Atelophobia Is A Plague That Attacks Your Mind And Not Only Instils The Fear Of Not Being Good Enough

To see into the soul of another, you must first see into your own.

Myself, Sighlas-Rhodes

I agree, I would very much like a stick as well; it would be very useful.

i think every gay person should get a monthly stipend for. piercings and such also beverages. and i think every trans person should get to hit people with sticks legally

Nickname cheat sheet

The classic - Darling

Classy gay

Immediately shows off you have trauma

Perfect when paired with a chuckle, sigh or smirk

Ex: Oh, darling, your intelligent thoughts really are non-existant.

The lover - Pretty boy

Teasing

Perfect for rivals to lovers

Can be said sarcastically, with a smirk, or after getting punched in the face.

Ex: Why don’t you come over here and make me, pretty boy?

The gentle one; do not trust - My dear

Endearing

Kinda sweet; if you didn’t have a blade pressed to your throat

Always acompanied by a little smile, a brush of lips that you know you will never kiss or kind eyes narrowed instead

Ex: Trust me... I may gift you flowers, but I will have you beheaded at the drop of a hat, my dear.

The broken - Sweetheart

Melancholic

Often said when being told a sad tale of the villain’s fallen kindom or during and angry break-down

Best used when tears are still on either person’s cheeks, during a good-bye/farewell, paired with a sad smile or a tear-filled glare

Ex: Trust me, sweetheart, I have seen things, know things, lost things that you could never understand.

Start of chapter one, “Sins of the flesh.”

My chapters for “Sins of the flesh“ can be extremely long, so I will not be posting full chapters here on Tumblr; I will, however, post the first page of each chapter once they are updated or if I have already had them posted for a while, it depends. I will put the link to the fic at the top, and you can go read it if you enjoy it! Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38974686/chapters/97482846#workskin Wattpad link: https://www.wattpad.com/1225227745-sins-of-the-flesh-chapter-1-in-the-beginning --Start of chapter one-- Dean huffed as he tilted his head to the side, trying to listen to where his four-year-old brother was scurrying off to hide, Sammy’s giggles fading away as he went. They were playing hide-and-seek, a game Dean had become quite skilled at despite his lack of vision. If he focussed on listening to where the sound of his little brother’s bare feet against the wooden floors was heading, he would find him quite easily as Sammy often giggled when he hid. A few times, John had gotten mad at him for losing Sammy after playing the game as Sam would occasionally fall asleep; Dean tried not to think about the bruises he would receive if he lost the game as he stood up after thirty seconds and began listening for his brother. He made his way through the living room slowly, letting his hands slowly glide over the walls and furniture as he walked to see if any of it was out of its usual place. He ensured that his footsteps were slow and deliberate, completely quiet; that’s another skill he had learned because of John, how to keep completely and utterly silent when you did not want to be found. Slowly he crept through the halls of this old house, a house he had not seen for more than a few minutes at a time in nearly four years; the only times the blindfold ever came off was when Dean was showering or in case of absolute emergencies, though he didn’t know why it was necessary.He heard a sudden creak from behind him, and Dean strained his ear towards the doorway he had just passed. He heard the fair sound of heavy breathing as he approached the room and assumed that it was just Sammy getting more and more anxious as Dean approached his hiding place.The boy shivered as a draft suddenly whispered over his skin, the room seemed colder than it should have been. He assumed that the window was open, and so moved to close it without much thought. He didn’t expect to be knocked to the floor and have claws dig into his arms. Dean let out a blood-curdling scream as he tried to get away, kicking and punching at the creatures that he could not see.Its claws were razor-sharp, its breath absolutely horrible as it snarled and tried to sink its teeth into this flesh, but thankfully Dean avoided that from happening with his adrenaline-induced strength. He fought and fought, tears streaming down his face and soaking through his blindfold as he begged whatever it was to let him go, to put him down and leave. “Dean!” Came his father’s voice as he heard his footsteps pounding down the hallway, the searing pain in Dean’s arms, and now chest as the creature’s claws left a bloody slash across his chest and dropped him. He heard two gunshots ring out, but not the sound of shattering glass; the window had been left open and something had gotten in....

This is how my lover’s voice sounds... never has their voice been any less sweet than honey, or less gentle than the wind blowing through a field of lavender. I do not deserve him, and yet he is mine, and for that I am forever greatful.

Fanfic writer.

I really do love being a fanfic writer; being able to create content for my favorite shows is an incredible gift that I’m greatful to have-

But it also means that I am cursed with truly horrible ideas at times..

“Sins of the flesh” Prologue!!

Hello everyone, I’ve been writing a new fic, so I figured I would post the prologue here in case anyone who views my blog would enjoy reading it! I hope you like the prologue, I’ll include the link to the fic here! Ao3 ink: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38974686/chapters/97482780 Wattpad link: https://www.wattpad.com/1222916487-sins-of-the-flesh-prologue --Prologue-- John Winchester was a righteous man; he was well-known throughout his community as an excellent priest and had seen most people every Sunday throughout their entire lives. He was known to be a very loving and selfless man, though many knew that dwindled slightly after the death of his wife. This is also the time he began hunting, leaving his young sons alone for days at a time and only returning for Sunday mass; no other adult knew of his hunting. No one knew what exactly had happened to the priest’s wife, the priest did not discuss it, but everyone knew that there must have been a truly horrifying sight involved; see, John kept his eldest son, Dean, blindfolded with a black satin cloth after the death of his mother. The boy never seemed overly bothered by it, although it was a little difficult to navigate through different places and do different tasks blindly at first. Since he was four, no one within the town had seen the boy without the blindfold on, and he was always wearing clothing that covered his entire body; his father did not take his sons out very often, and thus the only time the town people ever even saw them was at church. Most of the time, if you attempted to speak to Dean, he would not speak; his younger brother, Sam, however, would constantly go on delighting rants about whatever he was currently learning in school. What the people did not know is the purpose of the blindfold; unsurprisingly, neither did Dean, but he followed his father’s orders blindly as he was raised to. His father told him to put on the blindfold, he did. His father told him to stay quiet, he did. His father told him to hold out his arms so he could inflict bruises on them whenever he was out of order… he did. He saw his father as a hero, and it seemed no matter what the ma did to him, Dean always trusted his judgement. John knew the reason for the blindfold, though, and why only his oldest son needed it; it was to keep him holy, keep his soul pure, to stop him from falling into the sinful romance and lust with a man. You see after his wife had died, a being came to him and told him that the earth was a cruel and horrid place; it told him that if he was able to keep his oldest son pure, if he was able to keep him from falling in love with a man as he was fated to, then God would use him as vivisection for all his angels see so that they may aid him with creating more righteous beings for the earth. Delighted, John had not questioned the gold-eyed being, for he believed it was an angel, and thus did everything in his power to bend the fates of his son by engraving the belief that death would feel like waking up from a nightmare, that when he passed, Dean would be used as a model for all righteous beings to come if only he could keep away from lustful desires and the sin of a male lover. John Winchester was a fool; you cannot bend the fates, cannot change the course that life has given you to follow. The man who thinks himself God will undoubtedly be struck down, for he is an impersonator attempting to steal the power of another.

Story teller.

I have always loved stories, have always gotten a little thrill out of reading about Neverlands and far away wizarding schools, always searching for an escape. Now, I write, providing others with their own escapes. I write stories of fiendish pirates, poisoning tea with nightshade and sailing the seas to carry on a mother’s legacy. I write of plagues and pestilence, of crows invading the skies and turning them black. I write of an angel loving a human so much that they would fall from the heavens for him, just as Icarus did for the sun. Stories are meant to be shared, fantasies to get lost in... and yet, sometimes I wonder, how far into my fantasies is too far?

I have a mixed relationship with studying.

On one end, I absolutely adore it; the classical or gentle music I listen to as my pen glides against the page, the controlled chaos that litters my desk and the dim lighting of my lamp.

On the other hand, however, I hate it; the seemingly endless hours I spend studying and yet never learning, the few bits of knowledge I do retain about these subjects I despise barely enough to get me passed with a decent enough grade.

If only I could learn to love the ache in my hands after writing for hours again, the challenge of understanding new knowledge made fun again.

My writing process

1. Make myself some coffee 2. Sit down at my desk to write 3. Look for music 4. Make a new playlist 5. Make a pinterest board for that playlist 6. Oh look it’s 3 am and my coffee’s cold. 7. Cry about not being productive 8. Repeat. :)