was so proud of him. He wished he could go back and meet Tinn in high school, to hold his hand, and call his name there. He wanted to give him happier memories on his own stage. He wanted Tinn to see how Gun saw him, inside and out.

“You’re so beautiful,” is all he can say.

He sees Tinn’s eyes water before Tinn pulls him back down to kiss him again. That’s when he lets himself cry, and laugh, and touch Tinn all he wants. His mind is still hazy, and Tinn is overwhelmed, so it’s far from being their best night. But Tinn keeps his legs wrapped around him, and Gun takes them both in hand, trying so bad not to fall into Tinn, wanting to make him feel good. He whispers nothings that are everything, and he hopes Tinn believes them all, because even if he’s a little drunk on alcohol and very drunk on happiness, he means it when he says, “You’re good, you’re so good, you’re perfect, I love you.” The sleeves of Tinn’s shirt feel like being touched by seafoam, and the bed dips as he thrusts. Tinn hands on his back feel like dragging him down and down, falling into his kiss until they’re both struggling to breathe.

When they climax, one following the other, Gun falls heavy into Tinn, and Tinn catches him. It’s like coming back to the shore after the tide has receded. Finding the way back home, after swimming in the dark sea. But it’s only the night, giving way to the morning, and kisses that have regained their calm as dawn approaches.

***

Gun wakes hours later, with the sun already high in the sky. He can tell Tinn cleaned him up, but there’s still too much of the party the night before in him, so he takes a shower before he looks for Tinn.

He finds him in the living room, his tablet in his hands, and silver glasses on his face. His skirt is a deep navy, and Gun knows he has a tie that matches it perfectly. He can see his own marks on Tinn’s neck, imperfections on the otherwise smooth skin that Tinn makes no attempt to hide with a scarf or a high collar. The button-up he wears has the first few buttons undone, showing the marks off. It’s just the two of them, after all. Just like he can be messy and forgetful and capricious sometimes, Tinn can also show his flaws, his temper, bare it all. When they disagreed or had fights over banal things, Gun could never be mad at him for more than a couple of hours.

Gun looks at those marks, at the column of Tinn’s neck, all of it calling for him like a mirror of Gun, of their mutual desire. But he also looks at Tinn’s eyes and sees him squinting at the screen despite his glasses. He’s still sleepy, even though he’s usually the one who wakes up early between the two of them. He tries to suppress a yawn, and Gun doesn’t even know if he’s making a sound or not for how endeared he feels. Intimacy felt really fucking good bathed in sunlight.

“Milan is on the fifteenth, right?” Tinn asks, taking his teacup from the coffee table.

“Yeah,” Gun answers, walking towards him. Tinn frowns.

“Do you think they can get me a seat in your flight? I don’t think— Gun, I’m still talking!”

But Gun only gives him more sniff kisses that evolve into pecks that evolve into him sitting on Tinn’s lap, arms around Tinn’s neck.

“Are you really coming?”

“Hmm,” Tinn acquiesces, setting the tablet aside on the couch in favor of holding Gun back. “That’s what you— I mean.” He gives Gun a smile that makes him look younger, full of light. “That’s what I want.”

How could anyone be mean to him, ever? All Gun can see is a beautiful boy, putting himself in Gun’s hands.

“You two are so gross, I’m never staying in the same room as the two of you ever again,” Sound had said once when they went out on a double date, Sound’s boyfriend laughing silently, and what Gun heard was, “You’re perfect for each other.”

He takes Tinn’s glasses off, folds them and places them on Tinn’s tablet.

“Okay,” he says, cupping Tinn’s face, void of any make-up but flushed and radiant all the same. It’s the sun, shining on the couch from the open window. But Gun hopes he can be that light, too. “Although I’ll probably have to hide you or they’ll think you’re a celebrity.”

“Aren’t I?” Tinn asks, tilting his head to the side and adopting a contemplating expression. “I am your boyfriend, after all. Isn’t that a kind of celebrity?”

Gun hums, nodding.

“I should dress you up and show you off,” he says, but freezes, thinking well about what he just said. His eyes must show his sudden panic, because Tinn is patting the back of his head and kissing him before he’s saying,

“Okay. Speak well of me, will you?”

It gives him pause for a few beats. He looks between Tinn’s eyes, as if expecting him to take it back, but he doesn’t. Gun has wanted to talk about him publicly for so long, but he didn’t know the right timing. He didn’t know where, in the long time he had been dating Tinn, their feelings had finally aligned perfectly. He’s admired and loved Tinn for some time now. Was it enough, for all the years Tinn had liked him before he was even in Tinn’s life? Would Sound hate him for exposing Tinn, who kept so much of himself to just a few select people, of which Gun has been so lucky to be included in?

But the night before, with Tinn’s gaze on him as he finally felt at the top of his world, Tinn’s earring clipped on his own ear – a part of Tinn always with him – he understood what it was like to speak of someone like they’re the world, just like his mom would do for his dad. It came out of him every time he thanked those that supported him, his eyes on every camera but his heart set on Tinn. Did it reach him?

Gun looks at Tinn until his vision gets blurry and Tinn’s smile fades, replaced with concern. Tinn asks, “Are you okay?”, but Gun only hugs him, hiding his face on his neck. He breathes in the scent of gardenias, and with the sun and Tinn’s warmth covering him, he doesn’t think about Milan, he thinks only,

“Mom is going to love you.”

Perhaps it’s time to plan a different trip.

#My School President #TinnGun #gun guntaphon #tinn tinnaphob #GeminiFourth #Alternate Universe: Different First Meeting

[rainbowcarousels]

For anyone who has noticed me being very sparse this week, I have one of those demon colds which has laid me out for a week. As such, I don't have a lot for VC's smutty sunday but my upcoming entry to VC Kink week is in it's first draft so I'm happy to share just a small snippet from it.

Nicolas turned back to the audience where Armand sat alone, watching them silently.

“This obsession of yours. I know he’s a peculiarity, a damning dichotomy of a demon that weeps for humanity and rips them open, who cries for witches in one breath and proclaims himself as an exceptionally modern evil in the next, a lordly wolf sewn into the skin of a beautiful, rebellious creature of light so sloppily that you can see it exuded from every part and yet, he is only a man.” Nicolas blinked suddenly several times, before he shook off whatever had stopped him. “He snores, you know.”

The sudden statement, delivered without the running together words of the previous rant, startled Lestat so much that he laughed. For one moment, one brief moment, he thought he might see the boy he’d loved underneath the frenzied fledgling he’d become. “I don’t know if I still do, Nick.”

“The problem is,” Nicki still wasn’t looking at him but rather Armand. “The ever present problem is that he’s a handful. Not just physically though he does have an exceptional cock for someone practically born to be on their back with their legs spread. But that problem, the problem that you’ll never know what you have – the sweet, doomed boy who wailed at the piercing darkness if he so much as glimpsed it, the studious little devotee of a god he doesn’t believe in, the wolfkiller and terror of a lordling, the parisian prostituting himself before a stage of people so they can fuck in back alleys imagining his pretty hair, that voice, the way he speaks and forget their lives or the monster who does not understand how to be a monster at all. Do you really want all that? What is it you truly want, little dark angel?”

Armand was staring at them both, the question left unanswered. Or was it? Was he speaking to Nicolas in the only place Lestat couldn’t hear it?

There was no warning when suddenly Nicolas’ mouth was on his own and gods, but he tasted like blood and nothing else. Nothing familiar, nothing of him left to dig for against his feverish lips and then – suddenly more blood, too much blood for an after taste. It was his own! Nicki had bitten down hard enough that it had sent lightening through him, reawakening desire in his gut that he was sure was gone with the grief over the loss of familiarity but this – this – this was something that made his world dance for a brief few moments before Nicki shoved him off away.

It was only then that he noticed Armand had walked up to the stage, his eyes tracking both of their movements with the dangerous fixation of a predator. If you wanted to truly think of a dichotomy, the feral being beyond those pretty curls was where he would start.

Before Lestat could even get his bearings, Nicki had sat down on the stage floor and pulled Armand into a violent kiss. There was blood spilling down Armand’s lips and onto his chin, but Lestat realised it was neither Nicki’s nor Armand’s blood but his own from Nicolas’ mouth.

As soon as Nicki pulled his stained lips away, Armand used Nicki’s fingers to wipe the remaining blood from his own face into his mouth. It was gratuitous and beautiful, the way his eyes fluttered a few times. There was the softest noise, obscene and desirous and Lestat froze in place to watch the pleasure unfold. Lestat had known those fingers on every part of him, inside his mouth, inside his most private places and wringing him out and that was what it sounded like, that was the only thing comparable to the expression worn on the face of the beautiful boy before them.

My blood did that.

Then Armand surged forwards so fast that Lestat barely saw him move, licking the last of the blood from Nicki’s lips like he couldn’t care to lose even the slightest drop.

There was something happening here, something that was making a heat curl under Lestat’s skin that he had thought was lost to creatures such as them.

“So be it,” Nicolas said suddenly, jumping back on the stage with an agility that he hadn’t had in life. “Ladies and Gentleman, our production this fine evening has a very special guest, a beauty making his debauched debut on this auspicious evening. Let me present to you on this very stage – The Vampire Armand!”

#lestat/nicki/armand #vcsmuttysunday #not beta read because this week has been terrible #i think shotgunning counts as smut? i hope so

[ithinkimightbeagoose]

Something I wrote—Hero x Newly Turned Villain Dynamic

story below!

As the hero drops to his knees, his outfit stained with dried blood and fresh tears, he sees the one person he never expected to see, with the blood of the innocent staining his cheeks.

Him.

"Why would you do this? Why? You've become the one thing we swore to fight against! Why would you kill them?"

The hero's voice is cracking now, his hands shaking as he stares at his old friend who looks alien as his eyes are clouded with vengeance and...jealousy?

The villain chuckles now, but it is not lighthearted in the slightest. His voice is dark with something the hero couldn't understand. After all...he's never felt the way the villain does now.

"Why? Oh, silly boy. You of all people should know why I did this. Why I killed everyone who got close to you. It's because I love you, of course!"

The hero freezes. Love? No. This is sick and twisted, not at all how love should be. The hero's heart drops as he realizes the villain's pattern. Everyone who's died...they're all...

"This isn't love. This is...it's...revenge. You killed everyone I've fought, just so we could be together? It's sick. If you really...loved me...you'd..."

The hero cannot continue his thought as his throat closes up. Everyone...everything...he did this for...him? Then was the—

"At a loss for words, I see. Let me break it down for you, then. I killed them all so that nothing would stand in our way! We belong together. Don't you see? They were threatening us! And I know you got that package from me!~"

The package. The box containing his nemesis' head. So then...that was him too?

"I'm shocked you didn't notice sooner, dear. I mean, it's not like I didn't send you signs!"

Finally, the hero musters up the courage to speak his mind to the one he used to care about. The one he would have sacrificed everything for.

"I'm sorry that you had to go to these lengths for me. If I was ignoring your signs, it's because I was scared. I can't forget what you did, and I'm not ready to forgive you just yet, but maybe...we can put our differences aside? Just for now? I mean, maybe if—"

The hero goes white as he tenses up. Suddenly, he crumples to the ground as his heart rate slows to an even pace. As he loses consciousness, he hears one final thing.

"You talk too much." the villain states, removing the syringe.

#writers of tumblr #queer writers #gay #lgbtq+ #queer #gay mlm #bxb #m4m #boys loving boys #hero x newly turned villain #writing exercise

[spookyboywhump]

Hi hello I had stumbled across This and I finally got some writing done because of it :3c

***

 “God, I can’t fucking stand you, you know that?” Zander growled, at the point of the night that he’d begun to antagonize Nicholas. It wasn’t a smart move, he knew that, but he was bored and he knew that he wouldn’t get out of this unscathed anyway, he may as well earn whatever punishment he’d receive in the end. 

 “The feeling is mutual, mutt.” Nicholas said bluntly, not even looking away from his laptop to spare any attention to the man at his feet, hands cuffed behind him. 

 “I’d rather die than spend another minute around you.”

 “I’d also rather you died.” Nicholas said, and it almost looked like he was about to smile. “It would be quieter around here at least. I wonder, how long do you think it would take me to convince Cain to have you put down once we’re married?”

 “Oh fuck off, if he hasn’t offed me yet he’s not going to do it just because you tell him to.”

 “You know you should watch your language.”

 “Why don’t you make me? Too lazy to get off your ass and find a muzzle?” He snickered, and Nicholas sighed heavily. 

 “Really, I think that’s quite enough, Daniel.” 

 For a moment, Zander just stared at him, like he wasn’t sure he heard him right. He couldn’t have, he swore he was just hearing things. All of a sudden, he found it harder to think, harder to speak, everything slowing down as he tried to process what he’d heard.

 “W-what… what did you say…?” He asked hesitantly.

 “I said that I think that’s enough, Daniel. I know you have trouble listening but honestly now, it’s not that hard.” He finally turned his attention to Zander, and as they made eye contact he was sure, Nicholas knew exactly what he was doing. He felt like he was going to be sick. 

 “Why- why are you-”

 “Why am I what?” He asked, raising his eyebrows. 

 “That name, you- you can’t…” He didn’t know how to say what he was thinking, and Nicholas seemed to be enjoying every second of this.

 “Hm? It is your name, isn’t it?”

 “No!” He cried, his heart sinking as he realized what he’d said. “No- no I mean, it- it is, but you can’t- you aren’t supposed to-”

 “You keep forgetting, I can call you anything I’d like to.” Nicholas said, leaning forward and grabbing Zander by the face, gripping his chin tightly despite the fact he made no effort to pull away, still staring at him in shock. “Zander, mutt, sweetheart, Daniel, Danny, it doesn’t matter, you’ll answer to whatever I decide to call you, understand?” He said sternly, and for once Zander was completely at a loss for words, slowly nodding his head, if only to get Nicholas to let go of him. The man smiled at him, and let go of his chin to gently pat the side of his face, Zander bracing for a slap though. “Good boy. See, you really are more tolerable when you keep your mouth shut.” He said, returning to what he’d been doing before.

 Zander still felt sick, he didn’t understand why Nicholas suddenly decided to do that, nobody had used that name for him in years, at one point it had been a punishable offense. He gave it up, it was easier, safer to just give it up than take a beating every time he or somebody else dared to say it, he’d long since accepted that he’d lost that part of himself, he didn’t expect to ever hear it again, and he certainly didn’t expect to hear it from Nicholas. He wondered if Cain had told him, or if he’d read his file from when he’d first been kidnapped. He supposed it was possible Nicholas had known all along, his case had been a big deal at one point, but he’d never let on that he knew, or even cared who Zander used to be. He was starting to wish it had stayed that way. That name sounded wrong coming from him, it sounded like a taunt. He’d rather never hear it again than have to hear it from Nicholas of all people.

 In the end, Nicholas got what he had wanted. He’d dragged up memories of his early days in captivity, that constant ache that never went away, he could only try to ignore by forcing himself to never think about his father, or the rest of his family for that matter. It hurt too much to think of the things he’d lost and left behind, to think of the pieces of himself that had been ripped away from him all those years ago. It took all his energy to focus on holding himself together, to blink back tears and refuse to show any emotion on his face. Nicholas was no doubt satisfied with himself, Zander was so caught up in his own thoughts, he didn’t say another word for the rest of the night.

#my writing #my oc's #zander #nicholas #ah how i love these two

[sunny6677]

Don't Hug Me, I'm... (AU)

EPISODE 1, PART 1: JOBS?...

(TW: MEMORY LOSS, SLIGHT DELUSIONS.)

(Also if people do end up liking this, please let me know what your theories are in the reblogs or comment section. Ya don't have to though.)

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

The sunlight poured in from the creaks of the window, making the dust particles more visible in the air. The birds chirped, and the room progressively became brighter with each time the sun rised up.

Three roommates sat at the table together, only sitting in silence. What was curious was the odd atmosphere. Usually it never felt this off. Maybe it was because they weren't speaking? The three only sat in silence once more, unsure of what to do.

"Oh, it's-- it's morning.. thats.. weird. Wasn't it-- wasn't it night time the last time we said anything?" Asked Yellow, raising a brow as a bead of sweat slightly trickled down his face from slight fear.

"Um.. ma.. maybe we stayed up all night talki-- talking again. I'm sure that's all we did, maybe.. um.." Red Guy fumbled with his words, trying to form enough words to actually make sense to the others. They only fell into silence once more.

...

...

"Well-- err, what are we doing today? Usually we go up around and.. fool around with some people.. or-- or maybe teachers. Are-- are they teachers?" Asked Duck.

"I think-- I think so.. yeah. Maybe that's what we should be doing today?.. Maybe we should sit around and wait a bit.. wait a bit for the um.. the teachers, yes." Replied Red, twiddling his fingers on the table.

"Ah.. um.. hey, what do you think?" Asked Duck to a certain stranger hiding behind a newspaper. The stranger flipped the newspaper downwards, and said with an enthusiastic smile; "Well, would you look at the time! I better get going!"

"Goi-- going? We're going somewhere?" Red stammered, looking down at the rather optimistic stranger below him with a strange sense of anxiety. "Haha, no, friend! I'm going to my job!" Corrected the stranger, walking to the door.

"Wa-- wait, no, where are you going? Don't leave us!" Duck yelled, seemingly in a slight panic from his attempt towards the door. He peeked back in, and said; "Woah, woah! No need to worry! I almost forgot my briefcase, friend!"

"Briefcase? Are you one of those ones who has one of himself?" Asked Yellow, seemingly curious about this random person he didn't even know all that well.

"Why, yes! And I can't forget about it because it's for my job! As a matter of fact, my job doesn't even feel like a job! It makes me feel like an angel!" His voice had a slight reverb to it as he said that, making them all raise their eyebrows a little.

"Your-- your job? You didn't say anything about a job.." Duck cut in.

"Huh? Why of course I did, friend! Did you not hear me?" Said the Briefcase/Stranger.

"You did? Why-- I don't think you said that though." Duck replied.

"He.. he, um.. he said it, how come you did-- didn't hear him? We're supposed to be going somewhere with him too." Red chimed in.

"...what? I didn't say anything about tha-- " The Briefcase was then cut off.

"I-- I did hear him! It's just.. I dont... I don't think I rem--" Duck was then cut off.

"Guys, he was talking about his job. He didn't say anything about us going with him. At least.. I don't think he did. Did.. did you?" Chimed in Yellow, looking concerned for his friends and the random stranger.

"...No?.." Said the Briefcase.

"Ye.. yes you did, did you.. did you forget?" Said Red, slightly raising his brow in confusion.

...

...

"Alrighty then, let me teach you about jobs, friends!" Suddenly announced the Briefcase with a grin, music chiming in.

"Wh.. wha--"

"A'you can be anything you want to do

It's totally up to you

A'even if you don't know what to do......

I can help you! A'show you!

You can be the guy who types so fast on computers (a'Clackity-clackity-clackity-clack!)

Or you can be the one who kicks so hard at a football (It's a goal!)

Or you can be the one who bangs the hammer when he's angry (Order!)

Or you can be the one who makes people better when they're poorly (Careful!)"

Yellow Guy: "..Maybe I can be the one who plants a tree

Cuts it down to make a shed"

Duck: "And I will.. wha.. what was I gonna say again?"

Red Guy: "And I would-- um-- uh.."

Duck: "I can be the one who tells all the soldiers to stand up straight-- (What.. what was i saying?)"

Yellow Guy: "I can be the one who drives a truck full of ice creams (Yum-yum! Have one?)"

Briefcase: "Or you can be the one who cuts people's hair for a party"

Duck: "So it looks dapper, right?"

Red Guy: "It looks.. you look stupid."

Yellow Guy: "Maybe I could be the one who catches all the fishes in a big net!"

Red Guy: "What? There's nothing in it..."

Yellow Guy: "Huh?.. Yes there is-- wai--"

Briefcase: "Or you can be the guys who fly so high to a space moon"

Duck: "H-- Huh?..."

Briefcase: "Or you can be the guys who work as a team in the work place"

Yellow Guy: Jobs!

Briefcase (going away): "Or you can be the ones who dig a hole for a funeral... Or you can be the one who..."

...

He was gone.

...

Where had he gone?

The three froze in an instant panic, as they realized that they were somewhere completely different from before. Yellow looked around, and smiled calmly while trying to make himself sound not too scared; "I-- I'm sure he's around here somewhere, guys, don't worry.."

Duck didn't respond. But Red looked down at him with a sense of dread and said:

"Whe-- where are we?.. We.. we should be at home-- no, I should be at home-- how.. how did we get here? What.. what are we doing here?"

#dhmis #dhmis au #dhmis tv series #dhmis tv show

[asmothe-racoon]

Death wish (medic's POV)

(This my first ever proper fan fic so pleade judge me gently)

I stood there cleaning the blood off my bone saw hanging it back up. Turning around there on my desk sat three piles of paperwork surrounded by scattered sheets. I run my fingers though my raven black hair, attempting to smooth it a bit. I let out a sigh as I sit down and begin with my paperwork knowing it’ll be another sleepless night. “Looking like a mess still I see” I hear that stupid voice speak sometimes I just wish he’d leave me be. He continues to berate me as I chip away at the seemingly endless work. After about 3 hours of this I feel a pair of clawed feet land on my shoulder I turn my head to see Archimedes perched on my left shoulder I realise I forgot to feed him I stand up basically dragging myself to my doves’ cages pulling out their bowls, Archimedes is the only one I let be free roaming due to me being able to trust him. I finish pouring the food pellets soldier bought me into the bowls, he told me that these were heathier for them cause seeds are mac Donald’s for birds, he also told me to invest in a foraging toy. “There, ve go” I mutter placing the last bowl. I still back down, feeling my frame sink into the cushioning of my seat. The work seems endless I feel my eyelids get heavy; time seems to slow down I feel my breaths become more drawn out as my office fade to black. I hear the thump of my head on my desk stopping me from sleeping.

 

“RISE AND SHINE MAGGOTS” I hear soldier yell immediately followed by the sound of a trumpet. I push myself up rubbing my temples. I push my chair away form my desk and procced to get ready for battle. Picking up my Medi-gun I being to question what kind of fight it will be today control point, capture the flag or payload. walking out I bump into my co-worker and closes companion Mikhail i.e., red heavy “ morning doctor everything alright” he asks handing me a coffee “ yeah just didn’t sleep vell last night” I take the coffee from his hands and chug it “danke for zhe coffee I needed it also are we fighting zhe blu’s today” I ask “Het, remember teams are working together today againts baby man grey’s punie robots” he tells me walking away most likely to grab Sasha.

 

I step into the truck mentally preparing myself for today. Even after who knows many years it still gets to you some time. People forget that just because I’m a psychopath doesn’t mean I’m not still a human with human emotion, these idiots that I work with are still people I care about, they’re my friends and all though they may be dumbasses, they’re my dumbasses. I’m suddenly snapped out of my thoughts by shaking I see engineer or engie for short was shaking me letting me know we arrived our location. Stepping out we were greeted by the enemy team i.e., the blus, I adjust my glass, looking at the blu medic he gave me a smug look, oh how I hated him he thinks he such hot shit when he’s not.

The old hag known as the announcer warned us that the first wave was coming. We were greeted with Mr Gray’s abominations he calls robots. A sentry destroyer began to charge at me but was dismantled pyro’s axe. I run to heal demoman just before I can get to him I’m pulled away by the blu team’s heavy, he had pulled me into his chest I was close enough to hear his heartbeat “vhat the hell was that-“ I was cut off by the sound of a bullet flying past turns out he pulled me out of the way of a sniper-bot’s shot “red doctor ok” he asked, I was at a loss for words all I could do was nod “good” he ran off leaving me dumbfounded with my face as red as my uniform.

 

It had been 2 months since what happened, and we had to go back and fight the robots multiple times and things like this kept happening and even after battles I couldn’t stop thinking about him. It was so distracting I hated it and the voice teasing me about it didn’t help, God he so childish sometimes. I had just gotten back from a day of control point, my face was red not due to exhaustion or it being covered in blood, it was due to an incident today blu heavy had just barely avoided being killed by pyro the axe had cut his vest off, the battle was quite heated so most people were sweating now here’s the issue I cant stop thinking about the way his sweat soaked shirt clung to his muscles defining them agents his sky blue shirt part of the shirt had come undone exposing his rock-hard abs, the image replaying in my mind over and over again on repeat. I hated it he was my enemy but part of me loved it. I tried to wrack my brain for answers. I had only felt something remotely similar before that was with my ex-wife but of course this time it’s different, because A. he's my enemy, B. he’s a man and C. demo isn’t gonna fuck him behind my back.

 

 

The sound of footsteps awoke me, I had taken a nap after dinner hoping to sleep these feelings away, yeah that didn’t work, I digress glancing at my clock it was 1 am, I chose to pop my head out of the hallway the only light was coming from engineer’s workshop, about to brush it off as him being up late like normal was stopped by a French voice “merde ton si serré” “s-sugar cube quiet someone might h-here us” the voice of my team mate warned these sounds were accompanied by the sound of slapping skin. I stood there in horror. Is my own teammate getting fucked by the enemy? I choose not to confront them. At least not yet, I walk back into my room. And for the first time it felt lonely. I haven’t felt like this in so long. Flopping onto my bed it felt so cold, so empty, for once I hated it.

 

I awoke realizing it was a cease fire day. After changing into a plain white button up, red tie and black pants. I step out of the base to head off to the one place I remotely enjoy going to the library. Not many people go there seeing as Tou Fort if filled with imbeciles. I open the door stepping in the sent of old books and antique furniture fills my lungs. Hopefully a good book will get my mind of the recent events “is this the book small ones wish heavy to read” I hear the voice of the man from said events say in surprisingly warm and even slightly playful voice. My body felt a like stone statue as my eyes wander to the source of the voice and to my dismay, there surrounded by small children all sat down ready to listen was the one person I was hoping to avoid. I run behind a bookcase before he could notice me. I peer from behind the bookcase he looked so happy you know I’ve never notice small details about him like the fact his eye lids are hooded or the way his eyes shine like stained glass, his smile is so bold yet soft and welcoming. I feel my face turn maroon once more “man I vonder how big he is down there” I hear the voice say my heart started racing how could he be so perverted, I try to take my mind of his comment by grabbing a book I had almost finished from my bag it was the book nurse in charge by Elizabeth Gilzean, I must say it’s much more interesting then I thought. Half an hour later I had finished it and returned it and now looking for a new book to read. I stood there looking at the romance section when one book caught my eye it was another Elizabeth Gilzean book next patient doctor Anne, I reach to grab it but it was to high up while trying to reach it some one else grab it I turn to look at him and like the universe was trying to play match maker it was blue heavy “heavy didn’t know red doctor also liked this author too” he smiled handing me the book. I try not to blush taking it from his hand his hands were surprisingly soft like spider silk sheets they were warm to like a nice of coffee on a cold winter night. I try to say something but just a stammer of uncoherent mumbles, looking up him fear and embarrassment filling my eyes, he laughed a bit “god his laugh is cute” the voice said and for once I agreed. I check out the book and head back to base holding the book to my chest I could feel it agents my heartbeat face beet red. I take a quick look around before leaving cause I felt as if someone was watching me.

 

I lay there in my bed, turning over my clock shows that the time 11:30pm I haven’t slept since I got back. I stand up for a second my feet touch icy concrete floor of my room before sliding into my slippers, I walk down to engineer’s workshop hoping to get advice, the light was on so hopefully he was awake but just as I got to the door when I see blue spy walk out we both stop dead in our tracks “bonjour” he greets me I choose to cut to the chase “look I need advice” I bluntly state he take me to the roof so no one can see or hear us.

“So, tell me what troubles you” he inquires pulling out a cigarette and lighting “well you see” I start to go on tangent about what’s been going on and about my feelings for blue heavy now I didn’t know if this was a good idea, I don’t know but the caring and empathetic looking in his eyes made me feel like I could trust him. “So, ja that’s what’s been on my mind since we went against Mr grey” I sigh he stays silent for about a minute proccing to put out his cigarette butt “you know I understand your destress I was once in your shoes but let me tell you this he feels the same way” he replies staring off into the distance “vait really” I start to get my hopes up a smile creeps onto my face, blue spy look at me smiling “ ‘ou have now idea how much he talk about monsieur the way he describes you is almost like writing a romance novel. And let’s just say my medic wasn’t happy when he found out” he chuckled at the end well looks like I have good chance with him.

 

It’s been about 2 weeks since spy and I had that chat and I’ve spent that time trying to hang with blu heavy and tonight I was planning on telling him how I felt tonight. I had asked the Russian to meet me at the cliff next to the beach at 8pm from there I had set up a picnic, surprisingly I got the idea from scout I overheard him mentioning there was a meteor shower tonight because he was planning to take miss Pauling there now it may just be the fact that I see Pauling as a daughter to me, but she is way too good for someone like scout. I but down the hairbrush looking at myself I dressed myself in a nice warm cream sweater with a special broach over a corset paired with some jeans and boots. Just before I leave I grab my coat and the basket.

 

I had finished setting everything up I stand up smiling feeling proud of myself, it soon fading as I remember something blu heavy told me about blu medic recent mood. Apparently blu medic as been moody and envious trying to convince blu heavy that I was just trying to get information out of him and how that they were meant to be with each other, not to mention him constantly trying to interrupt some of our meet ups. I head footstep behind me, my heart swells up like a venomous snake bite but not as life threatening. As I turn around expecting to see the future love of my life, only to be met with blu medic’s envy filled eyes as he pushed me off the cliffside. I grabbed onto a protruding stone trying to pull myself up taking a lot of focus and energy. As I go to place my hand onto the cliff’s edge, I almost miss due to me getting distracted by what sounded like blu medic talking to someone but who was it “WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINK, YOU JUST KILLED MY ONE CHANCE AT LOVE YOU мудак” I hear an enraged yet sorrow filled voice yell I know that accent anywhere it was blu heavy, I pull myself up while blu medic was distracted, my eyes were met with the view of blu heavy with his back pinned agent a wall as that asshole medic pointed a get at him “VELL IF I CANT HAVE YOU NO ONE CAN” he screamed you can see a deranged look in his eyes. He shoots a bullet it barely misses heavy’s head hitting him the shoulder. I look at the basket reaching in a grab out a knife. Running up behind him I used one hand to grab his arm holding the gun the other I use to slit the bastard’s throat blood spattering all over my arm. I drop the knife running over to blu heavy as he lays against the tree holding his shoulder, I pull out the mini health kit I always keep on me and starts to patch him up. After I had finished, I didn’t dare look up at him, fearing the reality of what he would say. I feel a firm hand gently place it’s self on my cheek making my look up at him, my fears were false as I was met with loving smile form him. “I’m so sorry this whole turned into a disaster I shouldn’t have done this it was just that I’m in love with you and I want to make it special before-“ I was cut off by the feeling off his lips against mine they were surprisingly soft. As I kissed back, I place my arms around his neck leaning in as my body was filled with pure bliss. We pulled apart looking into his eyes it made me feel human again and I loved it. Before he could say anything, I warn him “ you know this love is a death wish right?” he just smiles and holds me close “ heavy knows and it is worth it you’re heavy’s death wish”

#heavy medic #tf2 medic #tf2 heavy #tf2

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Ten Into The Fog (Part 34)

He can’t explain it, why he is just breaking down now and when things are finally looking up. It simply doesn’t make sense, not even to him. But he supposes that this has been building for a while now. If only he could have waited just a little longer. Just until they could be away from the public and away from the cameras. He has come to know that these sorts of things just simply don’t wait. They come on fast and they come on suddenly. 

They come on devastatingly

Azula is sitting right there across from him and acting more like councilwoman Azula than ever and yet there’s an overwhelming sense of loss, an air of it that surrounds her. And maybe that is because he is only seeing loss right now. 

He is only hearing last words whispering in his ears alongside the distraught calls of faceless strangers that he has killed. 

Nobody talks about that. 

They talk about the people that Zuko has killed in battle, the people Toph had taken out. They talk about how Azula had killed Aang but they never talk about his body count. He thinks that everyone just forgets that he has one at all. 

They don’t try to reassure him like they reassure Toph. Like they reassure Zuko and Azula that they are not bad people. 

And maybe that’s the price of being the funny man. The laidback, carefree, silly guy. The comedian doesn’t have any problems. The comedian cheers everyone else up, not the other way around. 

He needs Azula to comfort and soothe him, but as per usual she is staring at him with that dumbstruck look and glancing at everyone around her to see if they will step up so that she doesn’t have to. And as Katara reaches out to offer words of comfort, his anger finally spills over. 

He doesn’t mean to yell, he hadn’t even meant to speak out loud. In fact, he didn’t realize that he had until they all collectively flinch. “Dammit! Why can’t you ever help me! I always go out of my way to comfort you and make sure that you’re okay, but you can’t ever do that for me!”

And he has made things worse. Of course she isn’t going to want to comfort him now, he has just shouted at her. And for moments that she can’t even remember. Of course she won’t want to approach him after he has fixed her with such a potent glower. 

He is lucky that Zuko has opted to stay home and watch Mai or he would be getting an earful. 

Even in the throes of his own distress he finds himself upset that he has ruined Azula’s first good mood in ages. 

“Sokka…” Katara says uncertainly. She reaches her hand out and he swats it away. “I just don’t understand. Why can’t anyone ever comfort me. It’s always about Azula and Azula’s problems…or Zuko’s or Aang’s. Everyone’s problems are more important than mine. Fine! Maybe there was no genocide of my people, maybe my parents loved me! But one of them is dead! Everyone I love dies. And no one cares!” 

“Sokka, that’s not true.” Katara replies softly. 

“We do care.” Aang adds, “It’s just…sometimes it’s hard to tell how you feel.”

“Right. Because it’s so much easier to read Azula.” He jabs his pointer in her direction. The entire sushi shop is staring now. He thinks that some people have entered it just to see what the fuss is. 

“You always seem so happy.” Aang replies. 

“Azula’s always either grumpy or…” TyLee tilts her head. “She just has this aura, even when she’s got that blank expression.”

“It’s all about her all the time and I’m tired of it!” He should just shut up right now, but his mouth keeps pouring words, even after seeing Azula flinch. Even after seeing the way her hold tightens around Chomp. She doesn’t like when people yell, he recalls. But somehow, instead of coaxing him to take a step back, it makes him angrier. Angry because he realizes that it truly is easier to tell when Azula’s anxious or sad. “I always go out of my way to make sure that she’s okay even when she yelling and saying these awful things about me. And what do I get!?” He gestures to her. “She just stands there and watches me lose it!” He finds himself digging his fingers through his own hairline.

“You know Azula, Sokka.” Katara tries. “She isn’t exactly a cuddly person.”

“Yeah, until she’s breaking down. Then suddenly she loves being held and coddled.” He knows what he is doing and still he can’t stop. He is probably making her feel like she can’t come to him anymore, probably making her feel guilty for letting herself be vulnerable. The rational part of him that is still there, truly hopes that she won’t take any of this to heart. 

He wants her help, he is asking for it all while pushing her away. All while giving her a reason to keep standing there, staring at him with this horrid mix of confusion, hurt, and hatred. She taps her fingers upon Chomp’s scales–he knows that he is making her anxious. 

He should apologize, but all that comes out is another soft sob. And this time he can’t stop it. This time it takes him over completely because he knows that he is going to lose another person he loves. But this time it will be for the better. If he pushes Azula away then she will be free of his bad luck. She will be safe. If she doesn’t love him then she won’t die the way Yue and Suki did. The way his mom had before them. 

It is strange that Katara and Hakoda have managed to escape the fate that everyone else he loved faced.

Just as he had expected, the cameras are here now. They are flashing in his face, capturing his distress for all to gander at for weeks to come. This is where Azula decides to step in. Explicitly and under no uncertain terms, she tells them to fuck off and mind their own buissness. 

He hasn’t heard her speak so crassly in a good while. And maybe that is why the cameramen do leave. 

Maybe that is why the sushi shop is now vacant save for they and the shop owners. Nobody wants to test an Azula who has dropped the polite princess demeanor. 

Nobody but him apparently. 

He is set to shout at her again. To ask her why she would rather yell at people than offer him words or gestures of comfort. Why it’s so much easier for her to be cruel and terrifying than it is for her to be loving and consoling. 

Before he can she asks, “do you want to hold Chomp?”

He almost yells at her again. Almost shouts that he doesn’t fucking want to hold Chomp, he wants to hold her! Realization settles in first; holding Chomp makes her feel better, holding Chomp makes her feel less anxious. And she is clinging onto that dragon harder than she has in a while. But she is still offering her to him. 

He holds his arms out and takes Chomp into them. The dragon gives a little coo and nuzzles her face against his cheek. 

With no dragon to occupy her hands, Azula takes to making little shapes with her fire. He doesn’t think that he has seen her do this before but it seems to keep her calm in the absence of Chomp. 

“Do you want to go home, Sokka?” TyLee asks.

He shakes his head. He can barely stand, let alone walk. What he wants is understanding! He needs someone to know that he needs to be held just like they hold Azula. But the only one daring enough to get close to him right now is Chomp.

Azula keeps her distance.

He had never kept his distance with her even when she was throwing fire and lightning…

.oOo.

Sometimes Azula thinks that she isn’t allowed to be happy.

Every time she starts to get there, something or someone takes that away from her. Sometimes, she is afraid to be in a good mood, lest it be stolen from her as quickly as it had been today. She is tired of people shouting at her, tired of being the object of everyone’s stress and resentment. And today she can’t say a damn thing about it because it will make things worse. 

Sokka tells her to express herself, tells her to ask him for comfort, tells her that it is alright for her to be vulnerable. And now he is angry with her for finally doing just that.

He is expecting things from her that she has never been good with, apparently even at the height of her recovery and progress. 

She has lost her memories, she has  just been nearly killed, father has just made her feel all kinds of confused, and on top of it all she is pregnant and still feeling terribly awkward about it and unlike herself. And now Sokka is both furious with her and longing for her and she can’t tell which part of him is winning out. 

And so she freezes. It is stupid and ridiculous but she can’t bring herself to say or do a damn thing now that she has passed Chomp to Sokka. She continues to watch her fire, she shapes it into a star and an orb. Into a miniature dragon and into a phoenix. Watching the flames shift and morph helps her mute the world around her. Watching that mesmerizing blue dance slows her heartbeat, it empties her mind. 

It shields her, to some extent from that heart wrenching sob. Katara is rubbing his back but he is looking at her. The same eyes that had glared at her are pleading with her to come over and say something, do something…anything at all. 

And so Azula lets the fire in her palm die and kneels down in front of Sokka. 

She holds her hand out and lets him take it. His grip on her hand is tight, almost painfully so, she doesn’t think that he realizes how tightly he is holding. 

She wants to ask him if he is angry with her but she supposes that that would be making things about her again. About her problems that she has to set aside at least for a time. It makes her feel queasy and she isn’t sure how to console someone when she can’t even console herself. 

It settles in that, that is exactly why Sokka is upset. 

He has been doing this for her for probably a decade or so; providing comfort while unable to comfort himself. 

At least he is good at it. 

She isn’t, all she can do is let him hold her hand as he cries. 

She asks him what has been bothering him. 

She isn’t sure if she will be able to help him even when he answers. 

.oOo.

And it all comes pouring out his guilt, his feelings of inadequacy, his feelings of not being loved as much as he loves everyone else, his dread of losing anyone else, and the repeating voices of those who he has already lost. 

Azula looks overwhelmed, completely out of her comfort zone and confused. He has unloaded all of his problems on someone who is terribly under equipped to handle them. More so than he had been to tackle the problems she has brought to him. 

But she still lets him hold her hand.

And finally she says, “I won’t die.” 

She doesn’t have a choice though. It has become so, so obvious in the last few months that if the universe wants her out of it, it can and will eject her. And yet she is, indeed, still here and talking to him. Twice now she has survived something that she probably shouldn’t have. 

“I was born lucky.” She mutters. “That’s what father says.” 

“Yeah, and you constantly tell me that you think that your luck has worn out.”

She shakes her head. “I guess that it hasn’t. I think that I would be dead if it has.” She pauses, seeming to think for a moment. Just long enough for Sokka to become peeved again. She is making things about her again. “I have you, that’s lucky, right?” She pauses again before backtracking. “It’s actually about choices rather than luck, I guess. You chose to…deal with me more than once. So I’ll choose to put up with you.” 

He doesn’t mean to but he does, he laughs. She is so terrible at this. She is trying her best but she is horrible at it. Somehow, that in itself cheers him up; knowing that she is willing to make herself look awkward to try to make him feel better. 

“I guess that I can put up with you and…” she gestures vaguely, “and this as long as you continue to tolerate me and…” another vague gesture to indicate circumstance. 

She clears her throat. “Anyways, you don’t have to worry about me dying because I was born lucky and I live lucky too. I think that I would be dead already if I was supposed to be.” 

He takes her into his arms and she doesn’t protest. He just needs to be close to her again, like they used to be. He needs to feel her body heat against his, that peculiar type of Fire Nation body heat that is significantly warmer than most. He needs to feel the locks of her hair against his neck and the brush of her cheek against his. 

Reluctantly, she puts her arms around him. She brushes her thumb over his semi-new tattoo and he wonders if she remembers the night that he got it. He wonders if she has even a fragment of that night–one of their last nights of peace. One of their last nights of being in love. She traces the ink of the tattoo, her forehead is inches from his. Her lips her close enough to his that he can feel her breath on them. For a moment it feels like nothing has changed. For a moment it feels like things always have. It is enough for him to ignore Chomp’s wiggling.

He waits for her to pull back as this new, regressed Azula tends to. And she does, she pulls back and stares at him. She is thinking about something but it is hard to tell what. She reaches up and sweeps one of his tears away with her thumb. She holds her hand there, cupping his cheek as he had cupped hers. 

He thinks that she doesn’t know exactly what to do. That she is simply replicating the things that make her feel better. Things that don’t necessarily work for him but suddenly do just because she is putting in an effort to comfort him.

Katara, Aang, and TyLee are all so quiet, he realizes that they have stepped out to give them some privacy. Perhaps that is what makes it easier for Azula to leave her comfort zone. 

“You won’t lose me, Sokka.” She promises. “Not unless you get angry with me and…”

“Don’t ruin it!” He cuts her off. And to his surprise, she chuckles. For a moment he swears that her memories are fully intact. But her hesitant gestures tell a different story. That brief pause she takes before leaning in closer again. 

That brief pause before she slightly tilts her head and brings her lips to his. 

It is a fleeting moment–a tester, just to see if she likes the sensation. 

She draws back just long enough for his heart to flutter, for him to think that she has decided that she didn’t like it. 

But then she offers him another, longer kiss. 

Spirits he had missed the sensation. Missed the light taste of cinnamon in her mouth. Missed recalling that she has a habit of taking some cinnamon treat with all of her meals. Missed the taste of Azula herself on his tongue. Missed that soft little hum that she always leaves him with after their lips part. 

She is a lot gentler today, more uncertain as she had been the first time that they kissed. And he finds that it isn’t so bad, having a second first kiss. It certainly feels like a first kiss with the way it leaves his stomach fluttering and his cheeks flushed. The way it leaves her cheeks flushed. 

Chomp isn’t quite as thrilled. In fact, Chomp seemed thoroughly annoyed. 

“Do you feel better now, Sokka?”

He nods. There is still a fog in his mind, a lingering dizziness of distress. But for now he has something else to think about. For now he can be happy knowing that Azula is willing to put his problems above her own at least sometimes. 

He interlaces her fingers with his own. 

“I guess I didn’t do a good job of showing it today but I love you, Azula.” He is going to make himself sad again, “I wish that you could remember what things were like between us.” 

“I can’t.” She replies quietly, that low captivating tone of voice that coaxes him to listen. She leans in closer so that her lips nearly touch his ear. “So show me.”

His heart skips a beat or two. 

“I don’t have to remember, Sokka.” She says. “As long as I can get some new memories to replace the ones that I lost.”

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #Sokka #Sokkla #Fanfiction

[thewritingduck]

How To: Mary Sue! (AKA what to avoid)

So I wrote this a few years ago for a creative writing class but suddenly remembered it while I was talking to one of my friends. This is a satire piece meant to make fun of the Mary Sue stereotype. (Note: if your characters do have traits like I describe then that doesn't mean it's a bad character. I'm trying to purposefully exaggerate typical Mary Sue characteristics.) This makes me laugh every time i read it again and I hope you all enjoy it. Thank you for reading <3

Genre: Satire, Tutorial

General Tags: Nothing really, Old Work, Mary Sue, Original Work

How to Write a Mary Sue

(AKA What to Avoid)

Step One!

When designing your character don’t forget to make them look absolutely perfect! Sue’s always look beautiful and turn every eye there way. Make sure their figure is pretty. Oh but don’t worry about anatomy, who cares about that anyways.

Step Two! 

The Face is important. A small nose, big lips and big bright eyes are a sure fire way to make heads turn their head her way.

Step Three! 

Don’t forget Colors! Another thing that makes Sue’s stand out from the boring normies are their exotic and beautiful colors of their hair, eyes and sometimes even skin. One popular one is Blazing red hair with violet eyes. But you don’t have to be limited to that at all. Go ahead and give them rainbow hair and one eye bubble gum pink eye and the other eye red with a black sclera.

Step Four! 

Stepping away from the physical, let's make your Perfect Sue even more perfect. After all, who isn’t going to love someone who is perfect inside and out? Starting with her personality you need to give her a set of traits that will show everyone just how perfect she is.

One list, although this list not strictly personality related, that fits Sue’s almost to a T is the following; brave, beautiful, talented, genius, athletic, loved, admired, fast, fierce, heroic, talented, powerful, wise, modest, kind, strong, and most importantly talented.

Step Five!

Now to name your amazingly beautiful and stunning Sue. You could of course go with a simple and classy Mary Sue but then it could be washed away by all your other stunning Sues. I recommend going and finding something relating to their profession or just their epic story in general. For example, Mary Amethyst Star Sue, is an officer who works at NASA and has purple eyes. You can do any number of name combinations and don’t be afraid to have long names after all there are many sues with names like Marrie Aiko Arwen Harlie Valentine Sue. 

Step Six! 

Let’s Talk about flaws. “What!? Flaws!?” I can already hear you cry, “But you were talking about making Mary Sue perfect! How can she be perfect with flaws?” Don’t you worry dearest reader, let me explain. By giving them flaws like Clumsiness then it makes them cuter. Bumping into hot guys and dropping their papers is a perfect way to set them up with a love interest. Oh but don’t let them get into trouble with their flaws. After all, they’re perfect and perfect people don’t get in trouble.

Step Seven! 

Backstory. Tragic. Backstory. Kill off the parents. Kill off the siblings. Basically Kill everyone she’s loved before the story starts. Parent’s will only hinder Mary Sue’s path to excellence. If she’s a 3000 year old spirit who has a legendary blade that has chosen her and only her as it’s wielder then she is unlikely to have parents anymore anyways. Just make sure that she cries beautiful tears when she mourns the loss of her loved ones. And speaking of, their backstory should be not only tragic, but also epic. Normal characters are 20. Sue’s only look 20. If they are older, then you can fit more things about them that your characters can love about them.

Step Eight! 

Romance! Romance! Romance! Don’t skimp on the romance. She needs a driving force, and what better than the power of love? But of course her beloved can’t be just anybody. They need to be powerful, sweet, kind, and a perfect match for her, not that she wouldn't be a perfect match for just about anybody.

Step Nine! 

Don’t forget that despite all the people who love them, she still needs an antagonist. This person needs to be mean and nasty to her. If you make them loveable but two faced and jealous then everyone is sure to take your character's side. After all, anyone who hates a perfect character like Mary Sue must be evil and stopped at all costs.

#my writing #satire #mary sue #original writing #A Frosty Original <3

[today3467h]

What is a brain tumour?

Overview

When the abnormal cells in the brain of a human body start growing severely, this is a condition of brain tumour. This disease is not so easy and is easy to take taken of. Brain tumour exists in different types in different people. This is one of the worst diseases one can suffer through.

Depending upon the location, and size of the brain tumour you have, your treatments would also differ. About 40% of people having brain tumours survive for utmost 1 year but many survive for even 5 years.

What are the causes of brain tumours?

The major cause due to which one can have a brain tumour is their high exposure to ionizing radiation. Although, in many cases reason is unknown to the doctors, there are the following that can be in one.

• Brain injuries or seizures

• Electromagnetic fields

• Exposures to harmful environmental toxins in the workplace or even home

• Exposures to viruses, allergens and other infections

• Dietary N nitro so compounds can also be a reason

• Hereditary or genetics

• Family history

Symptoms of brain tumour

One can understand clearly if they are suffering from brain cancer or not if they can see the following signs and symptoms in their body

• Sudden nausea or vomiting

• Low blood pressure

• Continuous headaches ( worst in the morning and while sleeping )

• Low eyesight or hearing problems

• Galactorrhea or gynecomastia

• Fatigue or feeling tired all the time

• Loss of sensation in the body

• Forget everyday work or confusion in small things

• Inability to learn new things from something or someone

• Sudden behavioural changes

• Feeling sad

• New onsets

• Unable to speak with confidence

• Inability to make decisions

• Seizures

• Unable to balance life

• Uncontrollable movements of hands, legs and other body parts

• Severe change in mood, behaviour and the way you used to think before

When to see a doctor

If persistent symptoms among the above are seen in one, immediate concern of a doctor as delayed would lead to huge damage.

There are also some brain tumours which are not in the brain first but have spread to the brain from different parts of the body. These are called metastatic brain tumours that spread in the form of metastasizes. Some of such cancers include

1. Colon cancer

2. Kidney cancer

3. Lung cancer

4. Breast cancer

5. Melanoma cancer

Can we prevent brain tumours?

Prevention of brain tumours is not possible as it happens naturally and suddenly. But keeping a few things in your mind can help you to reduce the risk of it. Some of them are

• Avoiding smoking or alcoholism

• Least exposure to toxins and harmful surroundings

• No unnecessary exposure to radiation

• Doing Regular brain exercise

• Eating healthy fruits and vegetables

Some myths in aspect to brain tumour

Myth – all brain tumours are cancerous

Fact – not all brain tumours are cancerous. More than half of them are non–cancerous and are available for treatment in all ways.

Myth – treatment for all brain tumours are same

Fact – no, the treatments vary from one person to another depending upon their type, their stage and other many factors.

Myth – all the brain tumours begin with the brain only

Fact – no, some of the brain tumours are a cause of cancer in the other body parts also.

How do doctors diagnose brain tumours?

Doctors can examine and take the following tests to study the

diagnosis of your brain tumour –

• Magnetic resonance imaging tests ( MRI )

• Neurological exams to check eyesight, hearing ability, balancing

ability and others

• Biopsy operation

Treatments

For the right treatment for your tumour type, you must consult your doctor only for the perfect treatment for your brain. Doctors suggest the following

1. Surgery - to separate the affected brain tissue

2. Radiation therapies – like x-rays or protons to kill the tumour

3. Medications and drug therapies

4. Chemotherapy

5. Stereotactic radiosurgery

Frequently asked questions

1. Is brain cancer curable?

Answer – yes, in most cases it is curable if treatments are started at the right time and in the right way.

2. To which doctor should I go to treat the tumour in the brain?

Answer – you can go to doctors who are neurologists, an oncologist or a therapist.

3. What is the average life expectancy of a brain tumour person?

Answer – it differs on many factors. But on average one can survive from a year to five years

4. Is vertigo a sign of a brain tumour?

Answer – yes, vertigo is one of the signs of a brain tumour.

Read More:-

#tumour #adhd brain #fitness #health & fitness #yoga #gym #nutrition #exercise #healthyfood

[subsystems]

For DID awareness day, I want to bring awareness to the vast spectrum of DID and OSDD symptoms. I feel like the symptoms of these disorders are often misunderstood. Many people assume that DID and OSDD are such extreme rollercoaster disorders when that’s usually not the case for any mental disorder! I’ve also seen others who believe that DID/OSDD are just having alters and not liking them--which is also not an accurate portrayal!

The DSM’s criteria of alters, amnesia, and distress/impairment aren’t meant to be taken at the surface level. These are very simple descriptors for a spectrum of experiences that are the hallmarks of the disorders. Besides that, there are many, many more symptoms that are very common. No two people with DID or OSDD are going to be exactly the same; I think that goes for any mental disorder.

Below, I’ve written up a non-exhaustive list of common symptoms in DID/OSDD. It’s important to know that many of these symptoms can overlap with other mental disorders. DID/OSDD symptoms are always unrelated to other medical conditions or non-disordered experiences, such as substance use or epilepsy. Furthermore, these are common but not required; a person does not need to experience all of these things to have DID/OSDD.

(PLEASE don’t use this list to diagnose yourself. Seek a professional if you are questioning a mental disorder!)

Common symptoms of DID/OSDD:

C-PTSD symptoms

Since DID/OSDD are more complex forms of PTSD, you or other alters might experience the symptoms of complex PTSD. Check this PDF for the symptoms of C-PTSD.

Memory gaps

You might find that your memory is unreliable. You might lose a lot of details or misremember the important bits.

You might have difficulty piecing together a coherent timeline of your life. You might struggle to retell what your childhood or adolescence was like.

You might have moments where you’re unable to remember important life events, such as the day you got married.

You might find that sometimes you can’t remember important information about yourself or about those closest to you. This could include things such as your name or who your family members are.

You might find that you sometimes forget well-learned skills, such as driving or a favorite hobby.

You may find that sometimes you can’t even remember more recent things, such as what you did today or what the last conversation you had was about.

You might have moments where you discover evidence of your memory gaps, such as text messages you don’t remember sending or purchases you don’t remember deliberating.

There might have been times when you ended up in a different place but could not remember how you got there.

Someone might have told you that you did or said something that you don’t recall.

You might have moments where you don’t even remember the times you have forgotten things. Because of this, you may feel like you don’t truly know how much memory loss you actually experience.

Depersonalization & derealization

You might experience moments where you don’t feel in control of what you’re saying or doing.

You might feel like your body is unrecognizable, unreal, or doesn’t reflect who you are.

Familiar places, objects, and people might suddenly become unfamiliar or detached to you. Alters might feel things like “those are the host’s parents, not mine.”

You might have moments where you feel like you are in a dream or a fog. 

There might be times when watching your surroundings seems no realer than watching a movie.

You might have moments where you feel unreal. You might feel like you are invisible, two-dimensional, or a robot.

You might feel numbed to or detached from your body parts, thoughts, emotions, sense of agency, or even your entire self. 

You might sometimes experience heightened or muted visual/auditory distortions with no medical cause, such as blurry vision, muffled sounds, or tunnel vision.

Sometimes might you feel like you are watching yourself, as if you are having an out of body experience.

Being an alter & having alters

You might feel confused or distressed because you do not identify with the things that people associate your whole identity with such as name, personality, opinions, or preferences.

You might feel confused or distressed because you do not identify with the same age, gender, or species as your body.

You might feel confused or distressed that your physical body does not reflect how you feel you should look.

There might be other alters who feel the same way above but differently from you, and this may also confuse and distress you.

You might not be able to access same skills, knowledge, or talents that other alters have.

Others might tell you that you sometimes act very differently, almost like different people.

You might hear voices, such as voices arguing or commenting on your actions.

There might be times when you experience intrusive thoughts, visual images, feelings, or urges that don’t actually belong to you but to another alter.

There might be times where your body seems to be moving and speaking on its own because another alter is controlling it.

You might have moments where you involuntarily switch to a vulnerable alter. Sometimes this may result in an unsafe or distressing situation.

There might be alters who are be unaware of other alters’ existence or refuse to believe so.

There might be alters who struggle to communicate with other alters or refuse to do so.

There might be alters who have suicidal thoughts, physically harm the body, or engage in risky behavior.

There might be alters who dislike or lash out at other alters within the system.

There might be alters who still carry onto memories, thoughts, feelings, or behaviors related to past trauma.

The alters within the system may have contradicting thoughts, preferences, and opinions.

You might sometimes have difficulty making cooperative decisions with your system because of conflicting desires, needs, and perceptions.

You might have episodes where you feel like you don’t know who you are, like you’re a combination of alters, or that you’re just not like yourself.

Somatoform dissociation

You might sometimes experience pain or sensations that don’t have a medical cause, such as “switching headaches.”

You might sometimes go catatonic or become paralyzed without a medical cause.

You might sometimes experience the loss of a physical function without a medical cause, such as your sight, hearing, speech, or feelings of hunger.

Sometimes, it might feel like you are numbing out pain or sensations.

You might experience other conditions without any medical cause, such as pseudoseizures.

Other symptoms

You might experience hallucinations or delusions, usually related to past trauma.

You might feel afraid or shamed of the possibility of others finding out your thoughts.

When someone asks you to describe who you are as a person, you might feel at a loss for what to say.

You might experience mood fluctuations or like your moods sometimes come out of the blue.

You might have difficulty being aware of your own symptoms or describing the severity of them. This might be because you have had them for so long that you are used to navigating life with these symptoms.

Disorders that are commonly comorbid with DID/OSDD:

Borderline personality disorder

Depression

Anxiety disorders

Substance abuse disorders

Eating disorders

Sleep disorders

References

Diagnostic And Statistical Manual Of Mental Disorders: Fifth Edition

Treating Trauma-related Dissociation: A Practical, Integrated Approach

Understanding and Treating Dissociative Identity Disorder: A Relational Approach

I guess my own personal experience, too? But mostly the books above ^

#dissociative identity disorder #actuallydid #actuallyosdd #actuallytraumagenic #actuallydissociative #DID informative #long post

[nex-ture]

Forgive and forget, right?

Xiao x Reader

Tw: Death, Arguing

And adepti named Xiao was very well kown all across liyue. He protected the people of Liyue and in return he asked for nothing. He was filling out the assignments he was created to. So when word spread arounf Loyue that their protector Xiao was in a relationship many people of Liyue was surprised, most didn't care, and some thought it was unprofessional. Though no one said anything.

Xiao couldn't have felt happier and more secure then when he felt when he was with his lover. Y/N had an aura that made him feel safe, like everything was going to be okay. Their relationship was peaceful, fights weren't something that happened often. Xiao couldn't have been happier with all the things he's accomplished in his many years of living and protecting.

We know every relationship has their ups and downs, but having downs in Tyvat where monsters roam can be dangerous. Xiao always walked with y/n when they left, to make sure he wouldn't have to witness the sight of the Millelith caring his lovers body back to the inn.

A fight was bound to happen at one point in their life. Though the fight became a bigger deal then it should have. Xiao had a horible day and his karma had been growing worse, he was in more pain each day. Y/N was aware there was nothing they could do so they didn't try anymore. Xiao was beginning to think they didn't care anymore, he felt like his lover was avoiding him.

"Y/N, can we talk." There was an order in his voice, he was apart of many wars so it was no surprise to see him stiff and serious. They took a seat next to Xiao as they waited for Xiao to begin speaking. "Do you care about me anymore?" The words went staright through Y/N's heart as they began reassuring Xiao that they did, they were filling Xiaos ears with pity.

"Then why do you avoid me? Why do you act like I'm a monster you need to run from?" Xiao rose his voice, standing from his chair as Y/N followed a second behind him. Tears were running down his voice as he was clearly upset about this. Instead of talking about the issue Y/N only responded with shit that Xiao didn't need to hear, "Xiao, you're just overreacting, I haven't done anything." Y/N snapped back witch only drew them further into this mess.

The argument started with questions and two people calmly talking, but ended with a screaming match. Both people in the situation were going back and forth over the issue. They both were making themselves the victims in something that could have been just talked about.

"I hate you so much Y/N." Xiao ended up yelling back to his partner while they were speaking. "No wonder everyone ends up leaving you, you're fucking sick." That was the only thing Y/N could think of as they quickly dashed for the door. They may have been too harsh but it didn't matter anymore. "Please...Don't go."

They made their way deeper into the forests of Liyue until the Inn was completely out of veiw. They had to have been walking for over an hour, no direction of how to get back, not like they ever wanted to go back.

Y/N was aware that Xiao had already begun looking for him. No matter how bad they could get Xiao will always protect them. Y/N had found a rock near by and decided to relax by it, theres was nothing else to do. It was already dark and they didn't bring anything with them.

An hour had passed and Y/N had fallen asleep under a giant tree, it was cold so resting was hard but they managed.

Time flew by slowly, Y/N was wondering due to the fact they failed to sleep while Xiao continued his search for the missing person. Y/N hax nothing with then as they had left very suddenly so when they see a bunch of treasure hoarders surrounding them they know that it won't end well.

The treasure hoarders began to beat Y/N and steal anything and everything they had on their person. After the attack they were left bleeding and cold, soon to pass of blood loss.

That was a few years ago, it's been so long since anyone has seen Y/N. The legendary boy adeptus Xiao has made it his goal and duty to make sure everyone knows about Y/N.

I mean, it's his fault you never came home that night, isn't it?

#xiao angst #xiao imagines #xiao #xiao x male reader #xiao x reader #genshin impact xiao #xiao x you #genshin impact #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin x female reader #genshin x reader #genshin x male reader #tw: death #Death #tw #tw: arguing #arguing #cw