#vulunerable

[diivineray]

he kisses the edge of hua cheng’s jaw then gently lifts away the eyepatch, whispers, “here…?” (from ghostlypath)

                 ˚ʚɞ🎲🏮⛩️🏮🎲ʚɞ  ― Hua Cheng took great delight in engaging in these playful games. Their childish && carefree nature allowed them to connect on a deeper level. He cherished the moments when these games brought them closer together, allowing their lips to express a language understood only by the two of them. Hua Cheng was left in a daze as he felt Wei Wuxian's hands gently holding his face, the touch he'd longed for more than anything. Hua Cheng was enveloped in a cascade of sweet kisses, with Wei Wuxian's voice echoing in his ears. He chuckled softly and queried, ❛ Here ? ❜

           As if he needed Hua Cheng's blessing to bestow his affection wherever he pleased. 

           In that moment, Hua Cheng eagerly nodded back, yearning for Wei Wuxian to bestow another kiss upon him. To his cheek, his forehead, the corner of his lips, along his jaw,  until finally he felt the gentle touch of fingers as they carefully lifted the eyepatch, revealing the emptiness where his eye used to be.

             His body froze as if caught in an icy grip. If he still had a beating heart, he was sure he would have felt it hammering against his rib cage. Wei Wuxian had teased him in this place before, but never had he peeled away his composure so completely. It seemed absurd to witness the Crimson Rain Sought Flower tremble with his own insecurities, especially when he was naturally bold and confident. If this had been anyone else, Hua Cheng would have responded with hostility, but in the presence of Wei Wuxian, his demeanor softened.

              His jaw dropped slightly, and he let out a soft breath as he experienced the sensation of gentle fingers delicately tracing along the edge of the empty eye socket. He was waiting for Wei Wuxian to grimace, frown, or look in utter disgust, but it never came. Instead, Wei Wuxian's gaze remained fixed on him with a tender and affectionate expression, one that had lingered even before he removed his eyepatch. The confident look on his face softened into a vulnerable one, as if Wei Wuxian had pierced through a mirror and glimpsed his true self.

         A hand moved and gently touched Wei Wuxian's wrist, his voice soft as he answered, ❝ Yes. ❞

[balvares]

wave goodbye.

self para, location unknown. triggers: stabbing, torture, knives, blood, violence, death. mentioned: @dilara-kr, @applekiraz, @analusilvas, @feykaplan, @dominicdavis, @davinadias.

       I’ll be careful. I promise. Those were the last words Bianca said to Dilara before going out that same night. She was being careful. For the first time in a long time, she wanted to keep her promise. Nightrest wasn’t as safe as she had thought it’d once been. Even for the girl who thrived in spending her life living in the moment, not thinking about past or future, she didn’t have it in her to leave her friends worried about her—or scared because she continued to spend most of her nights so .. recklessly. 

Bi had been drinking, it would’ve been a lie to say she wasn’t, but she knew what she was doing. Despite every promise she once made, she had always been a social drinker. The kind of girl who drank because she was surrounded by people. Wanting to be able to mix in with all the fun as opposed to focusing on remaining completely sober—or close to it. Tonight hadn’t been any different. The brunette said goodbye to everyone she’d spent her night with, a smile on her face as she dangled the screen of her phone in front of them. “I’ve got an Uber coming,” she slurred before sloppy steps brought her outdoors. Soft laughs slipping out of her as she stood by the curb, slightly dizzy vision taking in the surroundings as she did the only thing she could do. Wait. 

A part of her wonders if she should’ve waited inside, or continued inside. Maybe if she had, Bianca wouldn’t have been standing under the dark sky, vulunerable. Easy prey. Even as she stood there, nothing felt out of the ordinary. Not until the sound of footsteps rang in her ear. They sounded close, fast, and as she attempted to turn around—see who it was—there was an impact against her head. A hard one. Hard enough that stars began to cloud her already messy vision. And before there was even a chance to react, to scream, call for help, she felt it again. Then everything went black. 

later .

She could feel the hard surface against her body, the coldness prickling at the skin that was exposed. She was on the floor. Bianca’s lids rapidly began to open—seeing nothing but blackness. Her eyes covered. The tight feeling against the opening of her mouth. Her mouth tied up, too. Wanting to reach up and take whatever it was off her face, it was then the woman realized that her hands were also tied behind her. She couldn’t see, speak, or move the way she wanted. That was the start of her panic—memories of the footsteps, being hit. Bianca desperately tried to fight against whatever was holding her wrists locked together, ignoring the way the friction burned her skin, as she tried (and failed) to stand or even sit. Anything was better than the way she was currently.  Where am I? Is anybody there? Questions she tried to ask, but coming out as nothing more than a muffled sound. 

This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. 

Fingers gripped into her hair, the sharp pain being enough to have Bianca yelp as they roughly lifted her up—eyes closed tightly beneath the blindfold. She listened, waiting for someone to say something. Anything. Let her know what was going on, what she was doing here but nothing came. The only sound she could hear was her own ragged breath. It felt like ages, their fingers still knotted in her hair while nothing happened. It was the silence that scared her. From more than what she’s ever experienced. 

Then she felt the blade pierce through her stomach. Fast, rough. The feeling of it having the woman cry out in pain, already feeling the tears pricking from her eyelids. Then another one. And another. On her stomach again. On her side. In and out. Rough edges of, what she could only assume, was a knife ripping its way in and out of her skin. Tears being shed but soaked up through the cloth that covered eyes.  Shedding with every impact of their hands, or their feet, the knife. Constant blows. Again. And again. And again.

Stop. Stop. Please. Words that repeatedly came out of her mouth with every plunge, desperately wishing that they’d stop. To stop hurting her. She didn’t deserve this. Those same stars floating across her already masked vision—wishing she knew who was doing it. Who hated her this much? Hated her enough to want to see her hurt like this. In so much pain. 

Even as she thought about it, there was a single person who managed to come to mind. Bianca believed that in all of her years of living, she’s never done anything worth of this. She’s always been a good person. Talked to everyone, kept herself away from drama that didn’t involve her. What did she do that could be so wrong? To bring out this kind of … hate in a person. Because they had to hate her. There was no denying it. 

Even in the midst of it all, Bianca still couldn’t hear anything. Only the sound of her own masked screams, the sound of her breathing echoing within her ears. The agony of the inflicted wounds being the only thing she could seem to focus on. If they were saying anything, she couldn’t hear it. For a moment, it felt as if time stopped. 

The hands that once were entangled in her hair now shoved her down. Bianca’s body hitting the ground and her head knocking against the surface of the floor—a ringing sound immediately echoing in her ears from the impact.  That’s when she heard it.

There was a laugh. A woman’s laugh. Something that was easy to distinguish even as the sound drifted further away from her—words coming out of her, but nothing Bianca could pick up.  She heard her. Whoever she was. That was a woman’s voice and there was no denying it, but who was she talking to? Despite all the pain she felt, the brunette tried her hardest to listen. To see if she could hear whoever was being addressed. Did she know that voice?

She didn’t have time to think about it. Not before the sound of another scream flooded her ears. It wasn’t ear piercing, but it was a sound that mimicked one of her own. The same kind of scream she continued to release with every blow of the blade. Someone else was here. Bianca’s cries could only grow harder as she remained on the ground—weakly fighting against her retraints.  Unable to stop herself from aching for whoever else it was going through the same thing she was; listening to those heart wrenching sounds while she couldn’t do a thing to help. That being enough to make her cries grow harder. Bianca, even in the midst of her own pain, couldn’t keep herself from crying out to whoever it was. She didn’t need to know who they were or why they must’ve been there. Whoever it was, they didn’t deserve this. Neither of them did. 

Time moved by slowly. The sound in the distance became more faint with every passing minute, or hour, she didn’t know, but it was enough for one thing to ring clear for Bianca. These were her final moments. They’re final moments. She knew that. In the midst of everything happening, her mind couldn’t help but to shift toward the people she cared most about—Analu, Fey, Dominic, Davina, Dilara, Apple. 

Apple. Her best friend. Sister. Soulmate.  Their last conversation replayed in her head during her final moments. Being aunties, having children. Living the rest of their lives together. Things they’ve spoken about hundreds of times and it wasn’t until this moment did it finally hit Bianca that it wouldn’t happen. She’d never grow old enough to see Apple become the cool aunt she so desperately wanted to be. Never get to have kids of her own looking up at her best friends with the same admiration and love that Bianca held for her. She’d never see Apple have kids. Something she knew her best friend wanted so badly. Even with the way she brushed it off, playing it off as nothing more than a simple thought, Bianca knew better. She could see the sadness hidden behind those eyes and now, those words played in her head again: You’re time will come. It was lighthearted at the time, but during this moment, she meant it. Every single word. One of her last moments praying that she’d stop being plagued by whatever was in her thoughts and do it. Have the family she wanted. The kids. Grow old, be happy. It’s what she deserved. 

It was as if the killers knew what she was thinking about. Feeling those hands pulling her up again,  the blade making its way to her neck and for the first time since it started, Bianca wanted it all to stop. Not in the same way she once had, but she wanted them—whoever they were—to put an end to it all. To the pain. Her suffering.  She couldn’t do it anymore. She could feel the blood pooling at her feet, skin raging as it constantly reminded her of what they put her through. She couldn’t do it anymore. 

The rigged ends dug deeply into her neck, gliding its way across her neck and even if Bianca wanted to scream, the pooling blood from behind her mouth made it impossible. She could feel it, her blood, pouring out—drenching her clothes. There was no longer a fight in Bianca. Within seconds, she could feel her body growing weak. Limp. Then she was gone. 

[scarriercontribution]

I quit my job…then God Gave Me My Dream Job | If you’re struggling watch... This Authentically Seen youtube feature of I Quit My Job Then God Gave Me My Dream Job is both inspiring and spiritually enlightening. I also enjoy how the youtube author (Authentically Seen) honestly with charismatic vulunerability admits some of what she was feeling and going through in various areas of her life (personal spiritual professional) while both before and after she manifested her dream job transformation. I am glad that she also generously shared some of her ideas on both the potential why and how her job dreams manifested even better than she initially expected/planned and I am happy to have accessed this spiritually nourishing career/career/job related guidance video

[tahyirasavanna]

The Art in Nakedness

The Art in Nakedness

I become aware of his naked presence beside me, opening my eyes from a dream I can’t recall. His broad chest rises and falls against me, his arm sprawled across my back. His breaths are heavy, his spirit is light, and when I shift my posture, his hand adjusts; caressing the length of my spine before curling himself against me, hugging me close. His thumb moves back and forth along my upper…

[strictandfair]

She had been warned of the punishment and how she was expected to submit to the male authority. Her femine pleas to retain her modesty during her punishment caning were an inappropiate request. Her male authority figure decided to humor her, having her bend over and present her bum still encased by her panties and nylons. His cane bit into her bottom burying itself in her vulunerable backside. The cane had it's way with her bottom pulsating pain and breaking welts informed her of the need to submit to the man's authority. 12 strokes was what it took for her to agree to surrender the dignity of her modesty to him. And her panties and nylons were pulled down to her ankles where they belonged. Her femine bum bare and raised her rosebud peeking from behind her thighs. A picture of femine submission and surrender. "Now," He teased his power over her as his cane tortured a welt on her bottom. "We may begin your punishment."

[akashchugh-blog]

Setting up DVWA and Introduction - Website Hacking

http://www.techtrick.in/description/4580-setting-up-dvwa-and-introduction-website-hacking

[kiingsroar-moved]

I love that even though Leona is not everyone’s favorite person because he really is insufferable, lazy, and an asshole but can still make everyone kind of breathless with how beautiful he is.

He really is that beautiful 😭😭

[wingsandarrow]

He knew what it meant, and he was straight up ignoring that look, the way he ignored most suggestions for his improvement, even the well-intentioned ones. Carol was maybe the only person who could mother hen him with any kind of success, and that was mostly just because he respected her opinion. Even so, he still had to be bullied into taking good care of himself. Daryl's standards for what qualified as good would make most people cringe. He'd always been the type to sleep with one eye open, dead walking or not. It was how he knew he really trusted Kyleigh, that he was willing to sleep in front of her, trusting her not to let anything eat him while he was at his most vulunerable.

He knew she was stronger than she looked just from simple observation, but it had never struck him as particularly unusual. He did what he could to keep himself strong--push-ups, pull-ups, and far more running from walkers than he would have enjoyed on his own--but real fitness routines were a luxury he hadn't been able to afford even before. He didn't have the time or the energy to wear himself out jogging when real work already demanded so much. Still, he wouldn't have asked anyone to move this big, heavy-ass thing on their own. Left to his own devices, he probably would have just taken his chances with the door, but as always, he prioritized other people's safety above his own. He wouldn't forgive himself if something got through while they were resting, and she got hurt just because he was too lazy to move a bit of furniture around.

"We got this," he assured her, navigating the cabinet over the lip and letting it ease back to the floor so they could slide it the rest of the way. When it was sitting comfortably in front of the door, he brushed off his hands and gave her a nod. Good work. He found a place on the floor to settle, always more comfortable there than he was on the furniture (and, no, he did not want to examine what that said about him, if anything). He pulled the deck of cards he'd thiefed from the drawer out of his pocket and shuffled them idly. They still had an hour or so of daylight left, judging by the angle the meager rays were coming in the boarded up windows. "Wanna play?"

Daryl had never enjoyed hurting people. He'd killed plenty since the world ended, but only to protect himself or his people, and he'd always made it as quick as he possibly could. Soft, his brother had always said when they were growing up. It was only after the world ended that Daryl started thinking maybe that wasn't always such a bad thing. It wasn't a bad thing to not want to see people suffer, let alone be the cause of that suffering. The ordinary arguments that happened from personality clashes or people spending too much time together weren't the same as some of the horrors he'd seen humans inflicting on other humans, both before and after the walkers.

There weren't a lot of creepy crawlies that bothered him, not after spending half his life growing up outdoors. Daryl actually got on better with nature than he ever had with people. Wild animals would just do what wild animals did. They were a lot more predictable than people. What he didn't do so well with was cold. He'd always lived far enough south to not have to worry much about the winters except for the occasional freak cold spell. It was the only thing that could chase him back inside when he was a kid and home was rough. He was grateful not to need a fire to keep warm now, but it would come in handy if they managed to get some more meat.

"I sleep," he muttered without a lot of heat behind it. He slept about as much as he ever did, as much as he could with his guard constantly up. He could never seem to convince that little voice in the back of his mind that it was safe, even at the prison when they had walls and fences. He joined her by the cabinet, giving a nod once he was ready and setting his shoulder against it to push. It creaked as it slid across the hardwood floor but otherwise moved easily enough with their combined effort, until it caught on the quarter round molding. "Shit," he muttered, shifting around the side so he could tip it a little to ease the cabinet over it. "Give it a little push?"

[toodamnloyal]

A younger figure approached Theo and Stoat, its clothing and face as obscured as the others by its current shape. All colors inverted into a gradient of brilliant white and pitch black, the young taken looked up at duo and cast a terrifying thought through their minds, a warning if not an outright threat.

Taken!Mathafew [DISTRACTS]!

He'd thought by staying far out of reach of the Taken army that he was safe, and sprinting away after having thrown the last of the smoke grenades Theo thought he might even get out in the resulting chaos. Not one for fighting, much preferring to run away, that's what he did.

The escape was blocked by a smaller figure stepping into his path. Theo put on the breaks and skid to a halt while Stoat darted about over his head, "Keep running!" The ghost warbled as it realized who was confronting them now and the pilot cast a look up at his companion. Before words could even be formed there was something in his head.

It didn't snake its way in there either, not a whisper like an intrusive thought but something that slammed and hammered its way in. There weren't any words, just a horrible nails on chalk screeching, screaming and it was accompanied by a feeling of horror. Like he should be afraid of something, he was afraid - Theo had no idea what exactly he was afraid of but the feeling cold hard terror spread all through him. It froze his heart, turned his limbs into jelly and collapsed the pilot leaving him painfully vulunerable to whatever came next.

[shijas]

touched-starved megumi slowly being acclimatised to touch really lives rent free in my head.

like, his childhood was pretty all over the place, and he clearly spent middle school getting into fights and straight up brooding, so it’s make sense for touch in megumi’s mind to be associated with strength and violence and pain and vulnerability, the latter two things would especially be hard for megumi to live with i think???? i don’t really know how to explain??? but like we see that uncontrolled vulinerabilty, and leaving yourself vulnerable is like putting yourself on a wanted list for shamans. and so touch, in megumi’s eyes, should only occur with a few specific purposes and those purposes usually weren’t the most pleasant experiences in his mind. i assume people only touched him for: training/sparring, which is literally allocated time when someone can just straight up, inflict harm; someone deciding to fight him out of jealousy or revenge or fear or some sort of negative emotion; and in the worst case scenario people are touching him to heal him because in some capacity he’s weak, he was not strong enough to do whatever he needed to do without injury. i think healing touches, when the touch has to be gentle because fundamentally megumi is already vulunerable and already hurting would sting the most, like emotionally and physically because sometimes touch, even gentle touch, do he hurting tho... (this got long, but for how nobara/yuji break this pattern keep reading!)

and then nobara and yuji arrive and it’s like a hurricane of positive touching. yuji is affectionate!! physical touch is definitely a part of his love languages and so yuji just enjoys giving hugs!! yuji likes high fives!! and fist bumps!! and holding hangs while swinging them in the space between eachother while walking, even though it’s kind of childish. and megumi doesn’t know how to say no to these things, to the boundless enthusiasm that is yuji!! and he also feels a little guilty because he kinda dragged yuji into this world, away from his friends and the familiar comfort/touch he was used too. so megumi doesn’t like, consciously, try to stop any of the touch despite his general aversion. instead he indulges yuji to the best of his ability, because he comes to find that it’s not always bad and he doesn’t really mind; it takes a while to fully like not have a defensive, fight or flight response to the touches and he defo judo flips and sucker punches yuji over and over, because yuji is 1000000% a sneak affection attacker. the closest touch has ever been to ‘nice’ for megumi is probably healing for his stupid amount of serious wounds, and as both an apology and his first steps in reciprocation, megumi applies the gentleness of healing touches he remembers to the injuries he (accidentally??) gives yuji, because all he really about touch that isn’t supposed to hurt is how to rub softly against a spot that will probably bruise, and how to wrap or plaster a cut from a judo flip that led to some scrapes, he’s very good at icing bumps and twists and strains; and so they put themselves back together like that, and yuji keeps up his ‘surprise back hug events’ like they don’t straight up lead to a bruised sternum.

nobara breaks down the ‘touch is violence, touch is pain and pain is bad’-thing even faster than yuji, because she’s lived by her philolosphy as an affectionate puncher, a sweet kicker; she’s defo the type to bite your fingers and pinch your arm, but it’s well and truly out of all the love she cannot contain in her heart (which frustrates her a little bit so she will give you a sharp jab in retribution for feelings). what helps uncross the wires of megumi’s learnt behaviour (or maybe cross them idk) that ‘touch and violence and therefore bad’, is that her teasing and, honestly barely painful, ribbing is always interspersed by the softest of touches that aren’t tinged by the smell of antiseptic, blood or pity. this type of touch gets more frequent the more comfortable they get with eachother (think learning to lean on eachother post yuji death), like nobara will say ‘ew’ while forcing megumi to lay his head in her lap when they’re tryna catch their breath during training, and if his towel is nearby she’ll pat the sweat off his forehead and then complain about said sweat just because she knows he likes listening to her complain about mundane stuff; and she’ll make a million and one spiky sea urchins puns (did you know the japanese word for urchin is uni and linguistically meguni is a hilarious pun that i can see happening in canon) but is the first to rake her fingers through the mess of megumi’s hair, if she noticed he’s tried and hasn’t been taking care of himself. like yeah she throws her pens at him when he tries to help her with their maths homework, but her aim is so scary good it’s funny, and he can always throw them back and she won’t really get any more angry, and so they throw pens at eachother and laugh about it and nobara sketches random patters on to megumi’s skin with the pen she almost used to impale his eye.

anyway the point i’m getting at (probably incomprehensible into this mess of hc and meta) is: yuji and nobara come along, and suddenly, touch isn’t something that burns a little, isn’t something that spooks, isn’t something that requires the tightening of megumi’s jaw and his ribs and his spirit, and of course, sometimes it gets a little overwhelming (WHICH IS OKAY!! TOUCH AS STIMULATION IS OVERHWELMING SOMETIMES AND THATS OKAY AND VALID, EVEN IF YOURE AN AFFECTIONATE OR TOUCHY PERSON!!) and megumi needs to like take a couple of steps back. and they talk about it, because communication is key, and boundaries are healthy things to put in place, and by god the first years will try and build as safe and healthy a relationship between the three of them as they possibly can! and yeah they talk about it, and some days touch is too much for of them and that’s okay, affection, fondness, compassion can be shown in other ways, through other actions and they’ll utilise those a bit more as easily as they utilise touch a bit less, and slowly but surely, megumi becomes a lot less touch-starved and starts to seek it out on his own and initiate it in ways that are comfortable to him, like learning to braid hair so he can play with nobara’s or grabbing yuji’s hand first while their walking or just pressing his thigh into whoever he’s sitting next to in class and that’s fine and that’s good!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and i’m very much attached to this idea.

bonus gojo (as per usual): when megumi became his ward, for obvious, bitter, reasons he wasn’t really tryna like touch. this kid. riling megumi up was easy enough with just words and i feel like firstly, teasing is a part of gojo’s love language in a mirror of how it’s a part of nobara’s (mmmmmmm gojo and nobara parallels are another brain worm that EATS me) and secondly, gojo goes through his own thing with touch, and like affection. as someone whose essentially raised on an absolutely, ridiculous, pedestal and then successfully surpasses even the heights of that pedestal to basically become a living legend AND the whole physical, literal thing with infinity or limitless (or whatever his cursed technique is i’m sorry i didn’t pay attention to the cursed energy explanation any of the times it came up) ANYWAY, so gojo and megumi probably both touch-starved idiots. but, like gojo does care for megumi, like as his student and as this kid he watched grow up, like ofc he does because he’s not a completely useless person. and so he definitely encourages nobara and yuji’s plan to positively reinforce touch in megumi’s brain and slowly, for fear of being straight up bitten, endeavours to extend the casual affection he easily applies to the other two, to megumi too. idrk the logistics of it, but i think it’d be cute for one day gojo putting his hand out to ruffle megumi’s hair, but like not imposing his hand, like it’s just out and about really, and usually megumi nopes or hisses or whatever other gremlin mood he’s decided to incorporate to the finite number of facial expressions he’s willing to make, but today he’s feeling charitable and lets gojo ruffle his hair, kinda like a cat ya know, like leans into it a bit in a very clear you have permission to pet!!!! and gojo’s just jojo sobbing through his blindfold like “oh my god my son loves me” and megumi is regretting not biting him.

[helliontherapscallion]

omg pls share the story abt the lecture from that girl’s dad (only if u feel like it) but seriously ppl it’s not that hard to put a mask on to help the spread of a virus. just wear it, it keeps u safe. and for the ppl who don’t care then just wait til it affects u, bcs covid isn’t a game. I just wish ppl were more serious abt it

Ok so sit down and buckle up kiddos and grab some snacks bc this is a helluva ride

Little background info: I have been a section leader for both my junior and senior years now. When the new freshmen came in my first year of being section leader I was hyped as hell. And then this new freshman whips out a lighter and lights it WHILE WE’RE INSIDE THE SCHOOL MIGHT I ADD with a straight face looking off into the distance before we ask her to put it away. She also always has a pocket knife on her that we found on the ground during band camp. I’ll call her POS. 

I tried to like POS I really did, but then she turned out to be a bigoted racist asshole (she also drinks deer blood straight from the corpse and simps over jeffery dahmer so even more red flags). It was extremely hard for me to treat her like I did with the other people in my section, but I managed to treat her the same as the other people and avoided her for the most part (thank god she wasn’t in my subsection I would’ve actually gone insane)

Flash forward to this year. Covid was hitting full force and we had to quarantine for the first two months of our season setting us back by a lot. She was wishywashy about rejoining but as the most senior leader of my section my band director was on my ass about getting a straight answer from her and fast. So I kinda had to force her to give me an answer (which she told me she was doing it quickly which leads me to think she already knew she was doing it) so she already was going into the season hating my guts

When we finally had an in person rehearsal for the first time, she wasn’t wearing a mask so when I asked her where it was she looked at me like I was the dumbass and said in a matter-of-fact tone “it’s in my pocket” and pointed to the confederate flag bandana hanging out of her pocket. Those four words told me that this season was going to be a fuckin long one with her. I just deadpanned (she couldn’t see it tho bc mask, sunglasses, and floppy hat blocking my entire face) and said “I’d rather it be on your face. (band director and marching instructor’s names) will have my ass if they see you not wearing one.” She rolls her eyes and puts it on (at least it was over her nose)

A few months go by with me telling her constantly to put on a mask bc I am responsible for my section and I’d be damned if one of them got sick bc of one idiot being stupid that I could prevent. She is getting madder and madder with each passing rehearsal. 

Band camp rolls around and it changed from 5 13 hour days to 15 3 hour ones and I am already done with her bs. We get our dots and I mentally groan bc she’s next to me for the vast majority of the show. She is between me (an asthmatic) and my close friend (vvv immunocompromised and also hates her, I’ll call her S) so now I’m more worried about covid going around the section. It was in this time that I find out that at least 5 other people out of 20 also have pre existing conditions that make them susceptible. So now I make it even more my mission to make her wear a mask. 

It was in the middle of band camp when she is yet again not wearing a mask (we were just marching without instruments) and I turn to her and as kindly as possible (it was the second time that day) asked her to put on her mask. She once again rolls her eyes and says “ya know, (band director) walked past me 3 times and hasn’t said shit, so I think I’m gonna listen to him and not you.” S and another friend of mine looks over in shock cuz she just talked back to me. They were about to say something but I wove them off. POS wants to fuck with me? Fine. I’ll just go full force with this. She wants petty?? I’ll give her petty, I’ve been holding off all season. 

So I’m marching there for the next twenty minutes quietly seething and counting more aggressively. She’s getting annoyed, but I pull the section leader card and tell her that she needs to be counting as loud as I am bc her feet was lowkey off time. After we break off for a gush and go (very short water break), I go straight to my band director and use my limited water break to tell him what she told me. He apologizes and says that he thought she was just taking a breather. He tells her to put on a mask and she does so and glares at me the rest of the rehearsal. 

She blocks me on all social media and I obviously clown on her in private with the other section leader (he’s more of a pacifist and never really told her to wear a mask which kinda pissed me off but I understood) until she makes a passing comment to my other friend about using the knife she kept in her boot. Now he tells me cuz he’s a good friend and I’m shitting myself at that point bc holy shit I might get shanked. 

I think about telling the band director but I realize that there’s no proof of her saying this and she could easily get out of this so it’s kinda pointless to tell anyone. Plus if she did shank me, she’d get into so much trouble and I’d be laughing at her from my grave/hospital bed. 

Many rehearsals go by and she still refuses to wear a mask so after one rehearsal S and I went to the band director and reminded him about our conditions and told him about how we were worried for our safety (I also told him abotu the other vulunerable ppl in the section) and he says he’s gonna do something. Next rehearsal he gives POS a warning and she begrudgingly wears a mask for the rest of the rehearsal. The next rehearsal rolls by and she isn’t wearing a mask (again) and he sends her home. Major victory for S and I.

The next sectional tho was something I wasn’t expecting. I get there like 10 minutes before it starts like I usually do in a good mood. I get out of my car and go to grab my stuff when a massive white truck with a busted muffler pulls up into the parking space next to me with a cloud of black smoke. The window rolls down and reveals POS’s dad and POS herself in the passanger seat. 

Of course I’m thinking that this is the day I die and start mentally preparing to yell for help to my other section members 100 feet away on the field already.

Mans starts to lecture me saying things like “it’s unhealthy to wear a mask outside bc it’s like a pitri dish under there. 6th grade science!” (I am not joking or overexaggerating with this, he actually said that). I really wanted to say “well, 7th grade science says otherwise, but you wouldn’t know that bc I’m sure you didn’t pass 6th grade, but go off ig” but I didn’t bc I didn’t want to get shanked or disappear randomly. I just tell him that I am only doing what my band director told me to do and that there are tons of people (myself included) that can really get hurt from just being in contact with covid. He says that’s bullshit and tries to tell me that I’m an idiot before I cut him off by telling him once again that I am just trying to protect my section and that the sectional was going to start soon so I didn’t have the time for this. I walk away leaving him trying to keep talking to me and soon enough POS gets out of the car and follows me to the field giving me a smug smile on her unmasked face before she puts it on when she sees the other section leader stroll up. 

Lemme paint the picture for you: this guy (a 6′something burly guy in his 50′s that I know has like two felonies under his belt) pulls up next to me (a 5′2 17 year old ball of anxiety that drives a small yellow car) and starts to borderline yell at me. Traumatizing. I was shaking for the rest of the sectional and I spent the rest of the season looking over my shoulder looking for the glint of a knife swingin at me

Now I’m pretty sure she’s suspended bc she was caught with a knife on school property and she wore a confederate t-shirt to school, but I would be lying if I said I don’t still look over my shoulder or speed up when I drive past her house lmao

[holyxgrail]

a small sigh fell from his lips as his eyes gazed over the other, he hadn’t really let many people all that close to him for a number of reasons. the main one being his anger issues, they were a lot more under control with his anger management and boxing career but he was still very temperamental. “i don’t get why you are still hanging around.. like i know you want more serious but i don’t know if i can do that,” he admitted with a slight shrug of his shoulders. truth was he didn’t want labels because it freaked him out, meant he had to be vulunerable and open but at the same time he didn’t want to lose him. he really was stuck behind a rock and a hard place. “you could go out and find someone who can give you the world, someone who won’t flirt with others in front of you or doesn’t start drunken fights because someone looked at you or me funny..” he wasn’t actually a bad person, he had a good heart underneath it all but fear stopped it from showing too often. @keleidoscopes​

[not-poignant]

Hi. I was wondering if you know of any similar works, fanfiction or original, which has a freedom-oriented, abused MC in an epic fantasy setting, preferably LGBT+? I can only think of The Sacrifaces Arc by Lightening on the Wave. I tried to check the FAQ to see if you already answered this, sorry if you have. Your Fae Tales series is endlessly inspiring, especially how you incorperate desire and vulunerability in a harsh world, it ... gives me hope, you know? Sorry for any English mistakes.

Hiya anon,

I got an ask similar to this the other day and the answer is still sadly, no, I don’t really know any works like this. At least, none that I really like.

I write what I can’t find to read, and Fae Tales is very much that. I know there will be other things out there that are similar (especially in fanfiction, I mean Once Upon a Time is a fandom I’m not in, but I suspect there’s queer epic fantasy stories hanging out there that have an abused MC), but I’m the wrong person to ask, because now that I’m actually writing Fae Tales, I very specifically don’t read similar-sounding stories because I don’t want to accidentally influence myself etc.

(PS your english is great <3 I’m just sorry I can’t help you more!)

(As always, folks that can think of anything are welcome to put responses in the replies!)

[lifetrainingacademy-blog]

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[akashchugh-blog]

How to scan website,Vulnerability Scanning,WEB Server - Golismero

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[batb0ii]

Listen folks, what's with the obsession to be the Edgy Emotionless Robots™ that none of you are ?!

I get it! Being vulunerable and having feelings/emotions can be scary because of how it feels and where it puts you... but like...

It's not cool to be robotic? Even if you want to be.. it's just.. not how it works? At all? And it just seems like everyone's trying to be Edge Lord Supreme™ over here when like..

Damn.. go eat a bagel or some shit and cry over it.