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hellomynameisbisexual · 3 years

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Most people know to anticipate some degree of change when they’re in a committed, long-term romantic relationship: a desire for more nights in with Netflix instead of drunken ragers on the dance floor; the inevitable shift of physical appearances; the unexpected transformation of a side gig into a career. But many people assume sexual orientation is fairly stable—that whether you’re gay or straight, you’re “born this way,” and that’s what you’ll be forever.

That definitely isn’t always the case. But even though coming out as queer or bisexual in a committed straight relationship isn’t unheard of, a change in sexual identity is not something that many people anticipate happening within a long-term partnership, nor is it widely discussed. Despite the advancements in broader social understanding of LGBTQ issues made in the past decade, therapists Jared Anderson and Tamala Poljak told VICE that many of their patients fear that being bi or queer when straight-partnered could doom their relationship. There’s also a pervasive idea that a person in a hetero relationship can’t be LGBTQ because they have chosen to commit, and are presumably attracted to, a member of the opposite sex. But bisexuality is a valid orientation, and while it may feel intimidating to embrace this discovery and stay hetero-partnered, it’s by no means impossible.

“I believe both gender and sexuality [are] fluid, meaning we change throughout a lifespan,” Poljak said, adding that recent cultural shifts have likely led to light bulb moments for some individuals who has been denying or simply not recognizing their queer feelings.

Sexuality doula Isabella Frappier, whose work includes helping clients own and define their sexual expression, said that a person doesn’t need to have acted on any same-sex-attracted feelings in order to label themselves as queer or bisexual, and that bisexuality can be explored while still honoring an extant relationship, especially since everyone has different definitions of what it means to explore.

Bisexuality is often dismissed as a phase, and the idea that bisexual people are "just confused" persists. This is especially true for men; while bisexuality among women is slightly more socially acceptable (albeit because it’s fetishized and often viewed as an "experiment"), men often have to contend with the belief that bisexuality, as Carrie once put it on Sex and the City, is “a pit stop on the way to gay town.”

These myths stem from our society’s historically rigid approach to sexual expression. Experts are adamant that a person's bisexuality does not invalidate the love they have for their opposite-sex partner. According to Poljak, an associate marriage and family therapist, the idea that a person needs to “pick a side” is a rooted in heteronormative expectations.

The question, “Am I queer or bi enough?” can also weigh heavily on people who think they might not be all the way straight, as though there is a certain amount of "proof" that could confirm their sexuality. As much as those questioning might like to think there’s a litmus test that will tell them whether or not they’re truly bi, that’s simply not the case.

“For queer folks, it just isn’t so cut and dry,” Poljak said. “The hope to ‘figure it out’ and/or find ‘an answer’ is a pretty rigid idea steeped in heteronormative expectations. It also puts a lot of pressure on a person to have to declare one thing and stick to it. If you know you are attracted to one or more genders, then it’s really that simple.”

A journey into one’s queerness doesn’t have to involve sex outside of the relationship, or even sex in general. Just noticing that you’re attracted to other genders can be the extent of this exploration. The act of coming out to yourself, or maybe saying, “I’m bi. I don’t know what that looks like yet, and that’s OK,” has the potential to be extremely affirming.

You might find comfort in connecting with other queer folks, especially since identifying as queer might otherwise make you feel vulnerable or isolated. Some people are validated by coming out to friends and family, or by getting involved with the queer community. Frappier encouraged people exploring their bi/queer identity to go to LGBTQ events, read books about sexuality or written by queer authors, support bisexual artists and musicians, or join queer groups. Online, Reddit’s r/bisexual subreddit is a funny and informative space for bi folks to ask questions or simply discuss their experiences, while the Fluid Arizona resource page and Autostraddle's events and meet-ups can help queer folks build an IRL community.

If you decide you want to connect more physically with your queer sexual desires, but aren’t sure where to begin, start small. “I’d first encourage a person in this situation to start by considering the multiple ways they can explore their queerness on their own,” Frappier said. “That can be through watching ethical same-sex porn, or writing your own erotica.”

Experts strongly encouraged discussing your queerness with your partner eventually, as the secrecy can ultimately strain the relationship. (It can also contribute to the harmful idea that your queerness is somehow scandalous, or something to be ashamed of.) If you’re worried that your partner will react poorly, or you aren’t ready to share your feelings with them yet, consider talking to a professional, a trusted friend or loved one, or a queer friend who may relate a bit to what you are going through. Poljak, who is trained as an LGBTQ-affirmative therapist, said it’s crucial for people questioning their sexuality to have a solid support system. Studies show that bisexual people are at a higher risk of depression, anxiety, and experiencing violence than their gay, lesbian, and heterosexual counterparts. While staying in the closet can be a necessary choice for a myriad of reasons, research shows that the stress of concealment contributes to disrupted relationships, feelings of shame and guilt, and symptoms of anxiety and depression.

If you feel ready to talk with your significant other, avoid starting the conversation when either of you are tired or distracted, in the middle of a fight, or in any situation where tensions are high. Instead, choose a time when you both feel relaxed and won’t be rushed, like over coffee on a Saturday morning.

You don’t have to have everything figured out before you talk to your partner. Frappier said that it’s perfectly fine to tell them you’re in a questioning, exploratory phase, and then communicate what you’d like that to look like. There’s no need to choose a label unless you’d like to.

“Explain to [your partner] how you’ve been feeling, what you’re desiring to explore, and how you imagine that could look within your relationship,” Frappier said. She advised that it’s wise to let your partner know that your sexual expression is not a reflection of the relationship, but more about exploring a new part of yourself.

“Once you’re finished speaking, it’s important to give them space to share, and to really listen to how they are feeling,” Frappier said. “They may take it in stride, or need a little time to process it.”

Don’t stress if the first conversation doesn’t go as well as you’d hoped; this will likely be the first of many discussions. Anderson, who specializes in trauma and relationships, said that if any of these conversations get heated or overly emotional, it’s a good idea to press pause and revisit the topic once both partners have had a chance to cool off.

Couples therapy can also be extremely beneficial. “Ideally, both the person coming out and the partner of that person would be in individual therapy with a therapist who is trained in LGBTQ-affirmative therapy,” Poljak said. “The same is true if [you're] deciding to open your marriage, explore polyamory or emotional monogamy, and/or redefine your marital contract. The therapist needs to have more than just general knowledge of alternative, queer lifestyles, and understand the multiple systems at play.”

Psychology Today is the most thorough national network for finding mental health professionals, and allows users to search using various classifications, including sexuality and type of therapy (the “compassion-based” and “culturally sensitive” filters are good options for LGTBQ folks). Some health insurance plans allow users to filter for therapists who specialize in LGBTQ issues when searching for in-network providers. For POC-specific options, the National Queer and and Trans Therapists of Color Network is a good resource. For those struggling to find an in-person therapist, Pride Counseling offers digital therapy sessions via phone, messaging, and video call.

After your initial conversations and once you've sought any additional support you might find helpful, you and your partner may want to formulate an action plan. If you want to include your partner in your sexual exploration (and they are comfortable with that), the plan might include attending queer events, watching queer porn together, role-playing, engaging in threesomes, and/or swinging. If you’d prefer to explore your sexuality without your partner, but with other people, you may need to discuss opening up your relationship.

“Some folks find it exciting or even sexy, and perhaps a discussion unfolds about opening up the marriage or exploring poly or engaging in new kinds of play and fantasy with their partners,” Poljak said. “Maybe it even inspires their partner to share with honesty some queerness of their own that is emerging. Ideally, there is space for people’s differences and otherness to be expressed without having to lose the relationship, or having to abandon or sacrifice yourself.”

This sort of exploration is not one-size-fits-all. Regardless of the route you take, Frappier stresses the importance of discussing boundaries and safety throughout. If the two of you are struggling to find some sort of consensus when it comes to boundaries, that doesn’t mean the discussion regarding exploration is over forever. It’s very common for couples to have multiple conversations surrounding this topic, especially if one partner is asking to renegotiate the marital contract in some way.

Just as it’s reasonable for a person to want to explore their burgeoning sexuality outside of the relationship, it’s also reasonable for the other partner to say, “I’m not cool with that.” In some instances, it might be in the interest of both individuals to go their separate ways… and that’s OK, too.

“A marriage is a partnership that lasts as long as it’s right,” writer Nadia Rawls said after coming out to, and, later, ending things with her now–ex-husband. Rawls said she tried to make it work with her husband for six months, but ultimately realized that separating was the best option. “It takes a hell of a partner to help their spouse grow into the person they really are,” Rawls wrote. “Even if that means losing them.”

Rawls’s story is just one of many—Frappier and Poljak said that many couples make it work, too. It’s hard to predict how your partner might react, or how you’ll feel or what you’ll want, once you start exploring your queerness or bisexuality. That uncertainty is part of what makes the process of coming out in a straight relationship so intimidating. But the reward of being honest—both with yourself and with your partner—is the gift of a more authentic life. Regardless of the outcome, that is worth pursuing.

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cruelfeline · 4 years

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I often think about the state of things for Hordak in the post-canon era, especially in terms of how his situation both differs from and is similar to the situation of his newly-freed brothers. A lot of these thoughts come the idea of him playing a mentorship role, which is something that I’ve seen throughout the fandom and something that I have somewhat mixed feelings about.

On the one hand, I think that Hordak will be absolutely instrumental in helping Etherians understand exactly what it’s like for a Horde clone to be suddenly separated from the hivemind. He dealt with it, after all. He went through the mental, emotional, and physical trials of separation; he knows what it will be like for his brothers, what they should expect, and can at least share how he weathered it during his stranding. In addition, the sort of basic physical needs and skills the clones will likely have to address (feeding, hygiene, rest, first aid) are things that I believe he can successfully instruct in. The practical basics of the immediate aftermath: this is where I think Hordak can comfortably help.

On the other... well, there are certain factors that make me feel that Hordak may not be the most successful mentor in the more long-term, emotional and social aspects of the clones’ transition.

I have always felt that, while Hordak has been physically free of Horde Prime for the thirty-odd years he’s spent on Etheria, he hasn’t been mentally or emotionally free of him. Not until the moment he decides to save Entrapta and reclaims his name. Up until that point, and certainly during his entire time on Etheria, Hordak’s ultimate objective has been entirely Prime-focused. He spends decades apart from Prime, yet continuously strives to reunite with him and regain his favor. It’s part of what makes him such a tragic character: freedom is within his grasp, yet he remains set on returning to his abuser. It is only upon bonding with Entrapta that he even considers pursuing a different sort of life, and that consideration only becomes reality at the end of season five.

Even though Hordak, theoretically, has all of this experience as a free-living clone, he... kind of doesn’t. His decades of freedom weren’t really spent building a successful, independent new life. They weren’t spent assimilating into Etherian society, as he and his brothers will now likely have to do. They were spent doing everything in his power to make his way back to Prime and prove himself worthy of retaking a place on his ship.

Now that he has made the conscious decision to defy Prime, he is truly free, not just in body, but in mind and spirit... yet that somewhat puts him in the same sort of position as his brothers, doesn’t it? Perhaps not at the same level of “lost and confused,” but not much better, either. Hordak has never, after all, lived with any purpose other than serving Prime. He has never had any other sort of goal in life. He had an inkling of one, once, with Entrapta, but that ended up ruined by Catra before it could grow into anything more concrete. So, at this point, I can’t help but believe that he’s looking for a new purpose, just as his brothers are. He, too, is experiencing true freedom for the first time. He, too, is likely feeling lost.

(ah, I wish they had kept that line from the deleted Entrapdak scene, where Hordak starts to panic after killing Prime; I feel like that line really illustrates this concept of him feeling wildly uncertain, too, despite having just chosen freedom)

And while he has Entrapta, and he has experience living on his own that will definitely prove useful, I think that there are aspects of his situation that put him at a distinct disadvantage, when compared to his brothers.

He has lived on Etheria, yes, but in his continued devotion to Prime, he has severely damaged his standing on the planet. He has a terrible history here. He has done harm to this world and her people. He is feared and very likely hated by, I would imagine, most of the inhabitants. His brothers do not have this terrible baggage; even if they’ve done evil deeds on the planet during Prime’s recent invasion, they have not made any sort of names for themselves. They do not have personal reputations. Hordak, conversely, will likely be feared as “Lord Hordak of the Fright Zone” for some time.

To the Etherians’ hatred of him one might add the potential ire of his brothers themselves. It’s very possible that they will see him, at least initially, less as a source of guidance and more as a shameful, sinful thing to be viciously shunned. Hordak shot Prime, after all (which, actually, is a unique source of trauma that he doesn’t share with his brothers, isn’t it?). He is the one at least partially responsible for the grief and anger and insecurity and panicked fear that many of the clones will experience during their transition to independence. He is the defect who killed their beloved Brother and left them stranded on a backwater world, at the mercy of their enemies.

And to all of the hostility likely being thrown at him from external sources, I imagine one might add Hordak’s unresolved self-loathing. His defect, many assume (myself included), is still present and still a source of shame. His difficulties with self-worth and failure are still aspects of his personality that he has to contend with. Said aspects of his personality can easily superimpose from his standing with Prime onto his “progress” in adjusting to Etheria. They can easily be magnified by people’s anger at him. They might even worsen, should he see that his brothers, unburdened by his personal history on Etheria, by his defect, by his own unique challenges, are perhaps able to take to Etherian life with greater ease than he. Wrong Hordak might especially provide a source of jealousy and self-doubt, given how naturally he appears able to make friends and interact with new allies.

Well. There’s not really a useful point to this post. It’s more... I worry about Hordak, after the war. I worry because, while he is Officially Free now, and gloriously by his own hand, I have the sense that so much of his development is incomplete. He never went through a full growth/redemption arc, y’know? He never went through that arc that would see him recovering and settling into a brand new life. The show ended with him right at the precipice, and given everything that has happened, I worry that it will be difficult for him.

I worry that, rather than being a wise mentor to his brothers, he will have the same difficulties as any of them. I worry that some of those difficulties will be even worse, because he is not starting this new life from a blank slate, as the other clones are doing. He has a painful history. He has what he might consider an already failed attempt at said life, thirty-odd years of it that resulted in a terrible war. And while I don’t hold that against him, knowing the tragic reasons for that failure, I feel that he might hold it against himself. I know that various others certainly will.

I worry that he’ll be disappointed with and upset at his own progress. I worry that he will push himself too hard. I worry that people will demand a great deal of him while he is still very much healing from the horrific trauma he has endured.

Ah, I just worry.

ah my word this got long and tedious and silly; i know this is just a dumb cartoon; i apologize, everyone, but i had feelings and needed to express them

#hordak #horde clones

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restoreamericanglory · 2 years

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New Post has been published on Restore American Glory

New Post has been published on https://www.restoreamericanglory.com/freedoms/arizona-farmer-and-lawyer-fed-up-about-open-borders-runs-for-attorney-general/

Arizona Farmer And Lawyer Fed Up About Open Borders, Runs For Attorney General

An Arizona cotton farmer and lawyer says she is running for attorney general because she is fed up waiting for the federal and state governments to boost security at the southern border.

Tiffany Shedd is a mother of three whose family’s fourth-generation property sits in the middle of a Mexican cartel’s drug and human smuggling route between Phoenix and Tucson, more than an hour north of the U.S.-Mexico border. Despite the distance from the international boundary, her family has become accustomed to the regular run-ins with the Mexican cartels as they move people and drugs into the United States.

“We’ve been dealing with the border issue for decades. The first big thing hit our family around 2004. When people steal your car, and you have to be evacuated by the police because you’ve got death threats, it sort of wakes you up,” Shedd said in an interview with the Washington Examiner. “Our neighbor was murdered. My friend Rob Krentz was murdered. And it makes the news. A lot of us in the community are really, really frustrated because it feels like it’s a political issue at times, and nothing gets done, and you get forgotten.”

Shedd said she never thought about getting into politics until a few years ago, when she became “fed up.” She ran for Congress in 2018 and lost in the primary but went on to win the nomination in 2020, only to lose to Tom O’Halleran, a Democrat, by 3 points. Former President Donald Trump had endorsed Shedd as someone who “never lets people down, and she’s got the right values.”

But Shedd said she is glad she lost in 2020 because she realized she could have a greater impact on border security as attorney general than a first-term lawmaker.

Shedd is in a crowded race with two Democrats and six other Republicans vying for the job, following Attorney General Mark Brnovich’s decision to run for Democratic Sen. Mark Kelly’s seat.

Republicans have made border security front and center in their race. One contender, Lacy Cooper, was an assistant U.S. attorney who handled the Border Patrol portfolio and whose campaign website states that the border is not secure. Rodney Glassman is a lawyer and former Democrat with experience on the Tucson city council. Businesswoman and lawyer Dawn Grove, former Maricopa County prosecutor Abraham Hamadeh, and former Arizona Supreme Court Justice Andrew Gould are also running for the Republican nomination.

What might separate Shedd from the other half-dozen Republicans vying for the nomination Aug. 2 is her personal stake in the race.

“You hear, ‘Oh, these poor people, we need to give them money for psychological trauma,’” Shedd said, referring to a report in 2021 that the Biden administration was considering payments of $450,000 per person to families separated at the border by the Trump administration. “What about our families, our kids, that had to grow up with this?”

Shedd said if nominated and elected, she would take a two-pronged approach to addressing the federal government’s failures at the border as well as its overreach on other issues. She would push state legislators to propose tougher laws that target the Mexican criminal organizations behind human and drug smuggling while also challenging the federal government in legal action.

“The only purpose of Arizona government, according to our constitution, is to maintain and protect individual liberties. That’s it. Run everything through that lens,” Shedd said. “It really changes how you look at the office, and I think we’ve lost sight of that.”

Brnovich concluded this past week that Shedd’s recommendation that Arizona declare the cartels a foreign enemy and “engage in war” at the border was a viable option. However, Republican Gov. Doug Ducey declined to follow through.

“I don’t know that everyone else’s motivation is as strong as mine. I don’t think people don’t care about it, but it’s just really, really personal. This is going to stop. You’re ruining family’s lives and Arizonans lives,” Shedd said.

Original Article: https://www.washingtonexaminer.com/policy/arizona-farmer-runs-for-attorney-general-to-lock-down-border

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oflovetruth · 3 years

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For some an epilogue, for others a prologue.

Sehun's eyes wandered to the skies. Oh, how the sheen it had resonated with him. Millions, billions, or maybe recently to soften the hard edges of reality. Climbing the high of excitement and festivities, yet the crash that seldom dissipated. His eyes well up with tears, his lungs suffocating him, and his hands - shakily - clutch on the soft material of his jumper. It was not a good day. He would think to himself, pulling the chair and folding it back into its' commercial position. He chuckled to himself. Despite the ticking clock behind him, he had found a way snap back into a jovial demeanour.

⋯

Slipping into a deep state of slumber was not hard, when jet lag was knocking on every door inside of his mind. Shuffling, flipping the pillow, and sighing till his body had given up to resist the delicious nectar of sleep. The heavenly arms of Morpheus had embraced Sehun, albeit it was not precedent of a fruitful, rewarding rest. Soon the backs of his eyes had vanished, and he was welcomed into a different realm of some sort. A dream. An albatross of mere alloy of stress and anxiety; when trauma and decline in emotions joined forces.

A field of daisies had emerged accompanied by rivers of honey and milk, the fluttering wings with a blinding light coming from within; a man dressed in passé fashion, unshaven beard, and an indelible scowl etched on his wrinkly face. Upon closer inspection, Sehun had recognised the face through young eyes. It was dad. His heart had risen its' beats beyond normal measurements. He was panicked. Afraid. The daises had wilted in sync with one another, the land began to turn destitute of vegetation, flowers, and the rivers had dried out so quickly. Leaving the ground to be remnants of what it once was.

Scarcity had formed. A wisp of air entering one's body is enough to cause them to cough and their throat to dry up; identically to sandpaper. Who knew such a feeling of recognition could bring forth to all that is around you? Decadence to the poor, living opportunities? Susceptible to anxiety, Sehun began to shuffle and jerk in his sleep. The man's body had walked to his direction. His hands jagged with pills and dripping some form of liquid. He felt paralysed. Glued to the ground he had stood on. Like a bolide had hit him, his father was standing in front of him.

Shivers ran throughout every nook and cranny inside of his body. Tribulation squeezing his stomach, and pushing the bile up. Repugnance was all that he could feel. On the very brink of regurgitating, his eyes were wet with tears and sweat. The face of his father had slowly blurred out of his vision. A humming, yet haunting sound had rang inside of his ears. Tormenting him of the harrowing realities that he had pushed so far inside of his mind. Deliberately, he had evaded all corollaries that assembled itself due to the consistent escape.

'For how long will you ignore your pain?'

Vividly, it was as if he was stuck in time. Stuck in the moment when pills of letters he could not understand formed in front of him. Aligning in formation of his name, and from a blue hue, it had turned into a purging green.

Perpetuating the pain lingering inside of the man. He had curled into himself. Trying to be as small as possible.

'You do not want to accept it.. after twenty years, you are still afraid to accept it.'

⋯

He rose with bleary vision. Eyes jolting down burning tears down his cheeks. His tremors came back in exponential manner. The image and audible memory of his father had stuck with him. He felt alive. He felt visited. It had happened too quickly for Sehun to register it, properly. Rubbing his face and wiping his tears with his sleeve. I am okay. He told himself as he forced himself out of bed. Walking his way towards his bathroom, and looking himself in the mirror. He resembled him. How could he ignore him, when DNA was stronger than a faux attempt in shoving it all to the back of his head all over again?

'I do.. I am afraid.. I am conflicted.. I do not.. understand.'

The professor had splashed water all over his face, and sighed with all the air that remained in his lungs. The hour had ticked four ante meridiem. Jet lag had a great style in ensuring that sleep is incessantly disturbed. He had a lecture to contend with in measly four hours. He had no time to gather any more hours, although he had a lot of time to wash up, eat, and exercise. Anything to keep his mind busy from the plethora of blacked out memories that he had to deal with much later on.

Coffee was slightly more bitter than usual. More coffee than water? Vice versa? He did not know, but he had drank it all. His face scrunched up from the unusual bitterness of the coffee, and he had washed it down with a glass of milk. Logically, he would have poured the milk into the small cup. He did not. He was a tad frustrated with how disoriented he was. Would he perform well for his students? He had looked at the clock, and then he had realised that his sluggish attempt of waking up had he irrevocably late. He had immediately changed into the first suite he had seen, and fled out of his flat.

⋯

Arriving at campus, and hurrying his way into the building. He was lucky enough that his first lecture’s location was close enough to his office. A sigh of relief, he had dropped his folders on his desk. Noticing a familiar face in his peripheral vision. He smiled as he looked the direction of his friend.

'Jonginnie! I am afraid that I am terribly late for my class, so please excuse me! I will bother you later with your Christmas gifts'

Sehun had quickly said that some of his words were not understandable. Jongin furrowed his brows in confusion, and stood up to look at Sehun's desk that looked uncharacteristically untidy and messy. Jongin slowly organised his desk, and looked back to see the man rushing his way towards the stairs, and rushing down them as well. Jongin's caring nature for Sehun had him wanting to dig into this strange behaviour that Sehun had displayed.

Sitting back in his chair, and looking at the screen of his monitor. Jongin's free hand had grabbed his - now cold - cup of coffee, and scrolled down the list of students for winter session classes. The week's date had cemented into his brain. 28th of December. Jongin's memory can be a bit foggy at times, although he was certain that something had related to this day. A day that had always closed Sehun off.

It clicked.

The day of when his parents had both passed, tragically.

Oh Jieun and Oh Yeongsoo.

Jongin sat up, and walked towards the staff's lounge. Looking for hot chocolate to buy for his friend, and he had placed it on his desk. Placing a small note with a smiley face that he had drawn himself.

Sehun would understand the gesture.

⋯

Work had always been something that Sehun both excelled at and enjoyed. Watching the few number of students in classes had brought forth more discussions and questions. It was the last one of the day that he had dismissed, and he could finally return back home to his dogs and one cat. Leaving the lecture hall and shoving his hands into his pocket. How could he forget to bring his gloves? The coldness of his fingers had felt as if they were icicles; cold and sore. The rush of thoughts had hit him like a brick, and the nightmare from earlier this morning repeated itself in detail.

'For how long will you ignore your pain?'

'You do not want to accept it.. after twenty years, you are still afraid to accept it.'

In Sehun's mind, he had moved on. Why does he feel the exact same way that he did in his father's funeral? Dressed in that colour blue, and sitting beside people he had not known. He felt as if he was in that moment all over again. Why does the death of his father haunt him every single year, yet he feels at ease with his mother's? Was it the very fact of intentions itself that follows him into every vapid, grim corner? He must have blacked out in ruminating that he did not notice that he had made it to his office. Surprisingly, it looked organised and neat as it had always been.

Was he losing memory? He could have sworn that he had not touched his desk all day, and quite frankly, he had not assembled his folders into alphabetical order. He wanted to know the culprit behind this awfully good deed. He reached forward to grab his folder to take home with him, and beside it was a small note with a smiley face drawn on it. Sehun's eyes softened at the note, and all of his curiosity had came to a halt. He knew who would draw a smiley face with a permanent marker. Especially, one that was with the slightly thick edge.

Shoving the small note into his pocket, and grabbing onto his folder. He had to thank his friend for his kindness through text. He desperately needed to get a drink. This day had been the mix of grief and blissfulness. A mix that he could not put into words; ineffable. Driving back home with music blaring through the speakers. He had missed London, but he had missed Seoul more. Looking at the flashing neon lights from the different stores, and the bystanders that walked into every single bar in this part of the city.

It was time for supper and rest.

⋯

Slipping into his bed, and closing his eyes. He would often think about his best friend; Jun. What he had always told him, what his hugs felt like, and what his voice of deep - red - colour would often emit into his vicinity. It was a soothing thought that allowed him to finally slip into sleep. It was not always easy to sleep after a night of unsettling dreams, but this day had proven differently. The small sticky note was placed on his bedside table, and the smiley face was directly placed in the direction of Sehun's pillow. He had not known what prompted him to do such thing, but somewhere deep inside of him had urged him to do so.

Pools of black waters surround his feet; his ankles drenched in this liquid, and his hands were so red and littered in scratches and bruises. Another dream had started, and he does not know how he had ended up in this position. His shaky limbs propel, and his eyes look around him in both bewilderment and trepidation. An itch that he cannot scratch, something was bound to happen. The wallpaper was loose and falling off the walls. Screeching wood as he inspects the house, and there was a potent, albeit revolting, smell that dominated the room.

Sehun did not want to open that room. He felt as if he had known what was behind that door, and he had not felt the courage to see what was inside. His bones felt heavy inside of his body, and his head had hit the door. Trying to keep his eyes focused on his soaked feet. It certainly was - not - a pretty sight to see once fair and unscathed skin to be so flooded with bruises, cuts, and scars that faded with time. The smell was so strong that he felt sick and dizzy.

'Focus, Sehun.'

A voice of golden-brown had entered his mind. It felt oddly both external and internal. It caused so much confusion in Sehun's head that he had fell to his knees, and touched the liquid with his hands. It had a different consistency, when it had touched his hands. Almost like jelly, yet not as dense. It was a different form of consistency that Sehun could not understand either. All of the confusion had the man perpetually trapped in this vortex of denial and acceptance.

'Sehun, follow my voice .. follow the light.'

All light that was once reflected on Sehun's eyes had disappeared, and he was blinded by the darkness he was staring into. Slowly losing himself into his own denial and fortress of a wall that separated him from the room in front of him. He was willing to submit, willing to be fully submerged under the liquid, and willing to completely forget what has happened. What was done is done, and nothing will change.

'Sehun, you know better than to run away.'

A small butterfly of cyan-like colour had landed on the tip of his nose. It almost had this glow around it that matched perfectly with the golden-brown that had spoken to him. Was this his conscience manifesting into audible and visual forms? He was far too weak to lift himself, although he felt weightless. He had grabbed onto the handle of the door, and tripped forward. Forcing the door open, and the scene in which he could never forget was in front of him.

His father's body laid on the floor, yet a spectre like - translucent - figure was standing beside it. It was his father. Seeing both was enough to shock Sehun all over again, and he was ready to flee. The door slammed shut, and the loud sound was enough to cause Sehun to fall backwards on the floor. His body was attacked with tremors from the top of his head to the tips of his toes.

'Sehun-ah.'

A different hue had appeared. One of teal, leaning on the green part. It felt more at peace, less harsh on the angered waves of blue.

Sehun said nothing.

'Would it not be fair to share what had happened?’

Sehun's head only nodded in response.

'You were far too young to understand what I was going through. I do not expect you to forgive me for ever leaving you alone, but..'

The spectre-like figure walked towards Sehun, and the young man only stared with his lips agape.

'I want you to continue your holidays and your days without a worry ever again. Look at you. An established young man with a family that loves you and friends alike,'

Sehun's head tilted downwards, although his father tipped his head upwards to look at him.

'Do not run away. I will admit that I was weak--'

'No!' Sehun yelled.

His father looked in disbelief and stepped back. It was highly unexpected to see his son ever react in such a way.

'You were not weak, Omma was not weak. None of us is weak.. I refuse to ever hear that word.. I am afraid. I do not want to see you in a light that paints you as a bad man.. I am afraid to remember the nights in which you favoured to drink yourself to death, or the nights in which you preferred to accompany yourself with women that you paid to stay..'

His father had smiled despite the harsh words.

'But I cannot ever.. let go.. I miss you both so much, and I am stupid to think that you had no flaws.. I.. I am stupid enough to block all the bad you did just to remember the good.. even when days passed and I had found nothing to eat.. I could never blame you.. I feel sad... so sad.. I miss you.. I wish I could have done something, but I was too late. I was always too late!'

The hand of his father lands on his shoulders. It shines of the same glow that the voice from before had emanated; golden-brown. His father's smile was almost chilling, yet was one that Sehun could never forget.

'You deserve to be mad at me. You deserve to hate me, but here you are. Like her. Never having a bone of hatred in your hearts. You are a great man, Sehun-ah. I am so proud of you, and you have taken great care of me that I am thankful for. Remember that. I never hated you. I was a man who did not know how to cope. A man who could never accept pain, and thus I acted in such a way..'

Sehun's tears rolled down his cheeks in fours. It was so surreal. The voice of his father, the journey to understand oneself, the journey into unravelling parts he had not understood.

'I am so sorry for being a terrible father to you, when you needed me the most.'

'You were nev--'

'I was. Sehun, accepting that I was horrible to you in the last years of my life is the way to move on. It is okay, it will be okay.. breathe. I was. I will not be mad.'

Sehun's eyes looked at the glow of golden-brown on his shoulders, then back to his father.

'I.. will work on it..'

'I know you can do it.'

⋯

With a drop in his heart into his stomach, Sehun had woken up from his sleep. Taking in sharp breaths of air, and looking around as if he was a deer caught in headlights. Unable to think or move. He stayed still as beads of sweat traversed from his forehead down his face. The alarm read 6 ante meridiem. He had fallen asleep for only six hours. It was not bad, but he could not believe what just had happened. So much so that he regained his senses, and moved his hands to looked at them.

Clean. Unscathed. Plain.

He sat up a bit too quickly that his vision lowered and all he saw was the fading of his vision into black. He must have not eaten well. He pulled his legs to his chest, and he had leant forward to look at his feet. Similarly to his hands, they were just as clean and unscathed. He had never experienced a dream so life-like that it left him contemplating what had happened for the next hours. Not daring to leave his bed, he was thinking back to the smile that was on his father's face.

'I will not be mad.'

The screams and yells he had to endure had meant nothing, now. It was as if he had the closure he had been searching for. An answer that displayed itself in verisimilitude dreams. He rubbed his cheek, and grabbed his mobile device. Looking at the message of a friend he cherished a lot; Yuko. He had a dream concerning her earlier in the week, and the same butterfly had shown itself in the dream all over again. A smile appeared on his face, and he scrolled up their conversations.

The very same words he had said to Yuko had echoed to him.

'Authentically you.'

He had learnt to only accept people as they are, but he had completely thrown that side of his father away. Looking at the message, and then staring at his wall. Maybe, it was him telling himself rather than telling his friend. But.. no. He smiled. He felt the weight on his chest disappear, and the day of 29th of December looked him in the eyes. He wore his daisy necklace, and he had pulled the pictures of him and his family.

'I forgive you.'

Sehun had said aloud to no one but himself.

'I forgive you--I forgive you... I ... I now understand.'

Sehun placed his fingers over the face of his father in the picture.

'I am sorry for being so stubborn.. I will try to be stronger this year and from now on..'

The cans of beer on his kitchen were left unattended to, and the professor did not think for a moment to follow his father's footsteps.

He had taught himself and his father to be stronger, he had taught them to accept reality - the gravity - of it, the sourness, the bitterness, the coldness... the sweetness, the happiness, and the unprecedented troubles that may come into his life.

He placed the picture down, and looked at himself in the mirror.

'Your epilogue was my prologue.. thank you for everything.'

Sehun turned to grab the sticky note, and he looked at it. Smiling wistfully at the smiley face.

'Thank you as well.'

An epoch of self discovery and perseverance, Sehun had come to terms with a trauma that he had refused to face.

#solo

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selenelavellan · 7 years

Text

Claws and Compassion

#okay now i'm imagining dirthamen just like #coming and gently cleaning her up#kneeling down by the chair and very determinedly applying polysporin to her abrasions and then bandaids #and selene could heal them herself in a bit #if she was inclined to #but she's kind of entranced by how gentle dirthamen is being ...WELP.

Demon AU

Dirthamen belongs to @feynites

Worldstate belongs to @justanartsysideblog

TW for blood, gore, fighting, non-character death, and hurt/comfort trope

For a ruler of hell, Lord Blanche is often not as cruel as she could be. She is very good at keeping her district in balance, and most days, life in district three could even be downright pleasant if you keep your nose clean and your books balanced.

But her moods are always something to be wary of.

Her district boasts the largest selection of entertainment, the largest stadiums for events and fights, and if you fall too heavily in debt, the strong can even win their way back to Blanche's good graces by fighting their way through the arena.

It is not a common occurrence. Most die of trauma or exhaustion before they are able to complete the competition.

Still, it is enough hope for many to cling to, when Harellas comes around to collect. But the trials are for the average citizen. For those who Blanche has never taken a particular interest in.

Selene is not one of those lucky people.

Despite her best attempts at keeping her privacy, she has been considered a 'favored' of Blanches for several decades now. Not to the same extent as Des, who has been a regular consort for centuries upon centuries, though. She enjoys his tastes and his willingness to indulge in whatever entertainment she puts before or asks of him, and Des enjoys the perks that come with being a part of their lords inner circle. The mansion, the freedoms, the decadence.

Selene is less excited when she is called upon to join.

Dressed in a deep purple over bust corset with lace trim and accents of gold, a pair of similarly purple shorts that only just cover the curve of her ass while still permitting her tail freedom to move, and a matching set of stilettos, she is brought to Blanche's most used entertainment room. Several other demons roam the room, dressed in similar color schemes as they converse and gossip.

Blanche herself is lounged sideways on one of her many thrones, long thin fingers weighed down with over sized rings laden with jewels. Des sits to one side of her, tail swishing playfully behind him as his head rests beside Blanches, likely spinning a story while she grins and laughs along with him.

“Selene dear, there you are,” she coos “I was beginning to wonder if perhaps you had decided not to grace us with your presence after all.”

“I would never deny you your pleasures, my Lady.” Selene assures, with a courteous bow. Blanche's grin widens, pleased as always with her response, and gestures to the empty seat on her left side.

“So wise for one so young,” she commends as Selene takes the offered seat, golden cushions pushing against each side of her. “You'll be climbing your way through my ranks in no time my dear.”

Selene gives a soft thanks, but otherwise doesn't acknowledge Blanche's comment. She has little interest in climbing the ranks here. The ladder is bloody, and too often made from leaving a pile of others to rot in your wake for the sake of providing the most amusing path for Blanche to watch.

Entertainment is king, in the end.

Blanche shifts in her throne so that she is now laid out on her stomach, patting an empty space on her arm rest for Des to move to before her fingers begin to play through Selenes curls. Des continues his story without missing a beat, and Selene readjusts her own position in an effort to keep Blanche from tugging quite so roughly on her hair, but to no avail. Rings catch in strands, yanking and pulling until her scalp aches and Des's story has ended and Blanche has grown bored of this particular show. She dismisses the dancers who had been performing on the main floor and laces her fingers through Selenes.

“I heard you put on quite a show for my Harellas, not so long ago,” She purrs “Fought off a whole swarm of gibbering horrors. Lots of your lovely flames and flesh thrown around, I understand.”

“Yes, my lady,” Selene acknowledges, swallowing the lump in her throat at the memory.

“And I missed it!” Blanche gasps, swooning dramatically while Des pretends to fan her with a piece of silk. “The damned prices I pay for my position, really. I do so love watching you fight. Do you think you could put on another show for me now, perhaps?”

Selene hesitates.

“I would not wish to completely eradicate your horde of horrors, Lady Blanche.”

“Oh, I'm sure I could whip up something else for you to fight my dear,” she says, face splitting into a chilling grin “No worries, no worries!”

She ushers Selene out of her chair and into the center of the room, and calls two of the guards to join her within the painted circle.

“Ground rules,” she announces, as the room stills to gather around the makeshift arena “Weapons are allowed, but you must have them on you already. No tag-ins, no time-outs, fighting dirty is encouraged, because we are here for a show after all! So please remember to go out in a blaze of glory and all that so that this is not a waste of time. Only the last one living will be permitted out and deemed the winner,” she pauses, as her fully armored guards draw their swords and assume their usual starting stance. Selene resists the urge to point out just how rigged this seems since she is unarmed and wearing lingerie and they should really be above this sort of pandering by now.

“Ready? Begin!”

The moment Blanche declares the fight has started, both guards charge towards Selene. She quickly raises a barrier, sending them skidding back. One drops his sword (A new recruit, she realizes bitterly), and Selene takes advantage to knock it out of the ring. As the guard reaches across the painted circle in an effort to retrieve it, his hand vanishes, leaving only a clean cut as blood spurts from his wrist and he screams in terror.

“No breaking the rules,” Blanche reminds them from her throne. “They should have covered that in your training.”

Selene isn't sure if the guard hears her or not, too caught up in the sudden loss of his hand she thinks, to notice the other guard come up behind him, striking him clean through the ribs and his armor before ripping the sword back out. She can hear him whisper a quiet apology as the younger guard falls to the ground, lifeless, head vanishing the way his hand had as it falls outside of the boundary.

“Oooh, gruesome!” Blanche giggles, high and thin as she leans forward to watch the two remaining contenders.

The guardsman turns to face Selene, blade still gleaming with the blood of the fallen recruit. She readies a fireball, and he charges towards her again, ready for her barrier. He casts, using the others blood as an offering as the sword cuts cleanly through her barrier and nearly through her own stomach. She dodges, barely, pushing the flames into the mans face as he screams out in agony. His blade drops as his hands shoot up to reflexively cover his eyes, and she kicks it out of the circle before elbowing him between the shoulder blades.

He falls to the ground, but manages to snag one of the decorative chains on her corset, dragging her down to the ground beside him.

Selene yelps as her knee makes impact with the hard ground, and attempts to pull herself from his grip.

No luck though, his fist tight around the golden string. Unwilling to let her go now that he has been blinded. Smart, she thinks.

She yanks his helmet off, tossing it out of the ring as her other hand balls up and makes contact with his cheek. Scales, hard and sharp dig into her skin slicing up the soft skin of her knuckles as she hits him over and over and over again. He manages to find an opening in her attacks, flipping so that she is laid on her back, horns just remaining within the boundaries as his hands move up her body and come to rest on her throat, claws tearing through the ribbon around her neck as he tries to force the air out of her body.

Selene can feel herself getting light headed as he pushes on her jugular vein.

A last ditch effort, a regret for another day, she reaches to place her hand firmly over his face before igniting them both. He screams, and that is his undoing in the end, as her flames scurry down his throat and into his lungs, searing everything in their path on the way down. He collapses atop her, dead and burning, but his grip finally loosens to allow her to sit up and shove the corpse off of herself.

The room erupts into applause, Des whistling from his space beside Blanche, who is staring down at Selene with a dangerously pleased look on her face.

The boundaries vanish, and Selene strides back to her chair, chin high as she attempts to cover the exhaustion she feels from the adrenaline loss. Still, she takes her seat, crossing one leg over the other and making sure to look, for all the world, as though she could do this all day without breaking a sweat.

Blanch takes her chin in her hand, turning Selene to face her. “That was wonderful,” she commends, finger moving down to scrape her nail over the scar covering much of Selene's neck. “Blood and smoke is a good look on you.”

Selene leans forward, knowing better than to say anything other than 'thank you' and to play into the part that Blanche wants of her right now. She intends to play coy, to flirt and listen and watch the remaining entertainers until Blanche decides who in particular she'd like to take to her chambers for a few more hours.

But a familiar tugging sensation is in the back of her head.

“Selene,” she hears, and mentally curses.

Not now. Why did he have to do this now?

“Something bothering you dear?” Blanche coos, etching her nails into the various subtle grooves of Selenes horns.

“Just a surface dweller,” she evades. “Nothing of consequence.”

“Selene,” she hears again.

More potent this time, more pressing, and there is nothing she can do to stop Blanche from reaching forward and wrapping one of her long bony fingers through the invisible thread, turning it into a deep blood red crossing through the air.

“Well well well,” she says, finally standing as she pulls the thread taut in front of her face “What have we here?”

“It is nothing,” Selene attempts, but Blanche just raises a single unamused eyebrow her way.

“You are capable of far better lies than that. Do not insult me.” Blanche snaps.

Selene stays silent, this time.

“Interesting....”Blanche murmurs as she further inspects the object “It seems to go both ways...Are they important to you?”

“No,” Selene asserts immediately. “He has an infatuation, and I have been using him as a resource. That's all.”

“Liar liar,” Blanche teases, dangling the thread in front of Selene “Threads don't lie dear. Although, if you think it's some sort of mistake, I suppose I could do the favor of cutting it for you-”

“No!” Selene responds, with far more emphasis than she meant to show.

Blanche looks back at Selene, nose raised as she sneers down at her “See that your little pet learns the proper way to deal with our kind, then. Or I may deign to inform them myself. And my instructions do not come cheap.”

Selene swallows and nods, giving a deep bow to her Lord Blanche before following the thread up to the surface, where Dirthamen is waiting.

Nervously shuffling in his living room once more, food set out on his table in a way that has become almost customary for the two of them, by now.

All thoughts of eating seem to flee his head as he turns to see her though.

“You are injured.” he observes.

Selene lets out a sigh. “Dirthamen...” she begins, as he ushers her carefully over to his couch. He asks her to sit, and she does so without argument before he disappears into his bedroom, returning with a small first aid kit.

She feels compelled to remind him that she could heal herself, but the words stay stuck in her throat as he carefully cleans her wounds. First her knee, then her knuckles. Soft balls of cotton just grazing over her wounds, damp with polysporin. He remains focused on cleaning them, thoroughly, gently.

It's hard not to be entranced by his touch, when he does things like this. But Blanches warning still rings fresh in her mind, and as his gaze raises to the scar on her throat, eyes widening, she carefully bumps her forehead against his. “Dirthamen,” she begins again. “You can't keep doing this.”

He blinks, before his eyebrows scrunch together. “Does our medicine not work on demons? I did not mean to harm you further.”

“No, the medicine is fine. But this...summoning me without using the sigil. It's not the way things are done.”

“I did not wish to summon you without your consent.”

Selene lets out a breath. “I understand. But...”she hesitates. Tries to figure out a way to explain things without giving away the information that she has, perhaps, begun to care for him in a less than professional way. “You can not pray to demons.” she settles on.

His eyebrows scrunch a bit more, but he nods, slowly. As though agreeing because he knows its the correct answer, but not because he's worked out precisely why it is correct.

“You worry that I might want to be somewhere else instead from what I've gathered, yes?” she asks.

Dirthamen nods in agreement so she presses on. “I live in hell, Dirthamen. That's not a metaphor. I would always rather be here. But I need you to use the sigil when you want to summon me, or else...or else we're both going to be in serious trouble, and I'm not sure if I'll be able to pull us out of it. Do you understand?”

He nods this time, understanding, and Selene lets out a breath of relief.

Dirthamen carefully reaches to pull her hands into his, wrapping gauze tenderly around her wounds until he seems satisfied she won't be susceptible to infection.

He hesitates as he reaches her knee, and she smirks, just slightly as she straightens out her leg for him. He wraps her knee as gently as he had her hands, his eyes occasionally sliding down to the heels still heavy on her feet as his face darkens with a blush. She grins as he finishes, legs wrapping around his shoulders and pulling him just close enough to startle him back into the moment and out of his reverie.

“Something on your mind?” She teases.

“Your outfit is...different.”

“I was dressed to someone else's tastes,” she shrugs. “Do they match your own?”

“They are not what I would have chosen, no.”

Selene opts to not analyze the relief she feels at that too closely.

Instead she leans forward, her lips only a breath away from his own.

“What did you call me here for, Dirthamen?”

“I thought you might like to join me for dinner,” he says, indicating towards the table once with his head “And also, I bought you a gift. Although, perhaps now it would be...troublesome.”

Selene blinks, straightening. “You bought me something?”

“Yes. But you are not required to accept it, if it will cause you trouble.”

Selenes nails tap carefully against the cushions of his couch. “May I see it?”

He nods, standing and heading back into his bedroom. Curious, Selene thinks. What sort of thing could he have gotten her? The letter perhaps, finally? That would not be a gift though. Not jewelry, certainly. He knows she would be more likely to trade it away than to keep it herself.

She's not sure she's ever actually gotten a gift before. Not without strings and fees attached.

He returns with a small cardboard box in his hands, sitting down beside her on the couch and passing it to her.

“It is already registered and charged,” he explains, as she curiously opens the container. “All you have to do is turn it on, and load in your own preferences.”

Selene freezes as she opens the box.

It is a phone.

A brand new cell phone.

“I suppose it is possible that they do not have service where you live, however. Perhaps-”

“It's perfect.” She interrupts, before he can talk himself out of giving it to her. Electronics are very hard to come by, in hell. Too many opportunities for corruption or poor deals via the internet, or code disturbances. Too many ways to break through a firewall, or find loopholes in programming, so they require special clearance. Only the top ranked demons are permitted them, usually.

But Harellas still owes her a favor.

“Thank you,” she whispers, turning the device over in her hands. Light, and clean, and new.

“You are very welcome,” he smiles, pleased that she likes his gift. “I thought, perhaps, this could allow us to converse more easily. If that is an idea that appeals to you. You seem to enjoy our conversations while you are here.”

“I do. Thank you, Dirthamen. Sincerely. I...will find a way to pay you back for this.”

“It is a gift,” he assures her. “The only thing I ask for in return, is that you might perhaps text me when you would like to meet. Or speak. Or...”

“I will text you often,” she promises. “Maybe even make a few dirty phone calls, if you're interested.”

He blushes again, the tips of his ears a lovely shade of pink as she moves in closer to him, tail wrapping around one of his legs. “I...if you wanted to, I would not be opposed.” he admits.

Selene smiles, crawling towards him, tail moving his leg until he is flat on his back on the couch and she is over him, hair dangling beside his face while her fingers work on unbuttoning his shirt. “I would be glad to show you just how unopposed I am, if you're up for it.”

He swallows and gives her a yes before her mouth claims his own, pressing him back into the plush cushions and exposing the bare skin of his chest. He eagerly returns the kiss, body arching up towards her touch.

They shift, and readjust, pulling away from the kiss as needed until Selene is the one beneath Dirthamen, his hands carefully, delicately tracing over her body. She shivers beneath his fingers, as they brush her skin, the lace of the bodice. She inhales sharply as they reach the scar on her neck, still bruised from her earlier fight and a weak spot she tries to keep hidden. But her ribbon was left behind, still in the ring and likely re-purposed by now.

“Does it hurt?” he asks.

“Sometimes.” she admits.

Dirthamens fingers brush over it once more before his lips follow, gently tracing the lines of re-grafted skin. A scar left purposely, as a reminder for past mistakes that she will not repeat.

But beneath the soft sigh of his breaths, it aches less. Her body tingles, unsure of what to do with the affection radiating from him. Her arms wrap awkwardly around his shoulders, pulling him close to her.

Are they important to you? She hears again.

She sighs as he sits up, his hands carefully caressing her horns as her eyes close and she settles into him.

Another night of soft touches, of warm affection, and closeness she shouldn't permit is coming, she knows. He is always less inclined to agree to sexual activities when she shows up injured, no matter how clearly aroused he becomes.

Not that they've had many, aside from her assistance the first time he summoned her without a sigil. But she misses it less than she thought she might.

He has become important to her. More than is safe, really.

Others might seek him out, attempt to use him as leverage against her. She knows this, knows that what they are doing is unwise.

But he is so soft, and gentle, and kind to her in ways she has never known, that it seems worth the risk still.

They shift again, and he calls for the next episode of a show they have been allowing to play in the background while their dinners settled lately begins.

It is not quite heaven, she knows.

But it is as close as she has ever known. She will do what she must to protect it.

#Demon AU #Dirthalene #Selene Lavellan #Des #Blanche #heed the warnings #this is all Feys fault!#her and her tags #for shame fey #(ilu <3)

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